#feel okay like stomach still hurts but my arms and legs aren’t going numb from the pain

[pa-pa-patato]

Won’t be posting much, I had to go to the hospital yesterday and couldn’t get home until like 3 am

They have no idea what’s wrong with me but my mom says it could be food poisoning or virus going around.

But don’t you all worry I am fine :D

[wh0reforoldmen]

Safe with us

paring: Bucky Barnes X fem!reader X Steve Rogers

warnings: Hints to SAD (Seasonal affective disorder), hints to mental illness, angst, hurt/comfort, panic attack? slightly beta read all mistakes are my own. 

word count: 1.2k

summary: Bad days suck, and so do bad weeks. Unfortunately, your boyfriends aren’t here to help you with it; until they are. 

Bad days fucking suck. 

Bad weeks suck more. 

It's been a week since your boyfriends, Steve and Bucky had been at work day and night. 

You get it, business is important, and their job is extremely important to them but god it's so demanding you don't know how to cope. 

It's getting warmer, but you still feel like shit. Down, miserable, lonely. Some days you feel overwhelming emotions of despair, frightened, and loneliness, and others you feel - nothing. Numb you could say. 

The numb days aren't that bad, you don't feel anything to put it, so you just get on with it. The days you feel overwhelming emotions are the days that you suffer the most. 

As soon as you woke up, you wanted to go back to sleep and sleep for the rest of the day, but no matter how hard you try, no matter how long you wait for that darkness to surround you, no matter how much you twist and turn to get comfortable without your boys in with you; you physically can not fall back asleep. So you get up. 

Not entirely. 

You stay in bed, awake and staring at the ceiling with your thoughts racing around your head as the sun slightly shines through the blackout curtains by the top. You didn't feel hungry from the anxiety you were experiencing and your energy levels were just down. 

You didn't even get up to go to the bathroom, you were just too exhausted to get up and do anything, you just laid there in silence as your overwhelming emotions just got worse and worse. 

"Malyshka?" 

A good few hours later, a knock came on your door. Your head turned as your body tensed, who could it be? 

Oh, it was Bucky. 

Your nerves calmed down a little as you heard the sweet nickname he's always called you. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing. 

When he heard nothing, he opened the door and Steve was with him, behind him and looking at you. They saw the state of the room and the deep frowns on their face said everything. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, thinking they were disappointed in you. They were disappointed in you because you didn't look after yourself. 

You blinked the tears away but they kept coming and as soon as you knew it, your vision became blurry and you choked out a sob. The feeling of disappointing your boyfriends just broke your heart. You never wanted to disappoint them. Never. But you had, and you hated it. 

You looked away from the two, not wanting them to see you cry but they came to your side in an instant, Steve scooping you up in his arms and sitting on the bed, placing you in his lap. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips and buried your head in the crook of his neck, the smell of his mind and jasmine cologne did nothing to calm your nerves as you sobbed into his shoulder, gripping his shirt as hard as you could, afraid he'll leave. 

Your lungs felt like they were being crushed, your throat tight and your heart was racing, feeling like it was in your head with how loud you could hear it. 

"It's okay sunshine, everything's okay," he spoke softly in your ear, though it felt like he was underwater. His hand ran up and down your back soothingly as he spoke affirmations to you. 

"you're safe, sunshine. Nothing is going to hurt you,"

"We're here now, nothing to worry about, safe and sound,"

"Breathe with me sunshine, in… and out, that's it. In - and out, good girl," 

You can tell he's trying his best, he really is. He's still… unsure how to help you on these days but the fact that he's here and he's trying to help you is all that you need. 

When you calmed down, which was a long process, you lifted your head up slowly and looked at him, your eyes had become sore and your throat dry from your rapid breathing. 

"Here, malyshka," you heard Bucky from the side of you, holding a glass of water. 

You tried to take it with your shaky hand, but Steve gently took your hand away. Bucky placed the rim of the glass to your lips. 

He let you take small sips of the water, the cold water going down your throat felt amazing as you took more and more sips. 

They didn't say anything at first, letting you calm down but they did lay you back down and they didn't leave your side. 

Bucky curled up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and hands placed on your soft tummy, his chin resting between your shoulder blades while Steve had your head on his chest, your ear listening to his heart going at a steady rhythm, his hand playing with your locks of hair, his fingers running through the strands or twirling them around his finger, they both keeping you grounded. 

"Why didn't you call us, sunshine?" Steve asked after at least ten minutes of silence. They both said multiple times that if you were having a tough day, call them and they'll be there. You're their priority. 

"Knew you were busy… didn't want to disturb you," you reply, your voice hoarse from the sobbing earlier. 

The pressure from Bucky's head on your back quickly went away, and his flesh hand came up and made you look at him "What did we tell you, malyshka? You. Come. First," he spoke, kissing your cheeks as he did "Fuck work, couldn't care for it, as long as we have you, you are out priority," 

His words alone could've made you burst into tears again, he meant every word and you knew it, the way his steel blues starred into yours, all the adoration and love is all you needed in those eyes. 

"Understand?" Bucky asked, keeping your face towards him and keeping eye contact with you. 

You were too scared to speak, worried that you'll start crying again so you nodded, not averting your eyes from his for a second. 

"Good," 

He rests his head back on your shoulder blades and his hand where it was before, letting your head go back to Steve's chest. 

The rest of the day, you three just stayed in bed, well you did. Your two boys brought you lunch and dinner since they did eventually find out you hadn't eaten, it was something small but it did you for a bit. 

They looked after you and treated you like a queen, they even did some online shopping for you, ordering things that you looked at and liked even though you tried to reason with them that you didn't need more clothes, but their reasoning was that their queen needed to feel like one, they even fed you, and overall making you feel better. 

You weren't 100% by the end of the day, but it was better than this morning. They made you smile, laugh, and the anxiety that you felt this morning had almost vanished. 

They really meant the world to you, and you meant the world to them.

[viseralantlers]

vermillion (c!technoblade x reader)

warnings: dissociation, the egg (dsmp)

requested: technoblade angst : )

note: she’s a bit rough around the edges but kdnbhwjhlb just wanted to do something horrorish cause it’s my favorite thing to write : )

“Techno, y/n! So this is the egg!” Bad’s face was plastered with a smile, lit by a red glow from the thing in the corner that seemed to bare through me. His strange robe now colored a milky white instead of it’s former blood red. I nervously glanced at Techno who’s expression remained unaffected as I myself wished to cower into his side. I pressed myself as close as possible, almost hiding behind the man I knew wouldn’t allow me get hurt. 

“So this is what you wanted to show us?” Techno said, unimpressed by the sight. His confidence made me feel steady and sure.

“Yep! Why don’t we all get closer?” Bad decided to pull my hand, his palms were cold and clammy, the hand foreign in my own. Maybe he assumed Techno would follow if I got closer. I politely laughed as he lead me away from the perceived safety I found in Techno. I tried to not trip over the vines and the pools of lava and hot open magma that littered the floor. “Beautiful isn’t it?” Bad watched, eyes wide. I noted Techno’s presence coming up behind me as I stared in awe at the large egg that towered above us. The carved-out room beginning to feel impossibly large. I felt sick to my stomach.

“I think we will be taking our leave, Bad. This doesn’t seem like something I’d like to be involved with in the slightest.” I listened to Techno speaking behind me, a rumble in his voice that couldn’t possibly disrupt the buzz that had begun in my ears, like something else was trying to pull me away from the current moment. I felt compelled, led away from the man that still hovered behind me. 

“Why don’t you just get a bit closer? Couldn’t hurt you, muffin.” Bad grinned at Techno, beckoning him to join him by his side, his hand placed on the scarlet egg. I felt frozen as I stumbled closer, uneasy on my feet. Bad’s stretched grin burned into my brain. I knew this would all be okay, that I would only be safe if I allowed myself to be engulfed by the freezing hands that stretched out from the egg in front of me causing the hair on my arms to become raised. The static beginning to radiate in my head, behind my eyes, to my fingertips, only slowly growing in magnitude.

“Y/n? Y/n? Let’s go.” I heard Techno behind me, putting a burning hand on my shoulder, but he felt so far away, only recognizable by clear change in temperature.

“Bad, what is it saying?” I mumbled out leaning closer as if proximity would make the never-ending static make sense. “It’s so loud.” Some words filtered through, CLOSER, CLOSER, CLOSER, a chant. 

“Just touch the egg! It’ll make more sense, y/n!” I absently nodded, feeling a cold air radiate over the front of my body as I tentatively reached out. 

“y/n!” Techno shouted in panic, forcibly pulling me back away from the egg. The static didn’t let up, even when the warmth from Techno’s body surrounded me, if anything it got louder, felt more demanding, made a pit form in my stomach. 

“Techno? I want to,,, I need to.” he wrapped his arms around the front of my body as we both stepped away from the insidious egg.

“We are leaving.” He began to quickly pull me from the room as I tried to cover my ears, alleviate the shrill call that buzzed through my body. 

“Techno, I feel so-” I reached out to touch his face, my fingertips felt numb.

“It’s okay, we’re gonna get you out of here. We’re gonna get you out of here, my love.”

“Techno! Y/n! Wait!” Bad faded off as Techno rushed us out of the disorienting room. I felt dizzy as I leaned on Techno for support to even be able to stand and escape. Once I finally felt the sun caress my face I felt relieved. I collapsed in the green grass, letting dew soak through my pants, fresh air through my lungs almost allowing me to forget the vines that felt like they had wrapped around my ankles. 

“y/n, are you there?” Techno whispered close to me, his warm breath fanning over my face. 

“It’s still-” I placed my hand on my ankles, tracing the ghosts of spines and constriction. “It feels like it’s wrapped around me, Tech.” words felt impossible and forced. Techno quickly moved back into action sweeping me up from the ground his cape swooping up behind him. He began to walk towards the portal home as I looked up at his concentrated face. 

“We aren’t ever going there again. I’m gonna destroy what’s ever down there, y/n. it’s sick like some sort of infection..” I let myself drift off with my head pressed against Techno’s chest, calmed by the steady beat of his thrumming heart. I woke up when he laid me down on our shared bed. “Are you sure you are okay, love?” he laid an unsure hand on my forehead, checking my temperature. 

“Yea, I feel more, I don’t know, clear, you know.” his brow still worried, but his shoulders became less tense. 

“I’m sorry I let Bad take us there.” he confided sitting down on edge of the bed. I crawled over to lay my head on his leg. 

“It’s not your fault and we didn’t know. Besides you got me out of there, right?” I smiled up at his slowly softening expression “we’re both okay.” I reached up to lay my hand on his cheek. Techno leaning in to the gentle touch as he let himself close his eyes.

“We’re okay.”

[fandomvariousness]

Finally

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence & death, nsfw content

Summary: reader finally sees her lover Eren after the team retrieves him to the airship, yet he’s not the same. Will she bring him back?

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: Forgive me if some details are inaccurate, this is my rendering of the situation, so some things may not add up!

Finally.

Finally, the day you’re going to see Eren again.

You shivered with anticipation, thinking about the letters that were going sparse, until there were none. You’ve been inseparable, supporting each other every step of the way, but Eren had to deal with unthinkable, horrible things along the same steps too, and you couldn’t take all of it away – the burning hatred seeped into his brain, numbing his senses and compassion.

He offered no explanation in letters as to why he’d stopped writing so often, and you didn’t ask for one – he’s in enemy’s land, surely he has his reasons, but deep down you knew he was pushing you away.

What were you going to say to him? Will you hug him? Will he hug you? You had no idea, and it was killing you.

Your adrenaline was over the roof. Everything around you was destroyed, splintered, ground to pieces – Eren did that.

It seemed that you lost it when you realized that Eren had transformed without the care of hurting innocent civilians – his sense of revenge was stronger than anything else. You haven’t been able to approach him yet, to look into his mesmerizing jade eyes. You suspected Captain Levi has positioned you away from him on purpose – who knows how you and Eren would’ve reacted to each other’s presence after so long.

You felt the insides of your stomach turn as you hooked your cables on the airship and zipped-lined towards it. Just a minute ago you saw how Mikasa made it inside, dragging Eren along. You heard a commotion above you – Captain Levi was cussing Eren out. The casual.

You felt how everyone stopped whatever they were doing as you were climbing on board – secretly, they all wanted to know what will happen once you two meet again. That’s how powerful you two are. Were.

Out of breath, you stood up, regaining your posture, your rifle still in hands as you finally looked at him: if not for the emerald sheen of his eyes, you wouldn’t have recognized this ragged, miserable man with a chestnut resembling that of a lion.

You stared into each other, the unbearable grief that consumed you rendering you immobile. Quickly, your vision worsened, tears blurring your eyes as you realized there’s nothing behind those of Eren. He looks at you, yet doesn’t say anything, doesn’t feel anything.

“Move,” Captain Levi muttered and lightly pushed you aside.

You tore your gaze away from Eren, breathing shallow breaths as you stumbled towards the wall, leaning on it.

And then you heard the shot.

~

It was unbearable. One fleeting moment, one slightest miscalculation, and she’s gone. Sasha is gone.

You kneeled beside her tomb with your head hanging down, hot teardrops sinking into the pale stone. Everything was always shit, but now… now it’s pure hell. You sobbed and raised your head to look at the cloudy sky, cutting off the air flow, trying to pull yourself together.

“Hey,” Jean approached you, Connie not far behind. “Come here.”

He crouched down to your level and placed his palms on your shoulders reassuringly, helping you stand up.

Eren was nowhere to be seen. He kept to himself in his quarters, but Captain Levi forbid anyone to properly visit him anyway. He thought Eren’s unstable.

But you thought the opposite. Eren’s perfectly stable – the deadly precision, calculation and determination fueled his conscious, revenge-fueled decisions, and frankly, you were afraid. He wasn’t thrashing around like he would years ago, screaming and tearing everything apart, consumed by fury – he knew what he was doing now.

The last time you laid eyes on him was during Sasha’s funeral, but it seemed that he wasn’t even there. His body was, of course, but his mind was fleeting somewhere else, somewhere where he could continue plotting the utter extermination of every last one of his enemies.

It’s going to be hard, bringing him back. Hell, you didn’t even know if it’s possible – he truly looked like a goner. But you were going to try, because there isn’t any other living being in the world you love more than Eren Jaeger.

~

You sat on your bed, facing the one that belonged to Sasha. She would tell you to stand up and go straight to Eren and whoop his ass for ignoring you.

You sank your teeth in your lower lip as you stood up and made your way towards Captain Levi’s office.

“Come in,” his low voice muttered after you knocked. He rolled his eyes when he saw it’s you.

“What is it?” he asked, his desk already stuffed with a bunch of paperwork.

“I need to visit Eren.” you realized how selfish your request sounds in the midst of everything, but you couldn’t help it.

“No.” he answered after a few seconds of regarding you, without any care in the world. “You’ll just wind him up.”

Your heart skipped a beat – if Captain Levi thought that Eren still feels something for you, then maybe it’s true.

“Please, Captain, I –”

“Stop whining, brat.” he hissed, silencing you.

There was a wall of miscommunication between the two of you as you stared at each other, trying to convince one another silently.

He put down his pen after a few moments and leaned back in his chair as he sighed slowly. “You’re gonna do it anyway, aren’t you?”

You shrugged ever so slightly as you stared at nothing in particular.

Some more silence passed. “I’ve not yet decided on giving you week’s-worth punishment for insubordination, but go. Get out.”

“Thank you, Captain.” you bowed your head to him quickly, suppressing your smile as you basically ran away.

Levi rubbed his forehead. “Stupid brats.”

~

As you approached the door of Eren’s room, your heart pounded against your ribs so hard, you truly thought they’re going to crack. Yet here you were, standing within a step from the door, eyeing the little crack of light that emits from within – it’s not completely closed.

You lifted your trembling arm and knocked softly, then once again, harder this time, thinking he may not have heard it.

“Eren?” you whispered weakly after you got no reply once again.

You gulped and pushed the door further, stepping in – empty. He’s not here.

You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you stepped further, looking around. The whole room looked almost untouched if not for the sack of a few items he brought from his old room. Your eyes flicked towards a stack of letters on the desk – your letters.

Your lower lip quivered as you approached them, picking one up – not even opened.

Pain and anger spun like a vortex inside you, bringing hot tears to your eyes. How important must’ve been the reason that he denied you the slightest explanation?

The letter dropped back to the desk as you flinched, hearing the door shut behind you.

Gasping quietly, you turned around, seeing him clearly for the first time since a couple of days ago. He stood there in all his cool, newfound glory: hair long enough to be messily gathered in a bun, naked torso adorned with chiseled abs, V line protruding from his waistline, and pants that hugged his muscular legs.

He had a toweled hanging over his shoulder – that’s where he’s been, in the showers.

You didn’t know what was the exact reason for the hot blush that crept to your face in a second – the fact that Eren is even more attractive than you remember, or that you stood there like a mute, with your jaw basically on the floor.

His own gaze was unreadable – he watched you like a hawk as he approached the chair and draped the towel over its back, stuffing his hands in his pockets afterwards.

You snapped awake, glancing at the letters behind you, and then back at him. “You never opened them.”

“You need to forget me,” he spoke, staring directly in your eyes. “I’ve only have a few years left anyway, if I’m lucky.”

It hurt you how assured of his words he was as you turned your body from him, desperately trying to calm down. He stood there just the same when you dared to look at him again.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, failing to conceal the tremble that laced your voice. “I’ve told you countless times, I’m with you until the end, and even then.”

“That’s exactly why.” he raised his voice just a bit, reminding of the old Eren you used to know. “I can’t bear the fact that you’re okay with… all this.”

You covered your face with your palms momentarily before stepping a couple of steps closer to him. “Did you honestly think I’ll go down with this scheme of yours?”

“I’m determined to make it happen.”

“Eren, don’t be stupid!” you couldn’t control yourself anymore. “I’m not some… weak maiden in need of constant attention! I’m your partner!”

“You want to be partner of the monster that I am?” he asked, a faint hint of disappointment in his voice.

You sighed, closing your eyes. “Eren…”

“I’m a murderer.” he said as he lessened the space between you a little more, trying to impose his truth on you – you could almost feel his breath on your skin, what made another shiver run down your spine.

You opened your eyes abruptly, because you knew he expected that you won’t be able to even look at him after what he’s done. His jade eyes were the same as before as you drowned in them.

You couldn’t help as you placed your dainty palms on his ripped upper arms, the tips of your fingers jolting with electricity. Eren felt that too, for you heard him draw in a sharp breath.

You were going to say something, but right now you couldn’t focus on anything other than your skins touching again, after all this time. You gulped as you gathered courage to lightly stroke down to his forearms.

“You’re not a monster.” you spoke again. “You’re just a hurt boy who can’t help but hurt others.”

He stayed silent, because he knew it’s true. You always did this to him – always had one last argument that made him shut up. His eyes became glassy as he looked down in shame, gripping your own forearms in his calloused palms.

“Come here,” you mumbled as you wound your arms around his neck, cradling him, as his own arms snaked around your waist, head buried in the crook of your neck.

You were only hugging, but it felt ecstatic. You gripped him tightly, swearing to yourself never to let go again. You felt a few wet drops run down your shoulder, yet Eren didn’t release a sound – you knew he was holding back.

“I’m sorry for everything.” he whispered. “You don’t deserve this.”

“Eren, you’re never getting rid of me.” you whispered into his hair before planting a tender kiss on his head.

He released a breathy laugh, tickling your neck. You nuzzled into each other more, and then you felt his lips on your neck, pecking it lightly, immediately blazing flames in your lower region.

You arched your neck back, providing him with an easier access to your skin. You couldn’t suppress a small gasp as his hot breath trailed up to your jaw, along with his longing-filled kisses.

“I missed you.” he whispered against your jaw, before pecking just below the corner of your lips.

Your mind was already in shambles. “Believe me, I missed you more.”

Your lips finally collided: desperate, needy, hungry. His fingers dug into your hips, aligning your centers as your palms slid down to the either side of his neck. You moaned into his lips between the famished, open-mouthed kisses as he gripped your behind, trying to savor it all.

Your palms were running down his chest on their own, exploring every crevice and scar, some old and some new, still unexplored. You felt his hand slide under the hem of your shirt up to your ribs, leaving a scalding-hot trail in its wake.

You rutted your hips against his automatically, getting needier with every passing second, your hands hooked around his neck again, holding on for dear life.

Your jaw slacked as he sneaked his hand under your bra, his fingers coming in contact with your hardened nipple. He drew back a little so that he could see your flushed face and hazy eyes, a light sheen of saliva reflecting from your slightly lolled out tongue.

“More, you say? Just how much?” he teased, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips repeatedly, the corners of his lips upturned ever so slightly.

“Really, really much,” you whimpered before he discarded you of your shirt and bra, his hands roaming down your sides as he sucked on your jugular, your hands buried in his hair, ruining his bun.

“Jump.” he said between the wet kisses as you felt his hands under your thighs.

He made his way towards the bed before gently dropping you down on it, feeling the tent in his pants become unbearable, almost painful. How could it not, when you lay sprawled out under him, hair messy around your head like a halo, all the while needy breaths escaping your lips?

You knew exactly what you were doing to him, but you wanted to drive him crazy, to make up for all the painful time you’ve spent apart. You started wriggling out of your leggings, your gaze never leaving his eyes. He unbuttoned his own pants before they slid to the ground, revealing a formed tent under his boxers.

Suddenly, he grabbed you by your calves and yanked you closer, forcing a yelp from you. Second after his lips crashed on yours again, making their way down, passing your neck, collarbones, stomach, until they reached their destination.

You found it hard to breathe as he kissed your inner tight, getting closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Eren,” you whimpered, your eyes closed, hands gripping the sheets. “Please…”

You felt him smile against your thigh before his tongue flicked against your clothed clit lightly, coaxing another high-pitched moan from you.

You put the back of your hand against your mouth quickly, embarrassed at the sudden reaction. You felt the bed shift before you opened your eyes and saw him parallel with your own body again.

“Don’t,” he asked as he removed your arm from your face. “I want to hear every little sound you make.”

He kissed you once before making his way back, hooking his fingers on your panties and sliding them down painfully slowly. The cold air on your skin peppered it with goosebumps, yet when you felt Eren’s face lower to your center, your body ignited once again.

A moan got stuck in your throat as you felt Eren’s slick tongue go all the way from your entrance to your clit, circling it, literally driving you crazy.

“Eren,” you moaned, the back of your head buried into the mattress as you wound your hands through his hair, completely ruining the bun, his chestnut hair falling to the sides and framing his face.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he pleasured you with his tongue, awakening the passion in you that was dormant during his absence.

Eren loved the taste of you on his tongue as he sucked on you, holding down your squirming hips. He knew you were close; he remembers everything your body language tells him.

“E-Eren, I’m gonna—” you choked out, confirming his observations.

You felt cold air hit your slick folds as Eren drew back, quickly discarding himself of his last piece of clothing before he leaned down, planting a sloppy kiss on your lips.

“Ready?” he breathed into your lips, receiving a nod.

The burning sensation followed his dick breaching your entrance, stretching it out after so long.

“Fuck,” he groaned against your mouth, having forgotten just how good your pussy feels.

You choked out a groan as you wound your legs around his waist, urging him to plunge deeper, despite the slight pain that strains you.

“This good?” he asks between his heavy breathing as he makes his way deeper into you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod quickly, your voice out of tune.

He finally hits your cervix, staying like that for a few moments, allowing you to adjust, peppering your neck with kisses as your chest rises and falls heavily.

You kiss his lips as you place a hand against his buttocks, urging him to go on. He goes back to the point of pulling out before hitting you deep again, building up his pace as he does so.

Your mind is getting hazier with each thrust – it seemed that the room turned into a sauna as you could almost see the huffs of air that escaped both of your mouths.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he groaned against your ear as he pinned your hand above to your head, intertwining his fingers with yours.

He was barely controlling himself as your pussy clenched around him – he probably never had to restrain himself with you as he does now, regarding the absence of your touch for such a long amount of time. You’ve never been apart that long, and he hoped you’ll never be again.

“Eren!” you screamed, sensing your release fast approaching as you wound your hands around his neck.

He pounded into you hard, bringing some steamy memories of your times before for a moment.

Finally, you fell, arching your back, your stomach gliding against his, as every nerve of your brain exploded. Eren continued thrusting into you until a few moments after you felt his own release spilling inside you.

He moaned against the crook of your neck, planting a few kisses. He rolled to your side and faced the ceiling with his eyes closed, until they snapped open again, hearing you sniffle.

Guilt washed over him like a tempest as he leaned on his side, gently gripping your waist as you covered your eyes with the back of your forearm. “Did I hurt you??”

“No!” you yelped and removed your arm from your face, placing your palm on his cheek instead. For a moment you were so frightened he would blame himself for something he didn’t even do.

“No,” you repeated, more softly. “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

He leaned his forehead to yours, worry leaving his body almost visibly. He sighed as he brought you closer.

You tucked a few of his locks behind his ear, making him look a couple years younger. “I love your hair.”

Eren chuckled, his eyes still closed in the afterglow bliss. “Captain hates it. He said –”

Then it dawned on him. “Wait, how did you get here?” he leaned on his forearm as he looked at you, genuinely interested, amusement threatening to widen his smile any moment.

“I simply asked Captain.”

Eren raised an eyebrow. “And he let you?? Just like that?”

“Well,” you trailed off. “He did mention something about a punishment for insubordination…”

“Unbelievable,” Eren whispered, as he sunk back into the mattress, quiet laughs emanating from his chest, as you drew shapes on it with a stupid smile on your face. “And you still came.”

“I’ll be fine if you visit me at least twice while I’m behind bars?”

You two laughed even harder, and this moment, this tiny moment in the vast space surrounding everything, was perfect.

[madd-devil]

Slowly falling in love with Felix part 3! :3

"I don't get why you and Felix argue so much!" Pan groaned as he swung his legs over  a fallen tree. "I have been trying to make you two closer… seriously everyone can tell how much you both are smitten with each other!" 

"I don't like Felix!" You said, your face flushing suddenly because of the blunt statement. "I don't even know where you got that stupid idea…" 

"Come on love, I know how it works. And you know what? You two are my favourites, so get together and stop annoying me with your pointless fighting." 

"I would rather die than assume that…" You mumbled as you finished picking berries. "By the way, it is not nice to play favourites."

"You do it too." He smirked, arching an eyebrow. "With Felix." He sang, enjoying embarrassing you.

You approached Pan and handed him the basket with a look. He shook his head with a small laugh, understanding what you meant. After all, you were truly a mother. He disappeared in a foggy green cloud and you hoped he wouldn't eat all the fruits this time. It was always a bad idea to make him your errand boy, but he was fast and could get to the camp quickly thanks to his magic. 

Being a mother to a dozen of lost boys was not easy. Between breaking fights and fixing their messes, it was clear you didn't have any time for yourself. You didn’t really care to be honest, you enjoyed being useful and were very good at it, trying to raise those boys. 

You sighed as you were closing a hole on Butch's old stuffed animal. The kid would bring it everywhere with him, and even if Felix tried to take it away from Butch, the little one always found a way to find his stuffed animal. It was cute to see that pale and scrawny boy hugging that little plushed dog tightly against his body. 

You smiled as you gave Butch his toy back and he muttered a soft thank you before hurrying back to his group of friends. Felix besides you sighed, clearly annoyed at the childish behaviour and you rolled your eyes.

"Stop mothering him." He only stated, his eyes burning into yours.

"I will do what I want, you are no master to me." You replied, slowly standing up to his level. "Besides, I am their mother, it is my job to care for them." 

The scarred boy smirked at your remark, and you were a little taken aback. You wondered what was going on through his thick skull. He leant down to your level, and you felt his breath on your neck. It sent a shiver down your side, and you started to grow nervous about what was going to happen. 

"You realise they will never be yours, right?" 

You let out a shocked and strangled gasp at his statement and watched how proud he was from saying this. That always had been a tough matter to you, and he knew it. He fucking knew it and used it against you, like an insult. You thought he was above using insecurities, but clearly not. You were wrong after all. You pushed him out of your way, walking out enraged, and tried to block out his laughter. He was mocking you as well. 

He was a bastard. 

You promptly ignored Pan's calls to you as you stomped into the dark jungle and stopped until you approached a cliff's edge. Below it, the sea was crashing against the rocks, and you pondered for a moment. Maybe you should jump, to give your numb body a reaction, or to be away from this mess you pulled yourself into. You just wanted to rest for weeks.

It was never easy to be a mother, to never have someone actually cares about you. You sat down, and pulled your knees to your chest, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks. You hated crying about it, but what Felix told you and... and being exhausted from a never ending job clearly had broken you today. 

When you heard someone approaching, you angrily put your head on your knees and closed your eyes, in denial. 

"Go away! I don't want to speak to anyone." 

"I think you want to listen to what I want to say though." 

Your eyes shot up right open and you scowled.

Felix. Of course it was him disturbing your little moment of peace. 

You resisted the urge to attack him, and instead focused on ignoring the lost boy. He sighed and walked up to you, kneeling down in the process. You tried to avoid glancing at him, and looked at the horizon.

"I'm..." He started with difficulty. "I am sorry for what I said in the camp. It was... uncalled for." 

"Did Pan give you a little recital before coming here?" You hissed, finally daring to glare at him. 

"No. I came on my own. I would never lie about this."

You hummed, not fully trusting him. You heard him sighing again and leaving. It was better that way. Felix was like the others, but at least he apologised for his horrid comment earlier. 

Later that night, you went to bed with a pained, anxious and sick feeling in your stomach. Deciding to ignore it, you went to bed quickly, very happy that the day had passed and that you didn’t have to deal with Felix. But, you unfortunately had to deal with nightmares

Hands were tied up to your neck, and you couldn’t even protect yourself. The hands belonged to no one, they just swarmed around in the shadows to grasp you. 

A set of them were shaking you rather roughly, but you couldn't react. A voice reached your ears, you couldn't understand what it was saying. At this point, you wanted nothing but to throw up. In an ultimate effort to fight the nightmare off, you started to trash against the hands.

"Stop moving! It's me!" Felix's voice reached your mind and snapped you back to reality.

Your eyes snapped wide-open and you gasped, realising you had stopped breathing while you were sleeping. You were sweaty and were pretty sure your hair was all over the place. The blond haired boy was holding both of your hands rather roughly, but you didn't want to say anything about it. You felt like something big was going to happen, and a threat was hung above your head. 

Your breath hitched many times as you tried to ask him what he was doing here, but the precious air seemed to stop pumping your lungs and you grasped at Felix's shirt. He immediately took you in his arms, laying down with you as tears fell from your eyes. His big hands circled your back and you slowly calmed down, clutching on to him, your eyes still darting around the tent in the search of danger. Felix must have sensed this, because he kept you closer to him.

"Don't worry, as long as you are with me, no one will ever take you from us. And no one will ever hurt you." He murmured with a soft and the first genuine smile you witnessed him bearing. "I promise." 

You nodded eagerly, you never had the intention to leave Neverland, even when you were the first to witness how horrible and terrible this island could be. You have seen Pan snapped so many times toward a boy, but especially to pirates, and you can't count the number of times you had watched him entering the camp, bloody, with Felix at his side, equally looking dishevelled. You realised that you never questioned them about what happened. The only time a boy did it, the second in command screamed it was to protect them and the island. You didn’t know if it was the truth, if they both enjoyed massacring Hook's crew that always came back or if they felt regret at all.

Finally, you felt your breathing come back at its normal pace. You were feeling tired again, but didn't know if he was going to stay. You heard some snores suddenly, and you looked up to see the blond haired boy already asleep. You didn’t care about the consequences of sleeping with Felix at the moment. It was nice, to finally have one little moment for yourself. Ultimately, you curled on yourself, clutching Felix’s arm and fell asleep as well. 

"(Y/N)! Devin puts thorns in my shoes!" A boy cried as he entered the tent. "What are you doing with Felix?!" He screeched, waking up both of you. 

The blond haired boy immediately blushed when he realised the position he was in, and you completely understood why: you were both tangled in each other limb, and anyone walking through could imagine what had happened. As long as Pan wasn't coming in...

"Come on Felix! At least take the girl on a date before jumping to the most fun part." He chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows with a suggestive tone as he appeared in front of the innocent boy. 

"We weren't... doing this!" You cried, feeling your cheeks heating up, embarrassed as you got up from bed to attend to the lost ones. 

"What were they doing Pan?" The boy asked curiously and innocently.

"Nothing! Now, let's take a look at your shoes, okay?" You smiled at him while taking his much smaller hand in yours. 

As you left the tent, you could hear Pan's laughter echoing in the camp. You bite your lips and ignore the looks of the older lost boys. Word spread like wildfire there. Despite their appearances, the boys were very noisy and you disliked this. 

You spent the day avoiding Felix, and by doing so you avoided your feelings growing for him. What was wrong with you? You hated the way he made you feel but you had to admit: what he did last night was... incredible. You had loved the way he had embraced you and calmed you down almost immediately. After all, there wasn't only bad in him. 

You cluelessly smiled to yourself as you thought this and nearly bumped into Peter Pan, who appeared suddenly in front of your person with that sly look... You knew it, and rolled his eyes at him with a sigh. 

"You are so in love with him, aren't you?" He sang as leant against a tree with his arms crossed. "Felix is shy, so maybe you should... ask him what he feels about you." 

"Of course not! That is private. I am not going to pester him with..."

"But he loves you too!" The green eyed boy cut you and groaned in annoyance. "I just want my favourite lost ones to be... to be happy. I know you both can't hear the music, so therefore you aren't truly lost and I don't care about that. I don't enjoy seeing both of my friends sulking." He admitted, a little embarrassed after pouring his thoughts on your situation. "It's my rules after all. I can bend them or break them whenever I feel the need to." 

You pondered for a moment after what Peter Pan told you. You walked over, and leant next to him as well. Most of the time, Pan had treated you like you were his maid or a mother, often mocking you for being it. But he knew why it was important for you and that you enjoyed caring for the boys. It was surprising for him to be called his friend, and an immense honor. 

"Fine... I will do it. I will talk to Felix." You assured him with a soft smile and you playfully ruffled his hair. 

He snorted at your motion and attempted to do the same to your hair. Two members of a sentry appeared, cutting short to the fun. You stayed next to Pan as he listened to what they had discovered: apparently, Hook and his ship were back to Neverland. You gulped nervously: the last time he came, it ended badly for both sides. You had never seen Pan that furious and enraged. You glanced at the lost boy leader and he commanded you to get back to the camp as fast as possible. You understood why, he didn’t want to endanger you. 

You spent most of the night at the main campfire, wondering when Pan and the two boys will come back. You hoped none of them were injured... Hook seemed stronger and stronger each time he returned to the island. You shuddered as a sudden cold wind reached and you cursed yourself for not having thicker clothes. 

"You look cold." Felix's monotonous voice said behind you. "Here let me..." 

Not daring looking at him, you let him do what he intended. The familiar worn out wool cloak was now hugging your figure and instantly warmed you up. 

"Thank you..." You whispered, not wanting to wake up the sleeping boys. "I think I am just tired." You tried to justify.

"Why don't you go to sleep then?" He asked as he sat down next to you, his eyes staring into the fire.

"I want to wait for the others. I have to make sure they come back safely." You blurted out immediately and worriedly. 

"You are a good mother." The young man murmured, and you swore you saw the tips of his ears reddening a little. 

Remembering your talk with Pan, you gulped nervously and played with your hair for a moment, trying to find the right words to admit your feelings. You were very tense, and hoped he would take it well. Finally, you found some courage in your frail body and looked directly at him. The lost one seemed concerned for a moment but waited for you to speak. 

"Felix I... I care about you a lot." You tried, hoping he would understand. 

"I do too." He confessed with a rare and genuine smile. "I care about you as well, more than the boys actually." 

You sighed in relief with a small laugh. So he was not that of an idiot after all! That immediately reassured you.

"You matter for me... as well as Pan." 

"Wh... What?" You breathlessly stuttered, eyebrows furrowimg in confusion. 

"I care about you the same I care about Pan." He repeated confidently. "I will always have your back. It feels nice to say it."

"Right..." 

You were such an idiot. You thought Felix loved you, obviously, he didn't. Then why was he sometimes... caring? Wasn't he the one who brought you the flowers in the first place? Wasn't it the reason why he messed with you a lot? You shook your head, hoping that your thoughts and feelings would disappear. 

"I am tired. I should get to bed." You said, clearly sounding disappointed and taking off the cloak.

"It is for the best. I will stay, don't worry. You look a bit sick... you okay?" Felix questioned as you handed him back his cloak. 

"Yes... Yes, don't worry about me." You gave him a fake reassuring smile and yet his eyes seemed to understand you were lying but he didn't question it. 

What an imbecile you were, you thought as you stomped toward your small tent. Sometimes you wished you could take out your own heart and crush it beneath your foot. You hated having feelings. 

[txdoroki]

can you do an angst with bakugou when he finds out you're suicidal/hate yourself 🧍‍♀️ sorry thats just the mood for tn LMAOOO i love u :P

omg yes yes yes yes yes

sorry this took so long it got buried and i forgot about it HAHAHA love uuu

TW: SUICIDAL IDEATION, NEGATIVE SELF TALK, 

no ignoring the tw please! if it’ll hurt you, don’t read it! safety first!

words: 710

you clutched at your legs that were tightly held against your chest, crying on the floor of your cramped bathroom. the thoughts about just. everything, clouded your mind, willing you into a cave of complete social isolation and sadness. honestly, not even sadness at this point. 

more..

 numbness.

you just wanted the thoughts gone, you wanted them to buzz off and let you just live one fucking good day. but no. they wouldn’t be quiet, wouldn’t give you the one thing you craved-- peace.

you’re such a bad person. that person texted you multiple times and you didn’t respond?? pathetic. you’re terrible..

honestly, you didn’t even know who had fed those kinds of thoughts into your head in the first place, you only knew that they had stuck years ago, and were still consistent in ruining your mood constantly.

this was the first time you’d cried in months, usually you were so numb and filled to the brim with apathy, but right now it felt like your entire body was overflown with grief. pure grief.

grief over what? you’re sad over nothing, the thoughts drilled into your mind, taking up all of your attention to try and dispel them. to get them to shut up.

what didn’t grab your attention was the pounding of a fist five minutes ago on your dormroom door, or the blonde boy that was standing in your doorway.

“y/n?” a grumbly voice startled you from your haze of grief and sadness. you looked up from the floor, and your stomach dropped. your boyfriend was standing in the doorway, “y/n, what the hell’s going on?” 

you went to wipe the tears from your face, trying to save the smallest amount of dignity you had left. when you got up to splash your face with water, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the bathroom and onto your bed.

“tell me everything, now,”

“oh, baby, there isn’t anything to talk about,” you tried to pretend that your voice wasn’t cracking and your lip wasn’t quivering as you smiled at him, “i’m a-okay”

“oh hush, we both know you’re lying, now, tell me,” he ran his hand through his hair to try and relieve some of the worry that was growing inside of him, but it didn’t do shit.

you told him everything you were going through, his gaze boring into you with an emotion you couldn’t tell. it’d taken quite a few minutes, and was rather difficult. to voice all of the dark thoughts and feelings to someone you were supposed to make happy? it was so hard for you.

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he whispered, pulling you to his chest.

“i-i didn’t wanna be a bur...burden” you sniffled, hoping your tears weren’t soaking into his shirt, or at least noticeably.

“you’d never be a burden, dumbass,” he brushed his fingers up against your back, appreciating that you opened up to him, “i’d rather you talk to me about how you feel than you fucking leaving me behind and i have to go to your goddamn funeral.”

“i-i’m sorry,” you wrapped your arms around him, fearing he’d say you were crazy. a drama queen.  that he didn’t love you.

“you haven’t done anything wrong, hon,” he held your head with one of his hands, “thank you for telling me, i love you, dummy. you’re so fucking strong, but you don’t always need to be, okay? i can be strong for you, you can lean on me for support, promise,”

you started sobbing into his chest, the words that flew from his mouth were exactly what you needed. it meant 10x more when he was the one who said it, you trusted he was telling the truth. 

he won’t leave you. you’ve got support, you don’t have to lie anymore.

“i love you too, ‘suki,” you sighed, enjoying the warmth that his affection sent through your body, “i still get butterflies when we hang out sometimes,”

he chuckled, “you fuckin nerd,” when you whined he cut the complaints off with, “my fuckin nerd, you aren’t getting leaving me anytime soon, not if i can do shit about it,” you giggled at the last part, some of the grief in you lifting as time went on.

[psychedelic-ink]

This is my commission for @bisexualturtledove ! Thank you so much for commissioning me and letting me post it! I hope you enjoy this uwu 

also this might be my favorite banner i ever did 

Pairing: Law x chubby!fem!reader x Zoro

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Smut

Word count: 2.2K 

Warning: Relatives talking about your weight and being mean about it, Reader being insecure about her weight, oral (receiving), threesome, overstimulation 

Summary: Your cousin reminds you how much you’ve gained weight and implies that Zoro and Law aren’t happy with you like this. Time passes and you start to believe what you’ve been told, that is until Law and Zoro sit you down and remind you how much they love you. 

Commissions | Ko-Fi

“Have you gained weight?” 

A chill went down your spine at the hearing of those words. Your eyes widened as you stared at your cousin with an astonished look. But it seemed like your expression has gone unnoticed by your cousin as she continued to spout words of poison. 

“Seriously whenever I see you it seems like you get bigger,” she chuckled. “Law and Zoro must be disappointed.” 

“Disappointed?” you repeated your lips feeling numb. 

She rolled her eyes as she placed the wine glass on her lips and took a big gulp. Your eyes followed her gulps. Your brows were raised high, how on earth did the conversation take such a shift? Your stomach churned and you felt yourself starting to sweat when she tore the delicate glass away from her lips. 

“I mean, have you seen them?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Their pecks could cut diamonds. They’re both fit as hell, surely they don’t like the fact that you’re...not…” 

“I…” you swallowed, your grip on your wine glass tightening. “They never said anything like that.” 

Your cousin gave you a pitiful look, her lips quivered up as she stared down at you. Momentarily you lifted the wine glass to your lips, thinking that if you took a sip the tense mood would be lifted but the scent of the alcohol made you feel sick due to the words she had just spoken. Your whole mood had fallen to the ground and you doubted you could pick the pieces up. 

“Oh honey,” he pity reached your ears. “Of course they won’t say anything but you probably know deep down right? You need to be blind to not see that you’re out of their league.” 

“Y-Yeah,” you managed to choke out, feigning a smile. “I’m on a diet anyway,” Lies. “I’m working on it.” 

“That’s great!” she exclaimed, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I hope it works out for you! Men like that just don’t stay for nothing you know?” 

You quickly nodded, her hand almost felt like a 100 pounds on your shoulder. Biting your bottom lip you waited for her to pass to the next victim, it seemed like someone had heard your prayers because her eyes widened and smile grew wide when she saw someone else and moved on to them. 

Mentally and physically you felt more relaxed with her leaving. You let out a deep breath and quickly placed your wine glass on the nearest surface. 

You couldn’t help but think your cousin was right when you grabbed your coat and headed home. 

≿————-　❈　————-≾

When you arrive home, you were glad to see that Law and Zoro were watching a movie. Well, it would be better to say that Law was watching a movie and Zoro was sleeping. You sat on the couch next to them with a groan, eyeing the TV as you did so. Zoro’s head was gently lying on top of Law’s lap and Law played with his soft green hair. The doctor tore his gaze away from the TV and on to you. 

“Welcome home,” he said in a low voice, careful to not wake Zoro up. “How was the gathering?” 

“Hell.” you said simply, your cousin’s words still echoing in the back of your head. “That’s pretty much it, not much to say.” 

Law observed you momentarily before turning his gaze back to the TV. 

“You can tell us if something is bothering you, you know?” 

Your eyes widened momentarily before you fixated your gaze to the TV as well. Even though it was nice that Law knew you so well it was also eerie. Despite his reassuring words you decided not to say anything, you already felt sick to your stomach, you didn’t want to talk about it. Nor did you want them to know that deep down, even though you knew it was foolish, kind of believed the words your cousin had spout. 

“Just the usual family gathering, not really much to say.” you smiled. “Don’t worry I’ll be fine.” 

Needless to say that was a lie. 

Days, weeks passed and your distance between the boys grew. You stared at the mirror for a longer amount with words of poison spiraling in your mind. You didn’t know how to make the feeling of uneasiness go away. The negativity towards yourself continued to brew inside of you and the boys noticed. 

Whenever one of them attempted to touch you, you moved away, you talked less and more and more you spent time in your room. Reading, watching mind numbing content on youtube. You could tell that they were slowly getting flustered with you, they didn’t understand and would never be able to. The more you thought about it the more you wondered why they were even with you. 

Then one day Zoro pulled you to the living room and sat you down on the couch as both of them took their places across from you. Anxiety brewed inside of you and you started to play with the hem of your shirt as you averted your eyes. 

“What’s going on with you?” Zoro is the first to speak, his eyes filled with worry. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah I am,” you replied quickly, still not looking at them. You could feel Law’s eyes boring into you. “I’m just a bit tired that’s all.” 

“Bullshit.” the green haired man suddenly snapped. “You’ve been avoiding us for weeks. If we did something just tell us.” 

“You didn’t do-” 

“Then why are you avoiding us like the plague!” 

“You wouldn’t understand!” you shouted as well, finally fixing your gaze on him. 

“Aha!” Zoro shouted triumphantly. “So there is something wrong, tell us.” 

“Is it because of the family gathering you went to?” 

Law’s voice cut the atmosphere like a knife, he was calm and collected. You gulped and turned your eyes to him, before you could reply Zoro spoke first. 

“Did something happen there?” he asked, turning to Law. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Law shrugged. 

“Y/n told me nothing happened so I didn’t pry.” 

Zoro snapped his head towards you, his gaze now more curious than anything. You felt your breath getting stuck in your throat, heart rising up to your cheeks you stared down at the floor. You hear Zoro sigh and he sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist he pulled you close. Swiftly he placed a kiss on the top of your head and asked again, this time much calmer than before. 

“We’re worried, just tell us what happened.” 

“My,” a knot formed in your throat as you tried to speak. You swallowed and continued. “My cousin said that I gained weight and that… you guys weren’t happy with me basically…” 

“What?” Zoro asked, bewildered. 

“Is that why you’ve been keeping your distance?” Law continued, coming closer and sitting down to your other side. “You felt that we didn’t want you...just because you gained weight?” 

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and buried your face into Zoro’s broad chest. He pulled your closer, his arms tightening around you. Slowly nodding you said nothing else. 

“That would never happen,” Zoro murmured against your hair. “We don’t love you because of how much you weigh.” 

“It sounds to me that your cousin is just bitter,” Law said, placing a hand over your thigh and caressing your plump flesh over your pajamas. “With her nasty personality I doubt anyone even so much as glances at her.” 

Law’s hand traveled up your thigh, his thumb caressing you a soft moan left your lips. It’s been a while since you had sex and you would be lying if you said you haven’t been craving them both. Your cunt twitched as Law’s fingers ghosted over your clothed heat. 

Meanwhile, Zoro’s hands snuck under your shirt. With his fingertips he traced your spine, making you shiver and whine. You could barely call it touch with the way he was stroking you. 

“I guess we’ll just have to remind you how much we love you.” Law muttered while he lifted your legs up to the couch. 

Zoro slid his hands to the front of you as Law prompted you to lay on your back. He now was nestled between your legs, pulling down your pajama pants as Zoro started to fondle your breasts. 

You felt your face starting to heat up as Zoro buried his face into your neck. Licking and nibbling on the sensitive flesh, his hands kneading your soft mounds. A sharp yelp left you when he pinched both of your nipples, your back arched and you bit your bottom lip. 

Your whole body was burning up, lips parted, you were already dripping. Law, squeezing your thigh, lifted one of your legs over your shoulder and leaned down. Your cunt throbbed at his prying gaze, instinctively you spread your legs wider and his smirk grew. 

“Someone’s eager.” 

Law dipped down and left a trail of open mouthed kisses as he traveled up to your core. He spread the folds with his fingers and latched on to it, lapping up your juices as his life depended on it. 

Your head fell back and Zoro continued to suck on your neck. He rolled up your shirt, exposing your plump breasts and started to roll your nips between his rough fingers.  A bit of saliva dribbled down your chin. Your whole body continuously spasmed, the overwhelming sensation being too much for you. 

Law’s sinful tongue went in circles around your gaping hole and wiggled the muscle inside. You lifted your lips to give him further access and soon enough he started to thrust his tongue in and out of you. Your whole body trembled and he rolled your clit between his fingers. 

Your moan gradually became louder but was cut short when Zoro took a hold of your chin and turned you to face him, he crashed his lips against yours. Moaning into the kiss, your tongues danced alongside each other, licking and sucking on the warm flesh. Both of them were simply intoxicating, you missed this, missed the feeling of them drowning you with their love and passion. 

Law squeezed your love handles as his tongue continued to penetrate you, every so often he would wiggle it inside of you making your scream out his name over and over again as heat started to build in your core. 

Your fingers tangled in Law’s raven hair you broke the kiss as you pushed his face in deeper. You moaned his and Zoro’s name over and over again as both of them pushed you over the edge making your insides quiver and your body spasm. 

“Fuck...” you breathed out tugging on Law’s hair. 

Law lifted his head to glance at you, his chin was drenched in your juices. He had a pleased smile plastered on his face as he leaned down to swiftly claim your lips. 

Continuing to kiss you Law aligned himself with your twitching hole. You were already so sensitive that it felt like you would cum the moment he started to push in. He broke the kiss and grabbed your hips, slightly lifting you up so he could reach even deeper inside you. 

Law was slow and gentle as he buried himself into you inch by inch. Zoro had his lips on your ear whispering words of encouragement and praise as Law bottomed out. Your already sensitive cunt was throbbing and aching as it wrapped around Law’s length. 

As Law started to move, Zoro bit the lobe of your ear, his tongue dancing along the skin. Your back arched and your moans grew louder as the noise of skin slapping against skin filled the room. Eyes closed and mouth open, you screamed out their names over and over again. At that point you weren’t even sure you were properly voicing them out. 

You felt Law twitching inside of you, he hissed and gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh. Your insides feeling warm and tingly, your toes curled as you came the second time that day. As your orgasm washed over you Law quickly pulled out and came, hot ropes of cum shooting all over your lower abdomen. Feeling dazed, your whole body twitched. Zoro nuzzled the side of your face and planted a kiss on your temple. 

“Are you alright?” he muttered, his voice clearly still dripping with lust. 

You slowly nodded, your inner walls still twitching and your body spasming as you came down from your orgasm. 

“Good,” Law said, leaning closer, his breath ghosted over your flushed face. “Don’t ever believe the bullshit people tell you, again.” 

“And tell us about it.” Zoro added. “How are you feeling y/n? Up for round three?” 

Law chuckled at that, he inched closer to Zoro and gave him a sweet peck on the lips. 

“Poor Zoro,” he teased. “Do you feel left out?” 

“I wonder why?” he snorted. 

“I…” you breathed out. “I can go for round three.” 

A devilish smile spread across Zoro’s handsome features. 

“Good.” he hummed, starting to move from underneath you. 

Finally the negative thought and emotions left you as your two lovers devoured you. 

[hopeless-ro-simptic]

Familiar Cerulean Eyes Pt 10

Sorry for the wait everyone! this last week has been crazy! I am working on the next part and hope to have it up in the next day or so and be back on track. 

For more parts click here! Part 11

Warnings: Talk about harming others, blood. That’s about it. This chapter is more just trying to get Y/N acquainted with the league. 

Word Count: 2.4 k

TAGLIST: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac @littlelovebug98 @plutoneu @giftofwonder @kitty-kat-ash @fukyouthink @anarchys-bnha-mess @threbony @orenjineki @toobsessedsstuff @bamf-barnes @x-a-delama-x @inanabsentia @reallyshey @godsblesstheboi​ @operatorsdime @drownedbytears​ @emilymikado​ @fluidfandoms​ @gotagan @mikasackrmann​ @flowersgirl02 @bohica160​ @andrastesbeard​ @riapxq @percabethismyotp14​ @celestiallustre​ @moon-spirit-yue​ @hecatve​ @bakugoshirp @vanillanjinn @toshiuwuu​ @rxinbowrena @therealwalmartjesus​ @callmepopcorn​ @xxdumb-bitchxx​

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Villains are the most compassionate people in the world apparently. Well not all of them were, but this lot was.

No one had said anything when you puked all over the floor. Not one snide comment when you curled up onto the ground dry heaving. Toga had stepped forward almost immediately, quicker than even Dabi, pulling your hair back from your face, taking a hair tie front her wrist and tying it up. Dabi hadn’t even growled at her, instead dropping to your other side rubbing your back cooing softly in your ear that it was okay. That it was over. Twice stayed quiet for once so not to say something wrong, instead taking off to go find cleaning supplies to pick up the mess. Spinner just stood there awkwardly.

Even Shigaraki stayed quiet, choosing to take off down the hallway leaving you with everyone else, Kurogiri following after.

“Come on, let’s go get you something to drink.” Dabi and Toga helped you up to your feet, guiding you down the hallway and through a door to the main bar area, sitting you down on a couch against the wall. You were shaking at this point, your ears ringing.

Toga curled up on the couch with you, petting your hair, while Spinner took a seat on the floor a couple feet away from you. You could vaguely hear Dabi tell her to watch out for staples, and a quick retort from her saying there was none but you didn’t care.  How could you? Someone was dead, and their last moments were in agonizing pain because of you. Because you got upset... because they tried to hurt your alpha. 

Dabi came around the bar kneeling in front of you with two drinks in his hand, water and some kind of alcohol, it smelled like whiskey.

“You’re going to want it. Trust me.”

You nodded taking the whiskey from him shooting it to the best of your ability, trading the glass for the water. Dabi got up briefly coming back again this time with multiple drinks in hand, one for each of you before he settled onto the floor in front of you, rubbing your legs soothingly like he could massage away the last however many minutes from your mind, watching you with guilt in his eyes.

You couldn’t look at him.

Twice came in and joined you, hesitating before taking a seat next to Toga who was currently picking apart your hair strands that had blood in them still, you briefly thought that you really needed to shower again.

“That was badass. You’re such a “ You could see Twice covering his mouth with his hand, struggling to keep whatever he was about to say inside. He looked absolutely tortured with himself, trying to keep things in check. Toga immediately switched from picking at your hair to pulling his head against her shoulder, petting him softly.

“He’s right… Y/N. That was pretty cool of you.” You felt sick to your stomach again and shifted away from the duo further on the couch. Why were they even here right now? To make you feel worse? In your mind you knew you would have to get over this at some point. If you wanted Dabi this would be your new normal, you would have to… hurt people. It didn’t make it any easier.

And he just sat silent, rubbing your legs like that would help. Dabi knew you were in an internal war. He knew what you were feeling right now. He wouldn’t blame you if you decided this was too much for you. That he wasn’t worth it. That you rather be free, or even go back to that fucking house. Dabi downed his drink, refusing to think about that. Knowing that deep down inside he wouldn’t let you go back to that house even if that was what you wanted with everything in your soul. He was selfish. Letting you go was one thing, letting his father have you back was another.

You sat frozen on the couch, nursing your second drink already feeling the effects of the first one. It wasn’t numbing like you had hoped. It just made you want to cry more but you refused. You needed to prove to these villains that you were fine. That you could handle this. That they didn’t have to get rid of you just because you were a cry baby. You knew just because Dabi was your alpha, that didn’t mean they would let you stick around. They had to make sure they could trust you.

“You’re allowed to be upset Y/N…” Twice was looking at you seriously now, curled up in Toga’s grasp. There was no second voice to follow. No snarky remark.

“I’m fine.”

“God, I hope not. We don’t need another crazy person.” Toga lightly smacked his head at his words, a smile pulling at her lips.

“What? I’m serious! The last thing we need right now is another psycho like Overhaul. Remember how well that went?” You looked over at the duo with confusion as Twice defended his words, Toga telling him to hush up but he just looked back to you and continued.

“If you’re fine right now, then you are in shock, and if your fine and not in shock you really should be concerned. I don’t know anyone that didn’t freak out the first time... other than Toga maybe, but she’s special. She’s crazy!” Toga rolled her eyes, covering Twice’s mouth with her hand.

“I’ve been dealing with blood since I was born.” She explained, a ghost of a blush crossing her cheeks like she was embarrassed. “You can’t really freak out about hurting people when you have a quirk like mine. The first time I really hurt someone though, like really hurt them, it was an accident. I ran away so fast no one even knew what to do. The look on everyone else’s faces, especially my friends... They started screaming at me saying I was a vampire. They weren’t very cute anymore.”

“Try killing yourself, that’s really awful.” Twice mumbled against Toga’s hand and visibly shuddered like he was remembering something, Toga immediately going back to stroking his head gently like she could sooth the thoughts. Somehow the little blonde had a calming affect on the other beta, you wondered what their relationship was.

“I don’t understand.”

“We all remember our first time, princess. We all hated it. We all probably threw up just like you did, or drank ourselves stupid, or whatever other coping mechanism we came up with. None of us wanted to do this. It just sorta happened.” Dabi finally spoke, his eyes latched onto his empty glass, like he was remembering something he didn’t want to either.

“We aren’t changing the world so we can hurt people. We are hurting people to change the world.” Spinner was speaking now. His voice surprised you, having not heard it before. You knew that he was a Stain fanatic but you didn’t know much else about him.

Kurogiri had snuck into the room. He was standing behind Dabi just a few feet away, looking almost shameful and you jumped when you noticed him, once again surprised by his sudden appearance. You wondered if mist could blush. You wondered a lot about the Beta in front of you.

“I would like to apologize and offer my condolences, Ms. Y/N. It is my fault that Compress went into that room and any of this happened to begin with. I am gravely sorry that you had to get involved like that.” He bowed low, his hands clasped in front of him.

“It’s okay...” You didn’t really know what to say, especially to that. Everyone was being so kind to you, for once you could actually see them as people, people with more than just pure hatred and murder in their hearts, people that were more than the blood they spilled.

It was a couple minutes of silently drinking before anyone said anything again. 

“You know… maybe I shouldn’t say this cause of the tender moment… but Y/N, you really stink.” Twice leaned away from you like you were going to hit him, or maybe like he was trying not to breathe in your stench, pinching his nose.

“Oh thank god, someone other than me said it.” Toga immediately jumped up from the couch putting distance between the two of you while trying to hide a smile on her face of amusement as she covered her mouth and nose with her palm.

Your eyes shifted over to Dabi’s who looked like he was trying to also hide a laugh, his hands had left your legs as he leaned back using his arms to prop him up and you immediately found yourself missing the warmth and comfort of his touch.

“You do kind of reek…”

You scoffed in mock annoyance. Your own lips twitching up in weak smile. They were trying. These crazy people that barely knew you, were trying their best to make you feel better, and it was almost working.

“I guess I’ll go shower then... I need clothes though. Preferably something that fits.” You looked down at the baggy sweats that were barely hanging onto your hips and the hoodie that looked gross as all hell with everything on it, before looking back up at Dabi pointedly.

“But you look so good in mine.” You could hear the way his voice dropped into a low growl that went straight to your lower stomach. You could feel your cheeks heating up. How was he able to flip that switch in you so easily? He was just telling you that you smelled bad!

“Ew gross. If you guys fuck can I watch?” Twice was back to his antics again, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Please don’t. I sit on that couch. I have some clothes that might fit you Y/N!” Toga ran off out of the room and you weren’t sure if she just wanted to get away from the two of you or if she was actually going to look for clothes.

You stood up, looking down at Dabi, mumbling softly asking where to shower to which he responded by grabbing your hands, hoisting himself off the floor almost pulling you down in the process before dragging you out of the room behind him with barely a goodbye to the others.

“So is that a no?”

You followed Dabi back to his room, noticing the conjoined bathroom once you were inside. The whole building seemed to be set up like an old hotel, the bar being the main room, but it seemed like there was a couple other communal rooms as well. Maybe he would let you explore a little when you were done. Get to know the place that was going to be possibly your new home. It was weird to think about it like that. Would the two of you stay here or go back to his old apartment?

“I’m gonna go find Shigaraki and update him on the Shoto situation while you’re cleaning up. We need to get a plan in place before he shows up and tries to kill us all.” Dabi paused when there was a knock on the door, opening it to let Toga bounce into the room with a stack of clothes. Dabi wrinkled his nose at the scent of them, his lips almost settling into a pout when he realized you would smell like her. “I’ll be back. Please don’t go running around until I get back. We might have to work quickly to get everything set up…” He paused again looking at the clothes his alpha focusing on them. “We can go shopping later too… for your own clothes.”  

You nodded, taking the clothes from the petite blonde, smiling gratefully at her before she turned and flitted out of the room, smirking at Dabi as she passed. He slammed the door behind her much to her annoyance. Stinky little brat. Dabi loved her like a little sister but man was she annoying sometimes, her scent especially.

“Okay.” You shifted from foot to foot watching Dabi as he shifted his intense hooded gaze back to yours. You could feel the energy in the room change, your omega perking back up from her sleep now that the two of you were alone, attention piqued. You thought back to the way his lips had felt against yours no too long ago. He was thinking about it too.

“We might have to lay low for a while, find a different place to hide out just the two of us until things calm down.” Just the two of you? By yourselves? Hiding away? You could smell the excitement coming off of you at just the thoughts in your head.

“Don’t look at me like that,” His voice was low, gravelly, a warning as he held the doorknob loosely to keep himself grounded. To remind himself now was not the time.

“Like what?” Did you not realize what you were doing to him when you looked at him like that? Like you were an innocent little thing waiting to be corrupted. Surely you did. He could smell you from here, across the room. It was like a little slice of heaven. He wanted to make it his.

“Like you want to be fucked.” Dabi was delighted in the way that your cheeks turned red, your lips parting to suck in a breath of air in surprise at his words, at how you didn’t even protest. He wanted to bend you over his bed right now and… no… he wanted to take his time with his little mouse. He wanted to worship you, to show you just exactly how he felt with no distractions from the world outside. Just the two of you.

In order to do that he had to take care of some things first.

“Go shower.” He growled out before retreating from the room, shutting the door with a thud, leaning against it staring up at the florescent lights on the ceiling. He could still smell you out here, though it was very faint, the scent blockers throughout the building doing their jobs.

His alpha was screaming to go back in there and have his way with you, fuck the rest of the world, but his logical side reminded him that you guys didn’t have much time left before a horde of heros showed up to come rescue their damsel in distress. There was no way Endevor was going to let his little show dog’s omega get stolen.

Dabi took one deep inhale of your scent, adjusting himself in his pants before pushing off the door and forcing himself to go find Shigaraki. They needed a plan or else this was going to be a bloodbath.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[weareallstoriesintheend]

Heavy (Charlie Barber x Reader)

Summary: I don't really have a summary for this. It just needed to be written - have some mental health comfort with Charlie.

I haven't proof read this so apologies for any mistakes.

Warnings: Mental Health

Word Count: 1,795

Everything felt heavy.

This was new.

It was like everything felt too much to handle. So instead of standing up, finding a way through – a normal practice for you – you retreated. You retreated much further back than you had in a long time. This wasn’t fast; it was a slow process of watching everything fall apart around and within you. Nothing felt right anymore and it bugged you. It bugged you that you didn’t feel worthy of trying anymore, people around you reminded you that you were but when you were left alone for even a minute life felt like nothing. Everything felt simultaneously blank and all too much.

Whenever you felt like this you were reminded of a quote you read once, by F. Scott Fitzgerald, which had just stuck in your mind. “The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” You didn’t even know it was a real quote but nothing had ever resonated with you quite like this.

Today was dark. Today felt like giving up. So you sat alone at home, no lights on inside but just watching the day slowly disappear with the light outside. Your laptop light illuminated your face in the dying light and although it hurt your eyes it was something to numb your mind. Movement felt almost impossible so even as your stomach growled at you for food you just patiently shushed it and carried on the mindless tasks you could do from exactly where you were in bed.

Then you heard a key in the lock and the quiet push open of the door. You’d expected it honestly. You’d waited for the sound of his spare key in the lock for a couple of days, he was a busy man so you put no time frame on this expectancy but you knew him. You knew how his mind would buzz with worry as you slowly slipped away from him but you didn’t have the energy or the words to say anything. To you it felt easier, but to him it would feel like the world was ending. You waited for the second pair of smaller footsteps. Sometimes he’d bring his son Henry with him in the hopes that his incessant youthful energy would spur you up out of bed. Sometimes it worked and sometimes he’d frantically place Henry in front of the TV to keep him from seeing Dads girlfriend, and his favourite new person/babysitter, in such a state. This time they never came and you breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw his wide frame occupy the doorway, leaning casually and eyes scanning you and your surroundings.

“You should have called” his deep tone cut through the silence and you internally flinched. The silence was comforting; you didn’t have to answer to the silence.

“I don’t know where my phone is”

You saw him reach into his pocket, still not having made eye contact with him yet, and type something into his phone. In the distance you heard a ringing; he swiftly followed it and returned a moment later with the ringing phone.

“It’s barely got any charge. Where is the charger honey?” he asked, so gentle.

You pointed to the corner of the room where you always get the charger plugged into the wall. He padded over, you noticed he’d kicked off his shoes, and stooped to plug in your phone with the joints of his knees quietly clicking as they bent. The looming frame was now crowding your peripheral vision at the end of the bed.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you should have called” he said, you could hear that he was bordering on slight agitation. Charlie was a patient man, being a father had made him such, but with you he often caught himself gritting his teeth when things got this bad. You knew you were unreasonable and childish but you didn’t have the space in your mind to be anything else. You knew these changes in mood were constant lately and you expectantly waited for the day that agitation turned into dropping off his spare key and never coming back.

You saw him turn, as his back was to you now you lifted your eyes to see him. He was dressed casually, your favourite red jumper of his hugging the broad curve of his shoulders. He was always so well put together.

He reached for the curtains…

“Please don’t” you raised your voice just a little. His hands paused and he turned to you. You heard him huff a breath out and he lifted his hands to rest at his hips. “How was work?” He asked plainly. You shrugged “It was fine”, thankfully right now your job was mostly sitting aimlessly staring at a laptop screen. This was something you comfortably did from bed most days.

“Did you eat today?”

You shook your head. With that he stepped a little closer and you resisted the urge to look at him, the stare of his soft golden brown eyes felt too much. Despite his restlessness for your moods he regarded you with such care and attention. The gentle loving tone of his voice made your chest ache.

“When did you shower last?”

Shrug

“Did you call your mom?”, when you shook your head at this question he audibly tutted. You flinched but hoped the room was dark enough that he didn’t see it.

“You know you need to tell me when things get this bad right? Am I still driving you to therapy tomorrow?”

“I cancelled the appointment” You muttered.

This time he raised his voice and said your name in a tone that sounded nothing short of a parent talking to a child. For some reason it brought you an ounce of comfort.

“I know okay!” you said, the volume of your own voice rising this time. Your mind felt crowded, like someone had filled it with cotton wool and then tied heavy weights to your brain. “I can’t Charlie, okay? I get that I disappoint you when I don’t do what you tell me and then I’m a fucking burden to you because you have to come over here but I just can’t!” your body was shaking and tears poured from your eyes as you frantically tried to brush them away with the pads of your fingers.

He sighed and bent down, elbows resting on the bed, so that he was in your eyeline, “You don’t disappoint me sweetheart and you certainly aren’t a burden; I just care and want you to try”

“I do try!” you shouted; now you looked at him dead in the eyes. His expression instantly changed when he saw your face, crumpled and weary, “Sweetheart, I know you d-“

“- I do try Charlie, but I just can’t. I don’t want to have to try all the time. I don’t want to have to fight all the time. I don’t want to do this!” you gestured wildly around you, signalling the mess of things around you that was a necessity when simple functioning was hard. You sobbed, dropping your face into your hands and letting everything you’d held back all day go.

You tried not to cry anymore, it hurt your eyes and gave you a headache so you stored it. You held it in in the hopes it would go away. But right now with Charlie’s kind eyes on you there was nothing to hold it back. No silence, no peace, just him.

He instantly got to his feet and picked your laptop up from your lap placing it somewhere. He shushed you with a hand through your hair and shuffled you forward with the gentlest tug he could, you looked up to see what he was doing and saw him awkwardly crouching on the bed beside you before he slid in behind you. You tried to speak but his motions distracted you.

Charlie slid himself behind you, his back to the cushions and his legs either side of your hips. Suddenly you were submerged in him, the warmth of his body and the gentle wave of his cologne.

He grabbed your waist and pulled your back flush against his chest. A strong arm wrapped itself around your middle and then the other wrapped a muscular forearm around your chest. You instantly wrapped your fingers around it and held him closer. He placed gentle kisses into your hair and coo’d soft words into your neck until your sobbing had subsided slightly.

You sat, fingers wrapped around his forearm staring blankly at the space in front of you sniffling away your tears. Everything felt numb. But the press of his lips against your skin and the beating of his heart against your back brought you down, lowered your own racing heart and stilled your breath just a little.

“I should have called” you croaked. He placed a firm kiss to your shoulder and said “I know, but I’m here now. I promise I’m not going anywhere”

“But what about Henry?”

“I’ll take care of it” he said, shushing you as you tried to spin in his arms and he whispered your name, “Let me take care of you…” and then even more quietly he added “… Let me love you”

You shook your head “I don’t know how”

“Then let me show you. You are worthy of so much more than a dark empty room and a brain filled with lies”

You nodded and sniffed as more tears began flooding your vision. He pulled you impossibly closer to him, his voice soft and nurturing in your ear.

“I want to help but you have to let me. I will be here for as long as you want me, for as long as you need. But you can’t shut me out again okay?”

You nodded again and tried to speak, the second you opened your mouth no words but a cry was all the sound you made.

“Right, first things first…” his voice trailed off as your body moved, he was leaning down to the bottom drawer of your bedside cabinet. You clung to his forearm as he shuffled around. He plopped a protein bar from your emergency depression snack stash into your lap.

“Eat” he ordered voice stern and you knew not to argue with that tone. The Dad Tone. Your hands shook as you unwrapped the top of the bar and took a tentative bite.

“I don’t deserve you” you whispered, hiccuping through your tears and slow bites.

“Nonsense” he tutted “You deserve the world and I will always try my best to give it to you”

[polaroid15]

Guy in the Chair

Summary: Having a superhero for a best friend isn’t easy. But with the help of Mr. Stark, Ned things he might just be able to swing it.

Or, 5 times Ned was there for Peter and 1 time they were there for each other.

Read on Ao3 here.

-----

Ned hates funerals.

But mostly he hates seeing Peter in so much pain.

He sits beside his friend now, silent and relieved to be hearing him breathe evenly. The service for Ben had ended less than an hour ago. Overwhelmed, Peter had let Ned guide him away from the grave. They’re close enough to see May kneeling beside the freshly upturned dirt, her head in her hands, but far enough away that Peter no longer hyperventilates.

The cement bench they sit on is freezing. Snow comes up to their ankles. Both are shivering but too numb to move.

“Peter?”

Nothing.

Expecting it, Ned looks to his friend. Peter is curled in on himself, eyes open with frozen tear tracks running all the way down to his chin. He doesn’t give off any external cues that he’s heard Ned’s prompt, his sight unseeing.

“Peter?” he tries again, and when it still doesn’t elicit a response, he reaches out cold fingers to rest on Peter’s arm. Lightly, carefully, like he’s touching something fragile. “Hey man. You with me?”

Eyebrows creasing, Ned watches as a glimmer of coherence returns to Peter’s eyes. And with it, pain. Sharp and raw. Peter sucks in a long breath that rattles in his chest- like it’s the first real breath he’s taken in hours. It blows out in a puff of air that obscures the grave ahead of them.

“Peter.”

With some confusion, Peter swivels his head. He reaches a trembling hand to his face and uses his fingertips to feel the ice on his skin. “N-Ned?” he stammers. “I- when did we... I don’t remember coming over here.”

“It’s okay man. We came after the service.”

“May?”

“Over there. She’s okay.”

Breathing deep again, Peter’s eyes shine with new moisture. He buries his head deep into his elbow and leaves it there, his knuckles white where they clutch at his coat. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “God, I’m going crazy.”

Ned’s stomach hollows out. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I am,” Peter sniffs. “It’s cold.”

“It’s not that cold.”

Peter lifts his head and offers Ned a weak smile, though it falls fast. He hopes it isn’t permanent. “I just- I can’t believe he’s really gone.”

Ned bites his lip. He hadn’t known Peter when his parents had died, but he knows well enough from their sleepovers that he wakes up in cold sweats. He also knows that Peter has a tendency to blame himself for things that aren’t his fault, that he walks as if the world is on his shoulders.

And Peter had been there. In the alley. He had tried to keep Ben alive as he bled out.

And it didn't work. God, why couldn’t it have worked?

“Me either.”

Peter chokes on his next breath. Holds it. “What- what are we going to do without him?”

“Peter-”

“May can’t…I can’t-” Peter breaks off, gasping. “He can’t be gone.”

Words are impossible. Ned reaches deep within himself and whispers, “I’m sorry Peter. I’m so sorry.”

Peter’s lip wobbles. His eyes fill until there’s nowhere for the tears to go but out. At the same time they reach for each other, and Ned holds onto Peter as if it’s his sole purpose in this life. “It’s my fault Ned,” Peter sobs into his shoulder. “I couldn’t save him. It was me. He’s d-dead because of me.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“We had a fight,” Peter continues, delirious in his grief. “We had a fight and he died and I should’ve been able to save him.”

“It’s not your fault, man. What happened to Ben was terrible, but it wasn’t your fault, okay? He wouldn’t have wanted you to blame yourself. You know that.”

Peter tries to speak but is crying too hard for Ned to make out the words. So instead he pats Peter’s back and hugs him as hard as he can. He holds on. He whispers ‘he loved you’ and ‘it’s not your fault’ in between Peter’s sobs. He’s not sure how long it goes on for. He feels like a skipping record, his condolences an endless loop.

Eventually, Peter’s head lolls against Ned’s cheek. He stops crying. Stops everything. “I’m sorry,” he says. Then, more sure, “you’re a good friend, Ned. Thanks- thanks for being here with me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Always,” Ned says. It’s a promise, a vow. “No matter what.”

And with every nerve in his body, he means it.

------

Peter is Spider-Man.

In a way, Ned still feels the aftershocks of the surprise. It hits him over and over again whenever he sees Peter with a limp or a bruise, or a cut that he can tell from it’s scar Peter had stitched himself.

But it’s nothing in comparison to Homecoming.

What’s supposed to be a fun night turns into a full out adrenaline high with life or death stakes. Instead of dancing, he fires Peter’s web shooters and works tirelessly in the computer lab. Being the guy in the chair.

And then there’s silence. An awful, consuming silence.

Ned expects Peter to come back to the party, and when he doesn’t, he tries calling. All thirteen calls go straight to voicemail.

He tries again now.

“Hey, it’s Peter. I promise I’m not ignoring you. Uh, leave a message. Thanks.”

Failing to ignore his worry, Ned drags his aching feet home. His mom is working a late shift at the hospital so he unlocks the door to his apartment and flicks on the lights, rubbing at his face in exhaustion.

He barely makes it two steps before he hears it.

A thud, like something heavy hitting hardwood.

Ned grabs the item closest to him, an umbrella propped up in the corner by the door and walks with caution towards his bedroom where the noise came from. Not for the first time that night, his heart beats viciously in his chest. Did Liz’s dad figure out he was helping Peter? Did the guy from the bus lot follow him home?

“Hello?” he calls, wincing when his voice shakes. He holds the umbrella a little tighter, the thin metal sticks digging into his palm. “Who- who’s there?”

When there’s no answer he pauses outside his door and cranes for clues. Hearing nothing, he braces himself before kicking open the door. The first thing he sees is his open window, and then-

“Oh my God! Peter!”

His friend is slumped under the glass, pale and covered in sweat and blood. Though his eyes are half lidded, he smiles at Ned when he sees him. “Why’re you holding an umbrella?” he slurs.

Ned dips his head to look at the makeshift weapon before tossing it to the side. His hands are shaking horribly. “I thought- I thought someone broke in!”

“Well technically,” Peter coughs, wincing, “I did break in.”

“It’s different,” Ned says, his legs like jelly as he stumbles forward. He kneels beside Peter and holds his hands out gingerly, sure whatever part of Peter he touches will shatter. “What the hell happened to you?”

Peter frowns. There’s too much blood. “I crashed Mr. Stark’s plane,” he says.

“What?”

“Liz’s dad was trying to steal it. I stopped him though.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I get hurt all the time.”

“Not like this,” Ned argues, and Peter’s eyes darken.

“I’m okay,” he whispers.

Grinding his nails into his knees, Ned shakes his head. Peter hasn’t moved since he found him, his arms curled tightly around his chest. “Why’d you come here?”

Gaping, Peter pales further. “Oh. I didn’t... I’m sorry-”

“No,” Ned says quickly. “Not like that. I mean, isn’t Mr. Stark supposed to help you with stuff like this?”

Peter closes his eyes, his face shadowed. “Mr. Stark doesn’t want to see me anymore. He ended things, remember?”

“But if he knew you were hurt-”

“Ned.”

“You’re bleeding really bad. I don’t know how to help you.”

Peter smiles again, but it’s sad. Broken, like the day of Ben’s funeral. It makes Ned feel sick. “Can I use your shower?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Definitely. I’m covered in sand and ash and concrete-” Peter shudders, eyes becoming distant for a moment. “Please?”

“Right. Of course, man. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks.”

Peter tries to stand but needs Ned’s help in the end. They limp to the bathroom together and Ned helps Peter pull the top half of his suit off because Peter can’t lift his arms above his head. Peter is quiet during the process, but Ned doesn’t miss the way he sways and bites his lip.

When the suit is finally stripped away, Ned is sure he’ll have nightmares of for the rest of his life. Impossibly dark bruising covers nearly every inch of his friend’s skin, puncture marks still leaking blood and surrounded by countless smaller cuts and scrapes. He notices that Peter doesn’t look in the mirror. He doesn’t even look down, his hands shaking as he stares in determination at the opposite wall.

It’s only now that Ned truly understands the weight of what Peter is taking on. That having superpowers comes with a cost.

I just wanted to be like you, Peter had told Mr. Stark.

And I want you to be safe, thinks Ned, aching.

“Peter,” he whispers. He feels strangely detached from his body, as if he’s viewing the massacre through someone else’s eyes. “This- this is really bad. Like, hospital bad.”

Peter doesn’t argue, which Ned knows is a bad sign. Instead, his eyes glisten as if he’s about to cry. “I heal fast.”

“But-”

“I’m going to shower now.”

“Peter.”

“Ned please. I know you mean well, but- but I can’t think about it right now, okay? I just need to shower and then I’ll be okay.”

Ned stills. Swallows. Then, with great reluctance, he nods. “Okay.”

Looking weak with relief, Peter gives him a watery smile. When he speaks, his voice cracks. “Thanks man. I- I really owe you one.”

“It’s nothing. Guy in the chair, remember?”

“Thanks Ned.”

After their handshake, Ned leaves. It takes a minute of standing by the bathroom door and breathing intently through his nose to get his heart to calm. When it does, his pocket vibrates. He pulls out his phone, expecting it to be his mom.

Instead, it’s an unknown number.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ned answers, making sure to move away from the bathroom. “Hello?”

There’s staticy silence. Then, heavy breathing. “Is this Peter’s friend?”

“Who’s this?”

“I’ll take that as a yes. This is Happy Hogan. You called me earlier.”

An unexpected surge of anger makes his ears hot. Hand tightening around the phone, Ned doesn’t try to keep the annoyance from his voice. “What do you want?”

Happy sighs. “Peter. Have you seen him?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Now. He’s at my apartment.”

More silence. Ned paces.

“How is he?” Happy asks finally.

“Why do you care?” Ned snaps. His heart is beating fast again. He can hear it in the base of his eardrums. “I tried to warn you earlier and you hung up on me.”

“Kid, listen-”

“He’s not okay,” Ned interrupts. “He’s hurt really bad. And he wouldn’t be if you had just listened.”

Ned expects deflection, but Happy’s words surprise him with their concern. “Wait. Peter’s hurt?”

It leaches his anger. “Yeah.”

“Can I talk to him?”

Ned opens his mouth to respond but pauses at the sound of a muffled conversation on the other end of the line. There’s a short struggle and then a new voice fills his ears. One that he’s more than familiar with.

“Ted, right?” Tony Stark asks. “Put Peter on the phone. Pronto. ASAP.”

“I- I-”

“He’s with you, isn’t he?” the man urges.

“I- yes.”

“Well then?”

Ned, despite how freaking cool it is to be talking to Iron Man, can’t help but feel a streak of protectiveness for his friend. “He didn’t call you for a reason.”

Tony is quiet, which Ned doesn’t expect. He plows on. “He thinks you don’t care. And maybe you don’t. But you can’t just choose when you want to help him. He’s here and he’s hurt, and I’m just about the least qualified person to be helping him. There’s blood on my floor and my mom is going to freak out-”

“Take a breath kid,” Tony interjects, his voice pinched. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Just let me talk to him.”

“He’s in the shower.”

“We’ll come pick him up, then. What’s your address?”

Ned closes his eyes, feeling two seconds away from a breakdown. He should be excited, but instead he just feels hollow. How did this become my life?

He rattles off his address and hangs up before Tony can respond. Then he sits on his floor beside Peter’s blood and cries silently into his hands.

-------

Ned tries to talk to Peter about Homecoming, but his friend just defects. Ned tries not to let it bother him.

But it does.

Physically, Peter recovers quickly. The ugly cuts and bruises disappear after the weekend, but the weariness that accompanies them never really leaves. The dark circles under Peter’s eyes get worse everyday and it’s harder to get a genuine smile out of his friend.

It all comes to a head on Wednesday.

They’re in the hall grabbing textbooks from their lockers between classes. Peter has been especially quiet today and Ned has done his best not to say anything about it. He’s reaching for his physics binder when it happens.

A loud crash, the sound of metal hitting the floor. Heart jumping, Ned spins to see a table flipped on its side beside a group of snickering kids. He exhales, shaking his head. “Man, that scared me.” He turns to Peter to laugh it off and freezes, insides turning to ice.

“Peter?”

His friend has lost all the color in his face, his eyes wide, unblinking, and staring out at nothing. When he doesn’t respond Ned takes a step forward to nudge his arm and Peter flinches back as if burned, hitting one of their classmates who scowls and pushes him off.

Peter barely manages to catch himself, his chest heaving like he’s just finished running a marathon. More careful this time, Ned grabs Peter’s elbow and steers him away from the hall and towards the bathroom. When they get there Peter detaches himself from Ned’s grip and stumbles until he hits the wall, sliding down to curl into a ball on the dirty tile. Now that it’s quieter, Ned can hear just how strained his breathing is.

“Peter?” he asks softly, squatting down to his level. “You’re scaring me man. What’s going on?”

Peter looks up at him helplessly, clutching at his chest as he pales further. “S-sorry. Just- ah. Gimme a minute.”

Ned opens his mouth to argue but closes it decidedly. The door to the bathroom swings open behind them and Ned shoos the freshman who appears away with his hands.

Peter’s upbeat ringtone cuts through the tension. Obviously not coordinated enough to answer, Ned helps Peter pull it out of his pocket and stills at the contact.

“It’s Mr. Stark,” Ned says in awe. “What- what do I do?”

“Don’ answer it-”

But his thumb is already on the green. He gives Peter a panicked look of apology before yanking the device up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Ted? Why do you have Peter’s phone?”

“It’s Ned. And he- he can’t really talk right now.”

Tony curses. “Is he with you? His watch sent me a spike in his vitals. Don’t tell me he’s actively bleeding out.”

Peter must hear what he’s saying because he groans, his breathing becoming increasingly laboured. He sticks his head between his knees and digs his knuckles into the tile until tiny cracks appear under the pressure.

“He’s not bleeding out,” Ned assures. “He’s- well, I don’t really know what’s happening. He said he can’t breathe.”

“Damn it. Damn it. Okay. He’s having a panic attack. Put me on speaker.”

“But-”

“Now, Ned!”

Gulping, Ned obliges. He holds out the phone between himself and Peter like some sort of offering and feels some distant part of him relax as Tony takes control.

“Pete?” Tony asks, his voice sharp and clear. “Focus on my voice kiddo. Alright? Imagine that I’m there with you.”

“Mr. St-Stark-’

“Shh, kiddo. It’s okay. I’m going to help you breathe. I need you to tell me five things you can see. Can you do that?”

Eyes gaining some clarity, Ned watches them wander. “Uh, Ned. The phone. The- the sinks. A mirror. And- and, uh. Paper towel.”

“Bathroom. Classy. Alright, now four things you can touch.”

“Ground. Wall. C-clothes. Backpack.”

���Good, kiddo. You’re doing so well. Keep breathing. Three things you can hear?”

“You. Ned. Kids outside.”

With every answer, the tension in Tony’s own voice seems to ease. For some reason, it softens some of the resentment Ned’s been holding against the man ever since the ferry incident. He continues with urgency. “Two things you can smell?”

“Soap. Sweat.”

“Good. And one thing you can taste?”

Peter exhales, long and slow. He closes his eyes. “Spearmint.”

“That’s great,” Tony encourages. “Feeling any better?”

At this, Peter’s face scrunches up as if he’s about to start crying. Instead, he relaxes more fully against the wall and reaches up to wipe his eyes. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. That’s better. I’m really sorry-”

“Nope,” Tony interrupts. “Gonna stop you right there kid. We’ll talk in person. I can be there in twenty.”

“What?” Peter stalls, eyebrows drawing together. “I have class.”

“Not anymore. See you soon. Ned, can I talk to you real quick?”

Another shot of adrenaline spiking through him, Ned fumbles with the phone until it’s off speaker and pushes it up against his face, though he knows full well Peter will still be able to hear. “Yeah Mr. Stark?”

A short pause. “Has this happened before?”

“Not at school.”

“And not at school?”

Peter looks down at his shoes. Ned frowns. “I don’t know.”

Tony sighs. “Thanks for watching out for him. Do you know what triggered it?”

“Um. A table got flipped over. It was really loud.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. Damn it. Can you stay with him until I get there? Give him water and make sure he doesn’t fall asleep. You got that?”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course.”

He doesn’t get a response, the line going dead. He pulls it away in disbelief and sets it on the floor. Peter smirks weakly at him from where he’s slumped against the wall. “It’s okay,” he mumbles. “He hangs up on everyone.”

------

For a while, it gets better.

“Ned! Oh my God- MJ said yes! I’m freaking out man!”

Stomach dropping with excitement, Ned spins a full 360 in his room, hands reaching up to his hair. “No freaking way! I told you!”

Peter’s excited rambling continues through his phone. It makes Ned’s heart soar. “What do I do? Where do I take her? The movies? The park?”

“Swinging through New York,” Ned offers with a smile, and Peter laughs.

“No, seriously. It needs to be perfect.”

“Laser tag?”

“Don’t forget that I’m broke, man.”

“How about the Pride Parade? That’s happening this weekend. Seems like her kind of thing.”

Peter pauses, warmth filling the other end of the line. “That’s perfect! God, you’re a genius. Thanks man!”

“You owe me,” he teases.

“I so do. We still on for the death star 2.0 tonight?”

“Wise is Yoda the most?”

Peter laughs again. It’s nice. “Right. See you soon.”

“See you.”

When Ned hangs up, tears bite at his eyes.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s heard Peter so happy.

--------

Of course, it doesn’t last long.

Ned gets the text during band practice.

It’s from Peter and the empty seat next to him feels more pronounced. He almost ignores it, feeling, despite reason, a deep bitterness for his loneliness. But the message is short.

Help.

Ned nearly tilts out of his chair, his mouth adopting a strange metallic quality and his stomach dropping down to his toes. Before he can even get his shaking hands to cooperate another message lights his screen.

Bleachers.

Ned stands before he can process how strange it must look. His teacher, Miss Gregerson, raises her pencil thin eyebrows. “Ned? What is it?”

“Bathroom,” he blurts, and parts the music stands blocking his exit before she can say another word. He hears laughter follow him but can’t find it within himself to care, his heart beating loud in his ears as he jogs through the empty hallways. Peter needs you. Something is wrong.

He had thought having a best friend for a superhero would be cool. But the longer the time stretches, the more Ned realizes how much sleep he’s been losing over his friend’s safety.

Please don’t be dying.

Ned bursts through the back doors and trips his way down the hill to the track. The yard is empty, filtered with pink and orange light from the sinking sun. It’s warm and the air is still, but the deep sense of foreboding doesn’t leave him.

“Peter?” he calls, even though the bleachers are distant and his throat is closing with fear. He walks faster and it’s only when his feet hit the red dirt of the track that he sees Peter’s hunched form. He’s sitting on the lowest step of the bleacher, his face pinched and the edges of his suit showing from his open backpack. He’s pale and covered in sweat, and when he sees Ned, he sags, his eyes fluttering with what can only be a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

“Peter,” Ned repeats, skidding to his friend’s side. His hands hover, unsure again what to do or how to help. Assess the problem, his mind supplies. Find out what’s hurt.

It doesn’t take long. He follows Peter’s tense posture to his hand, which is clamped down hard over his side. His skin is painted red underneath, the material of his dark shirt shining in the fading light. There’s a cut on his temple that bleeds too, and Ned notices how hard Peter is trying to concentrate on his form, his eyes seeming incapable of adjusting.

“Hey man,” he croaks.

“Oh my God,” Ned breathes. His whole body is shaking now. Weak. Because he’s not equipped for this. “What happened?”

Peter struggles to process his question, blinking heavy and biting hard on his bottom lip. Then he swallows, sways, and musters a weak smile. “Stabbed. Long knife.”

When Peter falls to the side, Ned has to lunge to catch him, supporting his entire weight against his body. The new position allows him to see the blood that’s been pooling on the metal where Peter’s been sitting. A distant part of his brain wonders if the stain it’ll leave will be permanent.

“You need to go to a hospital,” Ned says. Peter’s head is pressed hard into his rib cage. They’re both shaking, their breaths uneven and loud.

“No,” Peter says. “You can help.”

“I can’t.”

“Please.”

It’s desperate. More desperate than Ned’s ever heard his friend. Even after Homecoming. “Peter-” he starts, but there’s no words to convey the weight in his chest.

“We can fix this,” Peter says. “We can fix it.”

“You’re bleeding too much.”

“I just need some help.” Peter lifts himself away with Ned with trembling arms. He’s even more pale, his skin close to translucent. He struggles with the side pocket on his backpack before revealing a small sewing kit. He transfers it into Ned’s palm where it leaves a thick smudge of red. He stares at it for a long time and won’t realize until much later that he’s in shock.

“What?” he stutters, transfixed by how much blood is on the sewing kit.

“My hands... my hands are shaking too much to thread the needle.”

Ned stares. He’s numb.

“Ned?” Peter prompts. He reaches out a hand and bracelets Ned’s wrist in his blood. “Can you- can you thread the needle for me?” he pauses, and almost sheepishly, he smiles. “I need my guy in the chair.”

It’s like a damn breaking. Ned snaps back into awareness, sad, angry, and unable to fully comprehend why. Guy in the chair.

“I’ll help you,” he says, “but not in the way you want.”

Before Peter can protest, Ned pulls out his phone. He dials in the number and tries to ignore the way Peter’s chest falls, or how a tear cuts a line through the grime on his face.

“Mr. Stark?” he asks when the line connects. “I need your help.”

In the background, Ned can already hear the mechanical thrum of what can only be a suit being activated. Mr. Stark doesn’t question it. He doesn’t waste time. “I’ll be there in three minutes,” he says, and then the line disconnects.

Peter blinks slow. His lip trembles. “I wish you didn’t do that,” he says.

And then he collapses.

Ned cries out as he catches him. His shirt will be ruined. Peter’s head lolls sickeningly against his neck, his arms going limp at his sides. Acting on instinct alone, Ned reaches to put pressure over the still bleeding wound in Peter’s side. It’s warm and he gags. His eyes burn with tears.

“P-Peter?” he cries, but Peter remains still against him. He wonders if this is how Peter had felt when Ben had died, and for the first time understands the guilt Peter had pinned on himself. “Wake up, man. Mr. Stark is coming. He’s going to- he’s going to help.”

But Peter doesn’t wake up. He doesn’t even twitch until Mr. Stark hits the dirt hard beside them, his suit retracting from his face to reveal a look of complete terror. It catches Ned off guard, but not as much as the way Mr. Stark gently maneuvers Peter out of Ned’s arms and into his own lap.

“Hey Underoos,” Mr. Stark says. His voice is soft but urgent. He taps on Peter’s face and brushes back his hair. “This isn’t a good look, kiddo.”

Ned is frozen. Stuck. He feels the tacky wetness of blood on his hands and is unable to look at them.

“Pete,” Mr. Stark continues, louder this time. “Wake up. That’s an order.”

Ned holds his breath as Peter’s eyes open to slits. They’re hazy, confused, but his lips manage to quirk up into a smile that betrays the pain in his eyes. “Tony,” he whispers.

Mr. Stark sags and Ned can practically see the relief leak out of him. He plays with Peter’s hair, his free hand pressed down hard against the worst of the bleeding. “You never do things halfway, do you kid?” he asks with a smile that even Ned can tell is for Peter’s benefit alone. “If it weren’t for Ned, you’d be six feet under right about now.”

Peter’s eyes drift to find Ned. His smile widens when they connect. “He’s my guy in the chair,” he slurs.

Tony hugs Peter tighter and Ned is struck just how paternal the hero is acting. Like Peter is the most important thing in the world. A lot has changed since Homecoming, he realizes. “Let’s get you some help, buddy. You up for a flight?”

But Peter doesn’t seem to hear. His eyes are still glued to Ned. He doesn’t speak, but Ned understands anyway.

Tony stands, bringing Peter up with him, and Peter goes limp once more. Ned doesn’t miss the way Tony’s breath hitches or the urgency in his movements. He stops before he takes off, regarding Ned with a look of gratitude. “Happy is on his way to pick you up. Wait here for him, okay?”

Ned can only nod, and when they both disappear into the air, he sinks to the ground. It takes hours for the blood on his hands to wash off, and when he finally makes it to Peter’s room in medbay, he finds Tony Stark with his head pillowed on Peter’s thigh. They’re both sleeping, their arms linked.

And for the first time, it all makes sense.

------

It’s been two weeks since the blip’s reversal.

They’re back at school. Ned shuffles awkwardly at his locker, uncomfortable, like his skin is on too tight. Graduation pictures of his classmates hang on the wall.

Five years.

A deep, unrelenting sadness pulls at his heart. He should be happy to be back, but he’s not. Not really. His little sister, who what seems like yesterday was half his height, now reaches his chin. The calendar in his room is useless.

So much time.

Across the hall, he sees Peter. It calms the sharp edges of his anxiety and as if mirroring his own relief, he sees his friend’s shoulders lose their tension. Ned begins walking towards him and Peter drifts too. It’s slow, cautious, like everything will vaporize in a moment if they move too fast.

But at last, they meet. And in the middle of the hall, surrounded by faces Ned no longer recognizes, they hug. Peter’s grip is strong. Almost bruising. It reminds Ned of Ben’s funeral and the heaviness in his chest doubles.

Peter sniffs. He trembles like he’s cold.

“Are you okay?” Ned whispers in his ear.

Peter is quiet. Ned can hear his measured breathing, an exercise taught to him by Mr. Stark shortly after the incident in the school bathroom.

Mr. Stark, who had died to save them all.

“Not yet,” Peter says after some time. They still haven’t pulled apart. “I just- I really miss him, Ned.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Peter’s fingers curl into his hoodie. People are staring at them, and for the first time in his life, Ned can’t bring himself to care.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Peter says, and Ned feels his eyes sting.

Five long years.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”

Finally, Peter pulls away. He wipes his sleeve across his cheekbones and takes in a rattling breath. “Wanna help me with my web shooters after school? May’s making lasagna. Pepper and Morgan are coming over, too.”

Ned smiles. Because after all the injuries he’s seen Peter sustain over the years, he’s seen them all heal too.

He’ll heal.

They both will.

“That sounds great, man.”

After a particularly sloppy handshakes, they walk to class with their shoulders bumping.

And though it may just be a trick of the light, Ned swears he sees Mr. Stark standing in the crowd of students, a wide smile on his face as he looks at them.

And just like Ben, Ned knows that Peter has Tony forever.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE BLOOD Vol.2: Mukami Kou [Track 7+8]

Original title: 堕落した証 & いらいらする

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 2: Mukami Kou [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: Oh boy oh boy. I should have kept my mouth shut during the last few tracks because these two tracks had me wriggle around in my seat as my stomach turned upside down. > < Those of you who have been around since last year might recall how I struggled with Shuu’s D-S Kyuuketsu CD because of the ‘bodily gore’ noises when he cuts the MC with a knife and then stirs his fingers around in the open wounds. KOU DOES THE EXACT SAME THING GDI. I had to pause several times because I got nauseous. :’’) Please no more of this Rejet. 

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 7: Proof of Corruption

“Well then, where should I bite you next...~? Both your neck and arm are already dyed a bright crimson from your blood. Fufu~ While I’m at it, I guess I should make you even more red...Perhaps that’ll improve your looks a little.”

*Rustle*

[00:25] “Hmー Such slender wrists...Fufu, I could probably twist them with ease. If I were to plunge my fangs in, they might just pierce right through, don’t you think? Come on, show me your hand.”

*Rustle*

“Hm...These marks are still fresh. Hmー They weren’t left behind by me, which means they belong to one of those guys? Heeeh...Now what a lovely decoration you have here. You really are a maso-kitty, aren’t you? I sort of get now that you’re not doing all of this on purpose. Which means...is someone controlling you behind the scenes?”

*Rustle rustle*

[01:18] “Take flowers, for example. They don’t particularly wish to bloom beautifully, do they? However, some larger force in nature is ordering them to do so to lure in birds and insects. So perhaps you were put together by someone with the specific goal to seduce us Vampires? If not, a plain girl such as yourself couldn’t even dream of having someone like me suck you, not even out of pity. Fufufu...~”

*Rustle rustle*

He digs his finger inside your skin.

[01:59] “Ah-aaah...Since the wound hadn’t fully healed yet, my finger sank in the moment I pressed down. Does it hurt? Fufu~ I’m digging my nail into the open wound after all~ I bet it hurts...Then suffer more...Scream...! Nobody will hear you here. This place has been equipped to ensure that they won’t find you.”

*Rustle*

“But...Well...If they did know you were here, I wonder if they would come and get you? These guys who seem to be oh-so obsessed with you, I mean~”

Kou continues to stir up the wound with his nails.

“Are you writhing in pain? Ah-aaah...Your ugly face only became even more hideous. Should I say it has a certain charm to it? I’m incapable of loving you while you look like that though. However...”

*Rustle*

[02:57] “In regards to these wounds, I feel a strange sense of attachment. I wonder why? Perhaps it’s just fun to compete with other Vampires over a prey such as yourself? Hahaha...But in that case, I have to leave behind my own marks as well or it’s no fun, right? ...I’ll leave my mark on top of these wounds, as if to overwrite them. It’ll be perfect proof of how thoroughly corrupted you’ve become.”

*Rustle*

Kou bites you.

*Gulp*

“Mmh...*

*Gulp gulp*

“ーーHah!”

*Gulp*

[03:50] “Mmh...Haah...I can smell them from here...It pisses me off...Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah, haah...It makes me want to just rip up your whole arm with my fangs...”

*Gulp*

“Fufu...This must be the taste of hatred...~ Exactly...I can’t forgive them...Never! That’s whyーー”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah...Haah...”

*Rustle*

[04:38] “I won’t return you to them. You’re basically mine now. Offer both your body and soul to me...And go mad. Fufu...Damn~ What’s wrong with me? Am I being spurred on by you? Uwaah...This is a first for me. Fufu~ I truly got my hands on a nifty toy. I was just going to have a little taste before handing you over to Ruki...but I might not want to let you go again.”

*Rustle*

[05:22] “Haah...Let me suck more...Your blood is messing with my head...as I find myself wishing you would offer more of that delicious blood pumping through your veins to me and me only.”

*Rustle*

“Oi. I bet you have other marks left behind by them as well, don’t you? Tell me. I’ll make you go through those painful memories again. Come on, hurry up and fess up.”

*Rustle*

[06:00] “Hey? Are you listening? If you space out like that, I’ll do something much, much more painful and rough?”

You muster a response.

“Hm? Your belly? Eeeh~? Now where could they be...~?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Ah, you must be talking about these. Marks spotted~ They really don’t hold back when devouring you, do they?”

He licks the marks.

“Oh, this one smells different. So, tell me. Did you have them bite you from head to toe? Hah! What a slut you are.”

You protest.

[06:46] “Hm? You didn’t wish for any of this to happen? ...Che. Why are you giving me that defiant look? Do I have to repeat myself a million times before your idiotic brain gets it? I was reminded once more the moment I sucked your blood. You’ve been tampered with in some way to lure in Vampires. I wonder who could be behind it...~? Fufu...Somehow that piques my interest...”

*Rustle*

“But for now, I’ll cover you with my marks. So I’ll thrust my fangs inside these wounds as well...”

Kou digs his nails into your skin once more as you flinch.

[07:31] “Aren’t you happy? I’m the one saying these things after all. ..Aaah-aah, such filthy marks. I’ll erase them right away.”

He bites you again.

“Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah...Haah...”

*Sluuuuurp*

“Haah...This stench is persistent...It won’t disappear...Ugh, it pisses me off. If I can’t get rid of it with my fangs...It just makes me want to mess you up as a whole...”

*Rustle*

“Haah...Guess I’ll just have to sink them in deeper and deeper...Like thisーー!”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...Nnh...”

You cry out.

[08:41] “Ah...It hurts? Look at you gushing blood all over the place. You really have no shame, do you? But you shouldn’t be able to feel the pain, you know? My fangs have already made it so you perceive everything as pleasure. Fufufu...”

*Rustle*

“I can tell you want me, so try and voice it out loud? Beg for me with a cute tone. Come on, hurry...Ask me to make you feel ever better~”

You whimper.

[09:24] “Hmm~~? I can’t hear you...~ You’re going to have to speak a little louder. Also, don’t forget to sound cute, okay?”

You repeat it.

“Fufu...~ Exactly, like that. Just be honest with yourself...Perhaps then I’ll be able to feel a little affection for someone as ugly as yourself.”

You beg again. 

“Mm~ Good. You managed to beg for it cutely, so I’ll love on you in return. ...With these fangs of mine, that is.”

Kou bites you again.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Hahn...Mmh...”

*Sluuuuurp*

[10:14] “...Hah...! ...Hm? ...’More’? ...You can crave it more. I kind of like it when people yearn for me. ...I’ll plunge them inside even deeper than before...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah, haah...Ugh...Haah...I guess the smell is starting to fade a little?”

You moan.

“Fufu...Seems like you’re feeling rather good as well. Your body has completely given in to the pleasure, it feels as if your blood has become sweeter as well.”

Track 8: Irritation

Kou inspects your body.

*Rustle*

“Where else have they bitten you...? ー Ah, don’t tell me. I’ll try finding it myself this time...~ After the stomach, it has to be...The legs, right~?”

*Rustle*

[00:18] “Yes, I got it right! ...They sure love going for the risqué spots, don’t they? Hah! Right near your crotch (1) ...How lewd. On top of that, you can tell they’ve sucked from here repeatedly...Very dirty! I wonder what kind of expression you made as they sucked from here? Perhaps you didn’t realize it yourself, but they pretty much got a full view of aaaall your embarrassing places.”

You squeak.

“How embarrassing, gosh! ...But I’m sure you love that sorta stuff, don’t you? After all, I can see a glint of anticipation in your eyes. Or am I just imagining things? Is it because I’m the one doing this to you? ...Well, I guess I’ll figure out the answer to my own question once I bite you. Well then...”

*Rustle*

“Where should I leave my mark? ...Right here. I’ve settled on this spot.”

He bites you again.

*Gulp*

[01:28] “Mmh...Hah...Haha! What a lovely view...Fufu...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Seems like it’s making you weak as well...Look at you twist and turn your body like that...What a dirty girl you are.”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“ ーーHah! We’re still nowhere near done...Let me suck more and more...Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...Hah...”

*Gulp*

[02:11] “Haah...Fuck...Could this be a trap of some sorts...? Fufu...I feel as if your blood is leading me straight to my own demise...Well, I guess that’s fine. As long as it feels good...whether it’s a trap or whatever, I’m not scared. Perhaps the person who set you up this way predicted this all along? ...Say.”

*Rustle*

[02:44] “I bet they knew that we would try and snatch you away like that. Guess we’re being mocked, huh? That pisses me off. ...You seem to be feigning ignorance but you’re part of the whole scheme, aren’t you? ...If you think this will all pass as long as you just obediently spread your legs, you’re gravely mistaken. I’ll give you something much, much, much more painful, you’d find yourself wishing you’d be dead instead...!”

*Thud*

Your eyes widen in horror.

“Hehe...”

*Gulp gulp*

[03:26] “...Heh. Does it feel good? Lucky you! I think you might be the first human who has gotten the honor to receive this much pleasure from me. Well, under normal circumstances, one bite is plenty to make any human ascend to Heaven, but in your case, the more I have, the more delicious your blood becomes and on top of that...You dare oppose me. It pisses me off. ...Mmh...”

*Gulp*

“...Hm? There’s marks on your thighs as well!”

*Rustle rustle*

[04:06] “I have to engrave my own mark here as well. ...Geez, I wonder what they find so appealing about these stick legs? I can’t relate, but I don’t like the idea of there being marks from someone other than me. ...Mmh..”

*Gulp*

“Nnh...”

*Gulp gulp*

[04:37] “...Hah...Ah...Haah...~ I feel sluggish for some reason...Have I been numbed? In that case, your blood is to blame. ...This is bad...Fufufu~ I just don’t understand how I want to keep an ugly girl such as yourself all to myself...Makes no sense, does it? I feel irritated by it myself but...I also just can’t help it. This strong desire for you keeps on welling up inside of me...What is happening to me? Geez...Honestly, it pisses me off! I’ve never felt this strongly attached to anything or anyone before!?”

*Rustle*

“Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“...ー Hah!”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Mmh...Haah, haah...I can’t get enough...Do you want me more? ...So do I.”

*Gulp gulp*

[05:57] “Hah...Yearn for me more and more...You just need to keep your eyes on me. ...You belong to me now. Happy? Of course you are. If you continue to writhe around like that, I’ll give you never-ending pleasure.”

*Rustle*

“Mmh...Haahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Mmh...Nnh...”

*Gulp*

“Haah, haah...!”

*Gulp*

[06:37] “Haah...! I can’t...I still haven’t had enough...Hm. I still refuse to give you up. I’ll make you forget about those other guys in no time. I’m obsessing over you, so it only makes sense. ...Unlike those guys, I won’t call you prey either. You’re mine after all. ...Doesn’t that make you happy? I’m a gentleman after all~ I know how to make a girl happy. I’m sure you didn’t like being degraded by having them call you ‘prey’ either, right? Fufu...~”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー 

Translation notes

(1) 足の付け根 or ‘ashi no tsukene’ is the root/base of the leg where it connects to the hips. 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

A concept: Allyn is cold. Allyn steals one of Jameson’s oversized gray hoodies that is like a dress on them. Jameson reacts

CW: Referenced past captivity, vague allusion to past noncon/dubcon, Jameson's masochism makes an appearance, like PG-13 spicy thoughts

He's got the laundry in his arms, the plastic basket carefully balanced as he moves step by step up the stairs. It's his stuff - a few tshirts and some boxers, couple pairs of jeans and sweatpants, his big hooded sweater on top - and he's a little proud, honestly, that he owns so much now.

A whole week's worth of clothes, extra socks. Socks at all. He's got two pairs of shoes now, regular and rainy-day. When it gets chilly he has sweaters to wear, three of them, plus the hooded one.

None of the stuff is all that special, all pre-owned thrift store donations, but... It's all his.

He wears clothes all day now, all the time, barely taking the time to peel his shirt off as he steps into the shower. If it wasn't gross as fuck, he'd stay dressed in the shower, too.

The fucking therapist he sees twice a week now says he's choosing to cover yourself fully as a way to exert control over your body and become familiar with it belonging to you again, her voice soft and sympathetic. She tastes like oranges when she speaks, bursts of membranes dissolving into bright sweetness on his tongue. He likes her.

He doesn't tell her that.

The laundry is all still warm from the dryer and smells like the fabric softener sheets that Jake uses, tears in half to make them last longer. Jameson never fucking asked, Jake Stanton just says things like he assumes Jameson cares about hearing them.

If Jake's voice tastes like water that has worn down mountains, Jameson wonders if that means he's the mountain Jake is wearing down.

When he steps back into the room, Allyn is hanging a garland along the top of the window, up on their tiptoes. They made the garland themself, taking twine and carefully stapling folded over, cut up tissue paper lined with thicker construction paper. It looks a little like flags made of stained glass catching the sun.

Their hair hangs loose down their back, not wild but not so controlled as usual, and they glance back at him with gray eyes sparkling. "Do you like it?" They ask, and Jameson stands in the doorway, basking in the rainfall on his tongue, a sunshower, light through raindrops warm on his tongue now.

His eyes move over the little garland, and he gives a crooked smile. "It's all right," He says, after a second, and Allyn's smile widens. They know Jameson's praise when they hear it.

"I thought we should make our room more our own, anyway. Oh, laundry's done."

They move to him and Jameson's eyes follow them. He forgets for a second he should be putting it all away in the two dresser drawers he has all to himself in the big dresser he and Allyn share.

Allyn plucks the sweatshirt with the hood right off the top and pulls it to themself. Jameson's mouth goes dry as they bury their face in the fabric and breathe deep.

He has an image, a flash, hardly a second, of them burying their face into his neck just like that, biting deep until they draw blood, until he begs for it to stop-

And then it's gone. He forces it down as fast as he can, ignores the awkward pool of heat low in his stomach, not demanding attention, just... reminding him he could think about that, if he wanted.

He doesn't.

Not... not like that. That's trained in, it isn't his, it's not who he wants to be. Or maybe it is. He doesn't know, and he's terrified of the answer.

"Oh, it's still warm. I used to love when Rosemary would bring everything right from the dryer." Allyn sighs wistfully, and they look back to the window. Jameson looks at their profile, the upturned nose, the soft bow of their lips. "It's chilly in here, warm laundry feels lovely."

The rainfall is heavier, now, but the taste of rain no less welcome. He loves their voice.

"Well, put it on, then," He says, more roughly than he intends to speak, voice going husky and raw at the edges as he jerks into sudden motion, setting the laundry basket down on his bed. "Warm up."

"Are you sure?"

They say sure almost like shore, a hint of some accent from somewhere else. Their words all feel constructed to him, distinctly shaped, where his own run together, spoken too fast for spaces between.

"Yeah, go for it."

He busies himself putting the clothes away, one by one. His socks, his boxers, his pants, his shirts, his his his. All of it. No more days shivering and begging for a blanket, no more eyes that see every bloodied scratch, no more Brute or Robert laughing at him when his teeth chatter.

His clothes, his blankets, his bed, his life.

He sees the smudge of gray and red from the corner of his eyes as they dress, but he doesn't look. Not that they all aren't used to nakedness, numb to it, but here... they don't have to be.

So he tries, and it's weird, he tries to treat it as something that you decide to be and not just something you are made to be.

"So, what do you think?"

Jameson looks over, mouth open with a joke that dies on his tongue.

They smile at him, slightly shyly, their hair mussed up by pulling on the hoodie and a wild halo around their head, a waterfall of red around their shoulders. Their gray eyes match the sweatshirt exactly somehow. Or he just thinks they do.

It comes down to their thighs, just barely, and Jameson thinks about how it's look if they weren't wearing those pants and it was just three fucking miles of long long legs and above that-

He spins back around before his face can go red enough to give him away. "S'big on y-you."

"It's bigger on you," They respond, dropping to sit cross-legged on their bed, giggling a little. "You're shorter than me, aren't you?"

His mouth tastes like spring rain but he wants to taste blood, his own, he wants them to wear just that sweatshirt and drag their nails down his back and then make him lick the blood off their fingers one by one by one by one.

"Yeah, well." He swallows, again and again, looking down at the bed. He wants to crawl under it and hide until he doesn't feel the heat inside him any longer. He wants to curl up in the closet, and run his fingers over the letters he has carved into the wood in there. He needs to calm down. "You look... good. In it. Anyway."

"Well, thank you," They say, and there's a moment of silence, awkward on one side of the room and content on the other. "I'll go move my stuff into the dryer. Think about how else you want to decorate our room while I'm gone, okay?"

They're up and moving, out the door, and Jameson breathes out slowly, slowly, as he sits down and puts his head in his hands.

He'll-

He'll tell the therapist.

He has to.

I'm thinking good boy thoughts again. I'm wanting someone to hurt me. I want them to hurt me. I want them to. I'm thinking about it again.

Maybe the therapist, with her orange-burst voice, will tell him how to make it stop.

Secretly, he hopes she'll tell him it doesn't have to.

—

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @endless-whump @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen

[kashimos-hajime]

slipping away | b.b.

summary: and now, he’s not your bucky anymore.

WARNINGS: ANGST, hospital talk, swearing, vomitting,  pairing: amnesiac modern!bucky x gender neutral!reader word count: 5.3k

a/n: a small study on a long-term relationship and the strains and disagreements that come into it. it’s been a hot sec since i’ve posted any marvel stuff. still tryna get back into writing for bucky, but this is written for @mushyjellybeans​​. prompt is bolded :)

“I don’t think this is something we should be arguing about,” you mutter, throwing your phone down into the car’s cupholder as Bucky’s grip on the wheel only intensifies. You slide hands over your thighs, stretching your legs against the red carpet of his newly refurbished Mustang. If there’s one thing you haven’t argued about yet, it’s the renovated ‘87 Mustang Bucky’s done over with his father, not completely done yet, but still, it looks hell of a lot better than it did before. “It shouldn’t have been made an issue tonight, of all nights.”

“You wanted to make it an issue.”

“Because all you ever want to do is fight!”

“I don’t want to fight!” he exclaims, his voice still barely containing itself and you cross your arms, slinking into your seat as you toss him a glare. “I just asked if you could see yourself even considering marrying me, and you said no.”

“Because you said I could take my time with this decision,” you snap, eyes darting from his face to the tense paleness in his knuckles. The car is thrumming beneath your thighs, purring down the highway and you shift your gaze to the window. He always drives fast when he gets pissed. “Put your fucking seatbelt on. You always get so reckless when things don’t go your way.”

The barb is meant to dig in deep, and it does because he doesn’t put the seatbelt on to spite you.

“Bucky, seriously. Put the fucking seatbelt on,” you growl, head snapping to him again. He ignores you, and you sigh incredulously, planting your chin in your palm and glowering out into the night. “Fucker.”

He’s shutting you out. He’s shutting you out, and not listening, and you’re about to throw yourself out of this car if you don’t roll down the window.

So you do and as they travel over a speedbump coming off the highway. It’s green lights ahead, and you hope the twenty minute drive to his parents’ house is enough to let things cool off a titch, but you know it’ll only crop up because his mom will ask when Bucky’ll propose and—

Fuck. They’ll have to talk about it at home later tonight.

Bucky switches on a playlist on his phone to fill the uncomfortable silence and you think this is the kind of choice you don’t make when you’re eighteen. You never thought you might break up with Bucky because of the thought of marriage. When you were eighteen, you thought it would be something like cheating, or university, or some other factor that would force you apart.

But no, it’s marriage. A union.

Ironic, that is.

You bypass the first green light easily and in the distance, you can see the next. Leaning your head against the side of the car, you rest your arm along the window sill and just let the wind whip at your face, numb it until when you breathe, your lungs seem to freeze. The wind softens when they approach the intersection and Bucky slows down just enough to scan the road before heading forward to the next one. There are side streets feeding into the main road but there aren’t many cars. Not a lot of people drive in the suburbs on a Sunday night, and it’s been an easy drive otherwise. As they head for the last intersection between them and Bucky’s parent’s house, you spot the green light and feel Bucky speed up.

He’s eager to get out of this suffocating car, too. An uneasiness curls up in the pit of your stomach as you hear another car’s engine growling into the quiet night. Straightening up, you look around and spot no car in their direction coming close to the speed Bucky’s going. He’s pushing the speed limit, his hand fidgeting with the seatbelt as it tries to slot into the buckle and you reach forward with your closest hand and help it slot into place.

You don’t miss the way his lip twitches in thanks and you merely turn your head back to the road, watching with an empty mind, letting his music wash through you as the growling of that speeding engine somewhere down the street grows louder. You’re about to ask Bucky if he hears that when a car speeds through a red light from a side road.

“Bucky, stop!” The words are torn out of your throat as you throw your hands out in front of you.

His foot slamming the brakes, the harsh whine of the tires burning against asphalt rings in your ears before a sickening crunch sends you forward. Glass cracks, something thuds, and the last thing you know is blood slowly dripping your face, something smoking in the distance and the screams of someone before everything goes black.

.

The lights are bright and blurry as you let out a muffled groan.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got you.”

Your face is splitting pain and you groan, trying to turn your head but you’re frozen in place. Something’s wrapped tight around your neck, keeping you in place as someone shines a light into your eyes. Lungs seizing, you let out a choked cough, back arching off the bed as you try to raise your arm to the plastic mask digging into your cheeks. Something is prodding your stomach, something runs along your legs—there’s too much all at once and you try to shift away from whatever keeps touching you, but hands take you, keep you still.

“Try to stay still. I know it hurts, but you’re safe now.”

“Bucky.” His name slips past your lips, throat burning, but there’s no response. There are voices buzzing at the edge of your hearing and you blink, trying to clear your vision. Your head is spinning and you try to raise your hand weakly. Fingers take you by the wrist, gently ushering your arm back down to the bed. “Bucky.” Eyes slipping shut, your mind plays the crash over and over again. You’re nothing but a bystander.

Where are you, Bucky?

“We’re losing ‘em. Give me the paddles.”

Are you still here?

“Clear!”

Please. Stay for me.

.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“How’re you feeling, Y/N? C’mon, stay with us.”

Who? Steve, is that you?

“Bucky had to have brain surgery, Y/N. They said… they said it went well but they won’t know how well it really went until he wakes up.”

He’s alive? Oh, thank God. Thank you, thank you, thank you—

“But he’s getting stronger. He hasn’t woken up yet, but they think he’s getting stronger. Nat and Sam are sitting with him, now. We’re taking shifts to make sure the two of you aren’t alone.”

That’s nice of you, Steve. Thanks for being here.

“Oh, God, hey.”

Yeah?

“Hey, can you hear me?”

Loud and clear, Captain.

“Hey, nurse! I think they’re waking up!”

Eyes opening, you squint at the warm lamplight in the darkness of the room. Your throat is burning and your stomach is twisted, nausea swimming behind your eyeballs as your eyes flutter shut again. There’s something digging into your skull, your abdomen sore, and your whole body is wracked with an exhaustion that barely allows you to move. It’s a slow, dull ache all over you, pressing you deeper into the bed.

“How’re you feeling, Y/N?” one of the nurses asks quietly and you groan, voice cracking.

“I’m thirsty.” As they slowly raise you into a half-sitting position, your eyes barely open and you spot a shape in the corner. “Steve?” The shape moves closer and you spot golden hair gleaming in the lamplight and you laugh despite how much it aches in your chest. “Thought it was you.”

“Hey. How’re you feeling, huh?” Something nudges at your lips and you part your lips just enough for a straw to slip in. Sucking down water like you need air, you let out a silent groan. The water pushes down like a thick block of ice down a swollen throat as you manage to keep it down. “Feeling like turning away from the light?”

“Feel like I got run over by a truck,” you mutter, head sinking into the pillow and Steve’s relieved laugh soothes the ache between your temples. “Where is he?” Blinking, you see Steve’s face clear before you and his lips press together. His eyes are red-rimmed and his face looks a bit too splotchy, but you don’t point it out because it’s Steve and you love him. Your best friend’s trying to be strong as he tries to find a gentle way to put it.

“He’s asleep right now.” Asleep, you repeat dully in your head as Steve sits down by your bedside. “When you’re stronger, we’ll go see him, alright?”

“Okay.”

.

Bucky looks like he’s dead.

It’s the one thing you can’t help as you push yourself to his glass door. He’s inside, awake and talking to your friends inside and there’s a thickness to the air as he sits up straighter. Your whole body is still aching with a pounding in your stomach as you pause at the edge of the glass, frowning when Steve says something that makes Bucky shake his head.

It’s been only a day since the crash and you’ve just gotten strong enough to get up into a wheelchair, and although you’d insisted on wheeling yourself to his room, your nurse still stands a few feet away as you watch Natasha reach out a hand towards Bucky but he slaps it away, running his hands ragged over the bandages wrapped around his skull. Like he wants to pick himself apart because he’s missing something and you know.

Somehow you just know because there’s an emptiness in his gaze that spears right through you.

Tears already begin to bite at your eyes, and you open your mouth but not a sound comes out. He’s paler than a ghost and his expression is one of blank agony. He’s scrambling for something to hold onto and you think you can hear Steve beg, a quiet, trembling thing that frightens you because Steve doesn’t beg.

“So you remember nothing?”

“Nothing.”

The silence that follows hollows you. You turn to the nurse, you think her name is Linda, and silently ask her to take you away.

It takes a long time for someone to come find you. Blinds pulled closed, door shut, your room is drenched in darkness beside the lamp on your nightstand. You feel numb everywhere, but your heart is in pieces in your hands as you shove food down your ungrateful throat. Every bite feels like another bone broken and you stare blankly at the wall ahead of you.

“Bucky, stop!”

If you’d just been quicker—

“Y/N? Can I come in?” Blinking, you swallow the thick pudding, feel it stick to your throat as you let out a hoarse ‘yes’. Sam enters the room, eyes scanning the area and soaking in the bleak aura that is your recovery room. You set down the pudding on the tray beside your untouched lunch and blink again, turning your gaze away dismissively.

“What?”

“Bucky’s awake,” Sam says, closing the door behind him. You can see two other shapes outside your room as you cross your arms over your chest and lean back into your bed that’s frozen in it’s sitting position. You don’t want to look at him—have to look at him and watch his mouth form the words that’ll destroy you. “Doctors give him a clean bill of health. He’s going to have to come in for PT and checkups, but otherwise, he’s good beside a few deficits.”

“Yeah?” You feel sick, feverish. You feel like your stitches are splitting open with every second Sam doesn’t tell you the truth you know is bottled up inside him. “Anything else?”

“He doesn’t remember who you are.” But he knows you, you assume bitterly in your head and you finally look at Sam. He’s staring at you with something you might think it's pitiful and it disgusts you because you don’t want to be pitied. You don’t want anything except Bucky and you can’t have him.  “He doesn’t remember anything after graduating high school, so… that’s seven years he doesn’t remember.”

Seven years.

Seven years of his life gone like smoke.

“Anything else?” you grit out between clenched teeth. Sam’s eyebrows rise but you merely set your jaw and meet that incredulous gaze of his.

“They don’t know whether or not it’s going to go away, they don’t know why it’s that time span, but it just is. They say maybe the amnesia will go away but it's a chance, and he has to regain his strength. So he’s going to have to go through a lot of therapy. It’ll help if he has a support system, you know?”

“Okay.”

You don’t mean to sound cold, but you do, because if you’re anything but, you will shatter. You know Sam wants you to jump at the chance, jump out of your bed and run up to see Bucky. You think Sam might hope that the instant he sees you, all of it will come back like something out a fucking fairytale but this isn’t a fairytale.

You’re not enough to bring him back. You’re not a miracle worker.

Tears are clotting in your throat and it’s becoming hard to breathe when you add, “Is there anything else, Sam?” He’s clearly taken aback but you can’t bring yourself to care about Sam in this moment as you grab your banana pudding again and swirl your spoon within just to make yourself look busy. You look from the yellow goop to him, a smile pulling strangely into your cheeks.

His eyes flitter from your untouched meal to your face, and he shakes his head.

“Let us know if you wanna see him, I guess,” he murmurs and you keep that tight smile on your face until he leaves. When the door clicks shut, you toss the pudding back onto your tray, grab the plastic receptacle the nurse left on your nightstand, and throw up everything.

Water, pudding, breakfast, it burns its way up your throat as you try to keep yourself quiet. You can hear your friends talking outside. Struggling to keep yourself quiet, you choke, spitting saliva out of your mouth as you grab the water from your food tray, swishing it in your mouth and falling back into the bed.

Your whole body clenches as you spit out the water and rinse your mouth again. Every movement is an aching thing as you set the receptacle down on your nightstand and close your eyes.

Your wait until you’re sure your friends are gone before you break.

You fall apart slowly, like pieces of you peeling away until you’re nothing more than your broken heart. The sobs that wrack your body are relentless and you shove your forearm into your mouth to muffle your cries. You want to bite into your skin. You want to distract yourself from the agony tearing you to shreds. You want to feel anything but the pain.

Tears sweep into your hair, cloud your vision and your whole face floods with heat as you try to breathe through the pain. You’re cleaved into pieces on that bed, eyes squeezed shut as the tears keep flowing, and your throat burns.

Shoulders shaking, you suck in gasping breaths as your hand crawls over your face, smearing tears across your cheeks, fingers digging into your skin. You’re suffocating and behind closed eyes all you can see is your Bucky, launched through the windshield. Your Bucky, bleeding as you reach for him but you can’t. Your Bucky, left behind on the scene because they extracted you first and you’re screaming, screaming for him to be alive, and then it’s your Bucky, smiling and laughing and whispering confessions, and he’s crying and then he’s sick with the flu and he’s finished his bachelor’s, and he has flour on his cheek, and—

And then it’s your Bucky, shouting, begging, your Bucky with his back turned, your Bucky frowning and there are new lines in his face, and new questions that never would’ve cropped up, and it’s your fault, your fault, your fault; damaged, damaged, damaged.

Your Bucky slipping away between your fingers.

And now, he’s not your Bucky anymore.

Your fault, your fault, your fault, a voice you can’t shut up in your head chants quietly.

You’re inclined to agree.

.

You sit in the cafeteria, watching as lunch hour draws to its close. You’re nothing but cracked glass slapped together with duct tape and it’s beginning to peel.

It’s only been a day since your world has fallen apart around you and you haven’t spoken to anyone. There’s nothing to say.

Natasha pokes half-heartedly at what’s left of her salad beside you as you stare blankly at the napkin holder. Your own lunch tray is empty because you’ve forced it down your own throat, but every bite had been bland—nothing but a soft mush in your mouth.

“Y/N,” your best friend begins, and your eyes drag dismissively towards her. Her blue eyes are soft, eyebrows drawn together as she sighs. “Don’t you think you should at least see him?”

“Why? He doesn’t even know who I am,” you mutter, dragging your arms towards yourself and crossing your arms over your chest. A heaviness pulls at your shoulders. “Maybe it’s better that way.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” Natasha scolds. “Don’t ever say that.”

“Why? It’s not a secret we were basically on the brink of breaking up and it’s not like you’ve told him who I was. Told him that I even existed,” you spit coldly, sinking in your chair, Your gaze drifts off to the little fake plant decorating the cafeteria table and you think, How lucky you are to be forever. “You know, at least this way, he doesn’t get hurt.”

“Except he is hurting,” she says. “His life has been wiped clean and he has no idea what to do next.”

“Get better. Move on.” The words crawl out of your mouth, torturous, and Natasha shakes her head, frustrated, but you don’t care. You’re sick of feeling like this, but you can’t help it. You can’t help feeling half-dead and exhausted and the need to look over your shoulder constantly has become second nature because you don’t want to see the man you love as nothing more than a ghost. “What do you want me to say, Nat? He wasted seven years on me and I couldn’t even say yes to marrying him. I couldn’t give him the one thing he really wanted and he gave me everything.”

“That’s not what matters. What matters is that he loves you and just because he doesn’t remember, it doesn’t mean it’s not real. He knows you’re out there. He knows he loved someone because Bucky has so much love to give, you know that.”

“He was going to leave, Nat,” you tell her quietly. The words drag against your throat like a cigarette against skin and it burns so much you have to close your eyes against the pain. “I know it. He was done.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“He was.” You never needed eyes to see it. You know him in a way no one else does. You know that every time he looked at you, he wanted the future, and it was something he couldn’t pry out of you. “He had one foot out the door last night, so it’s a fucking blessing he doesn’t remember.”

“But you miss him.”

The words ring you hollow.

“Of course I fucking miss him. What kind of question is that?” you ask with half a forced laugh and your chest aches so much you think it might burst. “What kind of question is that?” you repeat, softer, and the laughter is gone because you want to melt away. You’ve missed Bucky for ages.

“Then, maybe you should fight for him. Maybe, you should see this as your second chance,” Nat whispers just as the door opens to the cafeteria and your head jerks up to see Steve push someone in on a wheelchair and she stands immediately. Your eyes find his pale figure before you can help yourself and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself present.

He’s better, although a bit unsteady, and he’s regained some colour but he’s still pale. He looks sick to his stomach with every second he stays awake. Natasha heads over to take the tray from Steve’s hands and retreats back to your table, setting it down in the space on the other side of you. Once Bucky slides into the empty spot beside you, you barely manage a slight smile before picking up your fork and pretending to be interested in your own lunch.

“This is Y/N,” Natasha says and your lungs spasm when you meet his blue gaze. They’re bright, warm but tired, and you swallow, trying to formulate an appropriate response. How long has it been since Bucky—your Bucky—looked at you like that? “We, uh, we were just chatting while I was waiting for you guys.”

“Hey.”

“I’m James,” he says, textbook because that’s how he meets every new face, and if you think you remember eighteen-year-old James Buchanan Barnes, his next words will be: “But everyone calls me Bucky.”

Like you said, textbook.

You drop your fork and shake his outstretched hand, ignoring how warm he is, and it’s like history is repeating itself.

“Nice to meet you.” You want to smile and the corner of your mouth lifts as Natasha grabs her lunch tray and gets up.

“Sam’s probably waiting for us to get him some coffee. He has a shift starting soon,” she says with a pointed look at you. Steve shoves his hands into his pockets and smiles at Bucky when he sends him an unsure look.

“We’ll be back in a jiff, Buck,” Steve says. “Y/N’ll take fine care of you.”

“Uh, okay.” Bucky’s eyebrows quirk and as your two friends leave, you can’t help the anger licking at your insides. You hate the feeling of his gaze on you so you resort to staring after your traitorous companions. “Sorry about that. I can go, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” you dismiss it quietly, resigning yourself to your fate. It’s not like Bucky can go without someone else’s help and his nurse is chatting to yours in the corner of the cafeteria. You don’t want to bother her.  You’ll yell at your friends later. Right now, you just want to sleep it off. “Natasha’s nice.”

“Yeah, she’s like that once you get to know her,” Bucky returns, digging into his mashed potatoes. You pretend you don’t notice how he lowers his head as much as he can so not too much food is lost on its quivering journey to his mouth. His hand is so visibly unsteady, it aches to watch but you know he won’t want your help. “What are you here for? You look a bit banged up.” His eyes dart to the bruises along your arms and your smile grows at the concern laced behind a curious question.

“Got into a crash.” you say with half a shrug. You’ve grown used to the bruises by now. “Wasn’t too serious for me. Just a bit of a scratch on my liver.”

“Oh, me, too. I had a partial splenectomy” he says. “My brain got the worst of it, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, can’t remember a single thing after eighteen. So, that’s seven years ago?” he says it like he’s desperately trying to remember and your smile flickers. His face is wrought with distress now that their friends are gone, and his lips are pressed into a tight smile. “Glad I still kept with the same people, though.”

“Yeah.” He brings a scoop of mashed potatoes to his mouth and his smile sinks into your gut when he notices you’re not eating. “Are you hungry?” You blink at him, at his offer. He even looks younger without the burden of your time together.

“No, I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you insist before clearing your throat. Your gaze goes from your lap to Bucky just eating and you try to formulate the words you want to say into a coherent sentence. Do you remember even part of who I am? Can you even see me? “Uhm, do you… do you, like, remember a bit of what you’ve lost?” Your eyes widening, you put a hand over your mouth and duck your head. “Oh, that sounds stupid. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Bucky smiles again, easier, as if he’s happy to talk about it, and it’s so startlingly bright your heart flips in your chest. You duck your head and grab the glass of orange juice just so it doesn’t seem like you’re just watching him eat. It’s sweet in your parched mouth. “I get what you mean. Uh, no. It’s like an empty slate,” he says and you don’t know whether or not feeling so fucking relieved makes you a shitty person or not. “I think I know time has passed, but when I try to think of those years, nothing comes up.”

You’re quiet for a long time, letting it sink in. So, he doesn’t remember the bad at all. The pain, the screaming, the empty beds and silent dinners, and you think you could cry from relief and cry from how you’ll never hear him call you dolly again.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes flickering from his food to you, and your shoulders fall at those eyes. You’d fallen in love with those eyes first. They grounded you when your world was toppling—ever so steady, so collected. Now, they’re weary, lost, and you know it’s your turn.

Reaching forward, you lean on your forearm and place your other hand over his wrist. His hand, on instinct, flips over and your hand falls into his so easily. Your skin is burning at the contact as his fingers wrap over your palm.

“I’m sorry,” you utter quietly, choked out and raw, and his eyebrows knit together as they run over your face. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Uh, it’s okay,” he says with a lilt of his lips. He’s trying so hard to be happy.

“You don’t have to lie.”

The hand holding the spoon tightens, knuckles blanching and you smile softly. That’s your Bucky, trying so hard to keep it in. You scoot your chair closer, not letting go of his hand and he sucks in a harsh breath. You can hear it tremble in his throat as you sit down close enough that your knees touch and you tilt your head to catch his gaze.

This could be a fresh start, a voice in your head whispers. He doesn’t remember the pain you brought him. You could disappear.

“It’s okay. I’m nobody,” you tell him quietly. “You don’t have to pretend with me.” He blinks, lips trembling and pale with how hard he’s attempting to keep the cries in before he drops the utensil in his shaking hand and he brings his palms to his face, hiding himself away as in shame but you only chew on your bottom lip, wrap your arms around him.

He leans into you as if on instinct and you suck in a shuddering breath at his soft weight against you. You’re holding the love of your life. Almost.

Cradling his head against your chest, you let him sob as his shaking body shrinks in your arms. His hands wrap around your arm, fingers like knives digging into your flesh. They’re talons that sink and drag down, falling limpy into his lap, and you let your eyes close, simply using your free hand to brush through his hair.

“It hurts so much,” he whimpers, his hot breath against your arm as he pushes the words out, gulping breaths filling the silence and you feel tears slip down your cheeks. “I can’t… I can’t remember anything. I can’t do anything. I can’t…”

“I know.” You pull your chin back, admiring the mess in your arms and you smile for a moment as he lifts his head up and his gorgeous eyes are glistening with tears. He lowers his head again, drawing back in your arms to wipe at his face with weak, shaking hands and you take the napkin to help him.

You gently wipe his cheeks down and his cheeks are burning to the touch.

He’s blushing.

“God, here I am,” he begins miserably, “sobbing on someone I just met. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The words come out hushed and you smile, running your fingers over his hair again because you know that’s what he likes, and his smile is barely a ghost, but it’s there and that’s all that matters.

“It’s fine. I’m a great shoulder to cry on,” you joke and his smile grows just slightly. “Well, at least it’s better than my first impression on my… ex,” you say, and your throat cinches shut as he arches an eyebrow. You pull your arms back towards you and pick up your fork hesitantly. He nods, eyes focused on you, and you sink the fork into the mashed potatoes, bringing a bite into your mouth.

“How’d you meet them?”

“Uh… at university. First day, freshman mixer or something. I was a bit drunk.” Fresh-faced, doe-eyed Bucky Barnes in a vest and jeans bumping into you. Still a picture perfect moment in your mind where you met eyes with him and didn’t want to be a goner but you were, no matter how much denial was there. “He bumped into me, spilled his drink all over me, and all I could think was, ‘What a handsome guy.’”

“Was he?” His whole face lights up, like he’s genuinely invested in this, and your smile grows, bittersweet as you nod. His smile grows sly and you want to scream. “Better looking than me?”

“I, uh—” You clear your throat— “No. Not better looking than you.”

“So, what’d you say? Or what’d he say?” Bucky asks, sniffing, and you watch as he grabs his spoon again, other hand reaching for the tissue. He blows his nose and you grab some napkins from the napkin holder for him. He dips his head in thanks as you lean against the table.

“Well, he was stumbling through his apology and I just let him finish.” Your body fills with warmth as you remember his embarrassed smile, the way he shoved his baseball cap farther down his head, chin tucked to his chest, trying to hide that face. “When he was done, I opened my mouth to say something polite but what came out was ‘You look like someone I’d very much like to kiss’.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?” you ask, smiling.

“Kiss him.”

“Yeah.”

He smiles, then, happy for you for a moment before he remembers ‘ex’ and then there’s a silence in the cafeteria.

“Do you love him still?” Bucky asks quietly. His gaze is cast off, some far off corner that you don’t see, and you realize you’re still close to him. Close enough to smell the sickness clinging to his skin, the sweat. He smells like an antiseptic grave of all the memories lost.

“Yeah. I didn’t believe in love until I met him,” you say softly, watching as Bucky raises a trembling spoon to stab at his potatoes. It’s you. It’s you. It’s you. Your heart is screaming, but your mind is a muzzle. “I wish he was here.”

“I wish he was here, too.” He blinks and it’s like he’s back with you again, gaze on yours. “I wish he was here for you. You deserve a shoulder to cry on, too.”

You barely croak out, ‘Thank you’.

[tales-unique]

FAULTS OF THE HEART  III

The tension doesn’t dissipate entirely over the coming days, but you find that it doesn’t get any worse either. It merely stagnates and that bothers you more than anything. You’ve both fallen into a routine wordlessly as though it was always there, something you didn’t realize until you’d been doing it over and over. “Not hungry?” Alucard's question breaks your train of thought, bringing you back to the real world. “What?” You ask, blinking down at your practically untouched plate of fresh fish and vegetables, “oh, no, it’s just,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Alucard frowns over at you from the other end of the table, setting down his knife and fork.

“What is it?” He asks, his voice gentle, which makes your tumultuous emotions fester even more. “I don’t know,” you shake your head, frustrated with yourself, “I just feel so, so stuck . My arm isn’t healing fast enough, I can’t do anything, I just feel so useless right now!” Alucard opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off with a vicious snarl. “And you aren’t helping!” That swiftly shuts him up and you regret it the instant the words have left your mouth. He sees it in your expression, the way your eyes widen and your lip twitches, and merely lets out a weary breath. He knows the routine of your moods as of late, only because he’s been subject to them already, but it’s still not easy to deal with. “I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, slumping in your chair. You were just so tired of everything . “I didn’t mean to snap at you,” you breathe, wincing at the tightness in your shoulder. It’s healing but when he cauterized the wound to stop the bleeding it made it difficult to move your arm without discomfort. “I know,” he replies, but his tired expression doesn’t quite match the softness in his voice, “it’s alright.” “No, no it’s not alright,” you rebuke, your hand tightening to a fist atop the table, “I do this every time and I always take it out on you.” There’s a sense of peace that briefly washes over you when you admit your shortcomings to Alucard before the numbness takes over. You push your chair back and stand, not wanting the moment to turn to pity like it always did. Alucard doesn’t stop you as you leave, no doubt going to sequester yourself in your room. He’s learnt that leaving you be is the best way to get you to calm down and view the situation objectively. It’s the only way that he can bring you around to the idea that he understands the way you feel.

It’s just after dusk when he finally hears you stir. He’s sitting in the old drawing room, reading one of the many books still salvageable from the library. Though your footfalls are light he can still hear them over the crackling of the fire in the fireplace and he places his book down upon the arm of the chair with a small smile. You’re not wearing shoes again, something he could never quite understand. You loved being barefoot. Especially outside, on rainy days and sunny days alike. He found you one early morning following a frog through the dew-covered grass and it was the first time he had truly seen you laugh since you came to the castle. Tiptoeing to the door, you gently knock on the old wood before peeking inside. You knew he was inside because of the firelight emanating from the ajar door. "Can I come in?" "Yes, of course." You nod, slipping inside. The room is warm and inviting and it helps ease some of the tension you have. It settles like lead in your stomach, but you try to push it away as you take a seat in the high-backed chair next to him. Alucard watches you as you get comfortable in your seat, pulling your legs up to your chest, leaning back. Yet you still look stiff and it betrays your nerves. He tries to give you a comforting smile but it's wasted since your eyes are firmly fixed upon the flames. "I'm sorry about earlier," you murmur, picking at a loose thread in the seat cushion. "It was understandable," he hums, "I know you meant no real harm." When you finally meet his gaze you see an understanding there that envelops you and you feel some of the tension lift. It's still there but you don't feel as though you're anchored by it anymore. It's a shame that it’s gone all too soon when Alucard quickly looks away from you. "It still wasn't fair on you though," you huff, stretching out in the chair and wiggling your toes. Alucard remains quiet. It's his turn to stare into the fire now, purposely avoiding your gaze. He tends to retreat within himself when you present him with human kindness, catching himself before he falls for it. The trauma he had endured throughout his life wasn't so easily erased, no matter how approachable you made yourself, and he would never allow himself to fall into that trap ever again if he could help it. "Are you okay?" The question throws him, forcing his gaze away from the flames and back to you. Your brow is creased with worry, your eyes glistening, and for a moment he truly believes that you are genuine. Defeated, he cannot take the weight of your concern upon him, nor accept that he finds you as captivating in the firelight as you had been in the moonlight. All he sees in you is another chance to be hurt again and he refuses to willingly be a victim. "I am," he replied smoothly, a practiced lie, tilting his head in curiosity, "what makes you think I'm not?" Your mouth opens but the words wilt and die on your tongue. There's no real answer you can give that doesn't sound stupid in your mind, and it shows. Alucard's expression softens as you struggle to answer, allowing you to compose yourself. "I don't know," hesitant, you resume picking at that loose thread again, "you look so tired, and so sad sometimes. I just want to help .” Even after considering what to say the words are still awkward and you inwardly cringe at how pathetic they sound out in the open. Under Alucard’s unreadable, silent stare you begin to fidget, wishing that the ground would open and you could fall into the abyss to spare yourself the embarrassment. You notice that he, too, seems to be considering his response, much to your dismay. You just want him to get it over with and tell you what a fool you are and move on. “You needn’t concern yourself with me,” he sighs, melancholy marring his angelic features, “really, I’m fine.” “Says the man with people on spikes outside his front door.” Alucard is stunned; it could have been a biting jab, or a sarcastic barb, each of which he would have expected and been prepared for, but instead the words are tender and the look upon your face even more so. He’s unprepared, there is no deceit he can muster in the face of such honest care, so he speaks the only words that seem appropriate. “They deserved it.” You nod, having expected as much. Even though you’re eager to know the tale that goes along with them you can’t bring yourself to ask. It’s too morbid, even if they were, as Alucard states, deserving. “I know it doesn’t really mean anything, but I’m sorry for whatever they did to you, Alucard,” you murmur softly. It doesn’t take away the pain that was inflicted, or the scars that are left behind, but you hope that it will show him that you are not like those people. And he knows it. You’re nothing like Sumi or Taka. You haven’t lied, you haven’t tried to hurt him, nor have you given him any indication that you will do so. Wherever you’ve lashed out you’re quick to apologize once you’ve simmered down and not once have you asked anything from him since begging to live. You are real, and that scares him more than anything. “Thank you,” he answers after a long moment of silence, his eyes distant, “truly, I...Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” You nod, taking this as your cue to leave him to his solitude. No doubt he has much to contemplate and sleep is beginning to tug at you like a petulant child. With a barely concealed yawn you bid him goodnight, leaving Alucard to curiously await what will happen next.

[artificialqueens]

Lay All Your Love on Me (Camgeria) - Athena2

Summary: Camden and Angeria share the journey as they wait for their baby to be born.

A/N: Hi everyone! I've been working on this for a while, and I'm so happy to finally finish it!! I really hope you like it, and please leave feedback if you'd like!!

Title from the song by ABBA.

---

Camden runs to the reception desk, not even noticing if anyone is in the waiting room to stare at her. She hasn’t noticed much of anything—has barely breathed—since Bosco called and told her, in a carefully calm, measured voice, that they were at urgent care with Angeria.

“My wife—Angeria—she’s—“ the words are coming out too fast as Camden struggles to get in a proper breath. Her head is spinning like a top, can’t process anything beyond the worry and the need to make sure Angeria is okay. The white walls of the waiting room are too bright, like lights shining on her, judging her for her panic. The woman working at the desk smiles kindly at her, and says it’s been a slow afternoon and she knows where Angeria is.

Angeria’s in a small room, sitting up in a bed, with Bosco hovering in the corner. There aren’t any wires or machines or anything, just Angeria. Camden hopes it’s a good sign, because if something was really wrong she probably wouldn't still be here.

“Angie? Are you okay?” She rushes to Angeria’s side, immediately wrapping her in a hug.

“I’m fine,” she says, but she squeezes Camden’s waist and buries her face in Camden’s neck, clearly seeking comfort.

“I’m here,” Camden says softly, letting Angeria squeeze as much as she wants. When she pulls away, she’s shivering, and Camden doesn’t hesitate when she takes her jacket off and wraps it over Angeria’s shoulders, grabbing her hand immediately after.

“What happened?” Camden asks, trying to stay calm.

“I don’t know. Bosco and I were talking, and then I stood up and got really dizzy…”

“She fainted,” Bosco finishes. “I caught her before she could hit the ground. She came around really quick, but she didn’t feel good today and the school nurse said it couldn’t hurt to get her checked out, just in case.”

Camden nods, taking it all in. “Thank you for everything, Bosco. Really.”

“No problem.” Bosco gives Angeria a quick hug and then slips out of the room.

“How do you feel? Honestly.” Camden asks, now that it’s just them.

Angeria sighs. “Mostly just tired. I’ve felt a little off all day, but I didn’t think much of it.”

“Maybe you’re coming down with something? Flu or a stomach bug or whatever?” Angeria is always popping gummy vitamins and scrubbing her hands to ward off illnesses from her kindergarteners, but she usually ends up sick a few times a year.

“Probably the damn stomach bug,” she groans. “I didn’t even eat lunch because my stomach felt weird. I bet that’s why I fainted.”

Camden nods, gently rubbing her thumb over the back of Angeria’s hand. “After this, we’ll go home, and I’ll get a nice bath ready for you, and we’ll eat whatever you want, and then you can get some sleep. How’s that sound?”

“Perfect.” Angeria pats the space next to her, and after Camden climbs in the bed, she leans over and rests her head on Camden’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. She naps while they wait for the doctor, and even though Camden is halfway off the bed and her leg has gone numb, she doesn’t dare move.

There can’t be anything wrong, Camden tells herself. Angeria was just tired and didn’t eat, and that has to be why she fainted. She can’t bear to think about anything else causing this, or anything being wrong. That fear is buzzing at the back of her head, insistent like a fly you can’t swat away, but if she focuses on the hum of the fluorescent lights, or the warmth of Angeria pressed against her arm, she can keep it at bay. It’s probably a good thing she can’t move, because it’s keeping her from grabbing her phone and doom-scrolling through WebMD.

A doctor steps in, and Camden gently nudges Angeria awake, her heart pounding.

“Everything is fine,” he says, and Camden can breathe again. He says that Angeria likely fainted from exhaustion and low blood sugar, but all Camden hears is that Angeria is okay.

“I do have some other news, though,” the doctor continues. “I’m assuming you don’t know yet, since you didn’t mention it, but you’re pregnant.”

Camden blinks, her mouth falling open as she turns to Angeria in shock.

“I—are you sure?” Angeria asks in disbelief.

The doctor nods. “We saw it from the blood test. You probably wouldn’t have known for another week or two. But it’s very early, and everything is fine.”

Angeria nods, and the doctor discharges her and heads out.

“Cam,” Angeria breathes. “We’re having a baby. It worked. I didn’t think it ever worked on the first try.”

“You always were an overachiever,” Camden teases, but she’s in disbelief too, her head spinning. They’re only on their first round of IVF, and they’ve been trying not to be too hopeful, not even think about the possibility of it working right away, because they know how hard it can be. But here they are, and Angeria is having a baby. It’s like trying not to hope for a Christmas gift because you didn’t think you’d get it, and then opening the wrapping paper to see you did, and it’s better than you could have imagined.

“We’re having a baby,” Angeria repeats in wonder, and Camden hugs her.

—-

“How’s Baby Spice doing today?” Camden asks, crouching in front of Angeria’s belly while she makes a snack. Angeria is just barely showing, but it hasn’t stopped Camden from talking to the baby whenever she can.

“I can’t believe you’re calling them that,” Angeria says, but she’s smiling, because Camden talking to the baby is just too adorable.

“Why not? It’s cute, it’s catchy, it’s neutral.”

“I guess.” Angeria adds Fritos to her peanut butter and jelly sandwich, snorting at Camden’s look of disgust.

“You’re not gonna eat that, are you?”

“It’s delicious. You get salty and sweet, soft and crunchy.” It’s a creation Angeria would make in the cafeteria at school when she was a kid, and she’s spent the whole day dreaming about it.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hey, don’t blame me, blame Baby Spice’s weird cravings,” Angeria says, the nickname slipping out. “See, now you’ve got me using that nickname!”

“I told you it’s catchy!”

—-

“Do you like lemon sorbet or lemonade better?” Angeria holds two paint chips against the wall of the nursery. “Or maybe sun dance is a better shade.”

Camden squints. “The first two look exactly the same.”

“But which one is better?”

“Lemon sorbet,” Camden says confidently.

“Are you sure? Do they look different with the lights off?”

“Well, now I can’t see anything!” Camden says, and they both burst into laughter.

Camden is still smiling when Angeria puts the lights back on. “Are you sure about the lemon sorbet? Did you look at the sun dance color? I just want it to look perfect.” She isn’t sure why she’s so stressed about a stupid paint color, why it feels so important. Maybe because this is the first real step of things, real proof that the baby is coming, even more than the doctor’s appointments and the growing aches in her back as the baby gets bigger. This is the room their baby will live in. She needs to get it right, and she wants to do it before the pregnancy makes decorating and designing too difficult.

“It is perfect,” Camden says. Her voice is soft and soothing, like she knows exactly what Angeria needs. “The baby’s gonna love it, so much.”

Everything in Angeria calms down, and she wraps her arm around Camden’s waist. “You’re right.”

“And now that the paint is done, we can get the fun stuff!”

“We’re gonna buy so many stuffed animals, aren’t we?” Angeria asks.

“So many.”

—-

It’s become their routine at night to peek at the nursery on the way to bed. They stand shoulder to shoulder in an easy silence, just taking it all in. The light yellow walls with white cloud decals, the crib with its moon-and-star patterned sheet, the antique rocking chair in the corner. It all looks so cheery and peaceful, and yes, they’ll eventually be taking exhausted turns in that rocking chair trying to get a desperately crying baby to sleep, but they know they can do this together, and enjoy the peace for now.

It came together much faster than they thought, thanks to their friends' help. Daya was the hero of the day, surprisingly good with a hammer to set up the bookcase, and getting wild cheers from everyone when she could paint the whole wall without a stepstool. Bosco wanted to prove that they could use a hammer too, only to almost drive a nail through their own thumb when putting the crib together with Camden, who had her head bent over the instruction manual to make sure the crib met safety regulations. Willow helped Angeria arrange all the stuffed animals, coming up with ridiculous names and backstories for them all.

The calm is interrupted when Angeria gasps at a weird twitching feeling in her stomach. It can’t be happening already, she tells herself, calming her breathing. She’s four months along now, and the aches and pains have gotten worse, but this isn’t that bad. This wasn’t even a pain. Just a weird feeling.

Angeria blinks to snap out of the daze, and meets Camden’s panicked eyes. She’s been almost too focused on the baby stuff lately; she’s been less of a person and more of a collection of books on pregnancy and articles on parenting, with eyes always alert for every wince Angeria makes. She loves knowing Camden cares so much about her, but Camden’s shoulders are constantly tense, and Angeria is hoping they’ll loosen eventually. “What is it? Is something wrong? Do we need to—“

The feeling happens again, more fluttery than twitchy this time. It’s kind of like the flutters she got the first time she saw Camden, the flutters she still gets around her now, when the sun catches her hair just right, or when she nestles into Angeria in bed. The feeling matches something her doctor told her, and the pieces click into place. Cam,” Angeria says, “I think the baby just kicked.”

“Really?” Camden asks, the worry turning to excitement.

“I think so. The doctor said it would feel kinda fluttery and not to worry if I started feeling it. I’m fine, it just surprised me.” She grabs Camden’s hand and places it on her stomach. “Maybe they’ll do it again.”

The seconds tick by as they wait. Camden intertwines their pinkies gently, and Angeria savors the touch, that she’s doing this whole thing with Camden.

The fluttering erupts for a third time, and they both gasp. “Was that it? I felt it!”

“That was it.” Angeria looks at her with wide eyes. “It feels so…”

“Real,” Camden finishes.

“Yeah.” Angeria nods. It does feel more real now. Sure, it’s been real since she found out she was pregnant, and she’s had this baby growing in her for about four months now. But feeling the kick is like a little reminder that the baby is really, truly growing.

The baby kicks in again, harder this time, like they know both parents are here and waiting.

“Calm down in there, Baby Spice,” Angeria says. “You can’t kick your way out already. You gotta wait.”

“Maybe we should call them Sporty Spice,” Camden says, her lips twitching into a smirk.

“I hate you.”

—

The glowing red numbers stare into Camden’s soul as 11:59 becomes midnight. She’s seen this clock too many times this week, her restless body turning to it like a magnet, no matter how much she tried not to. Camden sighs, slipping out of bed. It’s hard enough for Angeria to sleep as it is. Camden won’t add to it with all her tossing and turning.

She shuffles into the kitchen, her hands filling the teapot with water just to stay busy, to stop her from tearing at her hair. She gazes into the flame, like focusing on each little tendril of fire will keep the worries away.

The steaming water darkens in her mug, and her cloud of thoughts darkens with it.

The baby kicking last week should have been a happy thing, and it was. Until it turned in Camden’s mind, like sweet fruit gone bad. Because the baby isn’t just some formless blob anymore. Their baby is real, real and grown enough to start kicking, and pretty soon they’ll be born. Camden knew that the birth part was coming, obviously, but suddenly it seems a lot closer. Almost too close, with their childbirth classes coming up in a few weeks. And all Camden’s thoughts, which for four months have been on the nursery and prenatal vitamins and doctor’s appointments—things easy to prepare for, to make sure they went okay—have shifted dangerously toward the birth.

And something going wrong with it.

Angeria’s pregnancy hasn’t been too hard on her so far. There’s been pain and irritability and a little nausea, but nothing huge, and every doctor’s appointment has shown that everything is normal. But that doesn’t mean anything; normal pregnancies can still go wrong, and sure, most births go perfectly fine, but there are complications and freak accidents sometimes, and what if something happens to Angie or the baby? What if something happens to both of them?

“You having a party in here or something?”

Camden jumps at Angeria’s voice. “Angie? I didn’t mean to wake you. You should go back to bed.”

“I’m already up. I’m sure I’ll have to pee again in five minutes anyway.” Angeria stands next to her at the counter, their shoulders touching.

Camden doesn’t say anything.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Camden says, looking down at her mug in shame and embarrassment. Angeria is the pregnant one, not her. Angeria is the one dealing with pain and stress and a storm of emotions, the one who’s actually going to give birth. All Camden has to do is be there for her, be strong for her, and she can’t even do that. And here Angeria is, fully prepared to comfort her at midnight. God, Camden is so selfish.

“I know you better than that, Cam. You’ve barely slept all week.” Angeria brushes hair off her face. “Talk to me.”

Camden sighs. She’s caught now, there’s no point lying about it anymore. “I’m just worried about something bad happening to you or the baby.”

Angeria’s eyes soften. “Cam—”

Camden shakes her head quickly, embarrassment rising. “It’s fine, I don’t want to put this stress on you. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around.”

Angeria is quiet for a few seconds, seconds where the worries in Camden’s chest seem to tighten even more.

But eventually she speaks, soft and soothing. “You know you can feel stuff too, right? Even if you’re not the pregnant one. Just because my emotions are out of whack and I cry over grocery store commercials doesn’t mean you can’t be worried and stressed too.”

“But I want to be strong for you. I want to take care of you,” Camden says. It made sense to her before, this need to be there for absolutely anything Angeria could ever want, but now, with Angeria looking at her so kindly and patiently, it’s starting to make less sense. Like the foundation she was resting on is crumbling, but it’s okay, because Angeria is there at the bottom.

“You have been taking care of me,” Angeria says, stroking Camden’s cheek, wiping the tear she was trying to ignore. “You do so much, but you don’t have to be strong all the time. And I want to take care of you too. Like last week, I know you had a hard day at work, but you said you were fine. I know you didn’t want to stress me out or whatever, but I’m here for you, just like you’re here for me.”

Camden’s cheeks flush with the realization. She has been closing herself off lately, putting all her focus into Angeria. She just didn’t think Angeria noticed. But she always notices Camden. She always has. “You’re right. I’m sorry I’ve been so tense lately.”

Angeria squeezes her hand. “You don’t have to be sorry. I know you’re worried. I’m worried too, but I’m just trusting that things are gonna go okay.”

That’s really all they can do, Camden realizes. No amount of worrying in the kitchen is going to help or change things. They have a great doctor, and they’ve been doing everything they need to so far. All they can do is hope for the best.

“You’re right.”

“I usually am.” Angeria smiles, and it chases away any last bit of fear in Camden’s chest. “Come back to bed with me.”

“I’d love to.” She leads Angeria to the bed and lets Angeria tuck her in before drifting off to sleep.

—-

“Maybe we should start thinking of names,” Camden says one night. Well, morning, technically. It’s 1am, and Angeria couldn’t get back to sleep, so Camden put on a cooking show and started talking in the hopes that it would distract Angeria from the discomfort in her shoulders and back.

“That’s a good idea.”

“David?”

“I like it,” Angeria says, “except it always makes me think of this kid named David in middle school who would stick pencils up his nose—”

“Okay, I think that one’s out,” Camden laughs. “Maybe Daniel?”

“That’s a good one. I'm writing that down.” Angeria scribbles it down on a notepad. “How about Alexandria? Or Alexander?”

Camden grimaces. “I like them, but Alexandria was the name of this girl that cheated on me in college—“

“Say no more,” Angeria says. “This is harder than I thought!”

“I never realized how many names were ruined for me before,” Camden says, and Angeria laughs.

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and Camden’s hoping Angeria got to sleep when she says, “Jamie’s cute. And Rory’s cute too.”

“Were you watching Gilmore Girls again?” Camden teases, and Angeria grins. “I like Rory too. And I really like Jamie.”

The early hour passes, trading names and laughing, until Angeria finally falls asleep. Camden eases the notepad out of her hands, presses a kiss to her cheek, and goes to sleep.

—-

“You’re sure you still want to go tonight?”

“Yes!” Angeria says, trying not to get too mad at the question. Everything has been annoying her today, like all her nerves are attached to short fuses, waiting to erupt. “I don’t want to miss our anniversary.”

“Okay,” Camden says, leaving her to get ready. Camden’s been giving her space all day, like she could sense that Angeria needed it. Though it wasn’t that hard to sense, given that Angeria screamed at Camden when she offered her eggs this morning, the smell making her stomach turn.

Angeria takes a breath and gets ready for dinner. She puts a little more care into her look than she’s been doing for work lately, sitting at her desk to do her makeup and huffing every time her belly keeps her from getting closer to the mirror. She puts on a cute polka dot dress with it, and despite all the work it took, it feels nice to dress up a little. She feels more like herself again, rather than just the pregnant woman who everyone’s eyes go to when she’s out in a store. She’s just Angeria, like cleaning a mirror and being surprised at the suddenly clear reflection.

She has more than enough time to take a little nap on the couch. Not even a nap—she’ll just sit and rest her eyes for a few minutes, like she always made fun of her dad for doing when he watched TV. Just resting her eyes.

Except when she opens them, it’s much darker than she remembers. Dark enough for the living room lamp to be on. There’s a blanket over her, and a pillow behind her head.

“Camden?” she asks roughly. “What time is it? What happened?” She twists her heavy head around, trying to make sense of things. She remembers sitting down, and then absolutely nothing. Her head is foggy and every thought is slow, like they’re passing through mud.

“Angie?” Camden’s suddenly in front of her. “You, um, you fell asleep.”

“It’s nighttime,” she says, like an idiot. Her thoughts are slowly returning to normal, and if it’s nighttime, then that means they missed dinner, and it slams into her like a truck. Except maybe she’s wrong, and they didn’t miss it. Maybe the black sky outside is just her imagination, or maybe she’s still dreaming.

“It’s almost nine,” Camden says calmly, and Angeria’s heart aches, because they definitely missed dinner.

“I–did you try to wake me up?” She asks, still trying to avoid it.

“I tried, but I kind of couldn’t,” Camden says sheepishly. “I called your name a few times and nudged you, but you were, like…dead asleep. I actually checked to make sure you were breathing a few times. So I let you sleep.”

Angeria’s last hope flies away, and she’s left huddling in the wreckage of what tonight should have been. “I–I’m sorry.” Angeria tries to blink away the storm of stinging tears. “I ruined our anniversary.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Camden says softly. Angeria realizes for the first time that Camden is back in sweatpants instead of the dress she was planning to wear, and it only makes the tears fall harder. How long had Camden sat here, hoping Angeria might wake up, only to eventually give up on the night they were supposed to have?

“Yes I did. I ruined the whole day. I yelled at you this morning, and I was in a bad mood all day, and now I slept through dinner. I totally ruined it.”

“Angie, listen.” Camden’s voice is still soft, still soothing, and she wipes some of Angeria’s tears. “You didn’t ruin anything. I love you so much. I don’t care if we missed dinner, because I love you.”

“But—”

“And you can’t blame yourself for being in a bad mood and sleeping today. I can’t imagine how hard it is to grow an actual baby inside you. Of course you’re gonna be angry and exhausted. And I still love you.”

It might be the hormones, or the gentle strength of Camden’s words, but Angeria starts crying all over again. Only this time isn’t from sadness or guilt but from love, of knowing Camden still loves her no matter what.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Of course, love.”

Angeria’s stomach growls then, cutting through all the tears and making them both laugh.

“If you’re hungry, I have an idea,” Camden says.

“What is it?”

“Well, the place we were gonna go is closed now. But you know what’s open, if you’re up for it?”

“What?”

“That diner you love. The one with the peach pancakes and the honey butter.”

“That sounds amazing.” Angeria sighs just thinking of that velvety honey butter, of the sweet peaches like the one she had as a kid, juice dripping down her chin.

Camden grins. “I’ll get your coat.”

They spend their anniversary eating pancakes in a diner that smells like syrup and bacon, and Angeria thinks it might be the best one they’ve ever had.

—-

The ninth month passes quickly, but calmly. They go to their last doctor’s appointments. They pack the bag they’re going to take to the hospital, the tiny green onesie with little bears on it tucked inside. They buy any last items they need, and make sure the nursery is dusted and ready to go. Now all there’s left to do is wait, and they’re both somehow okay with it. Sure, they’re eager to meet the baby and still hoping everything goes well, but they’ve been on this journey for almost a year now, and it’s like the end of the marathon is in sight.

“We can do this, right?” Angeria asks.

It’s late Sunday morning and they’re still in bed, May sun washing over them like a tide. Angeria has her head on Camden’s chest and her legs in some twisted position she says is keeping the pressure off her hips. Her voice is quiet when she speaks, and from the way she’s playing with Camden’s fingers, Camden doesn’t think Angeria is just asking about the birth part.

“I think we can, yes,” Camden says cautiously. “All of it.”

Angeria sighs against her, glad Camden knew what she meant.

“I mean, there’s gonna be stuff we can’t know or prepare for. Of course there will be. But we’re gonna love this kid so much, no matter what. We’ll teach them how to be kind, and you can teach them how to make your mom’s pecan pie, and I’ll teach them about iconic British rock stars”---Angeria swats her thigh gently—”but yeah. I really think we can do this.”

“I think so too,” Angeria says. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”

They lay together for a few more minutes, breathing in the peace, feeling the sunshine. They got through these nine months with hands intertwined, and the future won’t be any different.

Angeria eventually gets up to use the bathroom. A minute later, Camden hears her swear under her breath, and she’s about to check on her when she comes in, breathing hard, face twisted in pain.

“Hey, you remember that talk we had ten minutes ago?” Angeria asks, a wry smile peeking through her grimace. “Good freaking timing, because I think this is it.”

Camden looks at Angeria, and she isn’t panicking. Angeria is in labor, and Camden isn’t panicking. It’s like opening your eyes underwater and being able to see much clearer than you thought, because even though she certainly could panic, she knows what she has to do.

She has to help Angeria.

“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s gonna be okay.” She gets changed and helps Angeria do the same, heart breaking with every whimper she lets out. She grabs their hospital bag in one hand and takes Angeria’s hand with the other, leading her out to the car to meet their baby.

—-

They found out about the baby in a cramped urgent care bed, and now, in a much roomier maternity ward bed, they’re finally holding him.

Everything is quiet now, quiet and calm after all the machines beeping and doctors rushing around giving orders. It’s their own little world, just the two of them.

No.

The three of them.

“He looks just like you, Angie,” Camden whispers. She holds Jamie towards the middle of the bed, so he doesn’t get tangled in the IV and wires all over Angeria, and he’s fast asleep in her arms.

“I think he has those freckles you get in the sun,” Angeria says, stroking his cheek gently. She’d been adamant on a donor who looked almost exactly like Camden, and seeing a few freckles dust his cheeks, or the little waves in his dark hair, warm Camden like a fire inside her.

“I think you’re right.”

“He has your chin.”

“Why would you want him to have my chin? I think he has your chin.”

“I like your chin,” Angeria says. “He has your ears too.”

Camden laughs. “My ears? I think that’s the painkillers talking.”

Angeria smiles, fighting to keep her eyes open.

“You should sleep,” Camden says. Camden was by Angeria’s side through it all, holding her hand and encouraging her and wiping sweat off her forehead, and she can’t even imagine how exhausted she must be.

“Yeah.” Angeria yawns. “I just love him so much. I–I can’t even believe he’s real.”

“I love him too. He’s perfect.” Camden’s fully in awe of him, how a few hours ago he didn’t even exist in the world, and now he’s here, in her arms, small and delicate but real, and breathing, and perfect. She always thought people were exaggerating when they talked about how amazing it was to see their baby for the first time, but now she knows they were right. If the pregnancy was a gift you hoped for, holding Jamie now is like getting every present she ever hoped for, all at once.

Angeria nods. “Stay,” she whispers to Camden.

“Always,” Camden promises, and Angeria rests her head on Camden’s shoulder and immediately falls asleep.

And with her wife at her side, and their son in her arms, Camden knows she’ll always keep that promise.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Monsters  -  Four

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Language, Fluff, Sickness, Minor Injuries, Trigger warning kinda but not as bad as the last chapter

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: here you go! I say fuck a posting schedule lol

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

~*~

You sleep for a long time.

Nearly three days.

Bucky grows increasingly worried with each day that goes by that you don’t open your eyes. It gets to the point where he’s tempted to call a doctor, but he has no idea how he would explain it to them.

You finally wake up, in the afternoon of the third day, and Bucky is so relieved he could cry.

“Hey,” he whispers, helping you sit up when he sees you start to struggle. You look around curiously, confused until your eyes land on the gauze wrapped around your arms.

You look up at him, bottom lip wobbling, and he shakes his head, shushing you.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” During the days when you were unconscious, it was a struggle to keep the soldier at bay. He won the fight every night though, the guilt weighing heavier than the desire to fuck.

“Why didn't you let me die?” You whimper, sorrow in your eyes. He rests his forehead against your shoulder and sighs.

“You called me a monster, and I got mad because I didn’t want you to be right. And then I proved your point. I just... the monster is there, inside of me. I can usually keep him at bay but... I know it’s not an excuse, and I may never make it up to you, but I didn’t want to hurt you the way that I did. I... it’s like I wasn’t in control of my own hands.” You don’t reply, keeping your eyes on your arms.

“I’m gonna go make you some soup. You’ve been asleep for three days. You need to eat. And drink. Okay?” You nod glumly, still emotionally numb as your mind tries to block out everything that happened.

Bucky’s only gone for a few minutes before he returns with a steaming bowl of soup and a plastic cup full of water. He hands you the water first, and your hands shake as you grab it. You take a small sip the grimace as your stomach flips.

“I know you probably don’t want to, but you’ve gotta eat just a little bit. Okay?” You nod and let him spoon feed you the soup. It’s good. Chicken noodle, from what you can tell, but no matter how good it tastes or how warm it feels going down, your stomach doesn’t want it.

You gag, hand coming up to cover your mouth, and Bucky curses, putting the soup on the side table and grabbing you in his arms. He rushes into the bathroom but he’s not fast enough. What little you ate comes rushing back up, spewing out of your mouth and all over yourself and a little on him.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying not to get too grossed out.

Your head lolls back, eyes rolling as a dizzy spell overwhelms you. He sets you down carefully on the counter, peeling the sweater off of you and tossing it into the hamper in the corner. You take shallow breaths, body aching.

He turns the shower on then rids himself of his clothes before doing the same to you. The two of you are naked in no time, and then he’s bringing you into the shower, the water a little too cool for your liking, but you don’t have it in you to complain.

He holds you upright, hands supporting your weight as the water pelts down on the two of you. You feel like everything is spinning, so you lay your head against his chest and take deep breaths in through your mouth. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and rubs your back gently.

“You’re okay.” He grabs a loofa and squirts some body wash on it, then starts gently washing your body.

His actions are innocent enough until he gets between your legs. It’s like you can sense the switch when he goes from Bucky to Soldier.

His hands grip you just a little firmer, his breathing is a little harder, his eyes dark and slightly glazed over. He pushes you against the wall gingerly, and you’re surprised by how gentle he’s being.

He hikes your legs up, one knee held over each of his arms. You lie there, half-conscious as the water rains down on you.

He slides his cock through your folds a few times before impaling you, stretching you on his thick length. He grunts softly in your ear, muttering softly in Russian as he fucks you. His thrusts aren't rough and hard, they’re long and precise, each one making your cunt instinctively clench on him.

You keep your eyes closed, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep, but he keeps fucking you until he cums, spilling inside of you with a low groan. He stays sheathed inside of you, palms splayed on the tile by your hips, and you close your eyes tightly as another dizzy spell hits you.

He sighs and you know that Bucky is back. He pulls out of you and carefully lowers you to the ground before picking you up again and taking you out of the shower. He sits you on the counter once more, turns the shower off, then dries your body with a fluffy grey towel.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. You don’t reply. You don’t think you could speak if you wanted to. Your head won’t stop spinning.

He picks you up and brings you into his room again, laying you down on the bed and tucking you in. “I’m gonna go get you a garbage can, in case you need to go again,” he whispers, smoothing your hair around your face.

Your eyes are already closed and he sighs, hating the fact that he caused this. What’s worse, is that the soldier took over while he was trying to make it up to you. He took advantage of your vulnerable state.

He sets a new cup of water on the nightstand and a garbage can on the floor, hoping that you get better soon.

~*~

You do.

It’s nearly two weeks of consuming next to no food or water and throwing up multiple times a day, but you eventually start recovering, and for that, he couldn’t be more grateful.

You’re sitting in his bed, sipping on some tea, when he comes into the room.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, hand resting on your knee through the blanket. You shrug, not meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry. I... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to apologize enough.” You shrug again.

“I can tell.” He’s confused and you sigh, “I can tell when it’s not you. When it’s... him.” He raises his eyebrows and you look down, chewing your bottom lip for a moment before you muster up enough courage to speak.

“When... when you touch me... it’s softer. You might say mean things, but your hands don’t squeeze too hard. And when it’s him touching me... he holds me really really tight.” He raises his eyebrows, having had no idea that that was a thing.

“So I know when it’s you and when it’s him. And I know that you haven’t touched me since...” you trail off and he nods, scratching the nape of his neck. “It wasn’t all me,” he whispers again, trying to explain himself. “It was me at first, but then... it’s like he was controlling me.” You nod, not looking up.

“I don’t remember all of it, but I know your voice sounded different. Angrier.” He cups your cheek gently, cursing himself when you flinch away.

“Since then I haven’t been nearly as bad,” he whispers. “I can tell. The soldier... when he comes now he’s more gentle. He’s not nearly as rough as before.” He nods, happy that this is at least working.

You lean back against the headboard and close your eyes, exhausted beyond belief.

“It’s gonna take some time for you to heal up fully, but you’re making great progress. In a few days, you’ll be eating solid’s again. And then you’ll be up and walking around again.” You nod, eager to be healthy again.

He looks from your eyes to your lips, then back down, licking his lips.

“When I picked you... I didn't think they’d really go through with it. I thought it would’ve been another plan that never got to see the light of day. But then you were here and... I... I was in shock. You’re even more beautiful in person. And you’re so strong and resilient.” You look up, eyes finding his pretty pink lips.

“I know I haven’t been good to you, but can I please kiss you?” You nod meekly, eyes fluttering closed as he presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

It’s everything a kiss with him should be, and so much more. His hands rest on your neck, thumbs gently rubbing the corner of your jaw, right below your ears.

You pull away after a moment more and rest your forehead against his, a small smile gracing your lips.

“This is how things should be,” he whispers, stroking your hair gently. You nod, hands coming up to hold onto his wrists.

“Yeah.” The word is whispered so softly from your lips, that if he didn’t have enhanced hearing, he wouldn’t have heard it.

He presses another gentle kiss to your lips then pulls away. “You should rest,” he whispers, leaning back to look at you. You hesitantly meet his eyes, and when you don’t see the darkness and anger that was there before, you nod.

“Yeah, okay.” You lay down and relax, smiling to yourself as he gently traces over your cheek, his fingers soft and feather-light, a drastic change from his touches three weeks ago.

~*~

It’s a week later when you can walk again, a week after that when he feels comfortable enough to leave you alone, with access to very few things.

He’s on the jet home, mind on you as the rest of the team celebrates a mission gone well.

“You were great out there, James,” Natasha says with a smile, patting his shoulder. He grins at her, cheeks turning pink.

“I see your new remedy is working?” Steve asks, grinning from ear to ear. Bucky scratches his neck and nods. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Nat looks between the two super-soldiers, brows furrowed.

“What kind of remedy is that?” Bucky shakes his head at the redhead. “Just something Fury recommended. Didn’t think I could do it but here we are.” She nods, looking up into his eyes with a gentle smile.

“I’m glad it’s working. It’s good to see you back to normal. I missed the normal you.” He nods, sighing softly as his mind goes to you. “Yeah, I’ve missed it too.” She rests her hand on his shoulder then sighs, letting it slide off and rest in front of her.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” He furrows his brows in confusion. “What’s tonight?”

“Stark’s throwing a little celebration. It’s just gonna be us there. But he wants to celebrate such a clean streak of missions.” He mulls it over, then eventually decides that you’ll be fine if he stays out for another night. You’ve proven that you’re not going to harm yourself anymore, and you seem like you’re starting to genuinely enjoy the arrangement.

“It’d mean a lot to me if you came,” She says, being vulnerable for a moment with him. He raises his eyebrows then nods, knowing not to take her vulnerability lightly. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”

The night consists of soft music, card games, and drinks, all courtesy of one Tony Stark. Bucky spends a fair portion of the night beside Natasha, the two of them laughing and talking together for hours as they each have drink after drink.  

Eventually, when things start winding down and Bucky’s walking her to her room, he brings up a painful topic.

“That night… when I tried to… you know... “ She looks up at him, smiling gently as he tries to express his feelings. “I’m sorry. It… it wasn’t me. And I know that that’s no excuse, but I mean it. But I’m starting to control the monster more.” She cups his cheeks, leans up on her toes, and presses a kiss to his lips.

“I know you’d never willingly hurt me. And I don’t blame you for what the soldier does. I know that the two of you aren’t the same person.” He wraps his arms around her and kisses her deeper, tongue brushing against her plump pink lips. She pulls him backwards until they’re in her room, and closes the door, panting against his mouth as his hands wander over her form.

Her curves are inviting, and he can’t help but grab her ass. She moans into his mouth and the two of them tumble to the bed, Bucky ready to apologize physically for all the things the soldier did, the things that he’s been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on her.