#fluffy comfort

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦 ⚜

Sources: One (I lost this link T_T but it was on pinterest. I'll add it if I find it!!) | Two | Three

Event Host: @wickblr

Summary: Sebastian LaCroix gets creative to make Vincent a cup of "hot chocolate" from blood, since he can't eat sweets anymore. (Crossover with Vampire: The Masquerade)

CW: blood, semi-sensual kisses with fangs, and lots of fluff <3

Hot chocolate was a simple enough recipe for kine. For kindred, it was, undeniably, a little more complex, but Sebastian LaCroix had always been a man of ambition. And Vincent had taken the loss of sweets so terribly hard after the embrace…it was really heartbreaking. Something had to be done about it.

LaCroix put his ingenuity to work one day in late October. Vincent had just come in from a blustery night, scattered with the flecks of a first snowfall. The concrete and asphalt floor of LA was just barely too warm for the snow to stick, but the air still stung. Sebastian kissed his lover’s icy cheeks, but it only earned a momentary half-smile before the Marquis’ perfect mouth returned to a pout. “J'espère que tout s'est bien passé? [I trust everything went well?]”

“Votre précieuse Mascarade est intacte. [Your precious Masquerade is intact],” he said, pulling away to sink into the couch by the fireplace. So he was annoyed. Apparently, it had been a long work night.

“Mon associé ne t’a posé aucun problème ? S’il l’a fait, je veillerai à ce qu’il soit convenablement puni. [My associate didn’t give you any trouble? If he did, I’ll see that he’s suitably punished.]”

Vincent shrugged. “Oh, il est mort maintenant. Pas besoin de s'embêter. J'aimerais seulement, les soirs comme ce soir, pouvoir rentrer à la maison avec un parfait ou un vin doux ou… de toute façon. Je vais me nourrir dans un moment, mais ce n'est pas pareil. [Oh, he’s dead now. No need to bother. I only wish, on nights like tonight, that I could come home to a parfait or a sweet wine or…anyway. I’ll feed in a while, but it’s not the same.]”

“Ah. Je suis désolé, mon amour. [Ah. I’m sorry, love.]” Sebastian stifled a smile. He had chosen the perfect day to prepare his recipe, it seemed. “Installez-vous un peu. J'ai quelques affaires à régler en bas. [Settle in for a bit. I have some matters to attend to downstairs.]”

“Bien. [Fine.]” Vincent’s eyes didn’t move from the fire.

In some twenty minutes, Sebastian emerged from the elevator carrying a gold tray, set with an enormous, fluted parfait cup. Vincent was still tucked into his seat, evidently more relaxed now. Sebastian took a moment to just look at him, to admire his quietude. He was reading, with his chin resting on one hand while the other supported the book on his knee. His face was placid and yet engaged, absorbed in some dreamy world, lips moving ever so slightly at times to savor the form of a particular word or phrase. It was almost a shame to disturb him. But Sebastian noticed that he’d also wrapped the throw blanket around himself. Sometimes, it bothered Vincent to be so cold from the inside out – he still wasn’t accustomed to it. And Sebastion could help with that.

He approached delicately, setting the tray on the coffee table in front of him. “Vinny,” he said, sing-song.

“Bast,” came the echo, natural and effortless, even before he closed his book. At last he looked to the coffee table, raising an eyebrow. “Qu'est-ce que c'est? [What is that?]”

“C'est du chocolat chaud pour toi. Et c'est vraiment caféiné. [It’s hot chocolate for you. And it really is caffeinated.]” LaCroix couldn’t help grinning with pride over his handiwork. “J'ai trouvé le noble le plus né possible, je lui ai donné autant de sucreries qu'il pouvait en manger et je lui ai injecté suffisamment de caféine pour qu'il soit mort dans une heure. J'ai même demandé au chef de faire des miracles avec de la mousse de sang et de la poudre d'os pour la chantilly. [I found the highest born nobleman I could, fed him as many sweets as he could eat, and pumped him with enough caffeine injections that he’ll be dead in an hour. I even had the chef work some miracles with frothed blood and bone powder for the whipped cream.]”

Vincent just stared at the cup for a moment, his expression quivering in the most touched sort of way. “Tu as fait ça… pour moi? [You did this…for me?]”

Sebastian smiled. This was one of the many contradictions of Vincent – if he had asked for hot chocolate himself, he wouldn’t have dreamed of being denied his request and would’ve been outraged at anyone who suggested he didn’t deserve it. But when it was a gift, he was painfully overcome with disbelief. “Eh bien, je ne vois personne d’autre dans la pièce, n’est-ce pas ? Essayez-le. [Well I don’t see anyone else in the room, do you? Try it.]”

The cup was big enough that even Vincent had to lift it with both hands (Sebastian wanted to get every last drop of blood that he could). It made him look adorable as he put it to his lips and came away covered in whipped cream. Sebastian leaned over and kissed it off of him, taking the time to run his tongue along each lip and caress each of Vincent’s fangs, which were protruding in eagerness at the taste of blood. He was rewarded with a shiver of pleasure from Vincent. Sebastian sighed against his lover’s mouth. “Mmm… J'ai bien fait, semble-t-il. Il a presque aussi bon goût que toi. [Mmm…I did well, it seems. It tastes almost as good as you.]”

The fresh blood all went to Vincent’s cheeks. “Oui, c'est le cas - presque. Arrête d'être charmant pour que je puisse le boire avant qu'il ne refroidisse. [Yes it does - almost. Stop being charming so I can drink it before it gets cold.]” But he stole another kiss in spite of that, long and fierce with gratitude. His words were barely a whisper. “Je ne sais pas pourquoi tu es si gentil avec moi. [I don’t know why you’re so kind to me.]”

An ache rushed into in his heart, as if it was threatening to start beating. Sebastian fell against the couch next to the Marquis and put an arm around him. “Tu ne peux pas dire des choses comme ça, ma petite fraise, pas autour d'une simple tasse de chocolat chaud. Tu me fais trop sentir comme ça. [You can’t say things like that, my little strawberry, not over a simple cup of hot chocolate. You make me feel too much as it is.]”

For a moment, he was too flustered to speak. “Er - hmmm. Eh bien, je dirai simplement « merci ». [Er - hmmm. Well then, I’ll just say ��thank you.’]” He noticed Sebastion pulling the blanket over both of them, snuggling up to his side. “Essaies-tu de voler ma chaleur? Ensuite, tu demanderez une gorgée de chocolat et tu ne pourrez pas en avoir. [Are you trying to steal my heat? Next you’ll be asking for a sip of chocolate, and you can’t have any.]”

Sebastion kissed him just above that pesky lapel that was hiding his jugular away. “C’est très bien, de toute façon, je préfère le boire dans ton cou plutôt que dans une tasse. [That’s fine, I’d prefer to drink it from your neck than the cup anyway.]”

“Diablerist,” Vincent giggled, and took another long drink. He came away beaming with a childish joy, and even warmer. Sebastian was starting to feel his faint, gentle heat even through both the vest and the tailcoat. “Tu as interrompu mon livre, Bast. [You interrupted my book, Bast],” he accused, in mock seriousness.

“C'est ce que j'ai fait. Comment puis-je me rattraper? [That I did. How can I make it up to you?]” God, Vincent owned him. He was utterly lost.

“Lisez-moi pendant que je prends mon dessert. [Read to me while I have my dessert.]” The contradiction again - here was the imperious side of Vincent, who had been so shy and grateful just moments ago. And Sebastian was only too happy to obey.

[salchat]

Does anyone please have any screencaps of poor sad wet homeless Castiel, huddled in the alley? I'm writing a fic (there'll be extremely fluffy comfort) and I can't access the screencap websites where I am but I need to see his poor little face!

As an incentive, here's the beginning of the first chapter, from Cas's POV (the second chapter's where the comfort kicks in, from Dean’s POV):

Dean had once said to him, “So what’s it like - being an Angel of the freaking Lord?”

He’d been cleaning his weapons, squinting down the barrel of one of them, jabbing a stick with a bit of rag on the end down inside it, focussed on his work - and yet with thoughts to spare that he chose to direct at Castiel, albeit laced with typical disrespect.

At that time the ebb and flow of casual human interaction had eluded Castiel almost completely. For his part, he could have stood motionless in the centre of the motel room in neutral stillness until Dean and Sam’s needs for rest and recuperation had been met, whether that was, as usual, just a few short hours, or really any length of time. He’d stood and simply watched the world turn and life evolve for aeons, after all.

But humans, it seemed, had a need to fill silences, to ask questions, simply to be using the spare capacity of their minds. Perhaps because their individual lives were so fleeting - they had to make the most of their time.

The question, however, dropped so casually from Dean’s lips, had not been a simple one at all. How could Castiel possibly explain the vastness and magnitude of his existence to this small, human soul? Angels didn’t even have souls, or physical bodies unless they borrowed them. So he had used a human device and turned the question back on Dean.

“What is it like being human, Dean? Could you explain that to me?”

If he had expected any slight embarrassment, he would have been disappointed. But, at that stage, both the snort and smirk were unsurprising.

Dean paused and laid the weapon down across one thigh. He stared at the ceiling and his face twisted in mock concentration. “Well,” he said eventually, “it ain’t all cherry pie and beer - but it’s okay.”

Castiel had surprised himself at that point by emitting his own snort - already Dean’s influence had been having an effect. “Thank you for that enlightening summary.”

[pearlypairings]

13 and 14 for painting (a masterpiece)? 💞

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

hehehe this is a PERFECT question. I listened to its namesake on repeat, because I could not stop seeing Eddie and Chrissy in the lyrics. Their essence just IS the theme of this song :)

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

Eddie will do anything to see his girl smile. ANYTHING. and it's very very cute.

painting (a masterpiece) for reference

send me a fic ask too :)

[thesecondhandwoman]

can you make sevika having baby fever but is just so subtle about it because she doesnt want reader to find out? bonus if you'll also write about them finally having a baby in the end

BABY FEVER

Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: Ever since you and Sevika had gone to the market and saw a small little bundle of joy, a tiny child, Sevika has been experiencing baby fever, but tried to hide as much as you tried to hide the fact you were pregnant.

Request: Anon 🤍

The bustling Undercity market was alive with energy, a chorus of voices rising and falling like a symphony Sevika had learned to navigate with ease. Stalls lined the cobblestone streets, hawking wares ranging from fresh produce to mechanical trinkets that sparked faintly in the dim light. You had begged her to accompany you here, and though Sevika wasn’t one to enjoy the chaos, she couldn’t deny you anything.

As you weaved through the crowd, her larger frame provided a shield against the jostling bodies. You stopped at a fruit stall, inspecting the goods and chatting with the vendor. Sevika stood close behind, her attention elsewhere—until she heard your soft, delighted laugh.

“Look at that baby, Sev!”

She followed your gaze and saw her: a chubby, gurgling baby nestled in her mother’s arms. The child cooed, her tiny hands reaching for her mother’s hair, and Sevika’s heart stuttered in her chest.

“She’s adorable,” you said, your voice tinged with that warm tone Sevika loved so much. You turned back to the vendor, but Sevika lingered, watching the baby with an intensity she couldn’t quite explain.

The rest of the day passed like any other, but something shifted in Sevika. She couldn’t stop thinking about the baby, the way you had looked at her with such soft admiration.

The change started subtly. Sevika wasn’t the kind of woman to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she found herself lingering in certain moments more than usual. It began with your kitten, Smoky, a mischievous ball of gray fluff you’d taken in months ago.

“Sev, you’re spoiling her,” you teased one evening as Sevika sat on the couch, Smoky sprawled across her chest. She was gently stroking the kitten’s fur, her usual gruff expression softened into something unreadable.

“She likes it,” Sevika grunted, though her voice lacked its usual edge.

You tilted your head, watching her closely. Smoky purred loudly, oblivious to the unspoken shift between you and Sevika.

Then came the way she watched you, specifically your stomach. At first, you thought you were imagining it, but the lingering glances became impossible to ignore. She’d sit at the kitchen table, her eyes following you as you moved around the room, her gaze always flicking down to your midsection.

“Everything okay?” you asked one day, catching her in the act.

“Yeah,” she said quickly, looking away. “Just zoning out.”

Her tone was casual, but the faint blush dusting her cheeks told a different story.

Sevika also started spending more time near the market, a place she typically avoided unless absolutely necessary. She claimed it was for “supplies,” but you knew better. She’d linger by the square, watching the children playing with sticks and scraps, their laughter echoing through the streets.

What Sevika didn’t know was that you had a secret of your own. For weeks, you had been debating how to tell her, nervous and excited all at once. You were only a few months along, but the thought of becoming parents had filled you with a joy you couldn’t contain.

You noticed little changes in your body, like the way your clothes fit differently, the occasional bout of nausea that left you gripping the sink. Sevika, even as observant as she was, hadn’t seemed to catch on yet.

One afternoon, as you folded laundry in the bedroom, you found yourself holding one of Sevika’s shirts, her scent faint but familiar. You pressed it to your chest, imagining her holding your child, her strong arms cradling the tiny life you’d created together.

The thought had nearly brought tears to form in your eyes, and you knew it was time.

One evening, as you sat together in your small home, you decided it was time. Sevika was at the table, sharpening her prosthetic arm with practiced ease. Smoky was curled up in her usual spot by the fireplace.

“Sevika?” you called softly.

“Hm?” She didn’t look up, but her focus wavered, the sharpening tool pausing mid-stroke.

“I have something to tell you.”

Her brow furrowed, and she set the tool down, turning her full attention to you. “What’s up?”

You took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you forced the words out of your mouth, “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Sevika didn’t move. Her expression was unreadable, her dark eyes fixed on you as if trying to process your words. Then, slowly, her lips parted.

“You’re serious?” Her voice was quiet, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, a smile breaking across your face. “I found out a few weeks ago. I was waiting for the right time to tell you.”

Sevika stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. She crossed the room in two long strides and pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly.

“You’re amazing,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re so damn amazing.”

You laughed, tears welling in your eyes as you clung to her. “I was worried you’d be scared.”

“Scared?” She pulled back just enough to look at you, her hand resting gently on your stomach as tears began to form in her own eyes. “No. I’ve been thinking about this for weeks, since that day at the market. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“You had baby fever?” you teased, your grin widening.

“Shut up,” Sevika muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk. “Fuck, baby, we are gonna be parents.”

Months passed in a blur of preparations and quiet excitement. Sevika was by your side through everything, her rough exterior melting away in private moments. She’d talk to your growing belly, her voice soft and full of wonder, and she never missed a single appointment.

When the day finally came, it was nothing short of chaos. The birth was long and grueling, but Sevika was there every step of the way, her strong hand gripping yours as you brought your child into the world.

“She’s beautiful,” Sevika whispered, her voice trembling as she cradled your newborn daughter in her arms. The baby yawned, her tiny fingers curling around Sevika’s prosthetic thumb, the sight nearly causing her to cry again.

You leaned against Sevika, exhausted but filled with a profound sense of love. “She looks like you.”

Sevika chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Lucky kid.”

As you both sat there, your little family finally complete, Sevika realized she had never been happier.

A/N: I’m sorry this is so short, but I absolutely loved writing this cute, fluffy request.

[daily-deliciousness]

Breakfast pigs in a blanket

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

it's good to switch things up every now n then. are you holding your blorbo? or are they holding you??? u have th ability to choose and no one can fucking stop you. go forth

[ticifics]

Full Moon

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: “You didn’t have to come here,” he murmured, almost as a weak attempt at protest. “I know,” you replied, letting your fingers gently caress his hair, a light and repetitive touch. “But I wasn’t going to let you spend this night alone.”

Warnings: a Remus after the full moon, no use of y/n, fluffy, est. relationship, hurt & comfort

Hogwarts' infirmary was immersed in an almost absolute silence, except for the soft rustling of the wind against the tall windows. It was night, very late, and any movement around the castle seemed almost forbidden—but that was never enough to stop you. You walked carefully, holding a small pile of things in your arms, each step echoing like a whisper through the stone corridors.

When you slowly pushed the infirmary door open, it creaked in protest, but you ignored the sound. Inside, the room was lit only by the soft light of a small lamp left by Madame Pomfrey. And there, in the farthest bed on the left, was Remus.

As you approached, you noticed some scattered details around the space by the bed: a crushed box of Chocolate Frogs, a small clumsily folded note in Sirius's handwriting that read, "Try to rest, Moony. No mess for today, I promise," and a red and gold scarf left at the foot of the bed—clearly an improvised gift from James. The Marauders had been here, you could feel it, but now only Remus remained, quiet and vulnerable.

He was propped up against stacked pillows, but clearly wasn’t sleeping. His pale, tired face contrasted with the honey-brown hue of his messy hair, which looked even more disheveled than usual. His brown eyes, though visibly exhausted, still held that unique gentleness, a soft and welcoming shine that only he possessed. New scars blended with the old ones, tracing patterns on his skin like constellations, reminders of a fight he faced month after month.

When he noticed your presence, Remus's eyes widened slightly, the surprise quickly giving way to tenderness. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and weak.

“Good evening to you too,” you replied softly. Your tone had a light, affectionate quality, as if trying to dispel any trace of sadness in the air.

Remus opened his mouth, probably to insist that you go back to the Gryffindor Tower, but he quickly gave up. He knew as well as you that it would be useless to try to convince you.

You slowly approached, placing the things you were carrying on the little table beside the bed. Then, without saying anything, you carefully sat on the edge of the mattress, with the delicacy of someone who knew that even the lightest touch could hurt.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice low, almost a whisper.

He let out a weak laugh that sounded more like a sigh. “I’ve been worse.”

“That’s not what I wanted to hear,” you replied, furrowing your brows, and before he could say anything else, you reached out and gently brushed a strand of his brown hair that was falling over his forehead.

The gesture was followed by a soft kiss on his forehead, slow and full of care. Your lips met his warm skin, and you lingered there for a second longer, as if trying to convey all the love you felt in a single touch. When you pulled away, Remus's eyes were fixed on yours, his expression softened in a mix of surprise and tenderness.

“You didn’t have to come here,” he murmured, almost as a weak attempt at protest.

“I know,” you replied, letting your fingers gently caress his hair, a light and repetitive touch. “But I wasn’t going to let you spend this night alone.”

Remus looked away for a moment, as if he needed to compose himself. There was something vulnerable about him, in that silent and broken version of himself. And yet, even in the midst of everything, he was still Remus—sweet, gentle, someone who seemed to carry the world on his shoulders and still found space to be himself.

“I brought some things,” you said, trying to add a cheerful tone to the conversation. “Nothing impressive, but...”

You lifted the chocolate bar you had brought, holding it like a prize. “I thought you might like it. Madame Pomfrey never lets you eat enough of this.”

The corner of his lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try when it’s for you.”

Remus took the chocolate with trembling hands, unwrapping it slowly. When he took a small bite, he closed his eyes for a moment, as if the simple taste could bring some relief.

You watched silently, studying every detail of him—the way his hair fell in small messy waves around his face, the shadows of scars outlining his cheeks, the light in his eyes that never failed to convey that unshakable kindness.

“I think I brought one more thing,” you murmured, pulling a small book from your bag and showing it to him. “If you want, I can read to you.”

He blinked, looking surprised. “You want to read to me?”

“Of course. There’s nothing I’d rather do right now.”

Remus looked at you for a moment before smiling again, this time softer, more genuine. “I’d love that.”

Carefully, you adjusted yourself on the bed next to him, sitting in a way that you could hold him close without hurting him. Your arm slid gently around his shoulder, a touch full of affection and protection, and Remus, even exhausted, leaned into you, seeking the warmth of your contact. You opened the book and began to read, your soft voice echoing through the silence of the infirmary.

Every now and then, you looked at him, and more than once, you caught him staring at you instead of the pages.

“What’s wrong?” you asked quietly, stopping your reading.

“Nothing,” he replied, gently squeezing your hand, which was now intertwined with his. “I was just thinking that I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You felt your face heat up and lowered your gaze, smiling faintly. “Don’t say nonsense. If anyone here is lucky, it’s me.”

Remus didn’t answer, but the way he leaned in a little more, resting his head on your shoulder, said it all.

The silence that settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle turning of pages and your quiet voice, felt sacred. Remus, so vulnerable and fragile in that moment, was finally giving in to the exhaustion that consumed him. You felt his body sink slightly against yours, a clear sign that he was surrendering to sleep.

You stopped reading, gently closing the book to avoid waking him. Your gaze turned to him, and you felt your chest tighten seeing him so still, his breathing finally steady. The shadows under his eyes were more prominent now, his long lashes resting against his pale skin as if they were ink marks. His messy brown hair framed his face in a way that seemed almost sweet, contrasting with the scars that told stories you wished you could erase. Still, he was beautiful—he always had been—even in his most vulnerable moments.

With almost reverent care, you began adjusting things around him. You fixed the blanket that had been slightly crooked, pulling it up to cover his shoulders. Your fingers, even with the effort to be gentle, lingered just a moment longer than necessary on the fabric of his shirt, feeling the fragile warmth spreading beneath his skin. Then, you pushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead, your movements so soft that they barely caused a tickle.

Your heart tightened again. It was in these moments, when you saw him so quiet, so hurt, that you remembered just how much you loved him. The feeling was so overwhelming it seemed impossible to keep it just inside you, as if at any moment it might overflow in the form of tears, words, or even clumsy gestures.

“I love you so much, Remus,” you murmured quietly, almost without realizing you were speaking out loud.

Immediately, embarrassment burned your face, heat rising up your neck and covering every inch of your skin. But before you could chastise yourself for letting something so intimate slip, you heard a soft, sleepy voice:

“You should sleep too.”

The surprise made you freeze. Remus hadn’t opened his eyes yet, but his voice, weak and broken, still had that soft tone that always disarmed you.

“I… I’m not tired,” you tried to argue, though your voice came out too quietly to be convincing.

His lips curved into a small smile, still with his eyes closed. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You huffed softly, the corner of your mouth also curving into an involuntary smile. Slowly, you leaned in again, placing another delicate kiss on his forehead, a light and silent gesture that seemed to say more than any words could.

“Are you comfortable?” you asked, your voice soft as you continued stroking his hair.

“I am now,” he answered, and despite his weak tone, there was such sincerity in those words that you felt your heart warm.

After a moment, you made a quiet decision. With as much care as you could, to avoid moving anything that might hurt him, you adjusted yourself on the bed beside him. It was a small space, but you didn’t mind. What mattered was being there. Remus seemed to notice what you were doing, as he opened his eyes just enough to look at you, his brown eyes softer than ever in the dim light of the lamp.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you murmured, worried.

“You won’t,” he reassured him, with a tender smile. “I promise.”

You settled beside him, lying in a way that kept you close without putting pressure on his injuries. One of his pale, fragile hands rested on the sheets, and without thinking twice, you took it in yours, intertwining your fingers gently.

For a moment, you stayed like that, simply gazing at each other. Then, without saying a word, you brought his hand up to your lips and placed a light kiss on the cool, marked skin. Remus gave a small smile, and when you looked into his eyes again, he repeated the gesture. With visible effort, he brought your hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back, his warm lips against your skin.

Your heart seemed to melt in your chest, and you squeezed his hand a little more.

“Thank you for coming,” he whispered, his eyes finally starting to close again.

You smiled, leaning your face in so you could place one last kiss on his cheek before sleep took him completely. “I’ll always come, Remus.”

And, in that almost intertwined position, with your fingers still linked and your hearts beating in a soft rhythm, you finally fell asleep. You hardly cared about the discomfort or the cold of the infirmary, because none of that mattered. What mattered was the peace that had settled there, the tenderness you shared even in the most difficult moments.

Remus, even in silence, seemed to know. The way his fingers squeezed yours one last time before finally relaxing told you everything. He knew you’d be there, always.

[strawberriexmoon]

[novelbear]

Hope your year is off to a good start!! Do you have any comforting SO after a stressful day prompts?

why thank you! here you go <33

comforting one after a stressful day 🧸

giving them a massage :(

"awe my poor baby, c'mere..."

simply just holding them, doing that little rocking thing too omg

helping them take off makeup, dry their hair, change into more comfy clothes, all so that they have to do less

sitting there listening to the entire vent (and being totally invested/validating)

^^ "what the hell was her problem?" "that's what i said!"

doing chores or things for them that night that they normally would have to take care of.

making the house as cozy as possible before they come home (blankets on the couch, lights dim, candles on, movie ready)

"tomorrow's a new day. it'll be okay..."

purposely doing things that they know will make them laugh

planning a date night right then and there

"i'm so sorry you had a bad day, love."

[feverflushed]

You know what's cute? Whumpees who dissociate during high fevers.

Whumpee has been battling a high fever all day. Caretaker tries to sit them at the dinner table for some soup, to fill their belly so they can take some medicine. Poor fevered whumpee just sits there, listless, with a thousand yard stare and bright red cheeks. Caretaker tries to grab their attention, but it's all for nothing. Whumpee just keeps shivering and staring into the void.

Caretaker caresses their cheek. "You really are not feeling well, are you, sweetheart? Let's get some food into you and tuck you back in bed".

[ifwbillie]

Hii again, if you feel comfortable could you write a fic where fem!reader is so depressed (staying in bed all day, constantly crying, not talking to anyone), relapsed and has been hiding her sh, she’s not eating or taking care of herself and Billie tries to comfort her although fem!reader has never had anyone there for her so she doesn’t know how to let Billie in. Eventually she gives in, letting Billie love, coddle and take care of her🥺(please don’t feel obligated to write this especially if you’re not comfortable😅)

I appreciate you and your writing🫶🏼

there you go my love! hope you like it <3

cared for (comfort) | b.e x fem!reader

a/n. i don’t take requests openly because i’m afraid of expectations, but i really really reallyyy hope this is good enough. and if you’re going through something or just need to talk, don’t hesitate to reach out, alright? my dms are always open, and if you’re comfortable, i’m here to listen and support you. you’re not alone, angel <3 take caree

wc: 2,9k

the air in your room felt stifling, heavy with an overwhelming stillness. you hadn’t moved from your bed in days. time had become irrelevant. the curtains were drawn, blocking out the world, and the once-soft sheets beneath you now felt suffocating. eating, showering, speaking, being awake, everything felt too much.

a faint knock on the door broke through the silence. you didn’t respond, keeping your gaze fixed on the wall. a moment later, the door creaked open, and billie’s voice reached you, soft and hesitant.

“hey,” she murmured, stepping inside. “it’s me.”

she lingered near the door for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. taking in the untouched water glass on your nightstand, the clothes strewn across the floor, and finally, you, curled up tightly beneath your blanket. her heart clenched at the sight of you so small and withdrawn.

“can i come in?” she asked gently, not wanting to startle you.

you didn’t move, but the tiniest nod escaped you. that was all she needed.

billie made her way over to the bed, sitting down at the edge with careful movements. she didn’t speak right away, giving you space to feel her presence.

after a moment, she let out a soft sigh. “i know you’re not okay,” she said quietly, her voice steady but full of emotion. “and i know you need space but i can’t leave you alone in this. i’m here for as long as you’ll let me be.”

her hand moved to rest on the blanket over your arm, a comforting touch that didn’t demand anything from you.

“you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” she added, her thumb brushing gently back and forth. “but i’m not going anywhere, okay?”

the tears started to build. again. burning hot and sharp behind your eyes. a shaky breath escaped you, and before you knew it, they spilled over, silent but uncontrollable.

billie noticed instantly. without hesitation, she shifted closer, her arms wrapping around you through the blanket. she didn’t say anything, just held you, her touch grounding and warm.

“it’s okay,” she whispered after a while. “let it out. i’ve got you.”

her hand moved slowly, brushing over your back in soothing circles. your sobs wracked your body, each one feeling like it might tear you apart, but billie didn’t let go.

“you’re safe,” she murmured, her cheek pressing against the top of your head. “whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay. i’m here.”

as the sobs fade into hiccupping breaths, she pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. her hands cradle your face gently, thumbs wiping away the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“it’s okay,” she murmurs, and your hands find hers, clinging like you’re trying to hold onto something solid. as her eyes drift to where your touch lingers, she notices the hoodie sleeve slipping down, revealing the faint scars etched into your skin.

“oh, baby…” her voice is soft, almost breaking, her eyes locked on yours, filled with worry.

you freeze, panic bubbling up inside you. you tried so hard to hide it, to keep it buried, but now it’s out. she knows.

“no, no, no,” she says quickly, pulling you into her arms like she’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“shh, it’s okay. i’m not mad at you, sweet girl. it’s okay…”

you’re trembling, your breath hitching as she holds you tighter.

“it’s okay, you’re okay,” she says, her voice low but steady, grounding. “i’m not mad, i promise. you don’t have to hide from me.”

she pulls back just enough to see your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears clinging to your cheeks.

“hey,” she says, her voice softer now. “look at me.”

your eyes flicker up to hers, hesitant.

“i’m not mad, okay? you don’t have to hide. i get it. i do.” thumbs keep moving, slow and steady, grounding you as your breaths stutter.

“breathe with me, baby,” she whispers. “can you do that for me? just breathe.” her forehead leans gently against yours for a moment before she presses a soft kiss there.

“breathe in… and out,” she murmurs. “that’s it. in… and out.” her voice stays calm, unwavering.

“good girl,” she says quietly, a small smile breaking through the worry. “you’re doing so good, babe. i’m right here. always.”

you feel embarrassed, ridiculous for letting this happen. shame burns through you, twisting in your chest.

“you’re okay… that’s it, baby,” she says, her voice gentle as your breathing begins to slow. she pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.

“sweetheart, it’s okay, i promise you. i’m not mad, understood?” she says, her tone firm but full of love. her hands hold yours softly, and with one hand, she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“i love your eyes,” she adds, her voice barely above a whisper, like it’s a secret just for you.

she pauses, studying your face, making sure her words sink in.

“i’m not mad at how you cope, baby. i know it’s hard. i do. but i’m here, okay?” her voice is soothing, her words deliberate. “and i want you to know… you don’t have to hurt yourself. i’m here, with you, always. we’ll get through this together.”

“i’m sorry…” the words fall from your lips, barely audible, trembling.

her heart tightens painfully at the sound of your weak, broken voice. she can feel the weight of your apology, the self-blame in every syllable, and it makes her chest ache.

“it’s okay, angel. you’re okay,” she whispers, her voice steady, but there’s a hint of a crack beneath it, betraying how much this is hurting her too. “you don’t have to apologize. not to me.”

she shifts closer, her hands cradling yours with so much care, like you’re something fragile but precious. her thumbs trace gentle circles over your skin, grounding you in her touch.

“can you let me take care of you, princess?” she asks softly, searching your eyes for a flicker of permission.

she knows this is hard for you—letting someone in, showing this side of yourself. she doesn’t push, doesn’t demand an answer. instead, she brings your hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the top of it.

“you don’t have to say anything,” she murmurs. “but i’ll still try, okay? even if you don’t want to talk, even if it’s messy, i’ll be here. i promise.”

her hands hold yours a little tighter, her fingers slowly intertwining with yours. her gaze stays locked on you, full of love and determination.

“i love you,” she says, her voice trembling slightly, but the words are strong and sure. “so much. more than you’ll ever know.”

she leans in, resting her forehead against yours for a moment, letting the silence between you speak louder than words. “you don’t have to go through this alone, baby. not anymore. not ever.”

you wanted to tell her everything. that you wished you were stronger, wished you hadn’t hurt yourself, wished you could be better for her. but the words were stuck, tangled in the back of your throat. all you could feel was the crushing weight of being a burden, of not being enough. it hurt too much to even speak.

she noticed. of course she noticed. without saying anything, she pulled you into her arms, holding you tight against her chest, her hand slipping under your hoodie to rub slow, calming circles on your back.

“hey, don’t go there,” she murmured, her voice low, that signature rasp so familiar it almost made you cry harder. “don’t overthink it, sweetheart. just stay here, okay? with me.”

her grip tightened for a second, like she was trying to hold you together with just her touch. her lips brushed the top of your head, lingering there as she took a slow breath. she didn’t rush you. she never did.

time felt strange—minutes, hours, it didn’t matter. the room was silent except for the sound of your breathing slowly syncing with hers.

then, she shifted, pulling back just enough to tilt your chin up with her fingers. her eyes searched yours, soft but full of that sharp billie intensity, the kind that always made you feel seen.

“baby,” she said softly, her head tilting a little, her tone both concerned and a little playful, like she was trying to keep things light for you. “have you eaten anything? like, at all? be real with me.”

she didn’t wait for you to answer, her brows knitting slightly. “don’t lie. you know i’ll call you out.”

your silence told her everything she needed to know. her eyes softened, but her lips pressed into a thin line as concern etched itself across her face. it wasn’t frustration—it never was with her. it was worry, deep and unshakable.

“okay,” she said finally, her voice calm all the time. “let’s not overthink it. we’ll start with something simple, yeah?”

her hand moved to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, her touch soft but firm, grounding you in the moment.

“how about a bath?” she suggested, her voice light, almost playful, like she was trying to make it feel less heavy. “i’ll help you, okay? we’ll take it slow. no pressure.”

there was a quiet sincerity in her words, and the way she looked at you, like she was offering a way out of the chaos in your mind, even if it was just for a little while.

“you don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” she added, her gaze softening. “but i’ll be right here, whatever you need.”

she leaned in a little closer, her eyes never leaving yours, her gaze warm, making sure you knew, without a doubt, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

“just one step at a time, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice low and reassuring. “we got this, okay? i got you.”

you didn’t resist as she stood, offering her hand to you. for a moment, you hesitated, the weight of everything making it hard to move, but slowly, you slipped your hand into hers. letting her lead you felt like surrendering, but it was also the first step toward something lighter.

your legs felt weak, unsteady, like you weren’t sure you could trust your own body. but she was right there, her presence solid and unwavering. she pulled you close for a brief moment, wrapping her arms around you, and kissed the top of your head.

“you can do it,” she murmured. “i’m here with you… you’ll feel a little better after, okay?”

she pulled back just enough to look at you, her arm wrapping around your waist, holding you close as she supported your unsteady steps. her touch was gentle but firm, always there.

in the bathroom, the sound of the tap running echoed softly as she adjusted the water, making sure it was warm but not too hot. the steady flow of water filled the silence, and for the first time in days, the quiet didn’t feel suffocating.

“it’s okay,” she said again, sensing the hesitation in your body. “let me help.”

her hands were gentle as she helped you undress, her touch careful, respectful. her eyes never lingered too long, always mindful, always making sure you felt safe. she helped you step into the bath, the warmth of the water wrapping around you, easing the tension in your muscles like a quiet comfort.

billie removed her own clothes, leaving only her underwear on. she knelt beside the tub, wetting a washcloth with careful hands, her movements slow, measured. she began washing your arms, her touch tender, deliberate, as if every movement was a promise.

when her hands brushed over your skin, she noticed the faint scars, the fresh marks that still lingered. her hands faltered for a moment, the softness in her gaze sharpening with concern. but she didn’t say anything, she just let her fingers hover over them for a second longer, her expression unreadable. then, with a deep breath, she continued, her touch just as careful, as if to tell you without words that she saw you, that she understood.

“you don’t ever have to hide this from me,” she said eventually, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “i’m not mad at you for how you’ve been trying to cope. i get it. i’ll always get it. i just… i want you to let me love you, because i do. so much.”

her words hit you like a wave, cracking something open inside you. the weight of them, the honesty, made the tears spill again. this time, you didn’t try to stop them. you let them fall. almost too much to bear.

billie didn’t hesitate. she climbed into the bath with you, settling behind you, pulling you into the safety of her arms. her embrace was firm, like she was trying to anchor you to the moment, her cheek resting against the top of your head.

“you’re doing so good,” she whispered. “just let me take care of you, okay? you don’t have to do this alone. as long as i’m alive, i’ll always be here for you.”

“but…” the words tumbled out before you could stop them, the fear that had been lingering inside slipping through. “i don’t want to be a burden…”

billie’s grip tightened for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was gentle, but there was a firmness in it that made your heart flutter.

“you’re not a burden, sweetheart,” she said, her tone reassuring. “you’re not. i know you feel like you’re carrying all of this weight on your own, but that’s what i’m here for. you don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

her fingers traced soft lines on your arm, like she was trying to calm all the storm inside you. “we’re in this together, okay? it’s not about being perfect, or pretending you’re fine. it’s about letting me be here for you when you need it. because i want to be. i choose to be.”

she pulled you closer, her breath warm against your ear. “and you’re never, ever a burden to me. not now, not ever. you’re everything to me. you always will be.”

later, she helped you into fresh clothes, her hands moving with care, never rushing. then she gently guided you back to the bed, making sure you were settled before leaving briefly. when she returned, she had something light—toast, some fruit, and a glass of water.

“just a little,” she encouraged softly, sitting beside you and breaking off a small piece of toast. “can you do that for me? take your time.”

you hesitated, the thought of eating feeling almost impossible, but eventually, you took the bite she offered. each swallow felt heavy. but she was right there with you, her patience unwavering. between bites, she offered quiet reassurances, her voice soft and soothing.

“that’s it,” she said, her words full of pride. “you’re doing so good.”

when you’d eaten as much as you could manage, she set the plate aside and pulled you back into her arms. the weight that had been pressing down on your chest felt a little lighter now, her warmth surrounding you, pushing the cold out.

“you’re okay,” she whispered into your hair, her hands soothing over your back, like she was reminding both of you that the world was a little less heavy now.

“i’m proud of you,” she said, her voice low but thick with emotion. “for letting me in, for letting me help. i know how hard it is, but you’re not alone in this. i promise.”

her hand brushed across your cheek, her thumb tracing slow, comforting patterns, like she was trying to erase the heaviness from your mind.

“you’re not a burden to me, not now, not ever,” she continued, her voice gentle but firm. “i’m here for everything, okay? the good, the bad, all of it. you don’t have to hide from me.”

the sincerity in her voice made your chest tighten. the words you wanted to say were tangled in your throat, but you forced them out, whispering shakily, “i’m sorry i’m this way. and… you know… i’ve never had someone, so… i don’t know how it is…”

your voice faltered, the words breaking apart as you tried to explain what you couldn’t fully understand yourself.

billie’s eyes softened even more, her expression full of tenderness, but there was heartbreak in it too, as if she could feel the weight of your pain.

“oh, baby,” she murmured, cupping your face in both hands, her touch warm and grounding. “you don’t have to know how. that’s okay. just let me show you. let me be here for you, because you deserve to be cared for. you deserve to feel loved.”

her thumb brushed away the fresh tears on your cheeks, and she kissed the top of your head.

“you’re not broken, you’re just going through something, and we’re gonna face it together. you don’t have to figure it all out. just let me love you, okay? that’s all i want. because i do, i love you so much.”

you didn’t know how to let her in completely, how to open up in a way that felt real and safe, but she was with you, without asking anything from you. she would wait.

and for now, that was enough.

[urdepressedslut]

Hello lovely,

I saw your post that your requests are open, so I will give it a try =)

Imagine Bucky and reader are best friends but they have a huge argument and now they don't talk to each other for days. She's feeling really bad, missing him. He is her most important person and now without interacting with him for days, she's feeling lost and lonely and heartbroken. Maybe she has not a super power and is only a normal human, helping the Avengers with IT or something. Due to the argument with her best friend and not talking to Bucky (Bucky ignores her completely) she begins to feel it not only mental but also physically. She can't eat probably and at the end falls deathly sick.... With a fluffy happy ending and a worried and protective Bucky

Please. That would be nice.

Take care honey

oh my goodness— my heart 😭❤️ the angst is gonna hurt, but i’m such a sucker for it. i had so much fun writing this one, thank you for requesting and i hope you like it🥰

Love Hurts

♡ Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

♡ Warnings: language, mentions of bucky’s trauma, heavy angst, malnourishment, depression, anxiety/panic attacks, minor injuries, hospitalization, suicidal ideation, self hate, literally hurt just writing this

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | MATURE CONTENT 18+

Your nails bit into your palm, denting the flesh— threatening to pierce the delicate skin. It was all to hold yourself back, distract you from the words that wanted to burst out.

It was becoming a sickening routine, Bucky was reckless and had yet another near death experience on his recent mission. The anxiety and the nerves stopping your body from functioning— the dreaded wait for his jet to arrive back at the compound. You shouldn’t have to be used of receiving the call that he had yet again made a reckless move— but you were starting to discover a pattern.

It did nothing to ease the panic that swirled in your chest every time he left for missions. You’d sob, throwing up everything you had eaten that day— unable to stomach anything with the idea that Bucky was on a mission. You never found your anxiety to be so severe— but when Bucky was even mentioned about going on a mission… it spiked.

That’s where you found yourself in his room, watching him pace the space— avoiding your frustrated stare. You weren’t angry at him per say— you were angry that he didn’t value his life.

“Seriously (Y/n)— you get so worked up over nothing. I’m here and alive— isn’t that enough?” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You pressed your nails tighter to your palm, yet the pain couldn’t stop your thundering thoughts.

“You’re here and alive now, until you do some stupid shit like this again and are dead!” You hissed, trying to keep your voice low but you didn’t know how much longer you could control yourself.

He glared at you, squinting his eyes in anger and then rolling his eyes.

“Oh for fucks sake— can you stop fucking babying me? I can handle myself!” He raised his voice, his metal arm whirring.

“I’m not babying you— I’m just scared you’re gonna get yourself killed. Do you care about your life at all?” You asked him aggressively, your voice raising just a tad.

He took a long pause, staring at you with his face void of emotion— only annoyance.

“Not really.” He admitted.

You were taken back, although you had these conversations with him a time or twenty. It was an ongoing process to get him to slowly love himself— his past as The Winter Soldier torturing his soul. He was so convinced he wasn’t deserving of anything, not even a roof over his head. It was a struggle to help him, but you weren’t going to give up on him.

“You realize if anything ever happened to you I—” Your voice broke, needing a breath, “Buck I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

You thought you saw his eyes flash with guilt, but before you could linger on the look for too long— his face was hardening again.

“That doesn’t sound like my problem.” He mumbled out, making your eyes widen.

You were extremely taken back from those words, your chest aching painfully— him not knowing what effect those words had on you.

“Are you fucking serious?” You asked him, your face morphing into a hurt expression, mixed with anger. “Can you just do your job without trying to kill yourself?”

His face grew red with rage and he was stomping up towards you— his face inches from yours.

“I am doing my job— very well in fact. Unlike you who just fucking sits here doing nothing!” He defended himself, his breath hitting your face in warm pants.

“Doing nothing? Buck— why are you like this?” You puffed your chest, not backing down from his towering form.

But your words seemed to have hit a nerve, as he shrunk back slightly, narrowing his gaze at you.

“Like what?”

You furrowed your brows, slowing your racing heart from the shouting— you weren’t sure you had said anything bad. Did you?

“What?” You squeaked out, nervous now.

“You said, why am I like this… like what?” He pushed, stepping closer to you now, his face still red with anger but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You swallowed and wondered how to convince him you didn’t mean anything bad by what you said. But you were almost positive it would be an impossible task to get Bucky to listen.

“Buck, I didn’t mean anythin—”

“What— you think I’m not capable of doing my job? You think I’m still the monster hydra made me?” He spat, his chest rising and falling quicker.

“No, no Buck listen—”

That was definitely not what you meant, you could tell he was spiraling and you were still confused as to why. You would never make him think that.

“After 70 fucking years I finally have a job that I like— that I enjoy doing— I fucking help people! I’m finally doing some good and now you’re telling me I’m not capable of doing it?” He boomed, his chest puffing into yours and your stumbled back slightly. “You think I’m only capable of being a monster? Huh? Is that what you fucking think?”

You were growing scared now, the look in his eyes wild with something and you didn’t like how close he was to you— you knew he’d never hurt you but your fear overwhelmed your senses.

“Friday— call Steve and Sam in here now!” You shouted into the room, and Bucky’s eyes squinted painfully— his metal arm whirring again.

Bucky only saw one thing— you didn’t reassure him that he was thinking irrationally. You didn’t correct him that he wasn’t the monster. Instead you called for help, that you were clearly scared— because you thought he was a monster.

He was at a loss for words and just stared at you, almost through you— as his breathing was only getting heavier at the sight of your fearful eyes.

Not even minutes later, Steve and Sam were busting through the door, taking in the scene and separated you and Bucky.

“Hey— what’s going on?” Steve asked in between the two of you. “Buck, what’s wrong man?”

You couldn’t seem to find the words and just stood speechless as well— the fight startling you. This was one of the worst ones, and it was also one that still left you confused. You cursed yourself for not being careful enough with your words— but it was almost impossible to get through to him when he was on the brink of having an episode.

Sam walked closer to you, his facing morphing into concern as he took in your shocked expression.

“(Y/n)? You okay? Did he hurt you?” Sam whispered, keeping his words only between you two.

You slowly shook your head but still didn’t respond verbally.

“Okay, okay that’s good. You wanna go get a drink from downstairs? Why don’t we take a breather okay?” Sam suggested softly, big brother mode kicking in at the sight of your frazzled state.

Without another word, you left the room with Sam— missing the devastated look from Bucky.

Steve waited until the door shut, then his attention was back on Bucky.

“Buck, you gotta talk to me man— what happened?” He asked softly, watching his friend slowly relax, but it wasn’t from being in a relaxing mood— his body and mind were just exhausted from the argument.

“I fucked everything up. That’s what happened.” He mumbled, turning away from Steve to sit on the edge of his bed.

Steve followed behind but stood in front of him, shaking his head— ready to argue.

“You didn’t mess anything up, arguments happen. You guys will work it out. I know how much you mean to each other.” Steve pointed out, watching Bucky’s face unchanging.

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me— she’s scared of me I—” He shuttered, his breath shaky as he remembered your look, “I fucking scared her.”

Steve’s chest ached, the state of his friend breaking his heart. He knew Bucky meant no harm, and he almost for a fact knew that you knew that too. But Bucky for sure didn’t believe that himself.

“I didn’t see what you saw, but I can guarantee you that she’s not afraid of you. This is (Y/n) we are talking about. You are her world Buck.” Steve tried to convince him.

Bucky shook his head, running his flesh hand through his hair.

“I think I just need to stay away from her for awhile.” Bucky came up with instead.

Steve immediately started shaking his head, knowing that was the last thing he needed.

“Bucky I—”

“Please Steve… I just need some space.” Bucky pleaded, his body sagging in exhaustion.

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to argue with him anymore about this. Maybe he did need some time to himself, to cool down and gather his thoughts. Also Steve wasn’t going to force him to anything ever. After the years his pal went through— he would never make him do anything. He had enough things decided for him, and Steve wasn’t about to stoop to hydra’s level.

Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Sam was getting you a glass of water— standing across from your seated form at the island. He slid the cup across, sending a worried glance at you.

“(Y/n)?” Sam snapped his fingers getting your attention.

You were shaken from your state of staring, but even snapped out of the trance— the anxieties still swirled within you.

“Yeah sorry… I’m here.” You whispered, grabbing the glass and taking a tiny sip.

Sam gave you a quizzical expression, watching you start to slip back into a mindless stare— so he spoke up.

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He asked, genuinely curious what had went down.

He knew— hell everyone knew you and Bucky were extremely close. Best of friends, always there for one another— dancing on the line of strictly friends to lovers. Truthfully, Sam found it completely obnoxious and just wanted you two together already.

“I don’t really know… I think I said the wrong thing— I didn’t mean to make him upset.” You confessed, keeping your eyes on the countertop, not risking a glance to Sam.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up— mistakes happen. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Sam told you.

You shook your head, gripping the cup tighter.

“God I hope so… I don’t know what I’d do without him.” You whispered pathetically, tears welling in your eyes.

Sam reached out to rub your arm comfortingly, trying to relax you so you didn’t start crying. He hated to see you cry— made his heart hurt.

“It’s been a long day for everyone, why don’t you go head upstairs and get some sleep. I’m sure things will have blown over by tomorrow.” He suggested and you finally met his gaze, smiling weakly and nodding.

Without saying goodbye, you stood up and headed to your room. Taking Sam’s words and playing them on repeat in your head.

Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow would be better.

God had you hoped that was the case— it only was the beginning on the torment.

You had slept in longer than usual, but overall felt refreshed. The first thing that came to mind when fully waking up was Bucky. Immediately you headed downstairs to find him— needing to talk with him— apologize.

Making it down to the kitchen, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in at the sight of him sitting at the island— sipping at his coffee. You furrowed your brows, thinking he'd be done with his coffee by now, since you had slept in. Your chest ached with guilt with the possibility that he didn't sleep well.

You took a deep breath before making yourself known, although you were sure be could sense you in the room— considering he was a super soldier.

"Morning Buck." You announced, walking around the island so you could face him.

He kept his gaze down at his coffee, finding the cup more interesting than you.

Okay, that’s fair. You thought, you most probably deserved that reaction.

“You sleep okay?” You asked again, picking at the skin on your nails nervously.

Again— he didn’t even lift his head. In fact, he wasn’t even acknowledging you. You waited several minutes for a response, the silence becoming thick with tension and you couldn’t stand it.

“Bucky?” You tried, and this time he lifted his head.

Your heart twinged in your chest at his bloodshot eyes, clear evidence that he hadn’t gotten good sleep. You hated yourself for causing him the stress, especially knowing he was just starting to actually get hours of sleep. It was huge progress compared to his nights either screaming awake or just staring at the walls. But now you had to go and ruin all that progress. You felt sick to your stomach— disgusted with yourself.

“I’m really sorry about last night… I didn’t like how ugly it got and I’m sorry if I said something to upset you— you know I’d never intentionally hurt you.” You told him, picking more aggressively at your nails, causing to nail beds to bleed.

You swallowed nervously when he didn’t answer right away, instead staring at you with… what was that? Disgust? You didn’t know, but you hated the look altogether.

“Bucky, please say something.” You pleaded.

Bucky lowered his gaze to his coffee again, taking a minute before he stood up and looked your way.

“I just need some space.” He told you quietly.

You were relived to have him finally talk to you, but to hear him suggest space between you two— you could almost feel the knife digging into your chest. You tried to keep a neutral expression but otherwise felt your bottom lip quiver.

Without giving you time to respond, Bucky was walking out of the room— leaving you standing there speechless, lungs begging for air. You didn’t want your mind to go immediately to that thought, but you couldn’t ignore it either— he hated you.

“Hey babe, I need you to help me out in the lab tod—” Tony came busting into the room, but immediately shut up once he saw your broken expression. “Honey, what’s wrong? You alright?”

You nodded your head, lying to him and yourself and started waving him off with the fakest smile.

“Yeah— yeah I’m good. Just need to uh— need to get some things done.” You told him, your eyes darting all around the room, the familiar feeling of panic seeping into your being.

Tony gave you a ‘really?’ look and stepped closer to you.

“(Y/n) I’m not blind— I can see you’re upset. Talk to m—”

“Seriously Tony— I’m fine! Just leave it alone!” You told him a little too aggressively.

His face was taken back and you felt guilty immediately, cursing yourself for hurting everyone.

Why are you such a fucking issue? Your mind screamed at you.

You didn’t waste another second and sped walked out of the room, needing to calm yourself down before you ran into any one else. You were spiraling and you needed to just relax— take a deep breath. Maybe you just needed one more day and things would be back to normal.

Yeah… just one more day.

You had hoped that was the case as well… but as always— things only got worse.

Bucky refused to talk to you or even look at you. He’d given you the cold shoulder for almost two weeks now. He would get up and leave the second you entered the room. He couldn’t stand you it seemed.

You couldn’t keep hiding your hurt. At first, you had done a good job at hiding how you were really feeling. Saving the sobbing and attacks for when you were alone in your room. As the days lingered on, you found yourself weak and drained— you didn’t have enough energy to put up a charade anymore.

The whole team were sending you worried looks, and attempted to talk with you. But the second they’d try— you’d bolt. The subject was too sensitive, too raw. You didn’t want to talk to anyone but Bucky— and he hated you.

You had missed so many meals, forgetting to eat with your mental struggles throughout the days. You had been getting no more than two hours of sleep. You were so stressed, so stuck in your own mind that you couldn’t function. Even when you had managed to remember to eat, your stomach would knot up to the point that you were throwing everything up. You were gaunt, basically a real life zombie. You needed help— but you needed Bucky more.

You were laying in bed staring unknowingly into space, it had been hard to focus with no food or sleep in your system— so you had only managed to lay here. Even that was exhausting, no matter how much you laid around— your mind wouldn’t stop the assault. Your anxiety had never been this bad, you were a prisoner to it.

Knocking at your door had you jumping, your heart racing— and for a moment you forgot where you were.

You’re in the compound… yeah that’s right.

You slowed your breathing and swung your legs sluggishly over the edge of the bed to answer it. You weren’t prepared for the sudden dizzy spell, your vision spotting with black and white specks. You tried to blink it off, but suddenly you were toppling to the ground.

You fell to the floor with a loud thump, luckily landing on your front, your hands somehow catching most of your fall— you could already feel the throbbing in your palms.

You didn’t hear the persistent knocking, or the door open. You didn’t even hear the voice speaking from the doorway. It was when a hand landed on your shoulder that you were gasping, forgetting your surroundings once again.

Your eyes met Steve’s and you swore your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“(Y/n) are you alright?” He asked you, hovering his hands over you— not sure what you had hurt.

You furrowed your brows, looking him over.

“Steve what are… what are you doing here?” You asked genuinely confused.

You watched Steve’s eyes widen and he swallowed nervously— his expression growing more concerned.

“(Y/n) it’s okay… I’ve got you.” Steve hushed, and he was pulling you into his chest, hugging you protectively.

You were still confused but then you tasted one of your stray tears, and you immediately came to your senses. You were crying in Steve’s arms… but why? You were having gaps of time missing from you, this wasn’t the first time this had happened— you just didn’t seem to care.

“Steve… my head hurts.” You slurred into his chest, sagging against him.

You were grateful that he was here, you desperately needed someone around. You were just hoping that someone would’ve been Bucky.

“Okay, let’s get you to Helen. She’s gonna take care of you, okay?” Steve asked you, and you could only give a weak nod.

He knew there was no way you were walking there, so he hoisted you up into his arms, and cradled your head as he started to the med bay.

You just stared blankly at his chest, not really caring if Steve were to throw you off the roof of the building. You just didn’t care.

Steve had gotten you down to her, and she checked you out. Alerting Steve that you were extremely malnourished, dehydrated— an insomniac. She kept listing off all the things Steve was afraid to hear. The whole time he was sure you didn’t hear a thing, although you were in the room— you were just checked out.

Helen eventually left, and Steve took his opportunity to speak with you. He pulled up a chair next to the hospital bed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n), what’s going on? You can talk to me— you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Please… just talk to me.” Steve whispered, pleading with you that you would stop torturing yourself.

“He hates me.” You mumbled.

Steve’s eyes widened and he frowned, knowing what you meant. He knew he let this go on for too long.

“(Y/n) he doesn’t hate you. He just needed time to himself, so he co—”

“I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings, I don’t even know what I said to hurt him but I—” You rushed out, the heart monitor beeping frantically, “I’m a horrible person, I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to!”

You wheezed out, clutching your chest as you couldn’t catch your breath. Your cheeks glistened with a steady stream of tears, your wheezing only growing by the second.

“Okay, okay (Y/n)— I need you to slow your breathing. You’re okay, he doesn’t hate you. Just take deep breaths okay— even if you can’t just try. I’m here.” He tried to coach you, but this wasn’t his thing.

Now he was starting to get mad at his friend, Bucky shouldn’t of let this go on for this long.

You followed his chest rising and falling, staring at him as he tried to calm you down. Your breaths were heavy and painful sounding. Steve was about to say something but stopped himself when he saw your eyes look behind him.

He turned and saw Bucky standing in the doorway— his face paled. Truthfully, he looked like he was going to be sick.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered, his heart breaking at your state.

He had ran into Helen in the kitchen and was informed of your condition— he didn’t believe it and had to see for himself. He was shocked to find you like this.

Your tears only edged on from his appearance and you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry Bucky! Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” You sobbed and Bucky ran to the bed, kneeling down and taking your hands into his.

“Doll it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here— I’m here. I’m not gonna leave you… I’m sorry.” He rushed out, shushing your cries, watching you slow your breathing at his words. “There we go, just keep breathing with me. I’m here, you’re okay.”

He kept repeating himself, making sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

Steve knew you were in good hands and slowly snuck out of the room— knowing you two needed to talk.

Bucky tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, letting his fingers trail down your cheek to your jaw. You couldn’t help the way your face leaned into his touch, it felt like it had been forever since the last one.

Your breathing had slowed down, and now you just stared up at him— eyes glossy with more tears. You felt so many emotions. You felt relived, but also angry and hurt. Above all— you needed to know what you did to upset him. The guilt still ate away at your heart, and even just the memory of the argument had your chest aching.

“What did I do?” You whispered, making his eyes shoot up to yours, concern painting his face.

“You didn’t do anything.” He told you, and you furrowed your brows.

You were still anxious— he hadn’t answered your question. Even more so— if you didn’t do anything then why did he ignore you?

“Then why?”

“Why what (Y/n)?” He dared to ask, and you scoffed— ripping your hands out of his.

The anger was approaching.

“Why did you shut me out?” You wondered, and he only let his eyes cast down to the bed— making you angrier. “You ignored me for two weeks! Two fucking weeks you just acted as if I didn’t exist! Do you know how much that fucking hurts?”

You were breathing heavy again, but this time it wasn’t from panic— it was the full force of all your anger bursting out.

He lifted his eyes to you, and you saw how broken he looked. How your state had affected him.

“I could never do that to you Buck— I would never do that to you! You’re my everything! I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust you!” You raised your voice, while he stayed silent. “If I didn’t do anything then why would you— why—”

You broke out into a sob, covering your face with your hands. You felt good getting all the built up anger out— but now you felt extremely guilty. The pitiful face of Bucky staring at you, causing your heart to hurt all over again. It didn’t matter what happened, you always ended up hurting others.

“(Y/n) I’m so sorry I— god I fucked up. I didn’t ever mean to hurt you, please know that. You’re my other half, and no one has ever been there for me like you have.” He spoke through a tight throat, swelling with emotion.

You uncovered your face and just stared at him a little longer, still incredibly hurt from his actions— but you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him. You so badly wanted to forgive and forget— and just wrap him in your arms like you both needed.

“It’s hard to explain what’s wrong with me to someone when I don’t even understand what’s wrong with me— I just know I’m fucked up. I’m broken beyond repair.” His voice broke, his own eyes welling with tears.

You didn’t have it in you to keep up an angry facade, and so you reached out and took his hand in yours. His face almost immediately lit up, his breathing slowing at your touch.

“Try me.” You whispered, watching Bucky take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“The night of our fight…” He started, and you swallowed in having to remember that night. “I had never seen you look at me like that.”

You stayed silent, afraid to open your mouth and have a sob escape. You could feel it bubbling up— the memory playing back through your mind.

“You looked at me like you were scared. You looked at me like I was a monster.” He confessed and it all made sense to you now.

It wasn’t about what you said, it was your reaction that disturbed him to no ends. Even if you couldn’t control your reaction in the moment— you still felt guilty for causing him pain of remembering the hydra days.

“Oh Buck…” You whimpered, trying to pull him close— but he pulled away before he could reach your embrace.

“No— you don’t get to be nice to me after what I did. I promised I would never hurt you and I did— you’re in here because of me! I don’t deserve your forgiveness!” He raised his voice, and you weren’t scared of him— just concerned.

“I wasn’t scared of you Bucky, you just caught me off guard. Things were heated— I’m not afraid of you and I most definitely don’t think you’re a monster.” You tried to convince him.

“I really hope you’re not lying because if you were afraid of me… god I don’t know what I’d do. If you never wanted to see me again— that’s fine. Whatever you want, but I can’t live knowing you’re afraid of me.” He whimpered out.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He nodded his head, knowing damn well you’d never lie. That was one thing he loved about you— you were so honest. Keeping it real with him, even if he didn’t wanna hear it. He could count on you for the truth.

“I still don’t deserve your forgiveness.” He argued.

“Well too bad, I’m forgiving you anyway.” You finally told him and he felt his chest expand.

Like he could finally breath.

“Why?” He wondered.

You knew it was the line you two had been dancing on forever— but you knew if there was ever a time to say it. It was now.

“Because I love you.” You admitted quietly.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his breath stuttered. He had always had a feeling what you two had was more than friends, he just never spoke up about it. Of course he loves you too— god he loves you so much. That’s why the thought of you being scared of him was enough to pull him away. He couldn’t bear being around you if you were frightened by him. He couldn’t live with himself. More importantly he now discovered, he really couldn’t live without you.

“I love you so much.” He confessed back as your tears leaked down your cheeks.

You pulled his arm, and he let you pull him to the bed— close enough where you could cup both his cheeks.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please. I need you Bucky— life is not livable without you.” You cried, kissing his forehead to which he leaned into your lips.

“Never again— I promise.”

This time, he wouldn’t break it.

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TAGLIST: @engie115 @kmc1989 @ghostofwinter @silverfire13 @goldylions @potatothots @billy-reads @hanihoney88 @skittle479 @hereticdance @mentalidrainedfangirl @natashassandwich @marvelogic @soul-system @alinasmcu @almosttoopizza @lilbabygirll @sebastiansstanswhore @yujyujj @jasminocano

[thesecondhandwoman]

COUNTING HER FRECKLES

Vi x f!reader

Synopsis: Early in the morning, while Vi was still asleep and you had just woken up, you couldn’t help but notice the little constellations of freckles on Vi’s face.

The morning sunlight spilled through the half-closed curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. The warmth of the blankets cocooned you, but it was the woman lying next to you that truly kept you rooted in place. Vi was sprawled out on her back, an arm slung over her head, her mouth slightly open as she snored faintly. A tiny trail of drool glittered at the corner of her lips, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your own.

You rolled onto your side, propping your head up with one hand. Her freckled cheeks were kissed by the sunlight, and her crimson hair stuck up in every direction. Even like this,unfiltered, messy, unguarded, she was stunning. Maybe even more so.

Carefully, you reached out to trace the faintest of lines across her skin, stopping short of touching her. “One, two, three…” you whispered under your breath, counting the constellation of freckles on her nose. You had no idea how she got freckles with her pale skin and constant yet humorous scowl, but you were grateful for them.

“Mmm…” Vi stirred, her head tilting slightly toward the sound of your voice. Her lashes fluttered, though her eyes stayed shut. A soft, groggy smile tugged at her lips, and she slurred, “Y’doin’, babe?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh. “Counting your freckles. Shh, don’t move. You’ll mess up my math.”

“Math?” she mumbled, her voice hoarse with sleep. “It’s too early for math,” She cracked an eye open, peering at you with a mix of confusion and amusement. “Y’always this weird?”

“Always,” you replied, grinning. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re drooling.”

Her brows furrowed, and she quickly wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, grumbling incoherently. “Don’t call it that…” Her pout was impossibly endearing.

“You’re right,” you teased, brushing a strand of hair off her forehead. “It’s not drooling. It’s aggressive hydration.”

Vi snorted, her laughter muffled by the pillow as she turned her face into it. “Stop, you’re killin’ me,” she groaned, though her hand reached out to curl around your waist, pulling you closer. “Lemme sleep.”

“You’re already awake,” you pointed out, though you didn’t resist when she tucked you against her chest. Her body was warm, her heartbeat a steady rhythm under your cheek.

“Not awake,” she mumbled. “Just resting my eyes.”

You ran your fingers up and down her arm, tracing the scarred skin there. “Your snoring says otherwise.”

Vi groaned again, this time more dramatically. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “I like you like this. All soft and sleepy and human.”

“Not soft,” she muttered, though her grip on you tightened. “I’m tough. Real tough.”

“Sure, babe,” you said, hiding your smile against her skin. “Super tough.”

Her only response was a low, contented hum as she drifted back into a half-sleep. You stayed like that, counting her freckles in your head and savoring the rare moment of peace. The world could wait a little while longer. For now, it was just you and her, tangled together in the soft light of morning.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N: I know this is extremely short but I found it in my notes and thought I should post it (just a cute one shot).

[mintymarshmello]

Cuddle time with big moth man :)

He has so much love to share, and he’s really good at hugging!

[keferon]

You know, I’m starting to think there’s actually several classes of AUs here:

Snow Bots

AUs with angst (almost everything else)

ANGST (empurata!prowl and what the blurr death loop seems to be shaping up to be)

Maybe it’s for the better I never posted the first version of Snow bots ahahahahah

Useless fun fact. Initially Snow bots was about all those characters fighting for their lives on frozen asteroids. Like. They all were half cybernetic humans wearing something between winter gear and space suits. It was very much inspired by WfC Netflix series.

I was this 👌 close to another angst au but for some reason decided to stop and go towards fluff instead

[pookie-and-cereal]

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue

Some of these are found all over tumblr. And my apologies for not posting.

"Hey- no, no. It’s okay, cry it all out. I’m here for you"

"I’ll stay by your side for the whole time" "Promise?" "Of course darling, Promise"

"When’s the last time you actually slept?"

"Just breathe, it’ll be over soon"

"Everything will feel that it’s not okay, but— don’t forget, you’re not alone this time"

"I’m sorry—" "No, don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault"

"I’m here, and will be by your side"

"You can’t hide that fever from me"

"You’re safe now"

"Calm down, you’re burning up"

"I’m open for hugs, whenever you need them!"

"I know it hurts, but just hold on a little longer!"

"Let me take care of you this time"

"Stop pretending that you’re fine! You need first aid!"

"You’ve always been there for me, now, it’s my turn to be there for you"

"Why?" "Because you mean the world to me,"

"Listen to me! Fuck what they think! Because you are perfect! You hear me?"

"You’re not useless"

"Take these meds, they’ll help"

"I’m not leaving, okay?"

“Don’t pretend you’re okay. Please, don’t lie to me, because I know you’re not okay!"

Prompts

Making them warm soup, and taking care of them, as if they were glass

Asking them every two minutes if they need something

Holding their hand once the pain becomes unbearable

After a long day they’re burnt out, and finds their partner making dinner for them both

Treating to their partner/friend’s wounds

Giving them meds for the pain

Refusing to leave because you can see past them, and knowing they’re sick

Pretending to be fine after a small incident, and their partner/friend asks them what’s wrong, which flips the switch and they can’t stop crying. And eventually tell their partner/friend about it

Going out to buy their favourite snacks

Giving the other hugs

Not letting go of the others hand