#i can soldier on for a little while but it just makes me exhausted and burnt-out and so so depressed.

[esleep]

i am so tired of being out of shape but i have no idea how to fix this. someone should invent exercise that doesn't make me want to shoot myself in the head.

[indigodawns]

.

[embbarnes]

Sugar Plums. | W.S

summary: The soldier has an attachment to you.

warnings: Suggestive 18+ MDNI & Fluff | Winter Soldier!Bucky | Brief mentions of PTSD | Brief talk of HYDRA | Heavy petting | Love biting/hickeys

a/n: This came to me randomly but thought it was cute and somewhat spicy. I added some fluff to balance it all out and tried to keep the sexy scenes sweet too. I see so many fics of him being super aggressive in bed and those are great, but for me I think he'd be a little more like this. Takes place after the events of CA:TWS. Contains roughly translated Russian, native speakers can correct me if anything was translated wrong. Ty. ;; wc: 5.5k

It was so awkward.

Everyone sat frozen in place, their eyes locked on the imposing figure of the Winter Soldier as he towered behind you, his piercing blue eyes methodically scanning the room and studying each occupant with an intensity that made them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"Absolutely not!" Tony was the first to break the suffocating silence, his voice sharp and decisive as he beat Steve to speaking by a mere second. There was absolutely no way he would even consider allowing the fist of HYDRA to take up residence in his tower, treating him like he was nothing more than some lost stray that needed sheltering. "He's not staying here, no way in hell - this isn't a halfway house for reformed assassins."

"Tony, come on. HYDRA is gone, their control over him is broken," you reasoned desperately, your voice taking on a pleading tone as you gestured toward the silent figure behind you, "He's been surviving on his own for weeks, barely getting by. Just look at him...he's exhausted, malnourished, and clearly needs somewhere safe to stay and recover."

"Uh, how about no?" Tony fired back, staring at you like you had grown a second head...or like you had a towering sleeper soldier looming behind you.

Tony wasn't your favorite person in the world, but he was usually somewhat reasonable.

"There's absolutely no way that he's staying here. Have you completely lost your mind? What if he suddenly snaps or loses control and goes completely berserk, hm? What if one night those sleeper triggers buried in his brain suddenly activate and he systematically takes us out one by one in our sleep?" Tony added emphatically, his hands gesturing wildly in the air as he attempted to visualize the gruesome scenarios playing out in his mind.

"Your state-of-the-art security cameras can't give us a heads up before that happens?" You asked with dry sarcasm, your tone deliberately flat and unimpressed, clearly making a joke while you tried to find some kind of middle ground that would get the agitated, self-proclaimed playboy to calm down and think rationally.

"No chance in hell, sweet cheeks," he folded his arms and glared at you with sternness that etched across his features. "Too dangerous."

"He's staying, whether you like it or not," you replied in the same unwavering tone, standing your ground with resolute conviction. "He's hurt, weak, completely vulnerable. There's absolutely nothing he could possibly do in this state. He needs somewhere warm and safe to stay, especially since he's been struggling to survive out on the streets for weeks now. Besides, winter is coming fast and there’s no way he won’t get hypothermia or something." You added with concern, knowing full well that while the soldier hadn't been entirely helpless during his ordeal, he certainly hadn't managed to secure any kind of stable shelter.

His temporary refuges consisted only of cold spaces beneath bridges, dark corners tucked away in forgotten alleys, or the remains of abandoned buildings - not a single place where he could truly let his guard down or feel protected from the harsh elements. With winter's rapid approach and already light dustings of snow, the temperatures would only get more brutal as the nights went on.

You continued to argue with Tony, Steve butting in every so often, luckily siding with you, desperate to have his old friend somewhere safe. It was a long, frustrating argument that lasted much longer than need be.

Earlier that day, while you had been making your way down the frost-covered street of New York's downtown district, his eyes had caught sight of your familiar form. Something deep within him told him to follow you, a magnetic pull that he couldn't explain. He obeyed the instinct, trailing silently behind you all the way back to the tower. When you finally became aware of his presence, he was thoroughly drenched from the steadily falling snow, his cheeks and nose having turned a bright, rosy color from the biting cold as he tried to suppress his constant shivering.

The moment you made your sudden turn to approach him, he visibly startled, immediately taking a defensive step backward as his mind raced through all the possible scenarios and potential threats. His eyes darted across your face with obvious wariness as you fully turned to face him, his entire body subtly shifting its weight from foot to foot, muscles tensed and ready to bolt away.

"It's okay...you look cold..." You spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, trying not to startle him as you took in his disheveled appearance. The soldier, the one whose face had practically been plastered across every news channel, the same one Steve had spoken about with such raw emotion in his voice.

You remembered how Steve had mourned his best friend, utterly confused and devastated about why he had saved from the river, while Bucky fell to what should have been his death. Steve held onto that grief, that guilt, like a lifeline. He held onto it so desperately, clinging to the faintest hope that a sliver of Bucky was still somewhere deep inside the persona of the Winter Soldier.

Looking at him now, you couldn't see any trace of the man from Steve's stories - the soldier's eyes were too wild and wide, filled with fear and confusion.

But despite everything you'd heard, despite the destruction you'd witnessed on the news, despite the intense warnings from everyone in the tower, there was something about his presence that didn't trigger your fight or flight response.

He didn't make you feel unsafe.

He looked absolutely beat down, exhausted to his very core, his shoulders slumped in a way that made you wonder when he'd last had a moment's rest. You weren't even sure he could take you down if he tried in this state, though you knew his reputation suggested otherwise. He was shaking from the cold air as it blew in a stinging breeze, his metal arm gleaming dully in what little light remained, while the incoming winter storm brought with it a thick haze and countless tiny pinpricks of needle-like snowflakes that seemed to cut through the air.

"Come inside with me, I'll take care of you." You offered quietly, your voice gentle and reassuring as you extended your hand towards him. Your body language remained open and non-threatening, shoulders relaxed and posture deliberately casual to help put him at ease and to show him you felt no fear.

After a few silent moments where his piercing blue eyes studied you through the thick haze, he finally shifted his weight forward and took a step in your direction.

The water in the shower had set a steady steam in the bathroom, the mirror had fogged and the tiles sweat below your bare feet.

You could hear the gentle splashing of water against the bathtub as he cleaned himself. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm caught your attention, hopefully that thing was waterproof, but it must be, right?

After setting out a fresh towel and clean clothes for his use, you quietly excused yourself to provide him with privacy. The state of his current attire was awful, every piece was thoroughly saturated and carried an unmistakable stench that made you wrinkle your nose. The clothes were in such poor condition that you couldn't help but wonder if they had been scavenged from someone who no longer needed them.

You wouldn’t put it past the soldier to steal from a cadaver.

His shower routine was notably brief, years of conditioning taught him to minimize the time spent on his personal care. Upon finishing, he emerged from behind the curtain and efficiently dried himself with the provided towel. His gaze fell upon the fresh clothes you had thoughtfully placed by the sink, while his previous garments had been discreetly removed.

The soldier hesitated momentarily before donning the clean outfit. It wasn’t anything fancy, a pair of grey sweatpants emblazoned with the Avenger's logo along the side and a simple yet comfortable black tank top. When he finally emerged from the bathroom to face you, his body language betrayed his uncertainty as he stood there, not sure what to do now. Comfort was completely foreign to him, and care was a dream away.

"Tony finally gave in," you replied softly, your voice sounded in the quiet stillness of the bedroom. "He said you could stay here with us."

He remained motionless, his expression blank and unreadable as he stood there, offering neither response nor the slightest hint of acknowledgement to your words. You weren’t sure what to expect but that seemed pretty in character for him at the moment.

"You'll be staying in my quarters since no one else is comfortable having you in their space just yet...but don't worry too much about that," you reassured gently, though you could tell from his demeanor that others' opinions held little weight in his mind. "They'll come around after some time, I'm sure of it."

His gaze fixed upon you then, his brow creasing ever so slightly with an unspoken question as he began to move. Each step was deliberate and measured as he crossed the room, closing the distance between you until he stood directly in front of you, close enough that you could see the water droplets from his freshly washed hair beading at the ends and falling onto the fabric of your top, leaving dark spots where they landed.

"Everything's going to be fine," you said with gentle reassurance, trying to ease the tension in the air. "Why don't we head to the kitchen and get you something to eat? You must be hungry." You offered, hoping to bring some normalcy to the situation.

The soldier shadowed your every movement, following closely behind like a faithful companion who refused to stray from their master's side.

Upon entering the expansive kitchen, you immediately made your way to the industrial-sized refrigerator, searching through its contents for something suitable to offer him. The kitchen was perpetually stocked to the brim with an array of foods, snacks, and ingredients, practically anything one could imagine or desire. It was like having a private, fully-stocked grocery store.

Though with a the ravenous super soldier with enhanced metabolism, the mighty Asgardian god whose appetite matched his status, and Banner's surprisingly hulk-ish consumption…the team still depleted their food with an efficiency that would put a pack of famished wolves to shame.

"Hm...what should you have...do you want anything specific?" You turned over your shoulder to address him, but he maintained his characteristic silence. Unmoving, and completely stoic, like a statue carved from marble.

"Нет [No]," came his quiet response, the Russian word rolling off his tongue deeply. He remained perfectly still, observing with careful attention as you continued your search through the refrigerator's contents, trying to determine what would be most appropriate for him to eat. Your mind was working quickly, knowing you wanted to avoid anything too time-consuming to prepare. You wanted to get some food into him sooner rather than later.

"How about...I could make some soup real quick? Tomato and grilled cheese might be a safe option for you. Shouldn't upset your stomach too much if you haven’t been eating a lot, and it will warm you up if you're still feeling cold." You turned back toward him once more, studying his features carefully for any hint of reaction or preference to your suggestion, any subtle change in his expression.

But, he didn't provide even the slightest indication of his feelings.

You decided on tomato soup and a grilled cheese anyway, you figured it was best and immediately set to work in the kitchen.

Although you typically prided yourself on preparing meals completely from scratch, this particular circumstance called for something different. You assembled the sandwich, buttering the bread before placing it in a heated pan to get a golden-brown crust while keeping a watchful eye on the pot of soup simmering beside it, occasionally stirring for even heating.

Once everything reached the perfect temperature and consistency, you transferred the meal onto clean dishes, relieved it didn’t take too long. You presented him with the steaming bowl of soup and perfectly grilled sandwich, watching as the soldier deliberately took his place at the counter, his eyes fixed intently on the rising steam from the bowl before him.

You watched him, noting how his entire body remained unnaturally rigid and motionless, as though every muscle was locked in place and braced for something. His lips bore a slight sheen of moisture, like he had licked them at some point when you weren't watching. Yet despite his obvious hunger, he hadn't made even the slightest attempt to reach for the food. His eyes held intense longing and hesitation, briefly meeting yours before quickly darting away, as if making eye contact was somehow forbidden.

"What's wrong?" You asked with growing concern etched across your features, "You're hungry aren't you? I can tell you haven't eaten in a while. Especially not anything warm, at least. I know it can be hard out there, all by yourself…"

His response came in the form of an almost imperceptible nod, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on the bowl and sandwich before him, as though they were the most important and most dangerous objects in the room.

"So why aren't you eating? The food's getting cold, it won’t be as good if it cools too much."

"Я не могу совершить действие без приказа. [I cannot perform an action without an order]," the soldier responded in barely more than a whisper, his voice carrying the weight of years of conditioning.

You stood there, completely lost in the language barrier between you. Your limited knowledge of Russian extended only to the most basic words - 'да' and 'нет' - leaving you clueless by his response and worried about the implications of his behavior.

You didn't want to wake Natasha, even though she would certainly understand what he was saying in Russian, but disturbing her sleep for something as simple as a quick translation seemed unnecessary and might put her in a bad mood. Instead, an idea popped into your head that would avoid an angry widow. You reached for your phone and placed it on the smooth counter surface, navigating to a translator app before looking up at him again. "Can you repeat that?"

The soldier's eyes flickered briefly to the phone screen, taking in the sight of the translation app with what seemed like recognition, before his gaze deliberately returned to the untouched food laid out before him. "I cannot perform an action without an order," he stated in perfect, albeit mechanical English this time.

You blinked in surprise, thoroughly caught off guard by the sudden switch to English when he had been persistently speaking Russian up until this point. "Okay...well...eat then, you can eat freely here, you don't need an order to do that." You slowly tucked your phone away into your pocket as his right hand gradually lifted from where it had been resting in his lap, reaching out to pick up the sandwich.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but he wolfed down his food within a minute, that sandwich was gone within maybe three bites. The soup swallowed just as fast.

God, he was starving, and the realization made your heart ache.

"Better?" You asked gently, to which he only nodded, swallowing the last of the food in his mouth.

This became routine, the soldier stuck by your side like a duckling imprinting on its mother.

He followed you diligently around every corner of the tower, his protective instincts activated as he positioned himself like an ever-vigilant guardian. His eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, noting how others would cast uncertain and sometimes suspicious glances in his direction.

These looks made him increasingly self-conscious and anxious, as though he were some exotic creature put on display at a zoo for others to gawk at. But in your presence, he seemed a bit more at ease. He genuinely liked being around you.

Gradually, the rigid tension that had defined his existence began to melt away, and he started allowing more intimate gestures of care. He let you gently brush his unruly hair into place, carefully wash his face with warm water, or trim his growing stubble for him.

He accepted these tender ministrations without the slightest resistance or complaint, though a nagging worry lingered in your mind that his compliance stemmed from years of conditioning to submit to others' wishes. Each time you worried about that, you’d see a genuine warmth and contentment in his gaze rather than submission, showing you that he truly found comfort and pleasure in your gentle touch.

It was evening, the room reflected the warm glow of festive holiday lights emanating from a miniature Christmas tree nestled in the corner. The soldier found himself transfixed by the small decorated tree, his eyes lingering on each twinkling light as their vibrant colors danced and shimmered. The sterile, monotonous walls he had grown accustomed to during his confinement were nothing compared to the colorful lights. The gentle play of red, green, and gold seemed to awaken something long dormant within him, he almost wanted to plant himself in front of the tree and just stare at it.

Tony may have allowed his stay, but that didn’t mean there weren’t restrictions. He was stern about where and when the soldier could go anywhere with you, and he demanded that he not leave your room afterhours. It wasn’t hard to follow, the solider showed reluctance to leave your room at all, having been so accustomed to being kept in one room. You didn’t push him, but you felt bad for him because he was missing how the tower had been decorated for the holidays. So, you got a smaller tree for the bedroom to provide some kind of festive look for him to take in.

You emerged from the bathroom, wisps of steam following in your wake, your damp hair leaving little droplets on your shoulders as you continued to towel it dry with scrunches. He remained motionless on the edge of your bed, his attention immediately shifting as he turned and blinked up at your approaching figure.

His icy eyes traced a deliberate path across your form, which was barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, the hem teasingly brushing against your mid-thigh with each movement. "I am beat," you sighed heavily, your voice carrying the weight of the day's festivities. The marathon of holiday activities had clearly taken its toll, leaving you thoroughly drained. The tower often held an array of things to do because Tony loved to show off what he could afford, and it wasn’t like anyone else would object.

He observed with rapt attention as you made your way onto the bed and settled back against the pillows, releasing a deep exhale that seemed to melt away the day's tension. His unwavering gaze remained fixed on the rhythmic, hypnotic motion of your chest rising and falling with each breath.

You felt the bed shift beneath you as he moved, his weight causing the mattress to dip and creak softly. He crawled over to where you lay, his arms positioning themselves on either side of your body, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered open to find him hovering directly above you, his presence overwhelming in its proximity. This was something new…he had always maintained somewhat of a distance before, never daring to position himself so intimately over top of you.

"Я скомпрометирован. [I'm compromised]," the soldier spoke in a hushed tone, his voice carrying that distinctive gravelly pitch that made you feel tingly. The tension between you had become damned near impossible to ignore. What had started as a subtle pull had grown into an overwhelming force of attraction that seemed to draw you both together like magnets.

Still, you forced yourself to hold back, maintaining that last thread of restraint. You had no way of knowing the depth of his emotional capacity, if he was even capable of genuine feelings, or wanted to experience them at all after everything he endured.

"Soldat...?" The whispered word escaped your lips as you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his muscles tensed as he remained suspended above you, perfectly still. "You know I don't understand-"

"I am compromised," he repeated, switching to English this time. His voice had dropped even lower, carrying an edge of frustration that vibrated through the minimal space between your bodies.

"Comprom..." You sat up slowly on your elbows and shook your head in confusion, your brow furrowed as you tried to process his words. That’s what you’d say about a machine or computer, not a man. "What are you talking about?" Your eyes wandered downward, suddenly drawn to an unmistakable tent in his fitted briefs that became obvious from your new viewing angle, causing you to freeze in place as your breath caught in your throat.

So, he could feel things.

"Oh..." You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you remained frozen in place, your cheeks growing warm. "I think I understand now...you're feeling a bit pent up, aren't you?"

His metal arm whirred softly, the sophisticated machinery humming as he moved to adjust his hand placement. "Да. [Yes]," he responded in a low voice, his gleaming titanium fingertips delicately ghosted across the bare skin of your thigh, just barely grazing beneath the hem of your thin sleep shirt. Goosebumps erupted along your body in response to the contact, the cool metal sudden against your flushed skin.

"Мне не нравится делиться вашим вниманием. [I don't like sharing your attention]," he muttered with an undertone of possession, his lips curling into a slight frown as he gradually leaned closer to you. His silken hair delicately tickled your face as he slowly lowered himself, the tips of your noses barely grazing against each other in an intimate gesture. His lips parted ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of anticipation before he dipped his head down, warm lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your jawline.

You swallowed reflexively, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his warm, steady breath caress your sensitive skin, sending a visible shudder of growing excitement through your body.

He continued his gentle exploration, encouraged by your acceptance and the absence of any resistance. He pressed a trail of soft, purposeful kisses along the curve of your jaw, each one more intimate than the last, before gradually working his way down to your neck. His lips carefully followed the rhythmic flutter of your pulse beneath your skin, his tongue peeking out shyly to touch against you.

"Ah-" You voiced softly, feeling him settle on a particularly sensitive spot, right against the delicate side of your neck. It was nestled perfectly between the graceful junction where your neck connected to your collarbone, the skin there warm and inviting, holding a faint trace of blood flow from the intricate network of smaller veins positioned just beneath the surface.

He kissed many times with increasing intensity, clearly finding this spot ideal for his attentions. The soft, tentative pecks gradually became more passionate, open-mouthed kisses as each one was placed. His tongue began gently pressing against your skin with each lingering kiss, the pressure slowly growing in need. You felt your cheeks flush with warmth when he finally latched on, your eyes widening in surprise as the soldier's strong arms held you a little tighter.

Soldat began to suckle a mark, his ministrations gentle and teasing at first, but quickly growing in force and intensity as his skilled tongue swirled expertly around the trapped skin between his lips and teeth. The sensation drew a breathy moan from deep within you, making your entire body feel as though it were engulfed in flames of desire. Though you were completely helpless beneath the assassin, you had absolutely no intention or desire to push him away.

This felt too damned good.

Without thinking, your leg came up and hooked around his hips, drawing him closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you grew and you felt his painful erection trapped in his briefs, straining against the fabric as his arousal was staining them. Soldat exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening possessively, but he did not let go.

His suckling grew increasingly intense, the sensitive skin tingling and starting to sting and burn with each passing moment. Still, he didn't release the bruised skin just yet.

Instead, he just bit down harder, ensuring the mark he left would last for days. You moaned loudly, your fingers gently tangling in his thick hair as your pleasured sounds encouraged his attention. He became more attentive when your little sounds of pleasure turned into sharp, quiet hisses - clearly indicating that the sensation had crossed from pleasure into discomfort, silently telling him to ease off.

When he did finally relent, he pulled back to admire his handiwork, looking down at the deep purple mark blooming on your neck. His breath came in heavy pants through his parted lips as he stayed quiet, watching intently as you struggled to catch your own breath too. The sight of you beneath him, disheveled and vulnerable, with flushed skin and labored breathing, was enough to draw him right back in.

He dipped back down with renewed hunger, his metal hand slowly threading through your hair before gently fisting it at the base of your skull, though his careful control ensured it wasn’t painful, just firm. He tugged just enough to guide your movement, encouraging you to expose more of your neck to his hungry gaze.

"E-easy..." You whispered, a note of anxious anticipation in your voice. You wanted more, god you wanted more, but his sudden change of behavior was a bit surprising for you.

"Понял. [Understood]," he whispered against your skin, pressing a soft kiss of reassurance to your jaw before returning his attention to your neck. Those soft kisses began again, trailing along your skin, but his restraint didn't last long as he quickly sought a new canvas for another mark. He latched onto a spot just a little bit higher on your neck, alternating between sucking and carefully controlled bites to gradually darken and bruise the sensitive flesh.

You felt bite after delicious bite, hickey after possessive hickey.

He marked the tender flesh of your neck in several deep, purple marks that bloomed like violent flowers across your skin...each one throbbing with a sweet ache when he pulled away. His tongue always swirled over the mark with care to soothe the sting of it, making you arch into his touch as you fell into a complete daze.

"S-Soldat," you muttered breathlessly, cheeks flushed crimson and eyelids heavy with desire. Your pupils matched his own - completely blown with hunger and desperate need. Those bermuda swirls meeting yours as he continued a torturously slow trail of hot kisses down your chest, nipping your collarbone with just enough pressure to make you gasp before following the gentle dip of your sternum.

He paused deliberately, pulling up so he could lift the thin sleep shirt over you and expose more of your bare chest to his hungry gaze, giving him better access for his heated kisses and teasing nips. Once your top was discarded somewhere on the floor, his hands gently but firmly held your sides, trailing up with reverent touches until settling against your ribcage. His larger hands completely encompassed your torso, making you feel small but protected.

The soldier was absolutely transfixed at the sight of your breasts, eyeing the soft mounds and peaked nipples as they hardened in the cool air, growing increasingly sensitive and rosy with your mounting arousal. It was like he was completely mesmerized by the sight before him, the fucking Winter Soldier, the most dangerous assassin in history, stopped dead in his tracks at the mere sight of your bare breasts.

You felt in charge now.

"What is it? Do you like them?" you purred softly to the soldier, your body swaying in a deliberately teasing motion that made them gently move. His eyes remained fixed, drinking in the sight before him as his lips parted ever so slightly. Slowly, his head tilted down again, surrendering to the moment. He let his face nestle against your chest, his lips trailing a constellation of unhurried kisses across your skin.

He began to nip and suckle the tender skin of your breasts, his mouth working to create deep, purple love bites on that delicate flesh. The bruising blossomed easily beneath his ministrations, almost like they were eager to show themselves.

His lips would find a promising spot, then he would begin lapping at the skin with gentle strokes of his tongue until he felt you squirming. The soldier took the sensitized flesh carefully between his teeth, rolling the captured skin while his talented muscle swirled and sucked.

Your chest displayed his passionate handiwork when he finally drew back to admire his creation. The plum-colored bruises created an intimate pattern across your skin, their rich hues made even more striking by the soft glow of the holiday lights that danced through the room, highlighting each carefully placed love bite until they seemed to shimmer like twilight stars against your flesh.

"Soldat...I think you covered enough surface area," you breathed, feeling overwhelmed by the intense throbbing that radiated from each mark he'd left. The sensation pulsed in waves across your skin, making it difficult to focus. Your neck was thoroughly covered in the passionate marks, and now your chest bore an equally impressive collection.

The soldier gazed down at you with intensely, his eyes taking in each little sugar plum bruise that decorated your skin like a masterpiece. Though they were scattered without any deliberate pattern, the overall effect clearly pleased him. You lay there looking thoroughly affected by his attention, hair mussed and breathing uneven, cheeks beautifully darkened with a dust of blush, just from his careful application of bites alone. The sight of you in such a state, marked so thoroughly, brought deep set satisfaction in his gut.

"Моя сейчас. [Mine now]," he muttered softly, his warm breath ghosting across your skin as his lips hovered mere millimeters from your own. The almost-kiss was delicate, just the faintest brush of contact that sent electricity dancing through your nerves. He almost seemed nervous to close that final distance, his confidence faltering despite the passionate trail of marks he had already left scattered across your skin.

He drew back slightly, seemingly snapping out of a trance, and you could see the vulnerability written plainly across his features as that nervousness flickered in his eyes. Shifting his weight, he settled back onto the bed, his right hand finding your knee and tracing gentle, soothing circles there with his thumb. The tender gesture matched his hushed voice as he spoke, "Я не хочу идти дальше. [I don't want to go any further]," the words carrying both certainty and a hint of apology.

Your brow furrowed deeply as you struggled to understand what he was trying to stay, the confusion evident in the slight crease between your eyebrows and the questioning tilt of your head. You really needed to study Russian. "Do you not want to continue?" you asked slowly and carefully, focusing more on interpreting the subtle nuances in his tone rather than trying to parse the exact words he was using.

His facial expression held hesitance and uncertainty, the slight downturn of his lips and the way his eyes wouldn't quite meet yours telling you what you needed to know. Body language was his primary mode of genuine communication, and you had become very good at reading these silent signals he unconsciously broadcast.

"It's okay, we can stop," you replied with a reassuring tone, making sure to keep your voice soft to help dissipate any lingering tension he might be feeling. "Let's just lay here, okay? We can cuddle without any kind of pressure to do anything else, if you want." You offered with a warm smile, wanting him to feel that his comfort and boundaries were completely respected and that there was no expectation or obligation to continue.

This was a lot of good progress with him, you typically just cuddled or he kept to his side of the bed but he had shown you a lot of sweet affection tonight, and you loved it, it meant he was growing more confident in himself and your relationship. The evidence of his passionate yet tender attention remained visible in the form of gentle, plum-colored marks that decorated your neck and chest as you lay beside him, watching as his silent form trembled slightly beneath the heavy warmth of the thick blankets that enveloped you both.

You opened your arms, offering him a warmer space, and he quickly scooted forward, tucking himself against you. Prone to being cold, he liked being under many layers of blankets, so you made sure to provide plenty for him to not only feel warm but secure. Plus...having you to hold him always helped.

Without the worry of being a soldier, he could rest easy like this.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

[rosenclaws]

Don't hide from me || Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: You get hurt on a mission and hide it from Logan. Safe to say he is not happy with you.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, talk of violence, blood, and injury

wc: 3k

a/n: Hi guys, tw for pet death but we had to put my childhood dog to sleep today. He was 16 and he had a good life but it's rough. Writing has always helped me so I just sat down and wrote today. I'm always a sucker for this kind of trope and I also have trouble asking for help so this was born. Idk if I like the ending but I always struggle with those so oopsie

This was not how you imagined your first mission to go. You had assumed it would be easy, boring in fact. It was supposed to be boring. Maybe a little fighting here or there but nothing serious.

Well you were sorely mistaken. Your hand puts pressure on your side as you lean against a tree. The rough bark digging into the cuts on your suit. You wince as you look down to see a massive gash right in your stomach.

"Fuck." Your breath is labored as you slowly slide down the tree. You don't heal like some of the other mutants can. In fact your powers were relatively tame compared to others but you were still an asset to the team.

You had been training for months and months. Learning to control your sparks into blasts of energy and manipulate the electricity around you. You had never been more excited to receive your suit. Handed to you by Logan himself after your final training day.

The proud look on his face made your whole body fill with butterflies. Logan had been your biggest help. He was a very distracting teacher though due to the fact that he's your boyfriend too but if anything that made him push you harder.

"Come on sweetheart, you need to do better than that." He says with a smirk. He's barely broken a sweat while you've been giving it a hundred and ten percent.

"Fuck off." You huff as you lay down on the mat. Body exhausted from the hours of training.

"You're getting better. Just need to keep working." He steps over you, bending down and holding out his hand.

"One more time and we're done." He helps you up and kisses your forehead. Walking back to his spot he raises his arms and braces himself.

"Hit me." Taking a deep breath you channel all your power to your fingertips. Feeling the jolts of power start to form. With all your strength you fire right at Logan. To your surprise it hits him square in the chest and sends him flying into the wall.

"Logan!" You run over to him but he's already up by the time you make it. A big smile on his face as he wraps his arms around you. A burst of pride in your chest as he kisses you sweetly.

"I knew you could do it."

It made it even sweeter when you were finally deemed ready to join them. You were ready. You wanted to prove to all of them that you could do it but most of all you wanted to show Logan.

Show him that all his extra training helped and that you were strong and you could do this on your own. He had always shown a slight worry about you joining the team. He says it's because he's worried and protective but a small part of your brain tells you it's because he thinks you can't do it. That you're not ready.

So this. Well it almost felt embarrassing. The mission was nothing new to the rest of the team but to you it was overwhelming. Fighting with everything you had and sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough. You took out soldier after soldier but they kept coming. But you were fine. You never asked for backup. Convincing yourself that you could do this. Thinking back to all your long days in the simulation and wiping away any doubt that lingered in your head.

Logan had left your side early on much to his reluctance so you were on your own. You were too focused on the guy in front of you that you didn't notice the man sneaking behind you. You cried out in pain as he dug his knife into your side.

Without thinking you blast him far away, taking out the guy in front of you too. Pure adrenaline courses through you as you run to safety. Now you're here, the sounds of fighting still rage on behind you. Blood is seeping onto your hand at a faster rate than normal.

"Okay. Okay. Okay okay." Sorry Professor but you'll fix your suit later. Your sleeve was already torn so you tear the rest as much of it as you can off. Turning it into one long strip of fabric. You unzip the top of your suit to get to the wound. They briefly taught you how to patch up injuries more akin to scratches not stab wounds. You tie the fabric tightly around your waist. You groan as the pressure shoots a sharp pain through your body. The sounds of fighting were dying down.

You know you should tell someone but the last thing you wanted was to be taken off the team after your first mission. You wanted to make them proud. You loved being on the team.

The injury isn't that bad, if you could just make it back to the mansion you would be fine. Patch it up with the right material and then sleep it off. Thank god you and Logan didn't share a room. Fuck. Logan. He was going to kill you but what he didn't know won't hurt him.

Just this once.

Zipping up your suit again you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. Just make it back to the mansion. You walk as best you can back to the jet. Your limping, favoring your non injured side and it's incredibly obvious. Still you put a smile on your face. The team clocks your ripped sleeve immediately. Logan scowls as you get closer making you shiver. Or maybe that was from the blood loss.

"So how was that for your first mission?" Scott beams as he walks over to you. He slaps his hand onto your shoulder and you wince.

"Good. Is it always like this?" He notices something's off but doesn't say anything. Instead he keeps his hand on your shoulder as he guides you back to the jet.

"You alright Sparks? What happened to your suit." He asks when you get closer.

"Long story, some guy ripped it and when I ran to the forest it got caught and just. tore away." You lie right through your teeth.

"Don't worry we'll fix it when we get back." Ororo smiles and you thank god they bought it. Well almost everyone bought it.

As you head up the ramp you feel a hand on your side. Your whole body tenses as pain shoots through your side. You bite your lip hard to keep yourself from screaming. You recognize the hand as Logan's as his wide chest bumps against your back.

"You alright sweetheart?" He asks, a skeptical look on his face as you wave his hand off.

"Yeah, just really tired." You sigh as you sit in a chair.

Some relief spreads through your body as you subtly press the arm of the chair into your side. Putting more pressure as you feel the blood soak through your makeshift bandage. He narrows his eyes as he inspects you like an animal. Your heart picks up as he places both hands on either arm rest, caging you in as he leans close.

"What are you doing?" You shrink under his intense look. He sniffs and a low growl emits from his throat.

"I smell blood. Somethings wrong." Fuck. He's caught you. The rest of the team starts to file back in.

"Yeah there's blood on everyone's suit, there's blood on you." You mumble as an excuse.

"Down boy, we're taking off so take a seat." Scott says. Logan stays put for just a moment longer before he finally backs off, flipping Scott the middle claw as he takes the seat behind you.

You can feel his eyes burning in the back of your head the whole flight home. You were sweating, body on fire as you focused on your breathing. The pain was getting worse and you wanted to cry for help. But you were determined to prove yourself here.

Your brain wasn't exactly working right either. Too focused on not throwing up to think logically. Finally the jet lands. You're so close. Just a little longer. Logan moves to go right back to your side but gets pulled away. You can vaguely hear him telling someone to fuck off as you stumble out of the jet.

You feel like a zombie as you walk back to your room. Stomach growing sick as you struggle to stay awake. Sweat pours down your face, body screaming for help as you barely make it to your room. Your vision goes in and out. The darkness calling to you as you swing open your door. That sounds nice, you can just close your eyes and sleep. Yeah. Then you can fix yourself up. Your vision goes black. The last thing you remember is someone yelling your name.

-

The first thing you notice when you come back to consciousness is how much your body hurts. The second thing was the hand that was holding yours tightly. Clearly you weren't in your room anymore. This bed is too uncomfortable and it smells too much like antiseptic.

The lab. You were in a hospital bed in the lab which means that someone found you which can only mean that Logan knew and you were in so much trouble. Maybe if you keep your eyes closed you can just go back to sleep. The urge to avoid the consequences of your actions was strong but you knew you couldn't. You lied and now you have to deal with it.

Surprisingly it's dim when you open your eyes. The ugly florescent lighting was off in favor of a few candles and a soft lamp. The hand holding yours twitched, holding you tighter. Looking to your side you see Logan laying his head on the bed. Guilt seeps into your soul when you see him there.

"Glad to see you awake." A soft voice says from the door.

"Jean." You sheepishly say. She flicks on the lights and you squint your eyes at the bright light.

"You're lucky that Logan found you when he did." Her voice is gentle but there's anger hidden behind it.

"I'm sorry. I thought." You sigh and look at Logan who was still sleeping.

"I thought I could handle it. I just wanted to be one of you guys." "You already were one of us, but we're just glad you're okay." She checks your vitals once more in silence.

"Am I in trouble?" You ask nervously.

"Yes." Another voice makes your heart jump, the monitor picking it up with a massive spike.

"Logan honey I-" He holds up his hand and silently asks Jean to leave. She gives you one last smile before leaving the two of you alone.

"Don't. Don't you dare." You shrink into the bed as speaks.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I-"

"Hiding a fucking stab wound? For what? Exactly what did you think would happen here!" He raises his voice and you look down in shame.

"You are benched. Permanently." He growls, standing up and storming towards the door.

"What! Logan you can't do that."

"Fuck yes I can. Do you understand how stupid it was for you to hide an injury like that? How irresponsible you were!"

"I thought I could handle it!" The machines near you started to go haywire as you yelled back.

"I thought you were dead!" You go silent as the anger fades, he clenches his fists tightly.

"I smelled the blood and I knew something was wrong. The whole time I knew it. There was a trail of blood to your room and I ran and ran and when I finally got there." He pauses. Not even wanting to say the next thought.

"I'm sorry." You whisper.

You reach out for him but he just stares at you. A painful expression on his face as his eyes zero in on the prominent scar on your side. He shakes his head, turning away and walking out the door.

"Logan please." You beg for him to come back but he doesn't.

The lab is silent and lonely. Jean comes back to check on you, comforting you as you silently cry. All you want is for Logan to come back but he never did.

At least not while you were awake. In the mornings there were traces of Logan. His jacket is left on your bed the one you always steal to cuddle with. Snacks are waiting by your table. Little things to show you had still been there. Just not when you were awake.

It was only a couple days later that you were finally discharged. The Professor had called you to his office, letting you know that you were benched until you had fully recovered and you nodded in understanding. You can feel the stares of the rest of the mansion on you as you walk back to your room.

You've apologized over and over to the team and they welcomed you back with open arms. Begging you to never scare them like that again. Your mind wanders and your feet seem to think on their own as you find yourself in front of Logan's door.

All you want is for him to hold you and to tell you it's okay. Before you can knock on the door it swings open. There he stands in all his glory. He stares at you for a moment before pulling you into a hug. It takes you by surprise but you hug him back tighter. You wince as he pushes a little too hard on your side and he lets go instantly. You don't want to let go, he's been gone for days and you need him.

"I'm here to apologize." You say.

"I'm sorry for not saying anything. I was afraid that you would think I'm weak." It hurts to admit but he needs to know the truth. Asking for help has never been your strong suit.

"That I wasn't strong enough and all I wanted was to prove to you that I could do it. I wanted you to be proud of me." You wait for any response but all he does is look at you. Silently he guides you to his bed. Wrapping a blanket around your shoulders that smells like him.

"When I found you, you weren't moving. There was so much blood. You were barely breathing." He shivers at the memory.

He doesn't think he'll ever get the smell of your blood and the sight of you sprawled out on the ground out of his mind. It's burned there. Every time he closes his eyes he sees it. He ran through the mansion. Begging for help with you in his arms.

They kicked him out once he brought you to the lab. He was close to breaking down the damn doors. He had super strength and a raging healing factor but he'd never felt so powerless before. When they finally let him back in he rushed to the bed. He never left your side. Watching and waiting for you to wake up. Begging you to wake up.

Was this his fault? If he had been by your side would he have been able to help? Or is this just the price of this life. To be a mutant and having to fight just to live. Losing you was not an option but it was becoming a reality he had to accept was possible.

"I'm always proud of you. Doesn't matter what you do. I'm always proud." You tug on his tank top and pull him close.

Kissing him with a soft passion, a desire, an apology. He carefully lowers you down to the bed. He lays you on your side as he deepens the kiss, hand ghosting over the scar as he tangles his limbs with yours.

"I'm so sorry Logan." You bury your head in his chest.

It feels so good to be by his side again. He tilts your head up to look at him. He grows serious as he brushes your cheek gently. You're alive but there's still a horrible worry inside of him. Though he doesn't think that will ever go away. Not as long as he loves you and he's never going to stop doing that.

"Don't ever do something like this again. I'm serious sweetheart, I can't lose you."

"You won't." You can't promise him that. Not at all. Bad things happen to those he loves but he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to you. You yawn and cuddle closer to his side.

"How can I still be so tired after sleeping for so long?"

"You really hurt yourself sweetheart," He glances at your side. Knowing that under the blanket was a scar that would never fade. A constant reminder of his own failure to protect you.

"I'm sorry for leaving," He knows it was a dick move to leave has he had done but he couldn't take it. He was so angry. So afraid.

"Just don't leave me again." You say sleepily. His arms wrap around you, his hand rubbing your back soothingly until you fall asleep. He watches you for a while. Not tired himself but keeping his promise of staying with you.

"I was so scared," He admits to no one but himself.

He rests his chin on your head. The sound of your heartbeat echoes in his ears. The sweet reminder that you're okay. He closes his eyes as the nightmares in his mind return. Seeing your lifeless body. The blood. All of it. He tries to shake them away but the thoughts still linger.

"Please, don't leave me. I love you too much to let you go." He whispers his plea to himself, to you, to whoever is listening.

He kisses the top of your head and you smile in your sleep. The comfort of Logan reaching your dreams. That's good enough for him, as long as you're okay. That's all he needs.

[merrinla]

Portrait spamming

Recent discovery. If you click on the portraits of the characters like crazy, they will react to it. And the developers had a lot of fun coding these reactions xD

Tav / Dark Urge

normal - I'm awake! Mostly. - I'm starting to get a headache. - Must be the tadpole. - Quit knocking around in there! - A thousand needlepricks in my rotten skull.

combat -Ahhhhhhhh! Okay, I feel better. - I have an itch in the worst place. - Is being a mind flayer so bad? - Just waiting to venture forth here. - I'm maiming as fast as I can!

stealth - What's that ticking? - Is it me? Am I ticking? - Bomb in my head about to go off. Great. - Ah, well. I had a good run.

Astarion

normal - Why do beautiful people taste better? It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities. - Ugh. Strahd wouldn't put up with this shit. - More like Drizzt Don't'Urden - no. No that's not funny. - Villains! Dissemble no more, I admit the deed! Tear up the floor - here, here! It is the beating of his hideous hea- oh, no, that's his brain. Where did I leave that heart?

combat: - I'm trying to focus on murder. - *Humming.* - I shot a svirfneblin in Menzoberranzan just to watch him die. - I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.

stealth - Shhh. Just think sneaky thoughts. - Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP. - Be very, very quiet - I'm hunting idiots. - I've got a brand new torture chamber, so come and play with me.

Karlach

normal - NOTE TO ACTOR/DIRECTOR: Blow a raspberry at the player. - Don't. Poke. The Karlach. - Who am I? - My eye!

combat - Eyes on the prize - we need to win this! - Not every soldier should've made it out of training. - Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner. - I ought to just burn this whole thing down.

stealth - My back can't take much more of this. - Not now, I'm being a sneak! - I'm getting too old for this nonsense. - I'm not built to crouch.

Gale

normal - I hope Halaster takes good care of Tara while I'm away. - Sembian wine; Cormyrian boar; Waterdhavian conversation. It's the little things you miss while on the road. - Oh, what a tangled Weave we web! - All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.

combat - Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails. - Don't make me go all Edwin Odesseiron on you. - Get. Out. Of. My. Head. - I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.

stealth - You made me hide, don't make me come seek you. - Gods, it's like trying to sleep with a mosquito in the room. - A little privacy please. - Stop it - that tickles.

Wyll

normal - Could do for a brew. - Where there's a 'Wyll', there's a 'y'. - Ever get the sense that someone's watching? - So two halflings walk under a bar...

combat - Can't hear myself think! - Wear your scars proudly. - As my father once told me: 'Can we get on with it?' - I find moderation is key.

stealth - Bad time for an itch. - Could do for a brew. - So two halflings walk under a bar... - Shush. No, really. Shush.

Lae'zel

normal - Must everyone be so exhausting? - Weapons high. Standards higher. - Is perfection too much to ask? - Pride is a virtue.

combat - I will know my queen! - There is no right or wrong, only truth. - What is the point, if not victory? - You are right to fear me.

stealth - Hush already. - There is no wisdom in madness. - Is perfection too much to ask? - There is but one way. Vlaakith.

Shadowheart

all modes - I wonder how I'll feel when I remember everything. - Strange. I've had more freedom this past while than my whole life... - Have to keep focused. Can't afford to get attached - to anyone. - If I succeed, maybe I'll be allowed a pet... ugh, stop being silly.

Halsin / his voice is currently bugged :(

normal - What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb... - Such attention... I never realised I was so popular. - Are you feeling lonely, perhaps? - Unwise, perhaps, to poke a bear this much...

сombat - Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe. - Perhaps try attacking the enemy? - Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities. - You are insistent, are you not?

stealth - Most consider it unwise to poke a bear. - My, you are eager, are you not? - Please. I am trying to be stealthy. - Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.

Jaheira

normal - Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too. - I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want. - My, such strong wrists. - Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you? - Please go poke the ranger instead.

combat - You have my attention - now do something with it. - What? What do you want!? - Do you know, I begin to wish they had never brought me back. - Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.

stealth - Dry those sweaty palms and let us try this again, shall we? - Argh, my knees! Oh. It was a twig. - Would that I could hide from you, too. - Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.

Minsc

normal - ARGH! My EYE, Boo! They went for my EYE! - Know that if you poke Boo, no higher dimension will keep you safe! - Heehee. Heeheeheehee. - Well, Boo? How do you want to do this?

сombat - Are you perchance a squeaky wheel in need of a kick? - I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness. - I begin to grow annoyed. It is well for you that Boo does not let me learn the bad words! - Ignore them, Boo. Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.

stealth - A little to the left? But not so hard you make me giggle. - Boo...? Are you dancing down there, or...? - Hush! I am surprising Boo for his birthday! He is... uh... eh... how old do hamsters get...? - I am the night. A pity, then, that it is so bright out.

Minthara

all modes - You had my attention, now you have my fury. - Phlar Lolth ssinssrickla. - Your suffering will be spectacular. - Stop, or die.

[writersdrug]

Konig x Reader: Fucking You to Sleep

All credit goes to @legitchase for this lovely idea! I had so much fun writing this, please send me requests if yall want to see more!!!

Summary: from @legitchase

"Ok ok hear me out new COD MEN idea

You and your cod man, you two came from a mission he is still sort of energetic while you are really exhausted.

As you two lay in bed he softly grinds against your ass so you gave him permission to fuck into you softly as you went to sleep, making little moans in you sleep as you man makes you feel so great while drifting off to sleep"

Warnings: smut, somewhat somnophilia but consensual, fingering, slight edging, p in v, size kink, stomach bulge, google-translate German, writer never played COD :(

Konig opened the door to your shared room, stretching his limbs and sighing. "Scheiße, it's good to be back." he strode inside, heading straight to the small coffee pot the both of you had stolen from the mess hall. He started making coffee, stretching out his left hip, then his right.

You trudged into the room, bags under your eyes, muscles sore, and shoulders slumped. Your feet dragged underneath you as you closed the door behind you. Tired was an understatement - you were exhausted to the point that you were perfectly content to pass out on the cold ground and call it a night.

The mission had gone smoothly, almost as perfect as one could ask for. Konig had been positioned near the outskirts of the field, obediently waiting for the hostages to be delivered to the pick up point. You, on the other hand, had been involved in clearing the way to the hostages, as well as the path to Konig's group. You had shot, stabbed, kicked, and punched so many enemy soldiers, sometimes fighting two at once. Your mind was overworked as well as your body, and you had a few sore spots from the occasional soldier that had landed a hit on you. You never got the chance to sleep on the way back - and your body was about to make that happen, whether you were in a bed or standing up.

Konig pulled off his sniper hood, watching with a smile as you dragged yourself to the bed and flopped onto it. He chuckled. "Schatz, aren't you ecstatic? You did a great job out there!"

"M-hmph..." you muttered, your face smushed into the pillows. You sank your muscles into the mattress, groaning in both relief and pain. If only KorTac hadn't deemed the massage therapist unnecessary...

You heard the coffee dripping into the pot, followed by Konig's heavy footsteps. He crouched down, gently turning your head so he could look at your face. You kept your eyes closed.

"Engel, are you tired?" he asked sarcastically, caressing the side of your face. His head was slightly tilted to match your eye level.

You huffed sarcastically. "Just a 'lil bit." you mumbled. You opened your eyes, meeting Konig's piercing blue ones. He had a small pout on his lips.

He ran his large hand down your shoulders, squeezing the muscle gently. You whined squeezed your eyes shut at the painful relief, furring your brow as he kneaded away. He moved down to your arm, skillfully massaging it with his calloused hands. He landed on your hand, taking it between both of his and flexing your fingers, rubbing each knuckle tenderly. You hummed in appreciation.

You opened your eyes again, noticing Konig's pupils had widened the slightest bit. Oh no... nope, nope nope. You thought. You were WAY too tired to give him what he needed right now. Not that you were ever unwilling to be his fuck toy when he wanted it - you just didn't know if you could stay awake for it.

"So schön, meine Liebe..." So beautiful, my love... He muttered. You felt his breath on your face as he planted a kiss to your forehead.

"You think this is beautiful?" You asked with a smirk. "You're a simple man, Konig." You smushed your face back into the pillow, ignoring the desperation in his eyes.

"Why don't you go get a shower, hmm?" He said, rubbing the palm of your hand. "I can grab us food from the mess hall - you can stay here and unwind."

You hummed and nodded in response. Konig pulled your hips to sit you upright, kneeling himself between your legs. Your head rolled to the side, unable to even hold it upright for long from the soreness. Konig gazed up at you lustfully. You pretended to ignore it and yawned instead.

He squeezed your hips once before moving away, letting you stand up. "I'll have some coffee first, then I'll go. You wash up."

You slipped off your boots and haphazardly dropped them by the edge of the bed. As you made your way to the bathroom, you heard Konig scoff, as he moved your shoes and placed them next to his, perfectly aligned and neat. You chuckled.

-----

The entire bathroom was filled with steam. You had the water as hot as it could possibly be. It beat fiercely against your muscles - exactly what you needed. Your braced your hands against the wall in front of you, savoring every sting and ache of the hot water against your skin. You didn't even have the energy to actually bathe yourself at the moment. You would attempt that in a little bit. For now, you soaked up the heat from the shower, letting it seep into your bones.

You heard the bathroom door creak open, then it shut. Konig hummed as he moved on the other side of the curtain. You assumed he just needed something and would leave in a moment. He rustled around for a bit, the sound of fabric hitting the ground, followed by his feet quietly slapping against the tile floor.

Moments later, he threw the shower curtain back.

"Holy shit!!" you exclaimed, jumping further into the shower, startled. "The hell - I thought you went to the mess hall?!"

Konig casually stepped into the shower with you, his eyes flickering over your naked body. "I was going to, but I probably need a shower too." He closed the curtain behind him. "Why waste the water, since you're getting one already?" He smirked mischievously.

"Konig, there's hardly any room in here for both of us." You stated. You were crammed against the shower wall, purposefully avoiding looking at his obvious hard-on. It rested against your stomach as he stared down at you, eyes half-lidded in lust. Your hands rested on his chest as you tried to create space between the two of you, although you didn't mind his muscular body being pressed into yours.

He ignored your protest. "Liebling, you haven't even bathed yourself." He said, running his hands down your back. "Let me help you, bitte? You just relax, I'll wash you."

You wanted to say no, since you knew where it would lead, and you were too drained to even think of it. But it was hard to deny Konig, especially as he ran his soap-lathered hands over your arms, delicately massaging the muscles under your skin. You let out a long sigh, leaning into his touch as he masterfully worked the knots out of your shoulders, your flanks, and then your hips, lingering there a while longer. His hands combined with the hot water and the smell of the soap... your mind was practically numb under his touch. You felt yourself relax more and more as he worked the tension from your body.

Konig stared down at you, pupils blown wide. You were the kind of person to get all shy when you were naked, even though the two of you had been together for a while now. But here, in your tired state, you wordlessly submitted to him. You had come back from the mission as a hard, cracked, and dry wad of clay, and Konig was using his large hands and the hot water to mold you into what he wanted. His cock was painfully hard at the thought of you, too tired to fully push him away from you, forced to give in to his advances as he fucked you in the shower wall. You're muscles were too sore for you to fight back - he would slam himself into you until you passed out from exhaustion, your overworked little body trembling and twitching as he held you against the tiles. Your little throat would barely be able to whimper his name out.

Just the thought of him fucking you to sleep was making precum drip from his cock. It rested heavily against your back as he was running his hands down lower, squeezing out the tension from your muscles. You involuntarily let out a soft moan - the feeling of his hands was soothing, comforting... and also getting you aroused. As tired as you were, every grip from his fingers sent pleasure shooting from your core to your chest. You felt his cock twitch at your moan.

You lazily tilted your head back against his chest, looking at him through your lashes with a soft smile. He smiled back, desire settling in his lower abdomen. He leaned down and kissed the crown of your head. Slowly, he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest.

"Mein süßes mädchen..." My sweet girl... whispered, lips pressed to your head. "How about I make you feel good, yes?" His free arm climbed up your abdomen until it reached your breasts, grabbing the left one and massaging it between his fingers. "You did so well earlier - I want to reward you for it." He rolled your nipple between his fingers and tugged at it.

You arched your back against him, mewling and whining. His fingers were massaging the flesh of your stomach and pinching and pulling at your nipple... it felt so good, you would have let him take you then and there. But the more aroused you felt, the more you noticed how tired you were. "Konig, baby, can - can we please do this in the m-morning?" You whimpered out.

Konig groaned, half aroused, half frustrated. "I promise I can be gentle, schatz. I won't make you cum too much." He started grinding his cock along your ass, his arm squeezing tightly around your waist. His dick throbbed, aching to feel your cunt squeezing him tight.

You exhaled a shaky breath, before gathering your resolve and turning to face him. He let out a soft moan as your skin dragged along his cock as you spun. He gripped your shoulders tightly as you looked him in his eyes.

"Tomorrow morning, love." You gently held his face between your hands, smiling. "I promise. I'm just too tired tonight." You pulled his head down to plant a long kiss on his lips. He groaned against your mouth, before a sigh escaped through his nose.

He pulled back, caressing your face with his thumb. "Alright. Tomorrow then. Let's get you cleaned for now, and then some dinner, yes?"

The both of you continued to shower, Konig insisting on washing your hair. You stood with your eyes closed, basking in the feeling of his fingers massaging your scalp. You were starting to get frustrated yourself, between feeling both aroused and sleepy. But you focused on the feeling of his hands on your hair and the water hitting your skin (or whatever skin it could reach - Konig took up most of the stream).

Konig did his best to focus on washing your hair and body. His eyes kept wandering over your silhouette from above, cock throbbing as he watched the water running down your breasts, to your pussy, and then trailing off down your thighs. He pushed his desires away, concentrating on taking care of you.

-----

After your shower, Konig had left to grab some food, while you dried your hair and slipped into your night clothes - which consisted of your underwear and one of Konig's army-green t shirts. When he returned with some protein bars and bananas (the mess hall's only options since it was after hours), he faltered as he caught a glimpse of you. You were seated at the edge of the bed, practically swallowed in his shirt, nipples threatening to poke holes in it. You smiled gratefully at him. Despite having his sniper hood back on, you could see the tinge of pink in his face, as he quickly looked away.

The two of you ate your food, Konig splayed out in a chair across the room, sniper hood on the desk next to him, you still sitting on the edge of the bed. You talked about the mission, it's faults and it's victories, Konig saying that he would have preferred that you were the one to stay at the pick up point, and he should have gone to retrieve the hostages.

He always did that - he would complain after the fact that your team's captain would consistently put you in the more dangerous situations, rather than having you on the safer end of things. Konig would have even preferred if he could have been there with you, but that's never how it was. Either you were both in dangerous situations on opposite sides of the field, or it was just you, and he was forced to wait on the sidelines, far away from the danger. He never doubted your skill, and he would never try to hold you back. But he wished that you could be closer to him than the danger. You found it sweet, but preferred it this way. Better you close to the danger than Konig - you would never live if something had happened to him.

And if something happened to you, neither could he.

After dinner, Konig changed into sweatpants, opting to sleep shirtless. ("You're wearing my shirt, after all.") You climbed onto the bed, feeling Konig settle in behind you, wrapping a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You held it tightly and intertwined your legs with his. His warm breath fell against the back of your head as he nuzzled into your hair, which still smelled like your shampoo.

You felt safe. Finally home, finally in your bed, with your Konig. His hold on your body felt protective, something you didn't have the luxury of feeling for the entire mission. You were finally able to relax. You sighed contentedly... the cool sheets, Konig's strong arms, the rise and fall of his chest, the fact that you could sleep in tomorrow morning... It soothed you, and you let the wave of sleep slowly begin to pull you under, bit by bit.

Konig let out the smallest, quietest whine. He knew you were tired. He didn't want to disturb you. But he was still hard from earlier. His cock was so swollen and painful, he was going insane. He couldn't hold himself back any longer, especially not with your pussy just a few pieces of fabric away. He pawed at the flesh of your abdomen, using his other hand to rub down your thigh. Slowly, he began pushing his clothed cock against your ass.

You stirred; you had been on the brink of sleep, when you felt Konig kneading your stomach and grinding against you. You recognized the heat pooling in your pelvis, letting out a small whimper. "Konig, please..." you begged - not entirely sure if it was for him to stop, or to move faster.

"I'm sorry, prinzessin..." he said desperately... "I can't help it, I... mph, I'm going insane... I need to feel you around me, please?" He was now pathetically humping your ass, already pulling down his sweats until he was just in his boxers. You felt his pulsing, warm cock pressed up against you. "Bitte, liebe..." he began kissing your neck, right in your sweet spot.

You moaned lazily. "I'm just too tired, I'm sorry-"

"Schatz, you don't need to do anything." he cut you off with desperation in his voice. "Let me take care of you, bitte... you don't have to lift a finger. I just need to be inside of you right now... please, please..."

His hands groping your waist, his breath on your neck, his lips sucking at your skin... and his pathetic begging, won over your better judgement. You knew you wouldn't be able to hold him off in your current state, and he would end up taking what he wanted anyways. And despite being so tired, you were still aroused... Would you really be able to fall asleep if you deprived yourself? "Alright, love."

"You sure?" he answered immediately, whining needily.

"I'm sure."

And that was all he needed. Placing a kiss to the back of your head, Konig carefully removed your panties, letting them hang off of one of your ankles. With one hand, he pulled the waistband of his boxers down, freeing his cock and letting it slap against your ass. He moved his hand from your stomach down to your pussy, prodding at your clit with two fingers. You rubbed your thighs together, feeling a mix of soreness and wetness, as he rubbed your swollen bundle of nerves between his fingertips.

"So fucking wet for me..." he groaned in your ear, "... even when you're tired, you're so needy." He slipped a finger past your clit, running it along your lips. You didn't have the energy to buck against him - instead, you tilted your hips back, trying to angle yourself to feel as much pleasure as possible. He teased you, prodding the tip of his finger just past your lips, before pulling it back. You whined, your juices spilling over his hand as your arousal grew even more.

"Please, Konig..." you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite the desire settling in your stomach, you could feel yourself being pulled back into sleep. Your moans were lazy and low, and your body was limp in his arms.

"I know, love, I know..." he whispered in your ear. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked your wetness that coated his fingers. He groaned, savoring the taste, his erection twitching painfully. "I'm going to fuck you to sleep, liebling. You deserve it, you worked so hard... Just let me take care of you, alright?" He dipped his fingers back down to your pussy, rubbing your clit in slow circles with the pad of this thumb.

You couldn't answer him. Instead, weak, soft whimpers fell from your lips, followed by the quiet clicking sounds of his fingers teasing your cunt, finally dipping inside. A pang of pleasure shot from your core, and your walls instinctively clenched around him, sucking him deeper into you. You pathetically mumbled in pleasure as he slowly dragged his fingers in, and out, and in, and out...

Konig kissed the side of your neck as your moans enticed him, making his length drip with precum as he continued to grind against your ass. He felt your walls tightening around his fingers, greedily sucking on him. He spread his fingers and pushed them against your walls, curving one of them just right to hit your sweet spot. You whimpered and rocked your hips lazily, trying to push him deeper into you.

"Hmm, look at you..." he whispered low in your ear, followed by a soft kiss on your temple. "I thought you were sleepy, mein engel..." he teased. You whined, barely audible, as more and more of your juices dripped onto his palm. "So helpless, so fucking small in my hands..." he pumped his fingers faster, flicking his thumb back and forth over your clit.

You felt the familiar coil tightening in your lower abdomen, and at the same time, you knew you were drifting off to sleep. You moaned as he continued to finger-fuck your cunt, unable to produce more than a high-pitched cry. Your thighs weakly rubbed together as your impending orgasm built in your core.

"Konig, please, bitte, bitte, bitte..." you babbled quietly, your consciousness drifting as your walls began fluttering around his fingers.

Your pleading in German stirred a fire in Konig's abdomen. He growled low, "Gutes verdammtes mädchen, das ist es..." Good fucking girl, that's it... He flicked your clit harder, relishing in the small, high whimpers that sent an electric shock through his core. He snaked his other hand under your side, coming around to gently squeeze at your throat. "Komm für mich, meine müde Prinzessin..." Cum for me, my tired princess... he grunted as he drove his digits into your pussy, curling them to prod against your g-spot. "That's it... yes, yes, yes..."

Your hips instinctively rocked against his fingers, mind going numb as your orgasm ripped through your body. Your one hand grabbed the one of Konig's that was deep in your cunt, pawing helplessly at his forearm. Your legs began to shake as the pleasure overtook you, making you mewl and whine. Your slick flowed freely over his fingers and into his palm, and you heard him growl and felt his cock twitch against your ass. You closed your heavy eyelids, his hand still firm around your throat, feeling yourself drift into the ecstasy...

Konig continued to flick your clit, hoping to overstimulate you for a while longer, until he felt your body go limp in his arms. Your legs were still shaking from your orgasm, but the rest of your muscles were slack against him. He smiled proudly to himself, pulling his fingers out of you slowly. He felt your walls clench one more time around him, as if they didn't want to let him go. He brought his fingers up and once more licked your cum off of his hand, making sure none of it was wasted. He softly moaned at your taste.

"Oh, liebling..." he said lowly, "I'm not finished with you yet." He used his wet hand to pump himself a few times - his cock ached under his touch, red and hot and desperately needing relief. "I said I was going to fuck you, and you're going to take every inch..." he pulled himself down the bed slightly, so that your dripping pussy was positioned right above his swollen member. "... even in your dreams."

With both hands on your hips, he slowly guided himself into your cunt. He stopped halfway, hearing you whimper in your sleep, your brow furrowed in pleasure. Your eyes remained closed, but your mouth parted slightly, sucking in a short breath.

Konig absentmindedly shushed you, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. "I know, schatz..." he said shakily, "I know, I know... you can take it, you're such a good girl, I know you can." He groaned lazily, feeling your walls stretch slightly around him, and he pushed the rest of his length into your cunt. His exhale caught in his throat, and his fingers gripped the flesh at your hips, sure to leave marks in the morning.

Your hips bucked slightly as your pussy squelched, trying to make room for all of him as Konig was balls deep inside of you. He panted, sweat covering his entire body. Your wetness felt so good as he twitched inside of you. Slowly, as he was trying to be considerate of your sleeping form, he ground his hips into you. He moved one hand to the front of your abdomen, feeling around until he found the buldge pressing forward in your stomach. He growled when he touched it, imagining his big cock barely fitting into your tight cunt. He pressed his hand down onto the bump, and your body reacted, shivering around him.

He stuttered in pleasure, biting his lip to keep his moans at a low volume. The quiet sounds of his balls slapping against your pussy echoed through the room, accompanied by his rhythmic grunting and your weak whimpers. His cock throbbed inside of you, sending jolts of pleasure through his lower abdomen with each thrust. His face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide as he huffed, burying his face into the crook of your neck, mumbling sweet nothings in German into your ear.

He felt himself teetering closer to his orgasm - the sounds of him fucking you to sleep, the feeling of the mixed juices coating his cock and his thighs, your high whines and mewls, the lingering taste of your cum on his tongue... He was so close to the edge, desperately trying to hold himself back as to not disturb you, and to last a few moments longer...

"I'm gonna fucking breed you, liebe..." he mumbled, whimpering as his orgasm approached quickly. "... gonna fucking fill you up, and there's not a damn thing you can do... Scheiße, so fucking tight... You take my cock so well, meine gute kleine Schlampe..." My good little slut... He felt your walls clenching rhythmically around his member, and your whimpers got higher and higher, your back arching against his as a second orgasm overcame you.

He felt his cock twitching, and a cord in his lower abdomen snapped. "Fuuuck, liebe, take it, take it, fucking take it, Scheiße..."

His thrusts became shallow and sloppy - he sank his teeth into your neck as an attempt to quiet his grunts and whimpers as he pounded into you, his cum spurting through his cock, filling up your cunt. "Mph, scheisse!" he whined into your neck. He rode out his orgasm, the room filling with sloppy squelching as his cum seeped out of you, dripping onto his thighs and the sheets.

He felt your body relax once more, his own muscles going limp around you. He lazily ground his hips into your ass, his cock still embedded in your cunt, now going soft. He gently thumbed his cum back into your pussy, pushing it in between his member and your lips. He sighed contentedly, wrapping both of his arms around your waist and pulling you closer onto him. He nestled his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the layer of sweat that covered you both.

"Du bist mein perfektes Mädchen..." You are my perfect girl... he mumbled into your ear, planting a kiss on the top of it. You stirred gently, your hips briefly moving away from his. He gently held you down on his cock. "No, schatz..." he hummed, eyes closing, "... I want to stay in this warm, sweet pussy of yours... oh, verdammt, I've missed you... I'll never let you go for so long again..."

He placed one last kiss to your neck, before hugging you tighter, his length still buried deep inside you. As he drifted off to sleep, he had one last thought. "Don't think I forgot your promise for tomorrow morning, liebling..."

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 4: Midnight Snack

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

3.5K words

Warning/Notes: Soap x Reader, oral sex (m receiving), hair pulling, messy make out

This is the video from where the photo is, if you haven't seen it, You have to and if you have already, you are welcome.

The drive back to base seems neverending. 

Once Price and Ghost managed to get you to stop crying and to breathe normally. The three of you pack the essentials, and by that, I mean you were hugged to Ghost like a koala while Price got what he could save from your house into a bag pack. 

Most of your clothes were ripped or cut, so in the end, only some pieces of underwear, a couple of shirts, some pants and the pyjamas you were wearing were safe. Plus your jacket and shoes that were behind the door. 

And that is how you found yourself now. Sobbing, sitting in the middle of the back seat, bag pack on your lap, Simon’s hand on your knee from the passenger seat as Price drives.

“Tomorrow morning, you are going to call your job, and tell them that you are going to take a couple of days off, okay?” Price asks looking at you through the rearview mirror. “And we will take everything you need, we will buy clothes, find you a better place to stay, anything you need.”

You shake your head feeling the tears come back and you hide your face behind your hands as you start to cry again. “I can't.” You cry. “What can't you do?” Simon asks turning his head to look at you.

“Miss more work days, I have already taken too many. I can't afford to lose more.” You mumble whining out of mental exhaustion.

“Hey, stop. Don't get carried away, alright?” Simon says rubbing your thigh. “Let's not think about that right now, tomorrow tell your boss the situation. Tell them that your house was broken into, that you need a couple of days to get everything in order. Depending on what your boss says, we'll work from there. Alright, birdie?”

You nod weakly as you focus on taking deep breaths. When you finally arrive, both men get out of the car and Price opens the door for you. You step out still holding your bag tight, either men try to take it from your hands and walk along between both men. 

Their hands find their way to your back, Price to the bottom and Simon to the top, reassuring shielding you from the chilly breeze of the night. 

“How about a cuppa?” Simon asks looking at you, a smile visible in his eyes, and you can't help it but to give him a weak smile back nodding. “Then, we will find you a room so you can sleep as much as you want.” 

Sleep does sound amazing, taking into consideration that last night you had little sleep and you have been on the move ever since. 

Price and Simon walk you to a lousy room, many recruits sitting together. The mess hall, you figure. In the middle of the room, there are a couple of sofas, and you quickly recognise Soap and Gaz, sprawled together in one of them looking at Gaz's phone. 

Most of the soldiers that are finishing their dinner, or just enjoying each other company before going to bed look up when they hear the door opening. Their gazes linger for a second too long on you until you can feel Ghost throwing them a warning sign in the form of a look and they peel their eyes away.

Gaz and Soap look up when they hear the door open, and just for a second, they smile at you before they furrow their browns when they see everyone's expression. 

“What happened? How come the wee lass so spooked?” Soap asks sitting straight and patting the seat between him and Kyle.

Price’s hand on your lower back softly pushes you forward to sit down before he answers: “She’s still a bit in shock, Soap. We’ll talk about it later.”

You sit down between Soap and Gaz, backpack still in your hands, and pull your knees up hugging your legs. Gaz points to your backpack and asks: “You sleeping over tonight? You should definitely sleep in Soap’s and my room. Ghost and Price have their own individual ones, but they snore.” He whispers the last part pulling a little smile from you.

You lean your head on Soap's shoulder when he lays his arm on the couch behind your back. The man is a living furnace and shortly after you find yourself seeking more contact.

Price sits on the second sofa in front of you and just a second later Ghost appears back, cup of tea on hand, as he gives it to you. You take it from his hands, yours still shaking just a little bit as you do, and you rest it on top of your knee for support.

Kyle's hand find its way to your other knee giving it a light squeeze. “How's your arm, luv?” You look at your elbow and shrug your shoulder. “I haven't even had time to check it, good I think, it hasn't bothered me.”

“You didn't get hurt today, did you?” Price asks focusing on your face after doing a quick check-up of you. You shake your head: “No, a headbutt on the ceiling if anything.”

Price nods, satisfied with your answer and shakes his head at the sergeant's questioning look. You look down to the tea, thoughts getting to you. You saw your neighbour get arrested, and if he had gotten free they would have told you. So it must have been someone who works for them, and if he wasn't arrested already is because they didn't really know who works for them. 

“What are you thinking about, birdie?” Ghost brings you back to reality with just a question. “Am I safe here?” You ask, with a shake in your voice. 

“Yes.” Price's answer is concise, full of trust in his own word, leaving no room for doubt. “As long as you are with us, nothing and nobody is getting to you.”

You look at his face, almost as if expecting him to burst laughing at you for trusting them. A voice in your head screams at you not to do it, you barely know them. But you thought you knew your neighbour and now he's trying to kill you, so. 

You nod and take a sip of the tea. Warming you inside and letting you relax just a bit. 

“How about a distraction?” Soap asks smiling at you. “Have we told ye aboot the time Gaz fell from a helo and was hangin’ from a rope like a yo-yo?”

“Fucking hell, Johnny. Shut up!” Gaz complains laughing next to you. 

The time went a bit more smoothly when Soap decided to talk about everyone's embarrassing stories, you could still tell he wasn't telling everything, keeping the classified information for himself, but still telling enough to have you laughing, gasping and asking with interest as he told.

By the time you finished your tea, you were already in a greater mood, the attack from today moved to the back of your head. Price lends you a hand to help you stand up while Ghost takes the empty cup from you. Gaz and Soap keep their word to share the room for the night against Price and Ghost's complaint that they should let you rest alone. Until the words “I don't really want to be alone.” leave your mouth and that's the end of the bickering. 

Soap and Gaz barracks are quite simple, two single beds against opposite walls, two desks, two little bookshelves and two closets. Almost as if there was a mirror in the middle of the room if it wasn't for the little trinkets and details on each side letting you know the right bed was Soap's and the one on the left was Gaz's. 

After a quick rock, paper, scissor championship, it is decided you will be sharing Soap's bed. And since you are already in your pyjamas, you get inside the bed quickly, ready to be done with the day. Soap lays behind you, hugging your middle and dropping a kiss to your temple. “Sleep tight, bonnie.”

A ray of light erupts from the bathroom door that is practically closed, almost as if whoever closed was afraid the click of the door closing would wake you up. At first, you don't think most of it, Soap must have gotten up to pee. But then you listen, and it doesn't sound like that's what he is doing in the bathroom.

Little grunts can be heard as well as the sound of skin hitting skin. You stand up from the bed, curiosity taking control of your body and walking you to peak at the door. You shouldn't, you really shouldn't. But once you lay your eyes on him, you know you are fucked. 

Soap is barechested, leaning against the sink with a hand supporting him while the other strokes his dick. He has his eyes closed, head low with his mouth open slightly, and small grunts and whines leave his lips. 

The grey sweatpants slightly lowered, allowing you to see the curve of his lower back as well as what you trust is the girthiest dick you have ever laid your eyes onto. The tip looks red, hungry for release, pearls of precum dripping from it making your mouth water. 

There is a turmoil of thoughts in your head, you keep repeating to yourself that you need to place some distance between yourself and these men. But the moment any of them show any skin or any emotion of want towards you, you throw yourself at them. 

Three times have you gone through this, your mind telling you is a bad idea and your pussy pushing you at their arms. This time is not different, and before you know it, you are inside the bathroom locking the door making Soap jump.

“Steamin’ jesus, bonnie.” He says shoving his dick inside his pants and turning his back at you to hide his tent. “Knock before entering, lass.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, not feeling sorry and you slowly walk to him. “I just wanted to help…”

“What? What you me-” He gets cut mid-question when he feels your hand grazing his tip, pressing your chest to his back and surrounding his waist with your arm. You use a hand to feel his abdomen and the other to softly caress the length of his dick inside his pants.

“But I can go back to bed if you don't want…” You say looking at the back of his head. “Don't you dare.” He answers grabbing your wrist when you try to take it back and he looks at you over his shoulder. 

“Ye dinnae have to do it if ye dinnae want… but if you want, I'll take anythin’ ye throw at me, bonnie.” He says turning around and cupping your face after lowering his pants again to free his erection. “I had to run to the bathroom cause ye were rubbing yer arse against me on yer sleep, I was about to explode.”

“Well then, I think it's only fair I fix it, right?” You ask looking at him cheekly. He leans down and kisses you smiling into the kiss. Little groans slide into your mouth as you stroke him and you can feel his hips thrust softly into your hand as well. 

For the last two days these men have only but given to you, and as much as you have enjoyed every single second of it, it is about time you give back. 

You pick Soap's hand from your cheek and push it up to your hair. “Make sure to keep my hair away from my face, all right?”

He looks at you confused but quickly gets the idea when you kneel before him. He quickly brushes your hair back with his finger, doing a ponytail at the back of your head and groans deeply when you give a kitty lick to his tip.

You pop his tip inside your mouth sucking softly as you circle it with your tongue. Stroke the rest with both your hands, unable to reach your thumb with your index because of the girth and slowly bobbing your head up and down.

Soap stays mumbling curse words under his breath, low enough to not be able to hear him and you wish you were not hiding in the bathroom and could hear him scream. You think back to when Price ate you out, did he get as turn-on satisfying you as you are getting doing it to Soap? 

He opens his eyes to lock into yours and you look up to him through your lashes as you start to get more inside your mouth. 

“Fokin’ hell, bonnie. Keep looking at me like that and I'm not gonna last a second.” He says struggling to keep his eyes open. 

You chuckle inside your head, and keep getting closer and closer to his hipbone. You must praise Soap's self-commitment to not cum, even though you can feel the grip on your hair getting tighter. When you feel his pubes brush against your nose you pull back taking a breath and look at him. When you lock eyes with each other, you smile and say before opening your mouth: “Fuck my throat, Johnny.”

For a second you get scared that Soap will just cum as you speak when you physically see the shudder that goes through him. But then he grips your hair back making you look up to him and he kisses your mouth in a sloppy kiss. Spit, drool and precum all mixing between your tongues and when he draws back to talk a threat of spit connect your lips. “You are going to fucking kill me, lass.” He mumbles and stands up to full height.

He doesn't let go of your hair and when you stick your tongue out he slaps it with his cock. “Gonna fuck yer throat raw, bonnie. Bite if it gets too much.” He smirks before shoving his dick down your throat in a single thrust and beginning to fulfil his word.

“Fuck, bonnie.” He says slurring his words between moans. “Taking my cock so well, such a good fucking lass, so, so good, fuck.” 

Your visions get blurry with the tears from fighting your gag reflex, your hands rest on Soap's thighs and you can feel them flex with each thrust. If it wasn't for your pants you know you would be literally dripping on the floor, never did you though it could turn you on this much. But seeing Soap becoming such a mess, not being even able to speak, just mumbles and curses leaving his mouth. 

“Let me cum inside, bonnie, please. I wanna see you drink it, please, please, bonnie, please.” He begs looking at your face with a pained expression, and almost as if he was waiting for your answer when you slightly nod he grunts and you feel his spent travel down your throat. He stays like that for another second and finally pulls out, you open your mouth showing him your work and he smiles as he bends down to kiss you again. “Fucking beautiful, love.”

The next morning you are woken up by an alarm and just a second later a door slamming shut. “I call dibs on the bathroom!” Kyle shouts making you jump.

You turn around on Soap's arms, nuzzling your face on his chest and sighing satisfied. “Eejit” Soap mumbles with his chin resting on top of your head.

“Do we have to share the bathroom the three of us?” You ask against his chest.

“Ye didnae seem to mind sharing it with me last night.” He mumbles back and you feel his chest tumble with a laugh.

“Aw, shut up, Johnny.” You say chuckling and yawning. “What time is it, anyway? I feel like I slept just two hours.”

“0540, not too far off to be honest.” He answers and when your half-sleep brain processes what time it is you look at him as if he has just insulted you. “What?”

“Why the fuck are we up before 6 in the morning? Like, seriously, the fuck?” You ask grumpy as you sit up pulling your legs over Soap's torso. He caresses one of your calves and flexes his arm resting his head on his hand. If you were not so bothered to be awakened so early, you would admire his physique. 

“This is the military, love.” He says smiling. “Ye look like an angry kitty.”

You pull the pillow from under his head and hit him with it making him laugh. “Do we need to be ready before six?”

“Yeah, actually, that's when we are supposed to have breakfast. We are meeting Lt. and Price there.” He says taking the pillow from his face. “Ye should get dressed.”

You groan standing up and picking your bag from the side of the bed. You pull your clothes out, and notice that you can barely form a full outfit; you sigh and sit on the floor looking at Soap who is now on his side, elbow on the bed and head resting on his hand. He looks at you with a confused expression and says: “That's all ye packed, lassie? I thought ye were staying more time.” 

He stands up, walks to his closet and picks something from inside just to throw it to your head. An uf sound leaves your throat and you pick it up to see it, it is a sweatshirt with MacTavish written on the back. “It is cold this early in the morning, we don't want ye freezing up. Get dressed.”

He bends down to drop a kiss on your lips leaving you a bit stunned and enters the bathroom without knocking making Gaz protest from the inside. “Stop screaming, it's me. I'm just giving the wee lass some privacy, Gaz.” 

You chuckle to yourself and quickly get dressed, putting on the only pair of jeans you have, and a weird t-shirt from some kind of ad you used to wear to sleep, feeling really grateful it is covered with Soap's sweatshirt.

“What are you doing here, luv?” Price asks standing up when he sees you enter the mess hall following Soap and Gaz. “Everything alright?”

The expression on your face must be portrait-worth because you can see even Simon's eyes twirl with a smile. 

“What do you mean what I'm doing here?” You ask looking at Price, until you hear a little snickering coming from both Gaz and Soap and you finally put two and two together. You turn to Soap and when you finally make eye contact with him, he burst out laughing.

“I'm sorry, bonnie. It was just too perfect of an opportunity to waste it.” He says raising his hand in false innocence. He tries to side-hug you, but you move quickly raising your chin offended and walking up to Price. “I'll fetch ye breakfast as a peace offering, all right, love?”

“That's the minimum you can do!” You exclaim still offended and stick your tongue out to him as you sit between where Ghost is sitting and where Price was sitting, him following you.

“Sorry about that, love.” Price says rubbing your tight. “I told them muppets to let you sleep in today. Did you at rest good?”

Gaz sits in front of you with a smirk, and you don't know if he knows, but you are sure that if he does he will snitch on you so stay on edge making sure not to break eye contact with him.

“Yeah, I did. The bed was surprisingly comforting, and Soap was a weighted blanket so.” You answer still looking at Gaz. You can feel Price's questioning look and Ghost's smirk.

“So Soap was comfortable?” Gaz asks smiling.

“Yeah, quite comfortable.” You answer.

He knows.

He fucking knows.

You don't know how, but he knows.

“Is that why you followed him to the bathroom when he went in the middle of the night?” He asks.

Fucking Garrick.

“I don't know what you are talking about.” You respond looking at your nails.

“I'm talking about when you into the bathroom and helped-”

CLANK

Soap puts the tray of food in front of you just in time, cutting Gaz's claim and starts to enunciate the food he bought. “I got ye coffee cause it's obvious yer not a morning person, I brought ye toast, some fruits and a little cereal cause I didn't really know what ye wanted. And I bought ye chocolate pudding.” He says putting the little cup on your hands, giving you a kiss on your head. “For sucking my dick so good last night.”

Gaz bursts out laughing, happy that he didn't even need to tell anything, while Ghost chuckles under his breath and Price sighs rubbing his forehead.

“I think there is a conversation that we definitely need to have.” Price announces. “For everyone's sake.”

Hiii 💗

Hope you liked the new chapter, please please drop a comment if you like it or if there is any scenarios you would like me to include 💗

Thank you again for all the support, you guys are the best

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[logaenhowlett]

IF ONLY YOU KNEW PART TWO - L.H.

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of everything that occurred last night, Logan decides it's time to stop running from his desires. [Set during Logan (2017)]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Themes of grief and death, Language

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on part one! Didn't expect it to blow up that much. Good news is, it gave me the motivation to write more, so I have lots of ideas for Logan fics!

MASTERLIST | PART ONE

Over two hundred years, Death had become all too familiar for Logan. A foe that kept barreling in his direction, but always fizzled out before it reached him, instead striking those he cherished the most. When he was younger, he used to revel in feeling of being indestructible, immortal even. That faded away rather quickly once he realised what a curse it was, a cruel joke he grew tired of. Alas, the universe continued laughing.

He thought he could avoid all the unnecessary pain and misery by severing all ties to humanity, retreating to the ends of the world all by his lonesome. But not even the strongest soldier could resist the craving for connection for that long. When Charles had offered a place in his sanctuary, he refused at first, wondering why the universe always seemed to work against him. 

Eventually, the need to distance himself from everything and everyone became smaller. Charles had given him a home, a family, a sense of belonging and after a while, you. Logan was not one for retrospection, but he often recollects how drastically his life had changed once he’d accepted the responsibility of being an X-Man. How he’d gained a new purpose. He owed everything to Charles Xavier.

The shovel in his hand gets heavier by the second. He stops digging for a moment, sensing a whole lot of anger, sorrow and desperation waiting to burst out of him. He knew the end was near for Charles, ever since the incident the old man was barely hanging on. There were times when he wished Charles would just let go, just stop fighting against his mind and body, for his own sake. But that didn’t make his death hurt any less.

His own exhaustion was catching up to him too, having spent the last few days - hell, the last few months - putting everyone else before himself. He hasn’t been able to rest despite all your efforts.

As the last of the dirt falls onto the grave, Logan staggers backwards, his shoulders knock into the tree. He slides against the trunk a little as his knees begin to loosen under his weight, unsure whether it’ll be the adamantium poisoning or heartache that’ll get him first.

Laura’s sniffling snaps his attention, he watches as she curls into your embrace, nothing you were saying stops the tears from escaping. He can see you’re trying to keep your composure for the little girl, but he knows you’re just inches away from completely breaking down. Charles was the father you’d chosen, he had saved your life just as he’d done for countless others, brought you into his arms and gave you something to live and fight for. He knows you’re as defeated as he is right now. Despite every cell in his body aching to comfort you, he understands you need the time and space to grieve in your own way.

After moments of silence, the three of you return to the car. There wasn’t a lot of time left for Laura to find her friends and cross the border to get to freedom. Logan uses that to ground himself to reality, helping her would be a way to honour Charles, for everything he had done and represented. He vows that he’ll grant her wishes, even if it’s the last thing he’ll do. He owes that to Laura, to Charles and to you.

The stars twinkle miles above, painting the night sky with their luminous hue. Logan pulls into the roadside near a lake, deciding it’s in the best interest of everyone to rest tonight. He steps out the car, scouting for a decent place to start a fire. Laura silently accompanies him to gather wood, her eyes follow you as you wander towards the lake, away from the two of them.

Logan senses her need rush to your side, he shakes his head slightly, understanding her distress, “She’ll be okay, kid.” It comes out a little hoarse, having been the first words he’d spoken all day.

All the smoking he’d done in the last two centuries comes in handy, he uses his lighter to spark flames, tending to it before it settles into a calm fire. He runs his hand down his face, his mind has been in overdrive for too long and all he wants is for one moment of quiet. Where he can surrender, stop trying to survive and just live.

“Why are you hiding?” Laura asks him, holding her hands toward the flame.

“What?”

She turns her head to find you in the distance sitting down on the grass with your feet in the water, “From her.”

Logan follows her line of sight, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.” 

“You want to die. Charles told me.”

He scoffs, the name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, “What else did he tell you?”

“To not let you.” She stands, finally meeting his eyes. “Tell her. If you want to be happy.” She doesn’t stick around for his response, instead making her way back to the car to sleep.

Her words strike a chord in him, he huffs lightly, ducking his head into his chest. What the hell did she know? Happiness wasn’t something he envisioned for himself. No, that often came in the form of alcohol or stupid cage fights. He never let himself indulge in anything else, having learned his lessons from what seems like a lifetime ago. 

The leaves crunching under your footsteps draws his attention, you sit down an arm's length away, prodding the fire with a stick. He doesn’t know how to address the giant elephant hanging in between the two of you. Last night, when you’d asked the question, the answer was right there on the tip of his tongue. So easy and so simple. But he withdrew, in such a cowardly manner too, deflecting as if he doesn’t ache for you with each passing day.

“He taught me how to play chess.”

He studies you for a brief moment, the tear tracks on your face shine against the orange hue of the fire.

“We used to sit every day, in the garden, I’d run straight to him after classes were done.” You continue, a fond smile on your face, “I was convinced he was cheating, you know? I never beat him.”

Your resolve crumbles and sadness washes over you once again, “And I never will.”

It dawns on him too, the finality of what had happened last night. He almost laughs at the thought of Charles, beloved by so many, resting in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. The universe is a cynical motherfucker.

If anything, he hopes the man felt proud in his last moments, happy for all he’d achieved in his lifetime. Logan wishes he could be even half the person his mentor was. He always berated him to reach out to those around him. To you. That joy was but a breath away from his grasp, all he needed to do is let you in. He must’ve sensed how well the two of you would get along, how you needed each other’s presence as a pillar of support.

“Why did you keep coming back?”

The question renders him a little speechless. Memories flash across his mind - Rogue, Bobby, Storm, but mostly, you. The two of you had always tiptoed around each other when it came to feelings, at times getting enough courage to finally say something, but never following through.

You stand up, thinking he’s absolutely not in the mood to talk. You don’t blame him either. That’s the thing between you two - there was always some silent understanding of the other.

“You.”

It leaves him so quietly, he’s not sure if you heard him. He’s already looking at you when you turn around, something in your eyes he’s never noticed before. Tell her. If you want to be happy. There’s no reason to hide anymore.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first,” He starts slowly, “You kept… creeping into my life and I… I couldn’t stay away.” A smile, a genuine smile, appears on his face, one that hadn’t graced him in a long while.

“I’ve been around for a long time - more than I should’ve.” He continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “I always… felt like I didn’t deserve to survive. It shouldn’t be me, standing here instead of someone else. But you, being around you… made me want to try.” A weight forms in his throat, he swallows it down, “Try to live not just for you - but for me too. I can never thank you enough for that. For sticking with me, for trusting me, for letting me… love you.”

You close the distance, gently resting your hand against his cheek. He leans into your touch almost instantly, even that simple gesture is enough for him. But you don't end there.

"Logan... I love you too."

He thinks his heart stops, your admission knocks the wind out of him. The old man was right, everything he'd wanted was right in front of him. He leans into you, tilting your chin upwards and kisses you with a burning passion. All the pain he'd suffered sinks to the back of his mind, nothing but a shadow compared to what he's feeling at the moment. When you pull back, doe-eyed and out of breath, he realises this is it. You're it.

In the distance, he catches a smile form on Laura's face, her eyes still shut as she pretends to sleep.

And we're done! Always going to be a happy ending.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened.

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

[samsno1]

Flowers

Castiel x GN!Reader

i love his eyes. that's it, that's the tweet. guys...this is very sweet but i don't know if i'm satisfied?? tell me what you think, writing castiel is very hard, lawd

Summary: In a hunt, a flower appears over your pillow after you come back to the motel room at night. Who left it there?

Warnings: FLUFF, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, i pictured s4/5 cas in this, use of y/n, sweet confession, NOT PROOF READ, that's it? english isn't my first language

WC: 2.5k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

When you started hunting with Sam and Dean one of the last things you expected to encounter was an Angel, especially after discovering they aren't “harps and halos" like in the books you read as a kid, but instead soldiers and sometimes assholes.

Castiel was an exception to the “asshole” part, he was actually very sweet when it came to you and the boys. Helped you, saved you and cared for you. In that sense, Cas was just like the Angel stories, a guardian of the humans he was in charge of.

And for you, it was fun teaching Cas about humans and how they behaved, helped him when he didn't understand Dean's pop culture references, got him to watch classic movies and listen to music and he was always very keen into doing so, curious and intrigued in what you explained to him.

Those big blue eyes always gave you his full attention, sometimes with that little frown that you started to call “The Angel Frown” while he questioned you about something that, to you, was basic knowledge. You were always as patient as possible with him, always clarifying what you could in words he could understand and that ended up always making him come to you for help.

In conclusion, you and Cas got closer and you started to catch yourself staring when he wasn't looking, admiring his smiles, drowning into his sapphire eyes and wishing that he had just more doubts about how people acted so you could spend more time with him.

You knew, from what Castiel told you, that Angels and feelings, human feelings at least, weren't compatible and that things such as love and romance weren't truly a reality for him and his siblings, they were warriors after all, created to serve their Father and that was it. 

Even when Castiel rebelled for the Winchesters, letting go of the “I don't serve men” mindset was difficult but you, Dean and Sam were there for him. You were more understandable then the brothers because you knew Cas was trying his best.

And because you fell for the Angel, but nobody needed to know that.

One night you arrived at the motel room you were staying at, after waving goodnight to Sam and Dean, them going to their separate room.

You opened the door and sighed deeply in exhaustion. It had been a long day of questioning and more questions appearing then those answered. At first you guys thought of a vengeful spirit, then cursed object, then witch. All of those possibilities were still up and it was driving you three insane. People were dying and you felt useless.

Once you closed the door and threw your stuff in the closest table you turned to your bed, where your bag was placed to get some clothes to take a well deserved shower. But, when you looked at your pillow, you noticed a single pink flower sitting over it and you furrowed your eyebrows.

You approached the flower slowly, skeptical about it, your hunter instincts telling you this wasn't good news. You slowly reached for it, as if it could bite your hand off, and picked it up. You analyzed the plant, very confused and grabbed your laptop.

You searched until you found a flower similar to the one you were holding and learned it was a Camellia. You looked between the screen and the flower and you searched up what a pink Camellia meant because, as much as you knew, flowers weren't really something you looked into.

What you found was shocking. According to the internet, a pink Camellia represents admiration and appreciation and Camellias and general represent love and affection. You widen your eyes at the flower in your hands, looking around your empty room as if someone would pop up and explain what this was doing at your bed. Wrong room?

You couldn't think of anybody that could give you this willingly. It definitely wasn't Sam or Dean because, first, they spent the whole day by your side and, second, unless they meant it platonically, the boys didn't see you like that. You loved them and they loved you, of course, but, to them, you were like a sister Dean loves you like he loves Sam, the same way Sam loves you like he loves Dean and vice-versa.

The only person that came to your mind was…No, it couldn't be, he said himself, love for him was basically unachievable but you couldn't help but wonder, even if your rational brain said it was stupid to think Cas would mean that. You smiled at the flower, that tinge of hope lightning inside you.

You looked around the room to look for something you could fill up with water and found an empty beer bottle. That'll do.

You washed the bottle to get the smell of alcohol off and filled it up with water, placing the little flower inside.

The pink color of the petals clashed with the transparent green of the bottle and you smiled at that. It looked cute in a way. You thought, even if this didn't come from someone you knew, you were keeping it, at least the flower.

You left the makeshift vase in your nightstand and took your stuff to the shower, peeling off your suit and your tie on the way, leaving it on the ground as you locked yourself inside the bathroom.

In these moments, Cas thanked his abilities of becoming unseen because you arrived just as he was leaving the Camellia over your pillow. He spent the day researching flowers, finding an interest in how humans always gave them to the people they cared about or to the ones who passed. He wanted to give you one to show you that he cared for you and also as a thank you for being patient with him for a long time.

He always felt happier around you, a warm feeling inside him always seemed to bloom. He felt the need to be close to you, like you were a human magnet. Everytime you looked at him he felt a weird feeling in his stomach, your smile was always something he felt the need to chase, he wanted to see it always in your face. He admired the way your eyes would shine when you were talking about something you liked.

When he saw you placing the flower on the nightstand with a smile he felt that weird feeling in his stomach again. He would do anything to see that look on your face again.

That hunt lasted a week, taking you three too long to figure out it was a witch and even longer to find said witch and to say you guys were fed up was an understatement. 

For that long week you dared to say you missed the Angel, you thought about calling him, praying to him, multiple times but what were you going to say when he arrived? Missed you? I just wanted to see you?

Everything you thought sounded too intimate so you discarded the idea of calling him.

But two more flowers appeared on your pillow after that pink Camellia. A Peony that you learned meant for the Chinese something along the lines of “the most beautiful” and a stunning Carnation in a light red shade that represented admiration. At this point you were very intrigued about who was the one giving you the flowers, Castiel still on your mind. You didn't want to get your hopes too high, you were probably overthinking it anyways, making your heart speak louder than your brain.

You were lying on your bed, staring at the tiny bouquet of three flowers given piece by piece to you. It was your last night in that room, Dean having insisted he needed the sleep so as to not crash the Impala from tiredness. You had offered to drive as you weren't as bad as he was but, of course, that was an immediate no from the older brother so all of you settled for one more night.

As you close your eyes and start to fall asleep, a sudden flutter of wings gets your attention. It's dark in the room so you take a peek and for sure it's Cas. You hold back a smile and close your eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

You feel the Angel approaching the bed, his presence making your heart quicken in your chest. From what it sounds like, he's just standing, watching you and you start to feel very nervous.

Castiel on the other hand arrived to see your sleeping form and couldn't help but watch. You looked peaceful, your breathing was calm and you looked…pretty. Cas thought all his father's creations were wonderful but he felt like you could top them all, literally, in your sleep.

He had another little flower in his hand which, to him, had a very self-explanatory name, a Forget-Me-Not.

He spun the blue flower on his fingers, debating if he should leave it inside the vase or besides you, over your pillow. 

He approached you and while he was placing the flower next to your head he felt a gentle hand wrap around his wrist and instantly froze on the spot.

You opened your eyes and looked at his near-horrified face. You smiled at him.

“Got you” You said, a little above a whisper and looked at the flower he was holding. That one you knew the name and what it meant and you felt warmth spreading through your cheeks, not just at that one flower, but knowing now that all those flowers you received came from Cas.

“I'm sorry for disturbing you” He said as he retreated his hand and you held the Forget-Me-Not. He was tense, not looking at you.

“So you were the secret admirer leaving me these flowers?” You asked as you slowly sat up on the bed and placed the blue flower inside the bottle with the three others. You placed both your hands over your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. “Why?”

He looked around. What was he supposed to say? Himself barely knew why he was doing this but it felt right so he kept going with it. He noticed that the flower meanings resembled things that he felt or thought of you and he enjoyed collecting them for you, especially after you kept them.

“These flowers all have a meaning behind them” He started “Take them as a thank you for…being helpful with my understanding of human behaviors” 

You smiled stupidly at that. The way he said it sounded like something he had rehearsed before coming to you to say it, the words too polite. But yet, that's one of the things you liked about him.

“You didn't have to Cas…They are beautiful, thank you” You said and looked at the flowers again, biting your lip. You felt his eyes on you, it was always intimidating. You knew that it was just the way he was, look right into your eyes while you talk to show you had his full attention, his beautiful blue orbs hypnotizing.

Cas analyzed every aspect of yours as you sat in front of him, his eyes wondering over your figure and his hands moved faster than his thoughts and he reached for your shoulder, his palm traveling from your shoulder blade to the end of your upper arm and back up, tracing a pattern over your skin. He longed to touch you and be closer to you in a way he couldn’t explain so, in this moment, you both alone, he decided to fulfill this wish.

You widened your eyes and looked up at Castiel who was entranced by the movement of his hand, goosebumps flaring up on your skin.

“Cas?” You said and acknowledged your call with a hum “What are you…?”

He finally looked at you, his hand steadied on your shoulder.

“When I’m around you I always feel this need to touch you, be closer and this…” He shakes his head, finding a word to define how he felt. “Warmth comes over me everytime you smile”

His eyes bore through yours and you could only stare back at him, shocked.

“Cas, you’re saying–”

“I think I might love you, Y/N” He interrupted. The way he said it sounded like a confusion, a slight approach, as if he was tiptoeing around the thought, not sure if he wanted to grasp it or just keep his distance.

You were dumbfounded. He sounded so sincere and your heart started to beat faster, his hand over your shoulder felt like it was burning through your skin. It all made sense, the flowers, the way he was always keen on talking to you even when you did most of the talking and he just listened with a faint smile and pure interest, he just didn’t know because he never felt like this before, he didn’t know what loving was like.

You landed a hand over his cheek, your eyes practically watering with an emotional overload at his words. You thumb rubbed the light stubble on his cheek and you pulled him in for a hug. You wanted to kiss him so bad but you were on a baby steps basis with the Angel.

You hugged him tightly, his hands hesitantly wrapping around your frame as you let out a deep breath. When you pulled back, you didn’t pull away completely from him looking between his eyes and his mouth, a giddy smile on your face.

“I think I might love you too Castiel” You said and he widened his own eyes, a light chuckle coming out of you at his reaction.

Your chuckles were cut off by his lips on yours and you gasped in surprise. His mouth was as soft as you expected, his lips moving against your in perfect sync. He was impressively a good kisser, one of his hands gently holding at the back of your neck while the other slid down to your waist.

You felt like a bomb had exploded inside you, a foreign feeling of happiness spreading to every single cell on your body as your arms wrapped around his neck to hold yourself when he sat on the bed, pulling you over his lap, making you yelp.

You both pulled away, your arms still wrapped around each other and he had a light smile on his face. You one hundred per cent had a shocked look on yours, your cheeks hot and breathing heavy.

“Where’d you learn that?” You asked, absolutely knocked by the kiss.

“Dean told me a thing or two” He said and you couldn’t help but laugh, your body shaking against his as he also chuckled. “It seems like I did great?”

You stopped your laughs and looked in his eyes, drowning in their ocean blue. You gave a peck to the corner of his mouth.

“You did amazing” You said as one of your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck and he pulled you in, the warmth spreading through both of you yet again, never wanting to let go.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback helps me make those writing better. Thank you for reading, XoXo.

[shalomniscient]

hiii i have a request 🥹🥹 if possible, could you write a comfort fic with himeko or kafka and reader? reader who has trouble sleeping or has been exhausted from missions, going straight to himeko's room after returning to the astral express and just melting into her arms. or, reader who hasn't seen kafka in a while and just really misses her, needs her to put her mind at ease, so kafka drops by the express unexpectedly and spends the night taking care of reader. can be either sfw or nsfw, I dont mind either 🥹

omg this is so cute! i’ll do both ;)

SLEEPLESS NIGHTS || hsr x reader

cw. nudity

notes. dunno why i felt the need to mention this but this fic operates on established relationship between reader/character, just fyi :)

HIMEKO

Trailblazing was never going to be easy. You knew this, and you accepted it. To walk the path of Akivili was to lend a helping hand to whosoever needed it. And you do enjoy it—the feeling of making a change in the vast universe, shoulder to shoulder with companions that you would give your life for, and who would do the same for you. You wouldn’t give up your spot on the Astral Express for the world.

But you are only human, at the end of the day.

You’ve been taking back-to-back missions recently, and it’s slowly taking its toll on you. As a more experienced Nameless with many years under your belt, your assistance is slightly more prized over the younger crew—not to say they were incapable. Dan Heng and March alone made a terrifying duo, which was only exacerbated when Stelle joined the mix. But at the end of the day, they’re still a little green and wet behind the ears, so any of the harder jobs tend to fall to you or Welt. And with Welt supervising them on the Luofu, that just left you.

Your footsteps are heavy as you drag yourself back onto the Express. There’s a rip in your jacket from where a Mara-struck soldier tried to slash at you, and several small cuts all over your fingers from the cutting wind of the Disciples. The Luofu had commissioned your blade to quell the number of Mara-struck still roaming around, but for every six you strike down, another dozen seem to take their place.

You sigh as you flop onto one of the many couches on the Express, letting your weapon clatter onto the ground. You’re sore, tired, and aching—all you want to do now is sink into your pillows and sleep, but you have to clean up first. You shut your eyes with another weary noise, deciding to rest up a little before heading to your cabin. Or, shared cabin, rather.

A gentle tap on your shoulder stirs you from your brief rest. You crack your eyes open, and are met with a gentle, golden gaze—it’s Himeko. She’s foregone her usual attire, instead dressed in simple nightwear now, a blanket around her shoulders.

“Hey,” you rasp out. “Were you about to go to bed?”

She shakes her head, smiling softly. “No, I was waiting for you.”

“Ah. Sorry, I must’ve kept you up for a while then.”

“It’s alright,” Himeko says, picking up your weapon off the ground, and placing it inside one of the secure compartments beneath the seats. “I was working on some designs, anyway.”

Then she rises back up, and reaches out to cup your face. Her thumb brushes over your cheek, and you lean into the touch. Then she pulls away, and you nearly whine in protest, before she extends the same hand to you. “Come. Let me care of you tonight.”

You take her hand without hesitation, your fingers slotting perfectly in between hers. You let her lead you to your shared cabin, near the back of the train cart. The door slides open with a small hiss, and the scent of warm, freshly brewed coffee fills your lungs. It’s a comforting, distinctly Himeko scent that you feel some of the tension in your shoulders bleed out.

Her fingers work deftly as they undo the buttons of your clothes, and she frowns when she notices the rip in your jacket.

“I got a little sloppy,” you explain weakly, with a tired grin. Himeko rolls her eyes, but folds it neatly and sets it on the edge of the bed, no doubt to be repaired by the next day.

“As long as you’re unharmed,” she murmurs, working on your shirt now. Your hands rest on her hips as she divests you of the rest of your clothes, until you’re in nothing but your underwear. “The bath is ready. I’ll be there soon.”

You nod, and drag your exhausted limbs to the bath. You strip fully, and then sink into the warm, bubbly water, audibly groaning as the heat from the bath seeps into your aching muscles. The small cuts along your hands sting a little, but you know Himeko must’ve mixed in some antiseptic to ensure no infections take root.

Himeko walks in a little later, and takes a seat on the edge of the tub, smiling as she takes in your relaxed appearance. She brushes some hair out of your eyes, then reaches over for the shampoo and conditioner, tucked away in another small, secure compartment. The Express is littered with them, so things can be stored safely and not make a mess of the train during jumps.

You feel like dissolving when Himeko starts to wash your hair, expert fingers massaging your scalp wonderfully. Her hands--hands that fix, hands that mend--travel from the base of your neck up to the back of your skull, then along your temples, before repeating over again. It's incredible, the way she can put you back together so easily. She chuckles when she notes your reaction.

“Enjoying yourself, my dear?”

You can only manage a wordless grunt in response, feeling like you’re in an entirely different plane of existence right now. Time blurs as Himeko washes out the shampoo and works in the conditioner, before washing that out too and leaving your hair thoroughly clean and smelling like fresh roses—the same scent as hers.

You almost don’t want to leave the warmth of the tub, but Himeko coaxes you out anyway. She offers you a towel and a bathrobe, and leaves you to dry yourself off for a while. You wring out your hair, then dress yourself in a comfy pair of silk nightclothes. When you step out of the washroom, Himeko is waiting for you on the bed, her legs already tucked beneath the covers. On her lap is her laptop as she types away, no doubt finishing up on her many engineering designs.

You practically dive into bed, snuggling under the sheets and pressing close to your lover. She’s warm as always, thanks to her Pathstrider ability being of the Fire type. Himeko hums to herself, wrapping one arm around your shoulders as you bury yourself in her side, uncaring for the dampness of your hair. She reaches over to the bedside table, and with a click, switches of the main room lights, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp next to the bed.

You chance a glance up at her, even as drowsiness nips at your heels. The gentle golden glow of the lamp makes her look divine, enhanced by the fiery red of her hair. There is an affection in her eyes you know is reserved only for you as she leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Rest, now,” she says, her words a caress against your skin. “You deserve it, my love.”

“I love you,” you mumble, eyes slipping shut as sleep finally claims you. It’s easy to oblige the request, safe and sound in her arms like this. These moments make you wish that dawn—or the Express’s approximation of a circadian rhythm—would never come, and you could linger in the embrace of your beloved for eternity. The last thing you hear before you drift off is Himeko’s soothing voice, almost lullaby-like, and you can hear her smile.

“I love you too, dearest one.”

KAFKA

For the nth time that night, you wake up to the sight of your bedroom ceiling.

You sigh and twist in your bed, turning to check the time on the alarm clock on your bedside table. It’s 1am in the morning, and you still can’t sleep.

You don’t really know the root of your recent bouts of insomnia. Maybe it was the workload? But Himeko has given you several days off already. Maybe it was the stress of having to manage the younger Astral Express members, but Welt shoulders that burden most of the time. Could it be Pom Pom then? You shake your head at that—the conductor was usually the one stressing, not being the cause of stress.

Then maybe… maybe it’s because you miss her.

Kafka, your secret lover.

You miss the presence of her next to you in your bed, and the steady, powerful beat of her heart under your ear as you rest your head on her chest. Miss the elegant cadence of her breathing and the feel of her hand in yours.

You sigh again. You know she’d laugh if she ever knew about your silly longing. I mean, you volunteered for this infiltration mission; you knew what you were signing up for. But still, it’s funny—you miss that about her too. Her laugh.

You reach for your phone, resting on the bed. During your last… rendezvous with Kafka she had the foresight—or maybe Elio did, who knows—to give you an encrypted number to contact her with.

Only in case of emergencies, doll, she had crooned, as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Use it wisely.

Your finger hovers over the number. Does this even qualify as an emergency? It’s just a few sleepless nights. Kafka probably has more important things to do, executing Elio’s endless number of scripts and whatnot. In the end, you shut off your phone and throw your head back on the pillows, ready to resign yourself to another long night—

—when your phone suddenly buzzes with urgency.

You jerk in surprise, brows furrowing as you pick it back up. Who could be calling at this hour? You squint in the darkness as you read the caller ID, and your heart leaps into your throat.

It’s the emergency number.

You fumble to answer, quickly sitting up and pressing the phone to your ear, making sure to cover your mouth and the reciever. The rest of the Express definitely wouldn’t be able to hear you, but you always feel some sort of lingering paranoia, sneaking around like this with Kafka.

“Hello?”

“Hey, doll,” a familiar, smooth voice says, and your heart flutters. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Kafka,” you breathe out, not bothering to hide the relief in your tone. Kafka chuckles on the other end.

“That’s me,” she hums. “You answered pretty quickly. Were you not sleeping?”

You hesitate for a moment, but decide to come clean. “No. I… haven’t been sleeping well, recently.”

Kafka is silent for a few seconds. “I see,” she says, and something in her voice shifts, imperceptible to the average person. But you aren’t an average person, not to Kafka. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Just a little insomnia. Nothing to worry about." The other end goes quiet, so you decide to change the topic. "Why'd you call? Isn't this for emergencies only? Are you in trouble?"

"You worried?" she chuckles, and you can see her smirk in your mind's eye. "I'm alright, doll. And as for emergencies... well, I missed you. Isn't that an emergency?"

It's such a Kafka-esque answer, but it pulls a breathless little laugh from you all the same. "Ugh, you..."

"Me," she affirms on the other end with a snicker. There is small, comfortable silence between you, before she speaks again. "Listen, doll, I've gotta go. But don't worry your pretty little head--you'll sleep perfectly well tonight. I'll make sure of it."

You blink, confused at her words. But before you can question it, Kafka hangs up the call, leaving you both confused and a little disappointed. Usually she'd say goodbye and throw in those three special words, though not this time, apparently. You wonder what she means as you shut your phone off again, and lie back onto your pillows. You close your eyes, and try to do as she says.

You're not sure how much time passes, but it doesn't work, predictably. You groan in frustration, just about ready to get up when a lithe hand slips over your mouth.

You jerk in surprise, one hand flying reflexively to the knife you keep beneath your pillow, the other gripping your assailant's wrist. You swing the knife in an arc, only for it to be caught and restrained by thin, pink, familiar ropes. They glow ever so slightly, illuminating a familiar face, that has your mouth falling open under the hand.

"Good to see your reflexes haven't dulled," Kafka teases, nimbly prying the knife out of your hands and letting it clatter onto the floor. She then removes the hand over your mouth, and releases your wrist from the strings.

"Kafka," you whisper, your hand moving to cup her cheek, your thumb tracing the ridges of her face, "are you real?"

She leans into your touch, that signature smirk tugging on her painted lips. She's really here, solid and tangible beneath your fingers. "You could consider me a dream, if you'd like."

"How did you even get in here?" you ask, not taking your eyes off her for a moment as she shrugs off her coat and begins undoing the buttons of her shirt. Kafka offers you a smug grin at that, pulling a little device from her pocket.

"Custom-made IPC teleportation beacon," she answers with a wink. "Jailbroken courtesy of Silver Wolf, of course."

You make a mental note to buy Silver Wolf the next battlepass in that game of hers. Kafka sets the device on the bedside table, now dressed in only her undergarments. You swallow as you take in the expanse of her milky skin, firm abdomen and muscled thighs, all while Kafka raids the clothing storage beneath your bed for something to sleep in like she's been on the Express this whole while. She eventually settles for one of your old t-shirts, which drapes over her frame in such a sinfully delectable way that you'd pounce on her if you weren't so damn tired.

"Move over," she orders, pulling her hair out of its usual ponytail, and letting it cascade down her shoulders and back. Kafka has always been beautiful--but like this... you would not have been able to distinguish her from Idrila the Beauty themself. You wonder if that makes you her knight. You shuffle to the side of the bed, and Kafka slips under the sheets next to you. Strong arms wrap around you and hold you close, close enough that you can rest your ear against her chest, and hear the soothing lullaby of her heartbeat. Immediately you start to feel drowsy, and Kafka chuckles.

"You really missed me, didn't you, doll?" she muses, carding her fingers through your hair gently. "I'm here now, my dear. Sleep, alright?"

Your eyes flutter shut almost instantly. It's funny, how she doesn't even have to use her Spirit Whisper on you to get you to obey. Maybe love itself is enough of a whisper to your soul, or maybe you've always been weak for her. But oddly enough, you don't find yourself minding all that much if that's the case. You don't mind much of anything when it comes to her. Though you don't ponder for very long as you snuggle closer against her warmth, your arms winding tight around her waist. She'll be gone by morning, you know that. She has to. But for now, this is enough, secure in this haven that is her embrace, and you let yourself drift off into slumber.

(The next morning, nothing remains of her--you may have truly considered her a dream, were it not for the imprint of her form on your bed, and a tiny note on your bedside table, undoubtedly written in her hand.

All it says is i love you.

And for the both of you, that's all it needs to say.)

[ashley-foster-13]

Hi! Me again, I just can't stop reading tmr headcanons. Can I request 'what would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho.' Thank you!

What would tmr boys reaction would be if their S/O got kidnapped instead of Minho

- His s/o was not the type to throw themselves in danger

- however, when the berg showed on the horizon, they were one of the first people to put their hands on a rifle

- Thomas got there late, and there was no s/o in sight, so he figured they were safe

- until they sprang out of nowhere, trying to tackle Janson

- the nearby soldier knocked them out right away

- Thomas struggled against the two soldiers holding him down

- misplaced his shoulder in the process

- he yelled the name of his s/o so loudly he probably wouldn't be able to speak for a week

- a huge fight started, during it the kids, including his s/o were loaded in the berg and took off

- being reckless as he is, Thomas managed to keep Janson off board, beating the living hell out of him

- soldiers stopped him, but not before Ratman was half dead and bleeding

- Thomas didn't hide his tears

- was terrified Wicked would experiment on s/o, or kill, or God knows what else

- wouldn't stop thinking about how to save them

- would do anything to get them out alive

- would have dreams when he saves them and hugs and kisses them, wakes up with tears of happiness streaming down his cheecks only to realize it wasn't real and cry some more, but in fear and sadness

- after saving his s/o, Thomas is super overprotective of them

- like, every little thing, a paper cut or a bruise or a slightly different voice would make him run towards them, asking if they were okay

- eventually came back to normal

- but we all know he's soooooo caring and protective

- the moment he saw his s/o in Wicked's arms, his world stopped

- however, he got out of his stupor quickly, trying to run for you, but the soldier kicked his bad leg, causing him to fall

- when he finally managed to stand up, s/o was already gone

- he kept yelling curses at them, kept hitting those injured soldiers who were left there to die

- it helped nothing and he knew that

- honestly, he could've murdered someone if not for Minho, who held him in a tight hug until he calmed down

- his anger turned to an agony

- he was crying hard, because he was in terrible pain, physically and emotionally

- he vowed to get s/o back safe and sound

- would be the first to find them, as if he felt where they were

- didn't let go of their hand until they reached the Safe Haven

- both didn't go out of the hut for a couple of days, talking, crying and promising their love to each other

- when he barely escaped being captured by Wicked, he thought the victory was there

- little did he know they grabbed s/o instead

- s/o bravely fought the soldiers, but Minho couldn't see it

- and then his s/o stands on the berg, helplessness in their eyes as they take off

- and Minho just stands there, angry at Wicked, and furious with himself for being unable to help

- Newt and Thomas promise they'll find his s/o

- he became very grumpy after that, but also really really silent

- sometimes his bottled up feelings would unleash on everyone because of any little thing

- like a stupid question, or a fallen fork

- he wpuld be so eager to find his s/o he didn't even think when he stalked inside the Wicked headquarters fighting off every soldier like they were bugs

- he found s/o exhausted, hurt and bleeding

- but they were alive, that's all that mattered

- hugged them all the way back

- watched as the medics patched them up, controlling everything

- never leaving their side while rlthey recovered

[live-laugh-legolas]

FOR UR FELLOWSHIP REQUEST THING maybe the fellowship with an depressed reader? like how each of them would treat the reader (i wanted to go for su1c1d@l but idk if ur chill with it(ONLY IF U WANNA))

Remember that you are not alone so please reach out for help. There are hotlines to call/text if you are struggling, suicidal, or in a crisis

My messages are always open if you want to talk but I am no replacement for professional help and support of your loved ones

The fellowship x depressed!reader

Aragorn:

-He recognizes the signs quickly

-I imagine he’s had his bouts of depression

-He definitely takes a very gentle approach

-Offering a shoulder and an ear

-He’s kinda an unpaid and unlicensed therapist

-He gives lots of tips on how to keep going in your daily life

-For some people depression is kind of a way of life; you have to learn to live with it

Legolas:

-He doesn’t fully understand at first

-To elves, depression is really only experienced after loss

-So to have it chronically is a new concept to him

-He’s remorseful that you feel so low and he knows there isn’t much he can do

-But he will try

-He will force you to get up and out of bed, even if he has to throw you over his shoulder to get you some fresh air

-He will constantly point out little beautiful things to be grateful for; little joys

-Maybe it’s the smell of dawn or crunchy fall leaves

-Or maybe it’s him; he is very insistent that you would miss him most

Gimli:

-I literally love this dwarf so much; he would be such a cutie that you can’t help but smile at him

-Like he is so gentle and patient with you; which is saying something because dwarves are not patient beings

-He isn’t someone who will beat around the bush though; he will very bluntly tell you your worth and why he and everyone else needs and wants you around

-He gets you involved in anything he can

-Is it against your will? Maybe

-But I’ve found I sometimes end up feeling a little better and enjoy the time out even after I’ve bitched about it and my friend had to drag me out of the house by my hair

Boromir:

-Big brother mode is always active so he picks up on your subtle changes very fast

-Maybe even before you do

-He will tell you stuff like “even if you can’t, you must”

-Wether or not you find that helpful or not; just know he’s trying

-His experience with depression is seeing it with his soldiers

-And that’s the sort of thing he tells them so he just kinda hopes can be applied to you

-He is very action oriented; I think he may have a difficult time sympathizing with not feeling able to get up and do anything

-But damnit if he doesn’t try; he wants you to tell him everything so he can learn and be of better support

-He also gives the best hugs

Frodo:

-He is a very steady friend

-Like he’s not going anywhere; no matter how dark things look he’s still there with a torch

-He makes you go on walks like clockwork to give you some feeling of routine

-He always invites you over because if he can’t help he’s sure Bilbo can

-How can you be sad when talking to Bilbo?

-Well actually he talks a lot so maybe it’s a bit exhausting; but it’s a kind thought

Sam:

-So Sam wants to help so bad; the idea that he can’t fix it doesn’t sit well with him so he will keep trying

-He will help with tasks obviously because acts of service is his love language

-But I also imagine him trying to give comfort but not in the “let me hug you and you can cry on my shoulder way”

-More so in the “look at this photo of a piglet in rain-boots! You can’t be sad while looking at that!”

-Yes you can because that’s not how depression works but still; you put on a smile anyway because he’s just so adorable and he’s trying his best

-This may turn into a sort of “fake it till you make it” situation where eventually you may feel better from his antics

Merry:

-We know this hobbit likes to plan things and is always up for adventure with his friends

-And he’s basically Sherlock of the hobbits so you don’t have to say anything for him to read you like an open book

-He will set you a schedule and will hold you to it by joining you

-He’s not going to go easy on you ngl

-Not in a mean way; but he won’t give you a day to take a break and stay in bed

-Even if you have to half ass everything; you will be doing something

-“you don’t need to wash your hair but you do need to sit in this tub for at least 10 minutes”

-This can feel exhausting at the time and may make you snap at him sometimes but he’s determined because he loves you

-And sometimes tough love is the most helpful

Pippin:

-Can’t get out of bed?

-Don’t worry! Pippin won’t let you be lonely

-He won’t always drag you out of bed. Instead he will join you and talk your ear off

-He brings the “fun” to you

-With the hope that he will either annoy you so much you get up

-Or that his stories give you some level of intrigue to want to go out and see whatever it was he is talking about

Gandalf:

-This is a very old man, he’s seen depression in all states and forms

-He’s a quiet type of comfort

-He definitely says some vague poetic shit that isn’t necessarily helpful but it does have a meaningful lesson

-Offers his pipe

-He is also sort of they type that you are a little afraid to disobey

-Like if he tells you to get outside more; even if you don’t see him, he knows if you have or haven’t

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Idk how good this is. I personally do have depression so I know my own experiences with how it affects me, but it shows in different ways for everyone. In terms of comfort and support I’m not fully sure this does any justice, hopefully it’s a little comforting. I have a great support system but I’m notorious for being too stubborn to accept help. Don’t do that by the way, because eventually it will likely stop coming. Let your friends and family support you; it’s not out of pity; it’s because they care and want to help in anyway they can even if that just means checking to make sure you are alive each morning to let you know they are there.

Anyone can message me if they need someone to talk to. I’m no therapist or expert in any sense but I can be a friend :)

[miaoua3]

Hey girl i hope u having a great time anwys could u do a minghao hcs? Thank u and i love u mwahhh

heya! i am, i hope you’re having a great time too! and yes, of course i could! love you too, enjoy!💋

Mingaho Boyfriend Headcanons:

•(sfw! hcs):

you two are literally so chill when together - literally embodiment of a steaming cup of teas on a quiet autumn morning, while the other people fall in love because they can tell each other everything and anything, you two fell im love because you can just be quiet and yet be so comfortable in each other’s presence

loves to randomly grab your hand and twirl you around before he starts dancing with you or just slowly swaying your bodies together by the sound of quiet music playing through your apartment❤️

speaking of quiet mornings- that’s his favourite time of the day, because there is nothing like spending some quiet time with your significant other while drinking a cup of tea and cuddling each other, basking in each other’s presence before you have to face the reality of your life and the world

loves buying small gifts for you, just a little keychain here, a coaster there, maybe a little frog plushie, some cute hairpins and scrunchies when he sees them in a shop that he normally just walks buys- he just loves seeing you get so excited and happy about such small things and it warms his heart knowing that it’s the small things that you treasure a lot more than any expensive gift ever

if you weren’t that big of a fashionista before, you definitely became after you started dating hao- he just influenced your style so much that now you dress so similarly and its so cute and cool at the same time

you know the ring his parents gave him when he was first coming to korea in case he needed money so he could pawn it off for some cash? yeah he gifted it to you, said something like “keep this safe for me, i only trust you to do it”❤️

loves nothing more than when he comes home after an exhausting day to an apartment smelling amazingly and you smiling at hime while saying “welcome home”, it’s the little moments like that that he treasures the most and that he will always have with him in his heart

his love languages are definitely word of affirmation and quality time, he just loves telling you how much you mean to him and how amazing he thinks you are, as well as just doing some intimate little things like spending time in a little cafe while talking about your days, all while holding your hand❤️

•(nsfw! hcs):

now this one is one of the members who is into more hardcore shit (if you couldn’t tell by all the fancalls where he asks fans to beg him to do things (minghao im not your strongest soldier, don’t do this to me)), can imagine him being into punishing you when you’ve been a brat, bondage, temperature play, all sorts of things

speaking of-he loves loves LOVES handcuffing your hands to the bed and blindfolding you while he fucks you hard and fast for hours, he will literally use your body for his own pleasure

another one that is into choking, nothing turns him on quite as much as seeing his slender fingers wrapping themselves around your neck and your breathless face beneath him, your glassy eyes begging him to do it again

he is definitely the one that loves to lean i to degradation, except he won’t call you names like bitch and whore, but will instead mock you and humiliate you for being so desperate for him, will just smirk at you while saying “aww, does the little princess want this dick? wants to cum on it and soak it completely? well that’s too bad, you will have to earn it if you’re so desperate to cream all over my dick” just dkdnsldboahs

definitely loves to edge you and delay your orgasms until you are sobbing, begging him to let you cum, it just turns him on to have such a control over you and your body

his favourite place to finish on is your face and your tits, just seeing his cum coat your blushing cheeks and your perky nipples makes him hard enough to be able to go for another 5 rounds, it’s just so sexy seeing you like that, like a painting he himself had the honour of painting

his foreplay starts HOURS before the actual deed, he’s big on foreplay because if you aren’t in the mood he simply won’t find it as pleasurable, so he starts by complimenting you, leaving a little lingering touches on your body like your waist and back, teasing you a bit by letting his hands stray to your thigh, your neck and maybe even your butt, and he will continue to do this, his touches getting progressively more and more bold but still not quite enough until you’re begging him to fuck you stupid💋

because he knows how hardcore he likes his sex, he always makes sure that you are alright about what he is doing and will provide a throughly detailed after care, being so gentle with you while cleaning you up and cuddling you, he’s just so scared that maybe he did go overboard and that you just didn’t want to tell him so you will have to reassure him that you were okay with everything he did❤️

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝟐

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, memory loss, Soldier Boy gets hurt, reader gets hurt, established relationship, trust issues, reader is manipulated, everyone is a liar, suspense

Word Count: 4107

A/N: English is not my first language.

Butcher hidden what had transpired months prior from the other members of the team while he waited for you to fully heal in the same room, guaranteeing that Kimiko and Frenchie would never discuss your abortion ever again. Butcher had told them nothing about you other than that you had amnesia.

He did not want to listen to other people discuss something they did not completely understand. He knew there was no other way for you to live your life without putting yourself in danger, even though he wasn't particularly fond of making such a brutal decision about your body. In the end, it was him who first made you inject Temp-V into yourself. Thank goodness you didn't die at that time. Furthermore, considering your circumstances with Temp-V, it would be impossible for you to continue a pregnancy while carrying a supe fetus.

That was for the better.

After the operation, three months had gone by, and Butcher had told the physicians to get you as much sleep as possible to avoid showing any obvious scars and to avoid raising any suspicions. He also erased anything that was online about you, including your videos, images, and anything else that may have been obtained by cameras, all with CIA assistance. He was aware that the game he was playing was risky.

You were so exhausted that you wanted to close your eyes again and grimace at the sight of a white light shining straight into them. 

When you saw him playing with his phone on the chair next to your bed, you said, “Butcher?” 

“Hey,” he said as soon as he touched you gently and slipped his phone into his pockets. “All right, darling, let me talk to the doctor. Try not to get up or do anything.” 

You groaned in agony as Butcher exited the room, attempting to make sense of what was happening. There was a great void in your mind, even if you forced yourself to recall the things that had happened to you. All you could recall was that you, Butcher, and Hughie were in some filthy room trying to talk to Translucent. 

When the female doctor began to examine your eyes and everything else, you opened them again. “You appear to be in good health. How do you feel?” she inquired softly. 

You muttered, “I actually don't know. How long have I been sleeping?”

She smiled and added, “It's okay; you just need some more rest, and it's been three months.”

You mumbled, “What?” amazed at how much time you spend sleeping. Butcher nodded at you when you looked at him to see how he responded. “What happened to me?”

The doctor opened her mouth to speak, then gave Butcher an odd look as if she was having trouble coming up with the right phrase. 

“What's the last thing you remember, doll?” Butcher asked while closely inspecting you. 

You muttered, trying to force yourself to remember something, but all it did was give you a terrible headache. “I...Translucent is all that I remember from that time. I had been trying to talk to him with Hughie.”

Butcher took a deep breath and gave the doctor another look. 

You inquired, perplexed, “Did something very bad happen to me? Is Hughie okay?” 

“Of course, nothing horrible happened,” Butcher said with a smile. “You just gave yourself a really hard head hit on the table. Very hard one. You'll feel well very soon, right, doctor?”

“Yes,” she responded quickly. “You just need to rest a little bit more.”

You said, “Can I leave though? Would you let me, please? I believe I can walk, and I don't think I can feel my limbs here anymore if I continue to sleep. I'd better not spend any more time in this place.” 

“Of course. I was about to say that. You are allowed to go,” she said, maintaining her grin and turning to face Butcher after she had carefully placed some clothing from the wardrobe on your bed. 

Butcher said, “Okay, you change your clothes while I talk to her, right?”

Nodding to him, you watched them as they left the room.

Carefully closing the door, Butcher said, “You think her memory loss is temporary?” in a low voice to make sure he wasn't being heard.

“There is no certainty when it comes to medical issues. Especially, not when it’s about brain.”

“That's not my kind of conversation, doc. Just advise me on what not to do, and she will remain that way.”

“Make sure there is nothing—not a photo, document, or anything else—that would prompt her to recall someone or something you don't want her to. That's the best advice I can give you; otherwise, you can push her to constantly recall other fake memories, which will give her a headache and possibly worsen her trauma as she tries to recall. I'm not promising you anything, though; she might not even need them to remember someday. Even something small, unimportant can trigger her memories.”

Butcher sighed and replied, “Well, that's enough. Is there anything more I should know?”

“Butcher, you have to understand that you are powerless to stop what is about to come. If she ever finds out, she is going to hate you. I'm not even going to question which Supe got her pregnant. I don't want to know. This is a pretty dangerous game that you are playing in a very messed-up setting.”

“I paid you good, didn't I?” Angered by her words, Butcher spoke up. “I completed the tasks at hand, and moving forward, everything will be OK. All I'm asking is that you simply never discuss what happened here with anyone, as you are told.”

“I would never,” was her quick reply. “I hope to never have to deal with anything similar again, and I hope you will stay away from me for a very long time.”

Butcher winked meaningfully at her and said, “Okay, call me when you're needy or high, love.”

When Butcher knocked on your door and you told him to come in, he asked, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.” 

He informed you that there were new members of your team in the car when he noticed you were deep in thought. “In three months, a lot can happen, you know. We still had to work about Vought and the Seven.”

“Oh,” you replied, unsure of how to reply appropriately. “Are they reliable?” 

“They are, of course. However, there is one new thing that may surprise you. One of them is a member of the Seven.”

You exclaimed, “No way,” sounding both shocked and thrilled. “I thought our purpose was to kill them all.”

“Well, not every one of them is a total asshole who loves to be bitchy around. Starlight is an excellent and smart young lady.”

“Oh my god,” you said in a whisper. “It seems like I may have missed the whole episode. However, how did she learn about your team and decide to join so quickly?”

“A lot of things change every day. She's fucking Hughie. Love wins at the end of the day, doesn't it? She claimed that before joining the Seven, she was ignorant of Vought's true face.”

You just said, “I understand.”

“What happened to Translucent, by the way?”

“He's in the grave.”

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, shocked, putting your palms to your lips while Butcher continued to stare at the road. “And how did you even manage to do it?”

“When you passed out, Hughie blew up his invisible cunt. That's it. Don't you think you have way too many questions? Nothing further significant occurred. That was all.”

“All I want is to stay up with the team. I've been asleep for so long that I cannot remember anything at all.”

You said, “I feel like I disappointed you and Hughie,” while he remained silent and kept staring at the road. “I'm sorry.”

Butcher touched your shoulder and said, “Hey, don't you talk like that silly again. I am myself a big failure and a mess in fact.”

He went on without letting you say anything. “You're doing well. I'm happy to see you back at The Boys, and be sure, there's still much to do. Please, don't

worry about anything.” He gave one of his sly smiles. “Everything's going to be alright.”

Everyone was staring at you when you hesitantly went inside the house. You felt awkward trying to decide what to say. Soon after, Butcher was the center of attention for everyone, which simultaneously made you feel foolish and embarrassed.

When at last you succeeded in saying “Hello,” you said, “Butcher told me about you. Since you're all new here, I suppose it would be best if we introduced ourselves right away.”

You gave Butcher an odd look after introducing yourself, and then you cautiously sat down on the couch because you were still feeling a little lightheaded. The worst was the headache. An uneasy tension filled the air.

Ignoring the accusing looks from Frenchie and Kimiko, Butcher began to sip whiskey and tried to forget about the incident, similar to you, but voluntarily. 

“Yeah, I mean, she's Kimiko, and I'm Frenchie.”

You were taken aback when Kimiko came down next to you and gave you a strong hug before you could respond, but you soon went back to give her a hug. 

Annie looked at Butcher and continued, “I suppose you're familiar with me already. I am Starlight. However, feel free to call me Annie.”

“Yeah, he told me you and Hughie are a thing, right?”

Annie nodded to you and smiled.

You felt a little better because everyone appeared friendly and welcoming. You were worried that during the months you were asleep, you had missed a lot. To feel like you have a place, it would be a good idea to make connections with new people. 

Butcher stated, “Well, I have to leave for the time being. Let's give everyone a little rest. Unfortunately, even your lazy ass cheeks deserve a vacation.” He then turned to face you and said, “And you can rest a bit more, doll.”

As if you haven't had enough sleep. You didn't reject him, though.

You said you wanted a little more sleep when Butcher left the house and got up. The way everyone looked at you was weird and strange somehow, but you didn't give it much thought. Soon, you would grow accustomed to one another. 

Though your footsteps led you as if they had their own memory, you were unable to recall which room you had been sleeping in when you took the stairs. 

You shut the door and turned on the lights. You pushed your memory to recall even a single, insignificant detail, but it was blank. But when you took in your surroundings, a feeling of sadness and regret overcame you, as though you were recalling this place. You were unable to comprehend the misery in your heart as you listened to the room's silence. 

Although it seemed like you had been in this room for months, you could sense the presence of another person. It was difficult to define. 

You touched each piece of furniture as you moved around the space in the hopes that something, no matter how small or pointless, would remain in your memory. You looked through the closet, but nothing was there. Everything seemed intentionally empty. 

With a heavy heart, you sit on the bed and run your fingertips over the soft sheet. The inside of your head was hurting like crazy the harder you tried to remember. You gave up and laid on the bed after making a few more attempts. As you inhaled, the comforting scent of the cushion beneath your head slightly eased your discomfort. 

You had the impression that you belonged here, and vice versa. 

In your heart, you sensed that something was missing. You simply couldn't tell if it had to do with something in the room, a sensation, or something else entirely. Whatever it was, your heart and feelings understood it, even though it was hazy and no longer in your recollection. You were yearning for something that was beyond your memory. 

You hugged the pillow under your head and wept uncontrollably as you curled into the bed even deeper with a heavy heart. Your heart squeezed in pain as you continued to cry, and you did not even know why. 

Someone patted your arm and said, “Hey, want to have dinner? You fell asleep here hours ago. You must be starving.”

“Frenchie?” you asked in a sleepy voice. 

“Yes, it's me. Are you hungry?” 

You rubbed your head and nodded to him. Your head ached from weeping so much. 

“Well, I suppose,” you muttered. “Frenchie, who is staying in this room, by the way?”

Just as he was ready to add anything, Frenchie abruptly stopped talking, as though he were trying to think it through. “Not in particular. I mean, everyone. What happened?”

You said, “I don't know,” as your gaze wandered the room. “Just a feeling.” 

“It's just an empty room,” Frenchie simply said, assisting you in standing up. “Nothing else.”

Annie called your name three times in a row; you were unaware that you had not even touched your meal. 

You apologized. “Sorry, I couldn't catch you.”

"Hey," she muttered in a worried tone. “You know, it's best not to overthink things. Everything will work out. We are with you. You only spent three months there. You didn't miss too much. Actually, thanks to you, we didn't have to put in as much effort because Butcher watched for you till you healed.” 

“I'm not sure,” you simply said, giving her a ghostly smile. “I sense that something is off. I'm not really sure what it means, but it seems like I lost something.”

Your face turned red with guilt as she remained silent. “I apologize; I didn't want to give you a negative first impression. I know I sound weird right now.” 

Kimiko, who was seated next to you, comforted you by resting her chin on your shoulder and smiling sympathetically. She was somewhat serious and genuine, which put you at ease, and she was communicating with you using sign language. In fact, you needed to speak with someone like her. 

“No way,” Frenchie grumbled, continuing to eat the pasta rapidly. “You don't leave a negative impression or anything; we work as a team. You are at least more civilized than MM and Butcher's nasty asses. That's good enough.” 

The way Frenchie talked badly of Butcher made you all laugh. 

He winked at you and pointed a finger at your face, saying, “I think there is a way to solve your situation, Y/N.”

“What is it?” you inquired immediately. 

“I honestly believe that after the past few months of exhausting work, we all deserve to relax and enjoy ourselves. It wouldn't harm the CIA's ass to take a little vacation. Ladies, what do you say?”

Kimiko grinned and gave him the thumbs up, and you agreed. Perhaps engaging in some pleasant activities might help relieve the oppressive sensation that has been troubling you since you got up. 

“And after that,” Frenchie continued. “I've got to work on this virus a little bit more.”

“What virus?” you said, startled. There was too much to catch on to. 

“A virus capable of causing the murder Homelander. It's a supe killer.” 

Annie and Kimiko looked at one another worriedly. 

You said, “Oh my god,” looking shocked. “Is that even possible?”

“If I can figure out how to generate the virus, then it should be possible. Homelander cannot be killed by a simple virus. It's difficult to construct anything so strong because that motherfucking is just too powerful to kill, but hope is the last thing that dies in this world.”

As you watched Hughie give Annie a sad face, you couldn't help but wonder, “What if Annie is infected with this virus as well? If in the wrong hands, it would be genocide.”

“We'll simply kill Homelander and the remaining members of his team. Not Kimiko or Annie, of course. We already have enough blood on our hands. This must finish quickly.”

“Let's avoid talking about such things today,” Annie said, appearing visibly uncomfortable. It made sense. 

Annie wanted you to dance at the club instead of spending the entire evening sitting down, but you told her you weren't feeling well enough to be active and all that. You were fine physically; you just didn't want to at that particular time. 

You smiled at Hughie and Annie as you watched them dance. There was no denying their obvious chemistry. It pleased you that Hughie could choose to move on. No matter how harsh and cruel life is, it always continues because every day brings with it a fresh start. 

Perhaps that was how they had each other's backs throughout the worst. You wanted to have something so strong and intimate as well. 

Kimiko touched you on the shoulder, and her expression changed to one of concern, as if she wanted to know how you were doing. 

You said, sipping the whiskey, “I'm okay.” You didn't want to drink since you thought it would worsen your situation. Still, a glass or two wouldn't harm you. “I just can't get over this headache. Perhaps I'm pushing myself too much.”

Kimiko communicated with you via her phone because you were completely unfamiliar with her unique sign language. However, you made a self-promise to learn it as soon as possible.

“Avoid pushing yourself. You have to maintain patience. You'll be fine soon enough, I'm sure.”

You also brushed Kimiko's shoulder and said, “I hope so. Thank you. I'm not sure why, but I just can't get over the sadness that I feel. It makes me want to cry. What if something terrible happened and no one was telling me? God, please don't think I'm some sort of paranoid person. Butcher isn't here, and I simply needed to talk.”

“What makes you feel sad?”

“When I went into the upstairs room today, I felt really bad about it. Do you know someone who stays there? Perhaps I was staying there, and my memory is not helping.”

Kimiko nibbled on her bottom lip and briefly looked around. then displayed her phone to you. 

“Yes, you were staying there sometimes.”

You were about to speak, but you changed your mind and decided not to share what Frenchie had told you. 

Kimiko again held up her phone and said, “I just want you to be okay,” as she noticed you lost in thought. “Perhaps it would be best not to push yourself to bring back memories. If those memories are strong enough, they will find a way to get back to you. No matter what”

“That felt better, Kimiko. I appreciate you listening to me. You're right. There's no need to worry if they are unimportant; in that case, it's preferable not to remember.”

Kimiko smiled a little and offered you a hug. She looked at you, and you gave her a nod as soon as she noticed that Frenchie was grinning at her. As if the team was made up entirely of romantics. 

Just as you were all about to head back home, Frenchie pulled over, and you all gathered around the large screen to see something. Based on the large Vought symbol that was displayed on the screen beforehand, you could presume that it must be about the Seven. 

“What's happening?” Annie questioned, perplexed. 

Everyone on the street had been glued to the large TVs. 

Frenchie muttered, “I guess there is some latest news. I wonder what Homelander did this time.”

As you left Frenchie's van and joined the other people on the street, you glanced at one of the screens. 

The Vice President claims that Homelander himself ordered the release of Soldier Boy, who was found not guilty hours ago. Homelander discovered that the CIA had attempted to use Soldier Boy to bring down the president and Vought. We've been informed that the release of Soldier Boy will bring Americans together once more during these days of change. The public will soon get further information. 

You stared at the massive image of Soldier Boy on television as the reporter filled you in on the latest events. 

“Oh, no, no,” Frenchie mumbled to himself. Annie gave him a scared expression. 

“What is going on” You uttered, “I thought Soldier Boy died a long time ago,” not fully grasping the gravity of the situation.

“I suppose we should give Butcher a call. Now,” Annie spoke harshly.

You gasped when Frenchie pushed you to go and get in the van before you could say anything, but you continued to stare at the image of Soldier Boy.

“Hey, what's happening?” As they exchanged glances, you repeated the question, speaking louder. “Why have you all turned pale?”

Annie opened her lips to say, “I-,” but she suddenly changed her mind. “Let's speak with Butcher first; he can guide us on what to do. Butcher just sent us a new address, Frenchie. Let's go there.”

“Alright.”

You followed up with more questions, but when you realized they wouldn't discuss them, you closed your mouth and lost yourself in your own thoughts until you reached the location Butcher had instructed you to go to. 

Butcher was smoking when you walked in, and he had his eyes fixated on the wall.

You patted his shoulder and said, “Butcher,” to get his attention. “What's going on?”

He said, simply, “We're staying here from now on.”

“And it's about Soldier Boy,” you asserted firmly. “How about him? I assumed he was long gone. What are all of your concerns? I guarantee I'm well now and I got enough sleep, even though I know you don't want to push me or anything. So, will you kindly simply give me the details? Did something occur when I wasn't present?”

Butcher inhaled deeply and got to his feet. “Well, I suppose we must begin someplace. A few months ago, Soldier Boy was released. We were the ones who did this. Eventually, he promised us to help kill Homelander.”

You responded, “So he wasn't dead,” and he nodded in agreement. “And?” 

“It came out that Soldier Boy had betrayed us, and Homelander is his son. With the assistance of the CIA, we were able to cover his face with a mask and send him back to sleep. With the help of his father, Soldier Boy, it appears that Homelander is eager to work with him from now on and will be undefeated.”

“Oh, my god,” you muttered. “We can't even kill Homelander; how are we even supposed to deal with both him and Soldier Boy? Why the fuck you even released Soldier Boy?” 

"I fucking don't know," Butcher exclaimed as he became angrier. "But we'll be cautious and stay here. Frenchie will work on the virus, and together we'll develop an efficient method of killing them both." 

You said, “Maybe we can try to talk to Soldier Boy. He is our nation's first superhero. He is undoubtedly beloved by the public, but perhaps he will reconsider if we can persuade him that Homelander committed atrocious crimes, like mass murder. Don't you think?”

“Stop being naive,” Butcher sharply remarked. “You are mistaken if you believe Soldier Boy is innocent and not like Homelander; they are a father and son. He killed a lot of people in New York on the day we let him go. He just knows how to kill, betray, and deceive. Soldier Boy must die.”

Next Chapter

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A/N: Comments are very much appreciated. I’d like to know what you think about this one. ♡

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[deathbxnny]

Oh yeah, raising literal childish soldiers canNOT be good for one's conscious 🥲

But, I'm glad you're eager for more of that succulent emotional hurt, though this one will be... different the previous ones. And without further adieu, let's get into it 😈

So, I've noticed how, in this series, any harm sent mother's way has always been somewhat second-handed, and psychological in nature. Physical arm has always gone to the Children of The House. So, what if for this scenario, "Mother" is the unexpected one coming to harm?

Now, I could definitely write up a scenario of "Mother" getting hurt in some drastic way, and Arle and the House Kids retaliate in grand fashion, but that would be... kinda generic, no? Rather, I'm thinking of a scenario where "Mother" is hurt by the one thing that not even The Knave herself can protect her from.

Herself.

Or more specifically, her own body. Lemme explain.

So, "Mother" is in a position that can be IMMENSELY stressful and emotionally draining, so imagine one day, it's about as normal as life in the Hearth can be, "Mother" is at work, performing or assigning chores, or maybe prepping a meal for the kids, with some their help. When suddenly, she's hit with immense chest pains, as though her rib cage is squeezing around her heart, it becomes hard to breath, hard to focus because of how dizzy she's become. That's right, Mama suffer (or very nearly suffer, that detail is up to you) a literal heart attack, give everyone in the House a good scare, if you would 🤭.

And so, after this incident "Mother" is pretty forced to "take it easy" so that she can recover (which according to some brief searches I've done, can take anywhere from a couple weeks to a few months). And, considering how "Mother" is definitely seems like she'd be something of a workaholic, someone who feels she needs to be present and contributing to be a "worthy" mother, suddenly being forced to take a break from all her usual daily tasks must make for an absolutely miserable experience for her.

So, in the meanwhile, Arle and the kids try to figure out some things to cheer her up and keep her mind occupied while she recovers.

X Anon

Heartfelt devotion. | Arlecchino x Fem!Wife!Reader

(Part one) (Part two) (Part three) (Part four) (Read more parts under Arlecchino's name in my Genshin Masterlist!)

A/N: Hello X Anon! Thank you so much for your request. I really enjoyed writing this. In fact, this turned out to be a bit of a personal piece due to me having had the experience of an immideate family member suffering a heart attack, so I put some of that into this fic, which is why I took a bit of a different approach to your idea. Either way, I hope it's to your liking X Anon!!<33

Content: Heart attacks, comas, angst, hurt/comfort, wife reader, mentions of Curcabena, reader becomes a bit delirious, trauma, sfw

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

The will of the Tsaritsa never rested for anything.

The expectation for everyone to continue until nothing was left of them always weighed on your shoulders, but it did little to ever make itself noticeable in the ranks of the Fatui. Exhaustion? Sickness? Death? None of that was an excuse enough to stop. You were all motivated by the goal ahead, even if uncertainty of what exactly it was often lingered in your mind. It was inspiring to work hard even in the face of pure agony and hell. It's just how things were. That's just how you kept going for so long as an organization.

The Tsaritsa's gentle kindness was ultimately not enough of a reason when the cold, icy snow and wind of your home ripped at your skin hungrily for more of your soul to take.

And you especially, as the wife of a Harbinger and "Mother" of the House of Hearth, felt that deeply.

Day in, day out.

It was all the same in the house of Hearth that forever kept busy no matter the occasion. You were unofficially the head of it all. Your wife often had better things to do as a diplomat and therefore entrusted you with your family from day one. The title and duties of the "Mother" weighed on you painfully, just as expected from you. And whilst you've spent endless years attempting to repair the relationship between that title and the family, you still didn't feel like it was enough. The woman that raised you and the 4th Harbinger haunted you with every step, always looking over your shoulder with that sinister smile of hers. You could feel the scrutiny in her gaze, see the rage in her grin, hear her venomous words in that sweet, gentle voice of hers.

Arlecchino had moved on from her by taking on the title of "Father," but you remained cursed. You remained in the past where you belonged, fixing connections that died for a reason, yet you were stuck with due to your own doing. There were no regrets in your actions initially, but now, after seeing the carnage and death you had caused to your own children by sending them off to the grim reaper yourself, you realise that over time, your mind and body has become worn down dangerously. You were beginning to fall apart, yet tried to keep yourself together just enough to continue every day. Like everyone else here.

It was getting hard to move and sleep lately, however, something that should've unnerved you when it was first starting to become noticeable. But you waved it off like everything else, your mind focused on your daily tasks and responsibilities instead. With your wife abroad back in the motherland for a Harbinger meeting, you were stuck shouldering absolutely everything again, not that you ever protested or cared much. You saw it as a necessity, perhaps even an honor to work at her side and take care of such an important part of the Fatui. If only the glamor and patriotism didn't melt away every time you got a new death report regarding more of your children. Crucabena used to read them as though they were the latest fashion magazine, a content smile on her lips every time. You, on the other hand, shed endless tears, finding no enjoyment in what you've become.

How did she do it? How was she able to be so indifferent and cruel to you all without feeling a thing? What was the secret to absolut absolvation from the guilt and shame? Years later, you still find yourself asking these questions in the shadows of the night, your blurry reflection in the water of the cold bathtub mirroring her image. You wonder if you even were any different than her ultimately. You felt like you did the same things as her, just less cruel, less callous. Was your care and love for the children enough to make a difference?

"Of course not. You and I are one in the same, my dear child." You often hear her voice whisper to you in those painfully sleepless nights, and you wished Peruere was there to keep her quiet again.

Taking a deep breath, you let out a weak hum when you felt someone grab onto your shoulder with a gentle shake. "Mother?" Lyney asked carefully, brows furrowed in worry at your near catatonic state lately. You barely seemed alive at times, your blank stare staring through everyone, some of your tasks even neglected seemingly unbeknownst to you. Your movement was sluggish, slow, and clumsy. Everyone noticed this, and the worry was beginning to seep into all the children belonging to the house. This was nothing like you. And yet, you didn't seem to be aware of it. Or maybe you were ignoring it.

Either way, Lyney had enough of just watching you suffer, his gaze becoming stern when you gave him a tired look. "Have you... slept or eaten properly lately? You look ill." The answer was 'no' to both, of course. You haven't been able to eat much due to the sudden huge workload you were confronted with ever since their Father left for much longer than usual. Sleep was out of the question due to the odd pain and pressure in your chest whenever you laid down. This led to you often sitting in a chair instead in front of the fireplace in hopes of getting some sleep that way... but unfortunately, that didn't work either.

Gently shaking your head, you mustered the strength to give him a shaky smile in hopes of calming him. "I'm alright, dear, don't worry about me. It's just a little stress, nothing more." Ever so perceptive, you sighed when you saw his eyes narrow. He didn't believe you, and you certainly wouldn't believe yourself either. Something was terribly wrong, but you had no time to deal with it. You didn't want Lyney to take on any duties he didn't have to yet, even if he'll most likely be your wife's successor one day. The pressure was too much. You didn't want him to feel the way you did.

Behind him, you saw two agents enter the kitchen through the backdoor. Masks obscured their faces, but the aura they let in was grim and cold. One you were so awfully familiar with, including the documents in their hands. A red envelope peeked out, a silent sign of more carnage and death raised by your own hands. The pressure in your chest suddenly increased once more when the guilt crept back up your body and whispered those evil words of self-doubt into your ears again. "How... How many this time?" You breathed out, a hand pressed to your chest in pain. Lyney grabbed onto your arm in surprise as your body nearly keeled over. Your mind was ringing, and you couldn't even hear the response to your question anymore.

It was all too much. You couldn't take it anymore. In the forefront of your mind, the woman that raised you gave you a "proud" smile, like she always did. It sickened you, for it meant that you've done something that once again proved that your title was cursed.

"Mother!" Lyney yelled out in panic, quick to alert everyone around them to your collapsing form. This has never happened before. The Lady of the House never fell, never faltered. And yet, as you now laid there on the floor, hands pressed against your chest as you heaved painfully, unable to breathe, you realised that everything you've done in your life has led you to this point. This was karma. This was the pain you deserved. Your children's terrified faces faded away and swirled into your mother's dark, sinister gaze. She reached out to you, her gloved hand pressing against your sweating forehead and tearstruck eyes, but you didn't feel any comfort. You felt like another death report, her favorite and one she has been waiting for forever.

If this is how you died, then so be it. One thing about Curcabena was that she'll always find a place for you to sit next to her no matter what. This time, you supposed, it would be in hell for the hurt you've caused.

How fitting.

"... Is she going to ever wake up?" "Not for a while. The doctors said the coma is necessary for her recovery. The reanimation took too long and... it's on her now to awaken." Lynette took a deep breath, her voice coming out in hushed whispers in fear of being overheard by their stressed Father. When Arlecchino came back come after an emergency letter practically crashed into the meeting room through a panicked Fatui agent, she found herself in the middle of a near warzone. You kept the house together at all times. But with you being in a medically induced coma now, everything fell right onto Lyney's shoulders. The one thing you never wanted.

The Knave had yet to say a thing, her lips pressed into a thin line at all times, as she silently moved to reorganize everyone and ease the pressure off of the young man's shoulders. Not even three days of taking on everything, and he was done emotionally and physically. How did his mother do it every day? How was she able to function? How was she able to keep everything in mind, do every task with perfect precision? He had so much to still learn, and that's what your absence proved him so painfully.

But hope still remained. If you woke up soon, then things would get better. Then, no one needed to be so terrified anymore.

Freminet nervously leaned against the doorway to your room, red eyes casted downwards to his shoes in silent shame. Guilt was eating everyone in the house up, their hearts aching with the question, "Could we have done more?". Yet their father wasn't keen on answering anything, her reassurance coming in the form of stern orders and a call for strength from them all.

"I see... in that case, I'll stay and watch over her for the night. You should go rest, Lynette." The young man spoke, watching as his sister exhaled a deep breath and nodded reluctantly. No one was getting any sleep lately, but it's the thought that counted. Passing by him with a short hug they both needed, Freminet watched her disappear into the darkness of the corridor, the moonlight filtering in through the windows leading her way. Stepping into the room with a soft sigh, he closed the door behind him and approached your sleeping form. His father hadn't stepped into this room much due to how busy she was with the chaos that broke out with your absence... but when she was in here, he saw the way she'd just stare at you, the pain in those stern eyes melting the ice and leaving behind a worried, foreign gaze that was rare to see on her.

Pulling a chair to the edge of the bed, he leaned his head against your slowly rising and falling chest, his eyes fluttering close in hopes of catching the tears that threatened to fall again. He wanted you to wake up so badly. It hurt to see you in this broken, weakened state. You were so pale and looked hollow, like all the life had been taken out of you. It was a terrifying sight that he could only barely comprehend. You have never looked like this before. You were always so strong and domineering.

He just couldn't believe it.

Fingers running through his blonde hair calmly is what made him flinch back to reality, his body reeling backward in surprise, yet the hand kept him there firmly. "Calm down, child... don't be afraid. It's just me." It was your voice, yet it sounded raspy and defeated, a slight slur to it from the lack of using it. Freminet froze and stared into the white covers of your bed, his tears dampening the soft fabric. But you didn't seem to notice his plight at first. He wanted to stay still, in case this was a dream. He was afraid that a single sudden move would make you fall back into your coma, the irrational thought plaguing him painfully.

"Mother..." "... Is this... heaven, after all?" You whispered, mind returning to the woman that haunted you. Surely, this must be the bliss before the storm. You imagined that soon flames and the hands of the children you've sent to their death would reach out and drag you down with them. And yet, all you got was the blonde boy pulling himself back again and grabbing onto your hand. "N-No! You're... you're alive." He stuttered out in panic and confusion, wishing someone else would help him, someone else could be here with you and take care of you much better than he could.

But once you processed those words of his, your heart skipped a beat in panic. The emotions finally caught up to you, and the surge of emotions made you attempt to sit up. Letting out a small yelp, Freminet attempted to hold you down and comfort you, knowing how you were about the house and your duties. The doctors had warned about this happening, too. Yet nothing could have prepared him for the sheer strength you demonstrated despite everything that happened. Something which could prove deadly soon, if you didn't relax immideatly.

And as though the heavens had heard his prayers, the door to the room creaked open, and in came his Father, an unreadable expression on her face at the sight of your struggling form. You were alive and somehow filled with energy, which unnerved her a little deep down. This certainly was going against your bedrest orders. "Peruere, I... I'm sorry for disappointing you- I'll get back to my duties as soon as I-" Her hand rose, and your deafening silence came with it. Taking slow steps towards you, her hand came down to rest on top of her trembling son's head. A silent absolvation from his duties for tonight.

"It's okay. You have not disappointed me in the slightest. Now rest." Her voice was stern and cold like it always was, but beneath the icy surface, you could feel the warmth and worry spread through her like a wild fire. She didn't want you to feel this way, and you could tell that the state you were in hurt her deep down. You and your family were her only weaknesses. Wanting to ease her pain, you leaned back into the soft pillows, eyes not daring to look up at her anymore. Why did you feel so ashamed? Perhaps because you should have taken care of yourself better. If you had, then maybe you wouldn't feel like a burden now. As though she was reading your mind, Arlecchino gave her son a curt nod, which he immideatly took as his sign to reluctantly leave.

Silence now overtook you both until she sighed and took a seat in the chair Freminet was in earlier. The moonlight filtering in through the open window illuminated the side of her tense face, her unique eyes near glowing. It was a peaceful moment, despite the pain that now raked through your entire body and especially chest. You closed your eyes weakly in relief when you felt her clawed hand carefully caress your sweat drenched face, your throat feeling so awfully dry as you gulped.

"I... I need to get up... I need to go back to work." "Not for a while." "... For how long then." A week maybe, you hoped. It was more than enough. It was all you allowed yourself, and even that was pushing it. Your restless mind was spinning in circles at all the tasks it still had to complete, and you felt yourself at a loss for words when she shook her head with the faintest frown. She knew you too well. You were an open book she had read many times over and couldn't get enough of. "Six weeks. Perhaps even longer after, depending on your state-..." She stopped herself when she saw your body trembling, and in the dimmest moonlight, she saw tears glinting in your eyes.

"Please don't cry. This is for your own good. I was... afraid when I heard of what happened. In fact, I'm grateful that you are alive, my songbird." Oh, how delicate her words were. Her honesty was forever going to be proof of her undying love for you. The ache is your heart lessened at the gentle warmth that spread through you from her touch, her tone lulling you into the safety you've craved ever since you fluttered your eyes open again. If only the guilt left with it. "What of our children? I must've scared them terribly. Especially my poor Fremi'..." You whispered after a moment of contemplation. Arlecchino watched your sick, tired form with kind eyes that were only reserved for you.

She figured that you'd feel this way. You were always so desperate to prove yourself to absolutely everyone. Whether it was to her, your children, or even the entire organization, you wanted to show everyone that you were better than Crucabena. Yet no matter how many years past, and no matter how much you achieved, you were never able to realise the truth. You had always been better than her from day one. The moment you rebelled and refused to take her side on the day, Arlecchino defeated her was proof of it.

"Do not fret over them. The children are strong. It is you that we need to worry about now. Just take it easy and sleep." Her words were comforting, even if short and to the point. You trusted them with your life. And yet, the feeling of being a burden just creeped up your body until you fell into a restless slumber once more.

The next few weeks were filled with nothing short of attention and borderline spoiling from all children in the house and beyond. Whether young or old, they all took care of you in the same way you cared for them. Something you could only barely handle. You felt like you should be doing that for them only, never the other way around. Yet under your wife's iron gaze, you were left with no choice but to accept your fate and stay put in bed or, on the rare occasion, in the living room near the fireplace. Lyney and his siblings especially took charge of your care, and you couldn't help but feel guilty at what you've put them through. You had attempted to apologize to the young man plenty of times for simply collapsing the way you did in front of him, but he'd always wave you off with a gentle smile. One they all attempted for you to mirror again.

The magician and Lynette would perform small shows just for you, knowing how much you enjoyed their tricks. Freminet, who was practically glued to your side, would read books with you about sea animals, whilst the other children brought you tasty pastries and food. The house was kept spotless by everyone, and you didn't have to lift a singular finger. And your wife was more affectionate with you in her own special way. Gentle kisses and careful, early morning cuddles were the norm, despite her reluctance for physical touch beforehand. You could tell through her actions that the state you were in had hit you deeper than she was most likely aware, and it didn't help the small guilt that was still left in your heart. All she had left from her old life was you. The woman she considered her wife and the mother of the house.

And by the time you've mostly recovered fully, you realised that the past wasn't haunting you anymore. Crucabena's strict hold on you had faded away, even if you knew that she was simply waiting for your arrival in hell one day. But your small revenge would leave her seething, absolutely enraged for years to come first.

In fact, it felt so good to be alive now.