#i though he needed to look worse and my hand slipped ok

[ryuarl]

😝

[misspygmypie]

We're A Team, On And Off The Track

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Requested: Yes Summary: Your period cramps are unbearable after a race and Lando is there to make you feel better. Words: 2.3k

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

With every corner, you felt the weight of the pain more intensely, and it was getting harder to focus on the track. Your vision was blurring slightly, and you could hear Tom’s voice through the headset, but it seemed like it was coming from far away.

“Y/n, are you ok?”

“Yeah I’m alright,” you stated, taking a sharp breath.

Tom’s voice crackled again, urgent but supportive. “Y/n, just a bit more, you’re almost there. You’re doing great.”

You nodded to yourself, even though your race engineer couldn’t see it. “I’ve got this,” you muttered through gritted teeth. The pain was still relentless and even getting worse, but you were determined to not give up.

You maneuvered through the last few corners with every ounce of strength you had left. Your hands were gripping the wheel so tightly your knuckles were white, and you fought against the nausea threatening to overtake you.

The finish line was just ahead. You could almost taste the relief. You pushed through the final stretch, the sound of the engine roaring in your ears, a welcome distraction from the pain. As you crossed the line a wave of exhaustion washed over you.

Tom’s voice was the first thing you heard clearly after you crossed the line. “P6! Great job, Y/n! We’re all so proud of you.”

You managed a small, pained smile. “Thanks, Tom,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. You were already thinking about the bed and the pain relievers you so desperately needed.

As you pulled into the pit lane, Tom and your team were there, ready to help you out of the car. You could feel Tom’s worried look on you. “It’s okay,” you replied, your voice hoarse. “Just… I need to lie down.”

Lando, your boyfriend and fellow driver of the McLaren team, was already waiting for you in the garage, having finished P4 and smiled at you. But just as you had put your helmet down and were walking over to him it happened. A sharp pain hit your lower abdomen and you could’ve sworn somebody stabbed you with a knife. The lights and colors in front of your eyes swirled together and slowly faded away as darkness took over. The pain was so strong you felt like you were about to pass out and you quickly wobbled over to the nearest wall to lean on.

“Y/n, oh my god,” you heard Lando’s panicked voice. “Baby, are you ok? Tom, get Dr. Hughes.”

Two soft hands grabbed your face and slowly, as your nausea subsided a bit, you could make out the worried face of your boyfriend.

You tried to focus on Lando’s face, his concern evident in every feature. The pain was still intense, but his presence brought a small bit of comfort amidst the stabbing feeling in your lower abdomen. As he gently helped you to a nearby chair, you took a few deep breaths, trying to steady yourself.

“I’m… I’m okay,” you managed to say, though the words came out strained. “Just… cramps. They’re really bad today.”

Lando’s expression softened, though the worry didn’t leave his eyes. He crouched down in front of you, his hands still holding yours. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

You looked away, feeling a mix of frustration and embarrassment. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be seen as weak or—”

“Y/n,” he interrupted gently but firmly. “You’re not weak. You’re incredible, and I hate seeing you like this. You should have told someone.”

Before you could respond, Dr. Hughes - the McLaren team doctor - appeared, his face concerned but relieved when he saw you sitting down. “Lando, can you give us a minute?” he asked softly, and Lando nodded, though he clearly wasn’t happy to leave your side.

Dr. Hughes crouched beside you, his professional demeanor slipping through with a compassionate touch. “How long have you been in this much pain?” he asked as he started checking your vitals.

“Since the start of the race,” you admitted quietly. “I didn’t want to drop out. I thought I could manage it.”

The doctor nodded, understanding. “Here's some medication and I will get some more for you to take with you. You need to rest.”

As he left to fetch the necessary supplies, Lando stayed close, his hand still holding yours. “I hope nobody pressured you into thinking you had to race today.”

“No, Lando, nobody even knew. I made the choice to race. I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“Ok,” he said, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “But next time, please let me or someone else help. We don’t want you to suffer like this alone.”

Lando stayed by your side, holding your hand and keeping quiet, letting you focus on getting through the pain. His presence was soothing, even if words weren’t necessary at the moment. You leaned back in the chair, feeling the medication start to take effect and the pain begin to recede, albeit slowly.

As the initial discomfort faded, you looked at Lando, seeing the love and concern in his eyes. “Thank you,” you said softly. “For being here. For understanding.”

He squeezed your hand gently. “Always,” he said. “You’re my priority, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re okay.”

Dr. Hughes soon returned with the extra pain relievers and guided both of you through the paddock. “Go to the hotel and rest for a while. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“Thank you,” Lando replied to the man with a sincere smile and just a few moments later you were on your way to the hotel.

Once you arrived Lando carefully helped you out of the car, his arm around your waist providing support as you moved toward the hotel’s back entrance. The side street was quiet, a stark contrast to the front where fans and media awaited. The sense of privacy and calm was exactly what you needed right now.

As you entered the hotel, Lando guided you to the elevator, his hand gently resting on your lower back. The ride up to your floor was quick, and he walked with you to the door of your shared room, fumbling with the keycard to get inside. Finally, he managed to get it open and ushered you in.

The quietness and peace of the room quickly embraced you. You immediately felt more comfortable not having to pretend like your own body wasn’t trying to rip you apart from the inside while being watched from hundreds of eyes at the same time. With a somewhat relaxing sigh you stripped off your shirt and jeans and threw them into the next corner.

“Arms up, baby,” Lando demanded and just a second after you had done so you could feel the soft fabric of one of his sweaters engulf you. Once your head popped out of the hole you were greeted by the soft smile of your boyfriend, who helped take the hood off your head and placed a gentle kiss on our nose. 

Once you were changed, Lando helped you settle onto the bed, propping up some pillows to make you as comfortable as possible. He then went to fetch a glass of water and the medication the doctor had given you earlier.

“Here,” he said, handing you the glass and the pills. “Take these, they should help.”

You took the medication and swallowed it with a sip of water, then sank back into the pillows with a sigh of relief. Lando sat beside you on the bed, his hand still holding yours, his touch soothing.

“Do you want anything else? Maybe some warm tea?” he asked, his eyes full of concern.

“Tea would be wonderful,” you replied, feeling the medication beginning to ease the pain but knowing you could use a bit more comfort.

“Alright, I will be right back,” he proclaimed and hurried out of the room. When Lando returned, he was carrying a small bag from the hotel’s room service, a look of determination on his face. He set it down on the bedside table and opened it, revealing a couple of chocolate bars - comfort foods that he knew you loved - and a kettle he seemed to have gotten from the reception, which he quickly filled with water and turned on before preparing a steaming cup of herbal tea.

With the cup in hand he turned around to look at you. He saw the pained expression on your face and immediately sat down beside you, gently placing the tea and chocolate on the nightstand before helping you to adjust your position so you could get more comfortable. 

“Here,” he said softly, handing you the tea. “This should help with the nausea. And I thought you might like some chocolate too.”

You took the tea with a grateful smile, savoring the warmth of the cup against your hands. Lando carefully helped you sip it, making sure you weren’t burning yourself. The smell was soothing, and you could already feel the calming effect as you drank it slowly.

Once you had finished a few sips, he took the empty cup from you and set it aside before walking over to his suitcase and pulling something out of it.

“Is that my hot water bottle?!” You gasped, looking at the fluffy pig shaped fabric in his hands. 

Lando proudly presented it to you. “I packed it just in case. I just wanted to be prepared.”

You weren’t sure if it was the state you were in, the hormones or the simple fact that Lando proved once again how perfect of a boyfriend he was, but you could feel yourself tear up and soon the first wet streaks decorated your cheeks.

“Oh, baby, don’t cry” Lando begged, once again gently grabbing your face in his hands, his thumbs softly wiping away the tears. Then, he went to fill up the hot water bottle with the remaining water from the kettle, making sure it was at a comfortable temperature before placing it on your lower abdomen. The warmth began to spread, and you felt a significant reduction in the cramping pain.

He sat back down, brushing a stray hair from your face. “You did amazing out there today. I’m so proud of you, but I wish you didn’t have to push through so much pain.”

You looked at him, touched by his support. “I didn’t want to let anyone down. Especially not you or the team.”

Lando shook his head gently. “You didn’t let anyone down. You’re a fighter, but it’s okay to let others help you too. We’re a team, on and off the track.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion of the day beginning to take hold, while Lando pulled back the blankets and slid in beside you, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked softly, his breath warm against your hair.

“Much better,” you admitted with one last sniffle, snuggling closer to him. “Thank you for everything.”

Lando rested his chin on top of your head, his fingers gently stroking your back. “You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to feel better. And to know that you don’t have to go through this alone.”

The combined warmth of the heating pad, Lando’s embrace, and the tea made the pain and discomfort feel more manageable. You let out a contented sigh, feeling the support and love radiating from him.

“Can we stay like this for a bit?” you murmured, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Of course,” he said, his tone filled with affection. “We can stay like this for as long as you want.”

He continued to hold you, and the steady rhythm of his breathing, along with his gentle caresses, helped to lull you into a more restful state. Despite the lingering discomfort, you felt a deep sense of relief and safety in Lando’s arms. As you drifted off to sleep, the pain was still there but more bearable.

You awoke several hours later, something wet and clammy sticking to your face - Lando's shirt. 

“Are you feeling better, baby?” Lando asked immediately after noticing you were awake.

You nodded softly. “I’m definitely warm enough as well…”

“Oh, thank god,” Lando exclaimed, “I was sweating my balls off with this thing pressed against my belly!” You chuckled while he tossed the hot water bottle as far away from you two as possible.

Lando’s playful grumbling about the hot water bottle brought a genuine smile to your face, the kind that felt long overdue after such a rough day. 

“I’m sorry about the inconvenience,” you said with a soft laugh, “but I really appreciate you doing all this for me.”

He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his face still flushed from the heat. “No need to apologize. I’d do it all over again if it means making you feel better.”

Lando’s fingers continued their circles on your back, making it easy to drift back into relaxation. “How’s the pain?” he asked, his voice tender and concerned.

“Much better,” you replied, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. “The tea and the hot water bottle really helped.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Lando said with a relieved sigh. “I was worried that I might’ve overdone it with the hot water bottle, but it looks like it worked.”

“You were perfect,” you assured him, your hand finding his and squeezing it gently. “Really, I couldn’t have asked for a better person to be with me through this.”

He grinned and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Well, you’ve got the best boyfriend on call, so you’d better get used to it.”

As you snuggled closer to him, the exhaustion of the day began to fade away. It was moments like these that reaffirmed how lucky you felt to have him in your life.

[cozage]

Could you write a short fic for Zoros reaction to his s/o falling down some stairs (but she is ok just bruised) please. BTW love your writing

Characters: Zoro x female reader CW: none :) Total word count: 1k

Slip and Fall

One second you were upright, walking down the stairs.The next moment, you were staring up at the ceiling. 

The pain caught up with you quickly, and you groaned from the aches that riddled your body. Judging by the pain in your back, you must’ve slid down the stairs. Nothing seemed to be broken, but you were certain you’d have a few bruises to show for your misstep. 

You closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to recenter yourself and minimize the pain.

“What the hell was-” Zoro’s irritated voice cut off abruptly, and you braced yourself for some kind of cheap joke at your expense. 

But nothing came. You were certain he hadn’t left, but he also made no move to get closer to you. Or do anything. 

“Y/N?” Zoro’s voice came out as a harsh whisper. 

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” You breathed out a laugh. The pain seemed to be getting worse the more you lay there. “Help me up, will you?”

“No!” Zoro finally moved, rushing over to you to keep you still. “You shouldn’t move. It could-you could-I don’t want you to-”

“Zoro,” you groaned, finally opening your eyes and instantly meeting his. 

His eyes were so full of worry. They raked over your body, searching for any sign of injury. And you realized that Zoro was truly scared. 

Naturally, his fear made you panic. 

“What?” you tried to lift your head, but Zoro refused to let you move. 

“Chopper needs to check for a spinal injury. If you landed wrong…” He shook his head, as if he were shaking a thought from his head. 

“Zoro, I’m fine.” Though your back was probably blossoming with bruises, you were sure you’d survive.

“Let me go get Chopper. Just stay here for a minute. Please.” His last word was barely a whisper. It was that word, that small act of begging, that kept you anchored to where you laid. 

“Alright, alright.” You closed your eyes. “You fuss too much.”

“I do not-” You could hear him clench his jaw in frustration. “Just stay still for a minute!”

His hurried footsteps receded, and you could hear distant shouts from off in the distance, followed by footsteps coming back to you quickly. 

“She slipped and fell,” Zoro said softly, and you could hear Chopper set down his medical kit and open it. 

“Can you open your eyes for me?” Chopper asked. You opened them. 

“Do you know your name?”

You laughed. “Of course I do!” 

Chopper and Zoro didn’t join your laughter, so you gave your full name to the doctor. 

The reindeer nodded. “And do you know where you are?”

You sighed. “The Sunny. The Grand Line. Don’t ask me where on the Grand Line, because I wouldn’t even know that on my best day.”

Chopper gave a slight smile at that answer, but Zoro was still watching you from a few feet away. He was tucked back in a corner, almost as if he was scared of you. 

“Did you hear me?” Chopper asked, waving a hand in front of your face. 

You blinked. You hadn’t heard his question. You hadn’t even realized he was speaking. 

“What is five plus five?” Chopper asked again. 

“Oh. Ten,” you answered quickly, taking your eyes off of Zoro for only a moment before finding him again. He looked so pale, and his mouth was pressed in such a tight line as he watched Chopper. You opened your mouth to speak, but Chopper spoke first. 

“Zoro, can you come help her sit up? I’d like to check her back for any signs of injury.”

“Chopper, I told you already! I’m fine!” Your words were accompanied with a groan as you tried to sit up on your own. 

Zoro was suddenly there, gently guiding you into a sitting position. You rolled back your shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness of your muscles. Zoro only watched you, his face still hard as stone. 

“Zoro.” Your fingers cupped his face, forcing his eyes to lock onto yours. “I’m here. I’m okay, really.”

“She’s right,” Chopper agreed, looking at you. “Some icky bruises for a few days, and you probably have a minor concussion, but you’re okay.”

“See?” You smiled. “I’m okay.”

Zoro nodded and pulled his face away from your grip. The panic in his eyes has subsided, but only slightly. 

“I probably need a lot of bedrest though, right Chopper?” You gave a slight nudge to the reindeer. 

“Huh? You don’t-” Chopper caught your wink and worried glance at Zoro. “Oh! Yes! She needs lots of rest. And she shouldn’t be alone…because of the concussion! Zoro, can you look after her?”

Zoro narrowed his eyes slightly, and you gave him a sheepish grin and you held out your hands. “Help me up?” you asked. 

He did you one better, gently picking you up off the ground. He was careful to avoid the sensitive spots on your back. How he knew exactly where they were, you weren’t sure, but you were thankful he was considerate. 

You were quick to pull him into bed and snuggle into his chest. Even if it wasn’t the most comfortable for your sore body, you were happy to be close to him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.” His response was short, clipped. 

“Okay,” you hummed, curling in closer to him. 

A few minutes passed in comforting silence, and you were almost asleep when he kissed the top of your head. 

“I thought you were dead,” he whispered hoarsely. “I thought I lost you and I just…I couldn’t go through that again. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t. I’m right here,” you murmured softly into his chest, letting his warmth lull you into a deep sleep.

[seungfl0wer]

*Who do you belong to?*

Paring: Felix x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Pure smut

Warnings: Dirty talk, Unprotected sex, Cream Pie, Biting, Slight choking, Throat fucking, Hair pulling. I think that’s all? I’m bad at these.

This may not be suitable for everyone, this is your last warning.

For @gnabnahcsworld who really needed more Dom Felix and I’m happy to deliver 😘 hopefully it doesn’t suck lol

-🩵

You had come to this party with your boyfriend Felix to celebrate one of his colleagues. Since the party was work related he was off mingling with everyone. You found yourself talking to one of his colleagues about something when Felix who finally found you a good 10minutes later stood there shooting daggers at the other man. It didn’t help The party in question was one of those rich people’s parties, all elegant and snazzy with a dress code. So Felix was in a nice tailored suit tie to match your dress. Your dress was to your knees, it showed off every beautiful curve of your body. It was actually lix’s choice for you to wear it.

The problem with that is you looked so good everyone was eyeing you up. He couldn’t help see how everyone was just ogling. He stood across from you tongue pressed to his cheek brows forward just staring as you spoke to a guy. A guy who he in fact wanted nothing more to punch for how close he was to you. You on the other hand were just happy to be there, you didn’t notice the eyes on you. Didn’t even take notice of the man blatantly flirting with you.

You felt lix’s eyes looking at you not realizing he was getting jealous, you just smiled at him. That smile quickly faded as you could see it all written on his face. Felix was never good at hiding his emotions, his face would always give it away and boy did it ever right now. You made your way over to him before giving him a puppy dog look “what’s the matter lixie? You ok?” You asked. He gave you a slow nod focused on something else. Before you could ask him about it though he had taken your hand leading you across the room.

He lead you to a side room locking the door behind him as you both entered. You turned to him but you didn’t get the chance to even speak before his lips crashed against yours. His kisses were hungry, his eyes dark and his touch feral. He bit the bottom of your lip as his lips latched to your neck. You let out a soft moan before lix had his hand over your mouth. “As much as I want them to hear you screaming my name I’m not trying to get fired.” He said with a soft chuckle.

He left sloppy kisses on your neck, biting down leaving small marks as he licked them soothing them after. His hands found their way under your dress, quickly diving to your soaking cunt. You both groaned at the feeling. Feeling needy. So needy for him.

His fingers curled inside you quickening his pace, as his bites became harsher on your neck. Man loved leaving marks on you. He loved knowing the fact people would know you were his. His and his only.

His hand that was over your mouth found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it pulling your head to the side so he could get to your neck better. As his hand slipped away your moans quickly filled the room. He shot a look up to you “keep quiet or your punishment will be worse” he almost hissed. You let out a small whimper bringing your hand over your own mouth this time to muffle your sounds.

Felix removed his fingers from you leaving you whining from the loss of them. He brought them up to lick all your juices off before finding a chair to sit on. As he did so he motioned you over “since you wanna talk to other guys you’re gonna suck me off before I remind you who’s you are.” He said his voice low almost a growl.

You nodded his words making your cunt tremble. He was so fucking hot like this. You loved when he become more dominant. Felix dropped his pants manspreading on the chair cock at full view for you. Your mouth almost watered at the sight. You wasted no time, slowly kissing the tip before bobbing your head down. Your hands went to reach for your clit but lix growled out a deep “no touching” into your ear.

You whined but listened not wanting to get punished for not listening. Felix ran his fingers through your hair again he pushed your head down, making you take all of him. He always enjoyed using your throat for his pleasure. He quickly started to fuck your mouth. Your eyes squinting as small tears welded up at your eyes chocking around his cock. He left out the most sinful groans his movements becoming sloppy as he hit the back of your throat.

He was gonna cum and he was gonna cum hard. He quickened his pace throat fucking you good. You could feel yourself becoming drenched at the feeling of him. You wanted him to cum so he could fuck your soaking cunt.

As he came his hips trembled, his cock still back your throat letting out the hot sticky liquid. He watched as you swallowed it as the good like the good little girl you were. His eyes were so dark, full of lust for you ready for him to burry his cock deep inside you.

He wasted no time standing up. He pulled you up hands under you chin kissing you swiftly before bending you over a desk. He grabbed his cock running it over your sopping wet cunt before pushing in deep. He didn’t give you anytime before he started to pound into you. He went deep. Feeling every part of his cock filling your hole. He knew how you liked it knew the things to get you off and boy was he good at it.

He grabbed your arms pulling them back to grip them as he fucked into you harder “you think that guy could fuck as good as I can?” He said. You shook your head no “say it princess use your words” he said gripping your hair now. Pulling your head to him to say into your ear “Tell me how much you love my cock. Tell me how good I feel pounding you princess. We both know that guy could never satisfy you like I can.” His words finally clicking in your head as to why this all happened. You wanted to tease him tell him you didn’t know if he was better or something but you wanted to walk outta here not have to be wheel chaired out.

You whined back at him your words breathy “n- no one can ever make me feel this good” you said trying to keep composure. You could feel your high coming and the way his cock was twitching his was coming too. “Who’s are you princess, who does this pretty little cunt belong to huh?” He groaned out. Your body was shaking the feeling of him pounding you so hard. His hand smacked your ass leaving a nice size hand print, Before it made its way to your clit. You were so close to coming undone.

“Im yours!” You almost screamed back his hand now playing with your swollen clit “what’s my name” he said taking his other hand to grip around your neck “say my name baby and you can cum.” He said his hand moving fast on your clit as he pounded into you. His thrusts becoming sloppy as his grip around your neck also softened. You knew he was about to cum but he wanted to cum with you.

“Felix!! Fucking god Felix fuck” you moaned his name out loudly loud enough everyone there probably heard you but you couldn’t help it. You felt your high coming “fuck cum for- for me princess I’m cumming too” he breathed out. His hands gripped your hips pushing himself as deep as possible before unloading deep inside of you. You coming undone as well your high hitting you hard. Body shaking as both of your moans filled the room. Felix slumped over you both of you trying to catch your breath.

“That- was hot as hell” you said as he let out a chuckle at your words “yeah well so are you in that dress” he said as he peppered kisses on you. His cock still buried deep inside of you. “Y/n one problem” he said with a smirk. You tilted your head at the his words “my cums gonna drip from you when we go out.” He said as he pulled out pulling your pantries back up. You laughed a bit “well this will make your point that I’m all yours” you teased making you both laugh. He kissed your nose quickly “how about we go home, get some ice cream and just cuddle? I don’t like these parties anyways” he said taking your hand and pulling you out the room.

💙 if you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open feel free to send me something🩵

[blackenedsnow]

can i have a shadow fic? Just with his s/o whos going through extreme burnout and isnt taking care of themselves?...and needs help?..sorry beeing going through this myself and shadow my comfort boy

the weight of rest

WARNING: Burnout, self-neglect, emotional exhaustion

PAIRING: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Thank you for sending this in, this means a lot since I know the whole burnout thing too well lately. If anyone else needs a fic like this, please ask anytime ♡ for real, it’s ok to reach out <3. Hope you like this!

SUMMARY: Shadow finds you in a state of exhaustion and burnout, watching as you grapple with your own needs—ones you've left unmet for too long.

Some days you could feel it weighing you down, this silent and invisible load pressing harder on your shoulders, making every step an effort. You don’t remember when it started, this quiet, gnawing exhaustion that turned every little task into a mountain, every step into a crawl. But here you are, slouched over your desk, surrounded by half-finished tasks and reminders of things you should’ve done but couldn’t quite bring yourself to complete.

You weren’t sure when Shadow noticed. Maybe it was the nights you spent awake, staring blankly at walls, the way food lost its appeal, or maybe the quiet sadness that had settled in your eyes. But he noticed. Of course, he noticed.

“Hey.”

The familiar voice makes you look up, your tired eyes meeting his as he stands in the doorway. It’s that rare gentleness in his gaze, one that Shadow doesn’t bring out for many people. But it’s there now, steady and unwavering.

He moves closer, his eyes scanning the scene in front of him. He doesn’t comment on the mess, doesn’t lecture, doesn’t press. Instead, he reaches out, resting a gloved hand on your shoulder, grounding you just a little bit more in the present.

“I think…” Shadow starts, his voice low, deliberate. He trails off, like he’s choosing each word carefully. “You need a break.”

You look away, the words sinking in painfully, almost as if admitting it out loud made the exhaustion worse. But Shadow doesn’t push. He just waits.

“I know,” you manage to say, barely a whisper.

Shadow’s fingers brush along your shoulder, and he kneels down next to you, searching your face. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he says, and his voice, normally so distant and reserved, softens just a little more. “I’m here.”

You let out a shaky breath. You want to tell him everything, the tangled mess inside your mind that’s left you feeling like this. But the words feel heavy, weighed down by fatigue.

Without saying anything else, Shadow shifts his arms around you, carefully pulling you close. You melt into him, letting the exhaustion spill over, almost ashamed at how much you need this. Shadow’s grip is firm, grounding, and for a moment, everything else fades.

“Rest,” he murmurs, his voice quiet yet resolute, like it’s an order.

That was just once though, that didn't make much go away.

You can’t remember the last time you slept without feeling more exhausted than before you closed your eyes. You feel like you're drowning, and every breath is harder to take than the last.

Another day, you can feel him in the room even when you're not paying attention. His presence is heavy, quiet, steady. It’s the only thing keeping you tethered to the world when you're floating in a haze, the edges of your mind blurring, and your body slowly shutting down.

Sometimes you think he must be disappointed in you.

But when you look over at Shadow, sitting there in the corner, his dark eyes watching you with a patience you don’t deserve, you know he’s not disappointed. He doesn’t have to say anything. He’s just there. Always there, like the calm in the storm that rages inside your head.

"Are you going to eat today?" His voice breaks through your thoughts, low and measured, but you can tell there’s a hint of concern buried under the words. It’s not a question he’s used to asking. You've been slipping more and more, and he’s noticed. Once again, he's noticed. Of course he has.

You don't answer. You don’t have the energy to, and you're not sure if you even care anymore. You stare at the empty plate on the table in front of you, feeling the hunger gnaw at your insides, but the thought of putting anything in your mouth just seems impossible. Like you're too tired to even chew.

He moves closer, his heavy footsteps silent against the floor. You can feel the heat of his body as he stands beside you. You don’t look up at him. You don’t want to see the way he’s looking at you.

“I know you’re tired,” he says, voice quiet but firm. “But that doesn’t mean you can ignore yourself. You need to eat. You need to rest.”

The words should comfort you, but they don’t. They only make you feel like more of a failure. You can’t even take care of yourself, and you can feel the weight of that failure pressing down on you, suffocating you. You swallow hard, but your throat feels tight.

“It's okay,” you lie, your voice coming out hoarse, barely a whisper. But it’s a lie you tell yourself every day, and Shadow doesn’t buy it.

“It's not okay,” he replies, softer this time, but with an edge of steel behind it. “I can see it, [Y/N]. I can see what’s happening to you.”

He crouches in front of me, again, just like he did before. His hand gently lifting your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. There’s something in his gaze, something raw and unspoken, and for a moment, You almost feel… safe.

“You think I’m broken,” you whisper, your voice cracking. The thought has been in your head for days, weeks, maybe longer, and you can’t hold it back anymore. “I think I’m broken.”

Shadow’s grip tightens on your chin, just enough to ground me, to pull you back into the present. His eyes soften, and you feel something inside of you stir. It’s not pity you see in his gaze. It’s something else. Something deeper, darker, like he understands in a way no one else does.

“You’re not broken,” he says, voice firm, a contradiction to the softness in his eyes. “You’re just… hurting. And that’s okay.”

“I don’t know how to fix this.” you admit, your voice trembling.

“You don’t have to fix it,” he replies, his voice low and steady, like he’s trying to anchor you to something solid. “You don’t have to do anything right now. Just let me help.”

Just let me help. It’s not a command, not an order. It’s a simple request. One you know he’s made before, but you've always been too stubborn to listen.

But now, you can’t push him away. You can’t deny that you need him. You need him more than you've ever needed anything else in your life.

“I don’t know how to take care of myself anymore,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper, like it’s a secret you've been hiding.

Shadow’s hand moves to your shoulder, his touch grounding, reassuring. “I’ll help you,” he says, and you can hear the promise in his voice. “One step at a time.”

[dawn-moths]

hi can i please request something with tomura (I’ve been seeing you say you want to write for him again lol plus i love him to so) like maybe something soft and comforting but also with smut in it?

hellooooo (*ˊᗜˋﾉﾉ

yes you absolutely can! thank you for giving into my current hyperfixation lol he has been on my mind sooooo much lately. probably in order to cope with what happened with the source material…

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“Inside the Open Window”

Tomura x afab Reader

word count: 2,000+

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! size difference mentioned, soft tomura, some smut, some angst, established relationship, afab reader.

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The room, for once, is filled with honeyed light. You blink open bleary eyes and stare out into the shallow pools of morning puddling in swaying shapes on the floor, vision slowly focusing until you catch the lazy swirls of dust motes dancing through the air. You keep telling Tomura to open some windows, let the fresh air in before it gets too cold and you all end up even more cooped up than you already feel you are on the daily, but he’s stubborn about it so you have to sneak his open a crack when he’s not around. So far he hasn’t noticed. Maybe you’ll risk sliding it up a little further this afternoon.

Beside you, you can hear Tomura’s slow, shallow breathing from where he lays, one of his arms slung across your middle, elbow resting in the dip of your waist as you lay on your side, your back almost touching his chest. You find his hand where it’s carefully placed up near your own chest, fingers curled tightly inward even though he wears those two-fingered gloves whenever you two sleep together. You tell him you trust him, that he’s spent a majority of his life learning to sleep through the night without decaying anything while unconscious, but he says having your trust isn’t the deciding factor.

“I don’t trust myself,” he’d snapped one evening when you were pressing him about it, trying to come from a place of reassurance but inevitably pushing him a little too far. “You don’t understand,” he’d continued, after a short huff of a sigh and a trembling hand raked back through his unruly waves. “It’s just— If that were to happen, I can’t take it back. I can’t take it back. I—”

You’d approached him, slow and cautious, like he was an injured animal that looked vulnerable right now but, once within reach, might thrash and snap, bare its teeth and bite down hard. “Tomura…” you’d murmured, reaching out a hand, testing to see if he’d let you place it on his cheek. “It’s ok…” He’d leaned into your touch, let his eyes flutter closed, his next exhale coming out as a shaking, raspy whine. You’d gently pulled him down until your foreheads were touching, hoping that simple act helped to make at least some of his fear melt away, the terror pulling back from shore for a short while even if its return was inevitable. You’d let the silence settle between you two before you’d said, your voice barely above a whisper, “I know…”

So he slipped on the gloves, you buckling them in place around his thin wrists, and from then on some of the tension he held whenever he’s around you disappears.

The first touch is always the hardest though.

It’s always the scariest.

It’s as if he worries the rules of his quirk will suddenly change, that needing all five fingers in order to decay will mutate into needing only one and he’ll be forced to helplessly watch you crumble to dust between his destructive hands, frantically trying to gather up the particles as if he could use them to reconstruct you somehow, or maybe just to keep a part of who you used to be, if worse came to worst.

But once his hand— palm, fingers, and all— was safely resting against the side of your neck, he allowed himself to feel some relief.

Because, like that, you could be his.

Like that, he could hold you.

You stiffly shimmy out from beneath his arm, making sure to carefully lift the limb and set it comfortably back down close to him. You stand, greeted by the quiet crackling pops of a few joints, and make your way over to that cracked window. You glance behind you. Tomura’s still asleep. So you catch the lip of the window with the edge of your grip and pull upward, struggling for a moment before it finally gives and slides all the way to the top, the rush of sound quick but louder than you were hoping for.

When you look over your shoulder again, you see Tomura’s eyes are open now, looking fully alert in just an instant, though his body remains still and frozen in the same position that you left it, tufts of white hair hanging at odd angles in his eyes and over his shoulder.

“Sorry…” you wince, coming back over to sit on the bed beside him. He begins to stir, turns over onto his chest to push up onto his elbows, the tousled sheets slipping and exposing more of his pale back, the scars cross-hatching across the skin shining faintly silver in the morning’s soft glow. 

“You can go back to bed if you want to,” you tell him, feeling guilty for waking him so soon. You know he’s usually one to sleep into the afternoon and beyond.

He clicks on your phone, 8:15 lighting up on the screen before fading to black again. “It’s fine,” he sighs, turning over again to sit up, slouching over a bit as he rubs at the back of his neck, fingers getting caught in a loose knot in his hair as he combs it through, letting out a pronounced yawn. He looks at you as you shuffle closer and asks, “How long have you been up?”

“Not long,” you tell him. “Only a few more minutes before you.”

Tomura opens his mouth, about to say something, but stops when you both hear one of the other members of the League creaking around from downstairs. You’re willing to bet it’s Atsuhiro. He’s the only regularly early-rising person among you.

Whatever words Tomura was going to speak are reduced to a low rumble of annoyance and the clenching of his jaw, as if he’s just been reminded of something he’d been trying to avoid.

In this small bout of contemplation, Tomura shifts from beneath the covers and swings his legs over the side of the bed, bending down to grab up the bundle of black denim on the floor which unfurl into his jeans, fishing out his phone from the back pocket and turning it on only to be greeted with an abundance of notifications. Instead of reading them, he mutters something under his breath and tosses it onto the nearby side table, leaning forward to give you a better view of his back again. Now that you’re closer, you can better see the fading red scratch tracks that travel down his shoulders, though for once the marks weren’t made by his own jagged nails.

The sight of it takes you back to last night, when the room had been doused in silver instead of gold and filled to the brim with the quiet, lilting sounds of your combined pleasure. You could still feel the ghost of him wrapped around you, encasing you in his scent, his touch, his very essence as if attempting to meld you both into one.

But, like most things, no matter how much you tried to tell him he didn’t need to be so delicate with you, doesn’t need to treat you like you’re one touch away from being broken, he doesn’t listen. He’s so gentle, even as his hips meet the inside of your thighs and he drives himself into your tight, wet heat even deeper, as if hoping to burrow a new home inside of you, to leave a piece of himself there so you’ll always carry it around.

Your moans are perhaps his favorite sound in the entire world, hearing the way they break off into a clipped whimper when he hits that soft, spongy spot deep inside of you, his own moans choked out as your silky walls squeeze around his length, wringing pleasure from him in a way that’s both relentless and heavenly.

When you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him in deeper still, he’s on the verge of losing any ounce of control he has left, tempted to take your wrists and pin them above your head so he can pound into you hard enough to well tears in your eyes and have you crying out in a way that’s helpless and hurting and all his, his, his.

But when he looks down at you, sees that telltale trust that reflects back at him in your gaze, he keeps the more carnal parts of his desires at bay. Because, while he may take pride in being a symbol of fear to the rest of the world, if there’s only one person he doesn’t want to view him like that, it’s you.

When you come undone, arching your back as your mouth hangs open with a silent scream, that’s when your nails rake across his flesh quick and hard, not quite breaking the skin but bursting the blood vessels beneath, a speckling of bright red stippling the tracks of a slightly lighter shade.

He’d let out a hiss followed mere moments later by his own body letting go, a broken whine welling in his throat, the types of sounds he only allows you to hear him make. You’d forgotten you’d scratched him so hard last night almost as soon as it had happened, your mind glazed over with a thick layer of pleasure and saccharine lust, the world around you blurring until the only thing you could seem to make out through the dim dark of the room was him and all that alabaster, scar-covered skin sheened over with sweat.

Now, Tomura beckons you back into his embrace, wanting to feel the warmth of your body seeping into his one more time before he’s forced to rise from his bed and slip back into the cold, hardened role of being the leader of the most feared group of villains in the entire country, perhaps even the entire world.

You’re wearing his t-shirt, the soft black fabric oversized on your form, nothing underneath, the rest of your clothes still left discarded and strewn across the room in a trail from the door to the foot of the bed. Like this, you’re enveloped in his scent, and it leaves you feeling calm and sated. Safe. Like nothing inside of these four walls could ever go wrong.

But you really should’ve known better.

The moment you start to get even a little too comfortable is always when something rears its head to remind you there are no happy endings here. 

After a while of listening to your steady breathing and staring out the open window, Tomura works up the courage to say, “Today’s the day, y’know…” hence breaking the illusion that you’d be allowed to live in the fantasy of this haven for more than a single night’s rest.

You close your eyes, let out a long breath, trying to stay your worry. “I know,” you tell him. “I know, but, Tomura…” You turn your face up towards his, hoping to lock eyes with him, even if only for a moment, but he’s still focused on the window he rarely lets you open, furrowing his sparse, silvery brow in a look of intense concentration. Eventually, however, he does look at you, the intensity he held before melting away into something much more concerned.

Be careful, you want to tell him.

If things start to go wrong just get out. Don’t risk letting the heroes get their hands on you.

But what comes out instead is, “Nothing, nevermind…”

You figure he has enough to worry about already. You know he’s fully aware of the risks of this mission and the consequences that will follow if he fails.

So, for now, you allow yourself to sit in this false sense of security and serenity a little longer, whether for another minute, another hour, another day.

He won’t fail, you tell yourself as he places a kiss to the top of your head and smoothes down your hair, rising from the bed and gathering up more scattered articles of his clothing to slip back on before heading downstairs. He can’t.

You then regret opening the window. Perhaps, if you’d left it alone, you could’ve bought a few more hours of peace before the weight of responsibility settled in.

But, at the same time, you also knew that you were both on borrowed time.

Why not enjoy what moments of fresh air and sunlight you could get before it all was reduced to rubble and ash.

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[eomayas]

his friends and his dad hate me • chs

pairing: non-idol!vernon x fuckgirl!reader, fwb

genre: smut 18+ MINORS DNI!!! angst

synopsis: you broke his little heart, he’s a cry baby. OR, reader excels in the male dominated field of being a female fuckboy! (based off ‘crybaby’ by megan thee stallion)

warnings: p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, riding, vernon gets his heart broke, reader is not a good person

a/n: i’ve had this in my drafts for awhile and needed to finish it 😭 i love when readers are morally gray or just wrong & bad! pls remember this is just fiction ok thx!

despite the protests from his friends and the little (though extremely loud) voice in the back of his head telling him this is a horrible idea, vernon grabs his car keys and tries to slip out of his apartment. “dude, we didn’t even get to finish the game! get back here!” wonwoo shouts, frustration clear in his voice. it’s bible in their friend group to finish any smash tournament that’s started, and he’s breaking the one and only most important rule.

“later!” vernon says, hand on the door knob. he’s sort of stalling, sort of wants to be told that he has to stay behind. the thing is, he’s pathetic, especially when it comes to you. he’d cross all seven seas to get to you, if you asked.

“she doesn’t even like you!” soonyoung shouts. vernon sighs and rolls his eyes, walking down to the hallway and stopping at the entrance of the living room. five of his friends look at him with mild disappointment and he puts his hands up in surrender.

“first of all, she invited me over so you’re wrong—and secondly, you’d all do the same if you had prospects but you don’t,” vernon says, letting out a breath. it felt good for him to fight back like that, though soonyoungs comment does leave him feeling sort of doubtful. very doubtful, actually, because he knows there’s some truth in his statement whether he wants to acknowledge it or not.

minghao and joshua share a look and vernon sighs. “fuck you guys,” he says.

“yeah, whatever. but don’t come back here crying,” soonyoung says, a shit eating grin on his face. vernon flips him off, face flushing in embarrassment at the memory of him getting so drunk that he cried in mingyus arms at the club over you. they’ve never been able to let it go, bringing it up every time your name is mentioned. it’s mortifying, but a slight wake up call. except he’s not thinking with his head right now.

they all snicker, but minghao manages to give him a sympathetic shrug. it doesn’t do much to alleviate the doubt in his head, but the support is nice. simply put, his friends are not fans of you, and he doesn’t necessarily blame them. your relationship started out rocky and unserious—he was a late night booty call for you and a fill-in boyfriend without the title. he did boyfriend things with you—for you, thought you two were together until you dropped the bomb that you didn’t like him or want him like that. he was crushed, but he played it cool and told you that he wasn’t looking for a relationship anyway. that only made things worse, seeing that you only called him when you wanted some attention, and constantly made him feel like you wanted him.

the crying in the club bit was the straw that broke the camels back for his friends. they had a mock-intervention for him, urging him to delete your number and to find somebody else, but as if you were summoned at the mention of vernon moving on, you’d called him a few days later and got him back where you wanted him. he hasn’t been able to escape you since, caught in some spell or trap you put him under.

“whatever,” vernon mutters, pulling off his cap to run his fingers through his hair. “i’m leaving now.” he declares, urging himself to actually make the move to leave.

he’s halfway to the door when minghao calls out to him by saying, “my therapist would call this self-destructive behavior!”

vernon doesn’t have time to deeply evaluate his behavior as ‘self-destructive’, because he spends the twenty minute drive to your place psyching himself up. that alone should be indicative of the issue with seeing you, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. instead, he bumps his music and drums his fingers against the steering wheel.

it’s not lost on him that he was able to make it to your place without directions, though he forgot how complicated the apartment parking lot was. by the time he finds a spot that he won’t get towed and/or fined in, he’s much later than when he said he’d be at your place.

vernon sends you a quick ‘here’ text before making his way towards the door to your apartment building. he presses the buzzer for your unit, and his pulse skyrockets. in the few seconds that it takes for you to answer, he spirals thinking of every negative possibility of your encounter. what if you really do hate him, like soonyoung said? and, if not, what if he sucks in bed? what if he says something stupid? what if you find out he’s a complete and utter loser?

“vernon?” your voice crackles through the intercom and shoots straight to fast beating heart, halting his mental spiral of doom, and putting him back in the moment. he’s nervous in a different way now. he’s so unsure of himself around you sometimes—which is definitely a sign that he should cut ties with you.

“y-yeah,” he clears his throat quickly, trying to cover up his shaky voice. “it’s me.” his finger nearly throbs in pain from how much pressure he’s putting on the buzzer.

with a loud pop, the door unlocks and vernon enters. he hikes the two stories to your apartment, and by the time he’s at your door he’s mildly winded from how fast he got up there. vernon stalls a few feet from your door to regain his breath (and confidence). he chews on his bottom lip for a second and glances down the hallway and considers making a run for it.

there isn’t much thought put into that, though, because his feet take him in the other direction towards your front door, and he’s raising his fist to send three soft knocks your way. vernon shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighs, dropping his shoulders and rolling them back.

you pull the door open and his eyes snap down to you, and he swears his hearing goes out for a split second, because his face feels like it’s on fire and his muscles feel heavy. and then you smile at him, and he thinks he may melt into a puddle in front of your door. “vernon!” you squeal, laughing yourself onto him, legs wrapping around his waist and arms encircling around his neck. “you took forever.” you mumble, capturing his lips in a kiss that he’s been dreaming of for weeks.

vernon silently thanks the universe that he didn’t collapse when you attached yourself to him, and that he had enough sense to hold onto the bottoms of your thighs for support. “traffic,” he lies, walking the two of you into your apartment and kicking the door closed behind him.

he stops walking and the two of you make out for a few minutes. his nerves disappeared the moment you latched onto him. granted, hes a bit nervous, but he doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out, or like he wants to make a run for it. “you look good, baby,” you purr once you pull back from his lips to really look at him. you run your hands through his short, brown hair and smile at him, and he decides right then and there that all of the pain and suffering you’ve put him through might be worth it, if you keep smiling at him like that.

untangling you legs from his waist, vernon helps set you down and lets his hands drag up your bare legs. your skin is soft like he remembers, and he wants nothing more than to spend the rest of his life rubbing and touching it. but your hands make use of pulling down his jacket zipper and subsequently helping him out of his coat, so he unfortunately has to pull his hands away from your thighs.

“have you been working out?” you question, setting his jacket on the back of one of your bar stools. vernon looks down at his own biceps and shrugs. “i lift sometimes, yeah,” he says. you walk back over to him and shamelessly feel him up. he’s still skinny, but there’s muscle in places you don’t necessarily remember him having.

“hmm,” is all you reply—it does a lot to cover up how badly you want to tear him out of his clothes. you grab his hand and lead him down the hallway to your bedroom.

“how’ve you been?” vernon asks. you giggle at his awkwardness and give him a look over you shoulder as you pull him into your bedroom.

“really great,” you push him lightly towards your bed, and crawl onto his lap, lips finding purchase on his neck. you grind down onto him as you suck a purple mark onto his neck. “what about you?” you ask in between kisses, voice slightly breathless.

“uh, fine,” vernon spits out, mind a bit hazy when you slip off of his lap and onto your knees between his legs. “better.” you smile at him sweetly, but your hands make quick work of unbuttoning his jeans. he helps you pull them down to his ankles, along with his underwear.

a soft whimper leaves you mouth at the sight of his semi-hard dick. you press your thighs together and reach forward to grab ahold of his member and start stroking his shaft. vernon looks down at you with parted lips; he feels like he’s in a dream, watching you on your knees below him. you’ve given him head before, but it was conditional. usually, when you felt guilty for something, or knew you made him upset you would suck him off. he tries to push the thoughts away, and succeeds when you wrap you lips around the tip and attempt to take all of him. “fuuuck,” he groans, gripping onto the edge of the bed.

vernon is embarrassed at how quickly you draw out loud moans from him just by massaging his balls as you work your mouth on him. he hasn’t been with anybody else in awhile—and he’s too embarrassed to ever admit that he’s good with just having you, even if he has to wait for you to call him.

“oh, fuck, y/n,” he whines, thighs tensing. he lets go of the mattress to gather your hair and wraps it around one of his hands. you moan against his crotch when he pulls, watery eyes flicking up to meet his own. spit gathers at the corners of your mouth and vernon knows this is an image he’ll never, ever forget. “shitshitshit!” his hips buck upwards and he expects you to pull your mouth off of him to use your hands to get him to his release, but you stay put.

it drives vernon crazy. he comes fast, and he doesn’t have time to be embarrassed because you swallow, and then keep sucking after the fact. he’s never seen you act like this, and you’re a bit shocked at your own behavior—you hadn’t realized you missed him that much.

“y/n,” he whimpers, chin falling against his chest. you take that as a sign that he’s about to pass out, and reluctantly pull your mouth off of him with a pop. a trail of spit mixed with cum follows his cock to your mouth, and it makes you want to give him another blow job, but he looks too spent.

“vernon,” you start, getting off of your knees. he manages to sit upright before falling backwards onto your bed.

“give me a minute,” he croaks. you smile and take a few seconds of your own to catch your breath before you undress completely and crawl onto the bed next to him. vernon opens his eyes and looks over at you. “i wanted to do that.” he whines, referring to getting you naked, and reaches out for you.

you crawl on top of him and settle on his abdomen. his hands moves to your waist and his eyes stray trained on your breasts. you lean down a bit, practically putting your boobs in his face. vernon leans forward and wraps his lips around one of your nipples. he shifts the two of you so he’s sitting up straight, thus shifting you down onto his crotch.

you can’t help but grind yourself against him as he plays with your breasts. he fondles the own that’s not in his mouth, and keeps his eyes on you. you moan softly above him, light little pants leaving your mouth that only encourage him. “nonie,” you whine, running your hands through his hair and gently tugging on the strands. “touch me. i want you to touch me.”

vernon pulls his mouth off of your breast and slides his hand that was on your waist up your spine. he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your mouth down to his own in a messy, heated kiss. he manages to flip the two of you over, propping himself up on an elbow and slipping his other hand between your legs.

“all for you,” you purr when he drags his fingers up your slit, a look of disbelief on his face at how wet you are. “need you, nonie. your fingers, mouth, all of it.” you whine, spreading your legs open for him. vernon liked how vocal you were about what you wanted from him. he wished you were as vocal about other aspects of your guys’ relationship, but he’ll take what he can get.

vernon dips two fingers inside of you, your arousal acting as a perfect lubricant. vernon kisses your neck and chest as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. his thumb presses on your clit and you moan out his name. “more, vernon,” you breathe, gripping onto his hair tightly. “fuck, i want you to fuck me vernon. can you fuck me?” you ask, clenching around his fingers.

his cock jumps at your tone of voice and request. “i can fuck you,” he rasps. he’d rather make you cum on his fingers first, but you wish is his command. he lifts up from you and pulls his shirt off. you rake your nails along his exposed abdomen, applying light pressure. you smirk up at him and he grabs your hand and kisses your palm. it’s much too intimate, but you can’t deny the butterflies it gives you.

“grab a condom,” you remind him, pointing to your nightstand when he grabs onto the base of his dick. he quickly moves to open the drawer, and he tries to ignore the photobooth strip of photos of you and some guy he’s never met is the first thing he sees. he pushes it out of the way and grabs a stray condom, and slams the drawer shut.

he rips open the package and rolls the condom on before grabbing your leg and throwing it over his shoulder and lining himself up. vernon pushes his hips forward and sinks the tip in. “ah!” you gasp at the delicious stretch. quiet as it’s kept, vernon has a big dick and he knows how to use it. it’s unfortunate that he’s hung and is so shy about it—sometimes you wish he’d call you to fuck, rather than you doing it all the time. “fuck, vernon, you’re so big.” his body flushes with heat and he keeps pushing forward.

you suck him in welcomingly. he fits inside of you like you were made to be stuffed by him. he fucks into with a steady rhythm, and each time he pushes inside a moan is pushed form your lungs. vernon can’t keep his own moans contained, moaning our curses with each thrust. it’s dizzying, how turned on he is by you. he feels like he can’t think about anything other than fucking you and staying like this until eternity. he gets the morbid thought that he’d be okay if he died like this, buried inside of you.

“fuck, right there baby! you’re so good to me, fuck!” you shriek, mouth falling open as you look at there the two of you connect. you get lost in watching him disappear inside of you, by the white ring that’s formed at the base of his dick. the sounds vibrate off of the walls; squelching and skin on skin nearly deafening. “fuck me, vernon!” you cry, hips raising to meet his own.

tears brim in your eyes when he pulls your leg from his shoulder and shoves it up to your chest, spreading you open wider and fucking into you at a different angle. “i m-missed you,” he chokes out, shifting his weight to a single arm so he can grope your chest.

“me too,” you pant, chest arching up into his. you chase his lips with your own, wanting to feel as close to him as possible. your mouths press together, but not in a kiss. you pant and moan harshly against each other, his hips rutting into you at a faster, less rhythmic pace.

“i-im close,” he whimpers, placing an open mouthed kiss on the corner of your lips. you whine out his name as he speeds up his pace, your arms sliding up his back. you dig your nails into his skin, definitely leaving scratches. “fuck, you’re perfect.” he whispers, eyes looking into yours.

you whimper and squeeze around him before your release comes crashing over you. “nonie!” you cry, clutching onto him like a life raft as he fucks you through your orgasm. his strokes lose rhythm completely and moments later he’s coming into the condom, stilling inside of you as he does. you almost wish he wasn’t wearing a condom, so you could feel him.

vernon drops on top of you, his arms too weak to hold himself up. you cling to him, hands running through his hair absentmindedly. you don’t mind the weight of him on you, and you especially don’t mind the fact that he’s still inside of you. you have a soft spot for vernon, even though it may not seem like it. he’s the nicest guy you’ve ever been with—much nicer than the guys you’re typically acquainted with—and he’s sweet to you, even when you don’t deserve it. you know you should probably let him go, free him of your games, but something in you won’t let you. and that same something won’t let you like him—love him—how he deserves.

“vernon,” you murmur, rubbing his back.

“hmm.”

“im hot, and you’re heavy,” you say with a soft giggle. he smiles into the sheets and lifts himself up and pulls himself out of you. both of you whimper pathetically at the loss of contact, and laugh at each other seconds later. he drops down beside you on the bed, rolling onto his back. you roll onto your stomach and rest your chin on his chest before resting on your cheek, and he wraps an arm around your waist.

vernon strokes your hair and keeps his eyes on you. if he was a cartoon, his heart would be beating out of his chest and hearts would be shooting out of his eyes.

“you’re staring,” you mutter, rubbing his side.

“because you’re pretty,” he says, hand sliding from your waist to your ass. you roll your eyes and sit up onto your knees and look down at him. you can’t contain the urge to smile or kiss him, so you do both. “you should go pee.” he mumbles, breaking the kiss.

“right,” you say, quickly getting off the bed. no other guy would remind you to pee after sex, but of course vernon does. every single time, too. you wish you could leave him alone.

vernon sits up and grabs his boxers. he pulls them on and stretches his arms above his head, sighing when he feels a pop in his shoulders. somewhere behind him, a phone buzzes once, then twice, then incessantly. he doesn’t know where his phone is, so he digs around in the bed until he finds the source, pulling out the phone from under a pillow. it’s definitely not his, so he feels sort of strange holding it as the name ‘seungcheol’ flashes across the screen.

“what are you doing with my phone?” you ask with an accusatory tone, eyebrows furrowed as you tie your robe.

“i couldn’t find mine, and it was ringing,” vernon says, holding it out to you. you snatch it out of his hand unnecessarily, ready to tell him to mind his business until you look down at the screen and see three texts and a missed call from a guy you’re seeing. it’s not super serious, but you feel bad for vernon having to see it.

“sorry,” you mutter, quickly typing out a response to seungcheol. you try to shove the guilt down as you set your phone down on your dresser. it’s awkward and tense, and you can feel him watching you as you mess around with things on your dresser.

glancing up, you catch his eyes in the mirror and sigh before turning around to face him. you crawl onto the bed next to him and sit on your knees. he won’t meet your eyes, so you try the only thing to bring him back to you.

you kiss his neck and run your hands across his chest. he doesn’t react so you pull your robe open and grab his hand, placing it on your chest and squeezing. “vernon,” you murmur, crawling into his lap. you kiss up his neck, to his jaw, and when you get to his mouth he pulls back.

it’s not his business at all, but he can’t hold back when he asks, “who was that?”

you bite your bottom lip and encircle your arms around your neck. you press your weight into his crotch and bite back a smile when he covers a groan with a throat clear. “he’s just a friend, nonie,” you lie, kissing his cheek. “you have me. all of me.”

he looks up at you with wide eyes, and you feel his cock twitch under your ass. he’s pathetic, and it’s never been more clear to him because he kisses you and palms your breast, pinching your nipple lightly and shoving off your robe. he knows he’s reaches new lows because he lets you push him flat onto the bed and pull his underwear down. when you sink down onto him—with no condom this time—he knows he’s fucked.

you ride him like your life depends on it, like him forgetting that seungcheol ever called is imperative to keeping this thing going between the two of you, because it is. you bring out all the stops, riding him on your toes and telling him things he definitely wants to hear, like how nobody feels better than him, and he’s the best you’ve ever had.

vernon leaves your apartment with clarity on one thing: he understands why his friends can’t stand you.

[wayfayrr]

hey uh. if requests r open. would it b possible to request a follow up to that self-aware-twi fic. if not thats ok i just wanted u to know i havent stopped thinking about it since i read it. altered my brain chemistry, touch-starved twilight princess link my beloved, etc etc. ur writing is top-tier <3<3<3

I think the best part about this ask is - I've had this written since early January. I actually wrote part two as a birthday gift for a good friend of mine @glowyskull <33

So this is more just me finally posting it sfbgdfbgdb. it's also funny to think that the twilight fic is my most popular fic now considering how the self aware au really started as just a really guiltily self indulgent fic - something fun to write that I didn't think could get as big as it did on my blog. and I'm glad that you liked it so much <333 whimpery touch starved twilight princess link is just so AUGH love him so

[masterlist]

“Oh you’re finally wakin up then darlin’.”

“...hmm?”

“C’mon darlin’, you can’t have forgotten what happened earlier already? Can you? Your fever - cold isn’t that bad so you can't have…”

Who’s rambling… and why does it sound so familiar?  Wait does that mean - is everything that happened earlier all real then, did link really crawl out of my tv just because he was lonely. Because I left him there, left him all on his own to rot in his own solitude. 

“Link? You - that - everything was real then? All of it?”

“All of it darlin’, from how I got out to how I’m never gonna leave ya.”

“Huh..? I could’ve sworn that you didn’t even mention anything like that…”

“Mhm, well you’re ill and still a little out of it darlin’ so you probably just forgot, you did agree though.” 

It does sound like something that I would agree to, I mean I’m the reason that he’s sentient. It would be cruel of me to throw him to the other wolves, he isn’t from here but besides even that, he isn’t from here. He doesn’t know how this world works, it would be worse than sending a dog to a shelter. It would be his death sentence for certain, and after all that I put him through for a simple pause in playing. The way he’s petting my hair like this though, it’s enough to simply just wash the rest of my worries away, if I could I would spend the rest of my life right here easily.  

“About your illness though, do you have any red potion anywhere?” 

“No, no things like that don’t exist here link and the painkillers I have aren’t worth moving for.” 

“If you’re sure… I’ll go and get them for you the second you change your mind.”    

“You don’t even know where I keep them.” 

His hand paused at that, causing me to let out an involuntary whine. I couldn’t even think to stop it with how it slipped out instantly, which he seemed fond of. Cuddling me closer to his chest and resting his head on top of mine, with what felt like a giant smile on his face. 

“I can look for them, It’s not like I won’t need to learn where everything is now that I’m living with ya… besides I’ve already put you through so much stress when you’re not well.”

“You didn’t mean to link, how could you have known I was sick?”

“...I don’t know - I just - it shouldn’t have been hard to know with how you looked when you opened the game. I’m sorry love I just wasn’t even thinking I just wanted to be out, but I should’ve been more considerate to you.”

With how silent he is in the game you could never have guessed how much he likes to ramble, it’s the second or third time it’s happened since he crawled out of the glas- the glass. Are his bandages holding up, he seems fine but he’s not from here, any infection could be deadly. He wouldn’t even see it coming with how much he’s fawning over my comfort right now. 

“Link?” “Yes, darlin’?”

Oh wow, he - well he’s whipped already. Is it real love or has all that time trapped alone twisted him into this. I’d look into getting him therapy but… if he mentioned the truth then it would be a matter of seconds until he’d be diagnosed with something inaccurate. No one. No one at all would ever believe that a video game character actually broke out of their game - especially not someone like Link falling for an exhausted student like me.

“Are you feeling alright? You have so many cuts and wounds right now.”

“It’s nothing that’s worse than anything else I’ve ever had. They do feel more real though.”

“...real?”

“They feel like real wounds, not something that could be healed away in seconds and they’re just tiny scrapes.”He sounds so giddy as he’s talking about being hurt - it’s unnerving when he starts holding me even tighter when he’s saying it. I don’t think I’m ever going to be getting away from him ever again… if I wanted to. Why shouldn’t I take a chance at having a relationship though. He cares about me - he really does even if it’s unhinged - it would be so nice to come home to him, to be able to spoil him and be spoilt by him. Even being held like this feels so unreal, so impossible that I shouldn’t be here with him. So much so that I want to stay here and fall back asleep without any argument. Didn’t he even say he wanted to be my lover? Why look over a gift too closely?

[apdreadful]

Two sides to every phone call..or, still Buck

Tommy’s phone dings in his pocket.

It’s a text from Chimney

Chimney: I want to go on the record, I tried to talk him out of it.

He starts to reply asking what Evan has done now, his phone rings.

“What’s he done now?” He asks as a way of greeting.

“Your man is gearing up to do something really stupid. Or more accurately not gearing up”

Tommy could hear Evan’s voice in the background “You called Tommy! What the fuck Hen?”

“Well god knows you never listen to any of us” she replies.

“Put him on” Tommy says torn between wanting to laugh and also throttle his husband.

“You’re part of my team” he hears Evan grouse “Where’s the loyalty?”

“He was part of my team first. Also, do you really want any of us to have to explain to Tommy why you went splat?”

Tommy hears a rustling, presumably Evan taking the phone, and then a masculine sigh “Hey”

“Evan” Tommy says softly

“Yeah?”

“What were you about to do that Hen and Chimney both had to reach out to me”

“Chimney too?” Bucks voice rises an octave “Et tu Bruté”

“Did you just quote Julius Caesar?”

“Yes. I do know how to read, babe. I’m more than just a pretty face”

Tommy pauses for a beat, and when he speaks his voice has taken on a different tone “I am both annoyed and totally turned on by you right now. A state which I am becoming more and more accustomed to”

“You got a boner?” Evan stage whispers.

“OH MY GOD!” He hears Hen exclaim “You’re on my phone! No boner talk on my phone”

“Sorry babe. Hen wont let me talk spicy to you on her phone. Apparently her phone isn’t into dick either” He snickers.

Tommy manages to bite back his laughter knowing that will only encourage him more.

“Evan” he repeats.

Buck clears his throat. “Yes?”

“What were you about to do?”

Buck hesitates “Well..Crawl up an apartment building, balcony to balcony”

“Without a harness!” Hen yells.

“You are all the worst kind of tattletales” Evan grumbles. “It’s only like six stories”

“Evan” Tommy uses the tone that always gets Bucks attention.

He hears Bucks small intake of breath “Babe. You cannot use the bossy bedroom voice on me when I’m at work” he says huskily.

“Oh for fucks sake! Give me back my phone. Ya’ll are worse than a bunch of horny teenagers”

“You’re the one who called him to tattle on me and handed me your phone”

“Not for you to have phone sex with him. I swear the two of you are actually worse since you got married.”

“Awww thanks Hen” Buck says sweetly.

“That wasn’t a compliment”

“I’m choosing to take it as one though” he volleys back.

“Evan, please do not attempt to climb up a building without a harness” Tommy asks.

::Silence::

“Evan?”

“Ok. I won’t”

“Thank you. I’ll see you tonight. I love you”

“Love you too” Buck replies.

“Be safe” they say almost simultaneously.

Tommy grins as he ends the call and slips it back into his pocket.

“Judging from the dopey ass look on your face. That was Buckley”

“Don’t be jealous, Hayes” he winks.

Buck:

Buck hands the phone back to Hen “Still think you’re a tattletale.”

Hen narrows her eyes at him “That was surprisingly easy”

“What?” Buck says as he heads to the rig to get a harness and ropes.

“Did he threaten to put you over his knee if you did it anyway?”

Buck snorts out a laugh “Like that would have been a deterrent..He asked me not to go up without a harness”

Both Chimney and Hen gape at him “That’s it?? He asked you?”

Evan shrugs “Yes” after a few moments he adds “He’s my somebody, that person that needs me to come home to him”

Hen smiles softly and gives Buck a one armed hug “I like this married Buck. He’s a lot more sensible”

“Regular sex will do that for you!” He quips with a wink.

Hen makes a gagging sound “Never mind, still Buck”

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/55979032"

[sothisart]

1972

Remus couldn't sleep. His injuries from the night before still hurt, apparently Madame Pince's potion started to wear off. He was used to it though. He'd had it worse most of his life. Hogwarts hospital wing actually gave him a big relief with all the treatment he was getting every full moon after starting school.

"Remus..."

A quiet voice interrupted Remus' thoughts.

"Are you sleeping? Can I hop in for a moment?"

Sirius's big eyes were looking at him with this inexplicable expression, like a little puppy asking for permission to sleep in his bed.

"Sure...," he answered though he was not sure how that would work, he had never had anyone visiting his bed at night. Well, except for being cuddled by his mum on nights like this.

Sirius climbed up, settled himself next to him and whispered.

"Does it still hurt..."

"Yeah, but it's better than it has usually been," Remus whispered back.

Sirius was silent for a moment. Then he lifted his gaze and looked straight into Remus's eyes.

"I'm sorry, I wish I could help. I...."

Remus didn't know what to say to that, Sirius had discovered his secret just a couple of weeks before, and Remus still wasn't used to talking about it so openly.

"I just want to say... you're my best friend and you'll never be alone with it." Sirius said, his eyes shining in the darkness, his arm slipping around Remus's back to held him close.

#wolfstar #wolfstarfanart #wolfstar 

1975 

Remus was lying on his back, trying not to think about the events of previous several days. He still couldn’t suppress the haunting memory of Sirius’s cursed body after he’d escaped the Black mansion for, hopefully, the last time. Remus was trying to relax his muscles and, maybe, fall asleep like he hoped Sirius managed to do. Sirius was now safe, only that mattered.

“Moony… can I…” he heard soft whispering.

“Pads, are you ok? You should be resting…”

“I know, I will. Just I…” Sirius said but didn’t finish.

Remus shifted to the side of the bed, grabbing his hand and pulling him in. He knew sending Sirius back would only make him feel worse, and he wanted Sirius to feel better after what he’d been through.

Maybe Sirius couldn’t sleep either.

Maybe he’d had a bad dream.

Maybe he was scared even though nothing bad could happen. At least for now.

“You’re safe here, Sirius,” Remus whispered before you could stop himself. He didn’t know if that’s something you say to your friend, even the best one, but Sirius only shifted closer and wrapped his arms around Remus’s back to held him tight, and whispered:

“I know.”

1976 

Remus sometimes still needed to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He’d shared the bed with Sirius so many times over the years. It wasn’t even slightly suspicious to any of their friends who were used to them frequently waking up together in one four poster. Platonically of course. Only the way Sirius was pressing his mouth to Remus’s neck was not a platonic as they were thinking.

(I’m not sure I’ll write sth for other years, they are quite clear from the pictures anyway 😅, I had like 5 examples of more pictures to this story, but somebody stop me cause it would never end)

Also, huge admiration again to MsAlexWP and her @languagelessonswolfstar - I loved the idea of them sleeping together from the very first year at Hogwarts, the idea original to Language Lessons! It inspired me to draw this series.

[deadsetromance]

IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS OF THE MORNING

(not my gif!)

gerard way x gn!reader

summary: he's your roommate...but maybe he's more than that.

warnings: unedited writing, fluff, no use of [y/n]

note: so sorry i haven't posted in forever! i have a few requests and a few more half-complete drafts, so hopefully those should be up soon &lt;3

you supposed there were worse roommates out there. actually, thinking about it, you realized how lucky you were.

you got along really well with your roommate, gerard. he’d been sharing an apartment for nearly two years now, and you were sure you knew him better than you knew yourself.

you know he forgets to take the coffee pods out of the keurig, and sometimes he leaves the heater running for too long.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him sleep. sometimes you wonder if he’s a vampire or something, what with the scribbling coming from his room at all hours of the night.

to be fair… you’re hardly any better. you sleep little more than he does, when you do fall asleep it’s usually on the couch, and you leave the television on all the time.

you’re incredibly lucky, you realize. lucky that he’s as sweet as he is, bringing you coffee in the mornings, and stopping by your job on his commute. he’s even slipped a few drawings your way. some are drawings of you, others are silly little doodles he gives you when you’re having a bad day. sometimes, he’ll show you characters for the comics he’s working on, asking for your input.

you realize that you’re lucky that he’s so helpful, that he’s not a creep, that you both get along so well. you’re lucky that you’ve found a friend who will sit and watch television reruns with you when neither of you can fall asleep.

that’s why you slip a record under his door one night. you don’t know if he even likes sinatra, but you give it to him anyway. there’s no special occasion really, you just thought of him when you found in the wee small hours in the record store you visited. you don’t sign your name on the post it you stuck to it. all you write is “from one insomniac to another”. you feel embarrassed for some reason you can’t place, and something slithers in your stomach. maybe you shouldn’t have given it to him…maybe he doesn’t like sinatra. it’s too late now though, it’s already done.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

it’s late one night…or early, depending on how you look at it. you’re tired, whatever movie you were watching forgotten and on mute. you can hear gerard milling around in the kitchen, you can smell the coffee he’s brewing. you’re tired, but you can’t fall asleep.

“thanks for the record” gerard called from the kitchen. “i really liked it”

you smile, one of those hazy tired smiles, the kind you do when you’re between being awake and asleep. “i didn’t know if you liked sinatra, i hope it’s ok”

you miss the way he grins at you, too busy yawning.

“it’s great i actually…” he walked off in the middle of his sentence, a habit you’d noticed he had, only to come back with the disk in his hands. “do you mind?”

it didn’t matter if you said no, he already turned to put it on, smiling back at you as he dropped the needle to the record.

“what are we watching?” he asked, sitting next to you on the couch. close enough to be touching you, but still far enough to give you space. it’s like a paradox, you think, but then you tell yourself to shut up. you’re too tired to know what you’re talking about.

“i dunno, i stopped paying attention.” your eyes flit to the movie playing on the television, watching the car chase for a moment before turning your attention back to him. “you’re going to keep yourself up all night drinking coffee this late.” you might have frowned at him if you weren’t too busy beaming.

he knew you were teasing, you could tell by the glint in his eye. “i just need a few finishing touches on my project and then i’m done.”

you didn’t say anything more for a while, taking a moment to take everything in. the record playing softly in the background as you curled closer to gerard. his head resting on yours as you listened to his breathing, memorizing the pace of his heart.

it’s quiet…intimate, and you’re tired. tired and happy.

“you tired?” he questions softly.

“a little,” you don’t know why you’re whispering.

“do you work tomorrow?”

“yeah, i open,” you groan, rubbing your eyes. you think you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

it’s quiet again, though this time it’s too quiet. you’re left with thoughts of gerard running through your head, and you wish that one of you would say something. you should be ashamed, you scold yourself, thinking of him the way you do when he’s sitting right next to you.

“what are you thinking about?” he prods gently. he’s soft with you, the way he always is, careful not to overstep with his questions.

“nothing really,” you lie, because you’d rather not risk what comfort you have now. “what are you thinking about?”

it seems like he didn’t expect the question to be turned back on him. he hesitates, and the silence is thick…too thick. his face is illuminated by the light from the tv, and he looks nervous. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite as terrified as he does now. the lighting shifts, and he’s blanketed in darkness again, but you notice something change in his eyes.

“i think i love you” he whispers against your ear.

you feel like you can’t breathe. you think you heard him wrong. you’re worried this is all a dream, a good dream, the kind that would leave you reeling when you wake up.

you want to hear him say it again.

you lean your head back against his shoulder, and he breathes out with a shudder. you watch the explosions on tv as your hand finds his. “i love you too.”

that’s it then, everything is out in the open. maybe you’re tired, but you sigh gently as he cups your face in his hands. thinking back, you can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him changed, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. he loves you and you love him. it’s surprisingly simple.

“can i…?” he doesn’t need to finish his question as you lean in closer to him. his breath is warm, and he smells like coffee and sleepless nights, and you’re waiting for him. your eyes are closed as you breathe him in, and they stay that way as he kisses you softly.

he’s…soft, softer than you imagine, and you can’t help but smile.

in the wee small hours of the morning, he is yours, and you are his.

[tideswept]

"The Idea of You" Obikin AU! Thoughts? Obi-Wan as the 40yo divorced dad falling into a relationship with a 24yo popstar. Even the age difference lines up perfectly.

hold on I gotta google something rq

ok I'm back, and apparently I need to watch this???

BECAUSE YES.

100 X YES.

anakin clearly needs a daddy, the kid can share

Obi-Wan would be so bemused at the whole thing. And reluctant. The age gap, Jesus Christ, and Anakin's famous. He'd be ruining a kid's career, and his own life, for what? A fling? That's all it can be, right? But if they keep it a secret, it can be--it can be okay.

(It's not, he's fooling himself, he's falling in love, he's thinking about how stressed Anakin looks when he catches an interview on TV and even though he's decided that it's super casual, super hands off, of course he texts him that night, and one thing leads to another, and worse than it going into sexy times, it's cuddling, like cuddling with Obi-Wan is the only way Anakin can get any sleep now a days.)

(Anakin is the one that thinks Obi-Wan is too good for him, his life is too stable, Anakin is chaos and always ruins everything, has to be muzzled by his PR team, by his manager PPT; he's seen like 5 different therapists and nothing ever seems to get better. His life always feels one wrong step away from collapsing, and if he did, he'd take down everyone with him -- Rex and Snips and Padme -- even though they tell him over and over again that it's not like that.)

(Korkie is probably the one that ends up slapping them both upside the head because oh my god there are only so many times he can pretend to not notice Anakin Skywalker slipping out of the house.)

[apocalypseornaw]

Real or Not (Pt 5/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean makes it to Donna's

Always a pleasure "working" with @lacilou

Donna had met you at the door, waving at Claire as she backed out of the driveway. You half expected her to ask but instead she smiled "Ya know where the guestroom is and guest bathroom. Why don't ya go get a shower and change into more comfy clothes then we can talk or not whichever" you instantly pulled her into a hug trying very hard not to cry. She held you for a few moments, rubbing your back soothingly then leaned back to smile at you again "Want tea or coffee waiting?" "Tea please"

You, the boys and Jody's girl all kept extra clothes at Donna's. She was a safe place to crash. Once you were out of the shower and dressed you stared at yourself in the mirror, immediately regretting not paying better attention when you grabbed clothes. You'd gotten a pair of your sleep shorts out but the shirt you'd grabbed was an old henley of Dean's.

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

You ignored the ache in your chest as you brushed your hair out then headed out the bathroom. You padded softly down the hall enjoying the feeling of the cool hardwood floor under your feet.

When you made it to the kitchen Donna was standing with her back to you, you saw she had her phone to her ear and started to step out to give her more privacy until you heard your name. The bits you caught were "Jody's gonna flip" "You shouldn't have went back Claire" "Yeah I know" "I know how two faced Camila is" "I don't think Y/N is gonna believe me though. I could strangle Dean"

You cleared your throat and had to stifle the urge to laugh when she spun around wide eyed looking very much like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar "Claire sweetie I gotta go. Give Jods my love and call me when ya get home"

You raised an eyebrow at her phone as she sat it down "What was that about?" She shrugged but when you crossed your arms she let out a sigh "Claire had a talk with Camila" "A talk?" You asked skeptically and she flinched "She might have gave her a black eye, broke her phone and told her if she came within fifty feet of you she'd get worse that than"

You felt your heart warm at Claire's protectiveness but felt the need to say "While I appreciate Claire wanting to defend me she doesn't need to risk getting in trouble. That bitch isn't worth it" Donna nodded slowly and held out a steaming mug. When you took it you realized she was still staring at you "What else Donna?"

She shrugged "Camila told Claire she lied about a lot, like the ring thing" you shook your head "Even if Dean wasn't looking at rings, he was willing to quit hunting.... Donna he still hadn't even told me he loves me. How many signs do I have to let slap me in the face before I accept I'm not the one for him no matter how much it rips my heart out or how much I love him"

She opened her mouth as if to say something but you quickly forced a yawn "I'm gonna take my tea to the guestroom so I can lie down if that's ok" she nodded "Of course. Holler if ya need anything" you gave her a small smile before nearly running to the guestroom, shutting the door behind yourself.

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

You sat the tea on the dresser before sitting on the bed. What were you supposed to do now? The bunker had been your home for quite some time before you and Dean ever shared a bed. Maybe the twins wanted a third for hunting? Or you could go with Claire some?

You eventually laid across the bed, hoping sleep would pull you under.

Dean parked next to Donna's truck feeling his heart skip around in his chest. He cut his eyes at Sam as he killed the engine "What do I say to get her to listen to me?" Sam shrugged one shoulder "Honestly?"

Dean felt his jaw clench as he said "Yeah honestly. I'm trying to fight for the woman I love her and this is new territory to me Sammy" a small smile slipped onto Sam's face "Don't gameplan man. Just talk to her, stutter and stammer if you have to. Just try to tell her how you feel and make her see you mean it"

He nodded slowly before climbing out of the impala, hearing Sam get out behind him. Before they made it all the way onto the porch the front door swung open and there stood Donna looking very pissed. "DEAN WINCHESTER! WHAT DID YOU DO?"

He flinched at her tone and held his hands in front of him defensively "I promise you my own crime is being stupid enough to think Camila had changed any. Anything she told Y/N was a lie. Please let me talk to her Donna" she looked from him to Sam before nodding "Ok, Sam ya wanna ride into town we me? The dinner has decent enough food"

Sam nodded "Sure" Donna leaned in to grab her coat before looking back at Dean "She's in the guestroom. Don't make me regret this Dean" Sam patted Dean's shoulder reassuringly before following Donna off the porch.

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

Dean stepped inside and stopped. What if you didn't want to see him? What if you didn't believe him? What if you really were through?

He wanted to give into those self depreciating thoughts he had his entire life but your face popped into his mind. The smile you'd have when you would wake up next to him, how you'd wrap your arms around him and kiss between his shoulders while he cooked. The way you'd patch him up after a hunt or sit watching his every movement with tired eyes as he patched you up.

Every moment of your relationship and even before flashed through his mind. It was worth the risk. He knew for him that you were it, he just hoped you felt the same.

-----------

He walked to the guestroom and knocked twice. After a moment he heard your sleep ridden voice "Come in Donna" he hesitated, should he tell you it was him? After a moment he pushed the door open "Hey sweetheart"

You shot up in bed and stared at Dean for a long moment. Your first urge was to run to him or even cry but you bit both those down to let venom slip into your tone as best as you could "Where's Camila?"

He shrugged "Don't know. I came here to talk to you" you stood off the bed smoothing a hand over your hair as you did so. You refused to be sitting while he stood. You needed halfway equal footing.

"Why? To tell me yourself I never measured up to her? To tell me you would've quit hunting for her? Or or or did ya come to tell me stories about her like I heard you and Sam reminiscing about WEEKS AGO!" You hadn't realized the anger that was simmering under your pain but once you started talking it refused to not be fed.

You tool a step towards him "When would I have been enough Dean? I was friends with you and Sam for so long before we ever started getting closer. You had every chance to not yet you took me into your bed. You touched me, you kissed me, you made me feel wanted like you actually cared but all the while I was falling in love with you were you still hung up on her?"

"No" he answered it so matter of factly it pissed you off further. Your teeth clenched hard as you said "Then why don't you love me? Why don't you feel about me how I feel about? WHAT DOES SHE HAVE THAT I DON'T?"

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

You felt angry tears slip down your face half a second before Dean was pulling you into his arms. You struggled, trying to break out of his embrace but knew he was stronger than you and your traitorous heart and body wanted nothing more than to melt into him. "Why don't you love me?" You half whispered half sobbed into his chest.

"I do love you" he spoke quietly. You pulled back from him to look up into his eyes "Don't say it to save my feelings" he gave you a smile that wasn't his usual flirtatious one but was genuine nonetheless "I'm not baby please can I talk now?" You nodded so walked the two of you over to the bed and sat down scooting back against the headboard pulling you onto his lap as he went and you let him.

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

Once you were straddling him with your head resting in the bend of his neck he started to rub circles onto your back as he spoke "She lied about me wanting to quit hunting. She lied about a lot, that's all she ever did. When me and Sam were talking about her it was because he was giving me hell for not trying to get you sooner because he was comparing how much better of a hunter, cook and woman you are and I was agreeing. I have loved you for a while now but sweetheart this is new to me, I've ran from any feelings my entire life. I've ran from the possibility of opening myself up to being hurt but you? You could rip my heart out right now and I'll use my last breath to tell you I love you"

You leaned up to look into his eyes "I've felt so out of place since I heard you two talking about her. I wanted to trust in us, not just a lovers but as friends. Dean I've never dreamt of feeling how I feel about you. I love you" you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and he sighed lightly into your mouth, a sound of contentment. When you pulled away he smiled again "I love you Y/N. A future for me? It's you. No matter what else may come my future is you"

You smiled again, feeling tears brimming in your eyes "Shut up and kiss me like you love me Winchester" He grinned at your words "Oh I definitely can do that"

@lacilou @saranghaey @stoneyggirl2 @marimarvelfan @roseblue373 @suckitands33 @backtotheshitshow @jackles010378 @leigh70 @diagnosedpsychosis @badassbitch-21 @geekwritersworld

[bucky-bucket-barnes]

Ok I have a angst requests. Unrequited love cause I like to hurt myself,but reader is the one in love with bucky. You can do a sad or happy ending its up to you

the cure

Pairings: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

Warnings: so much angst, hurt comfort, arguing, swearing, minor depictions of violence, blood, slow burn, and some fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

masterlist

Thick blood pooled in your hand, gathering like an expensive wine, traversing the lines in your palms before dripping thickly down onto the pavement below. A piece of broken glass had scathed at your hand as you were climbing out a window in an attempt to leave the building swiftly. While you should have been more concerned about the risk of tetanus or the multitude of other blood diseases you had just exposed yourself to, the thought of those didn’t trouble you much. 

Bucky. He was the first thing to cross your mind. You knew he’d fuss once he saw the blood pouring out of your hand, insisting, practically begging to help. It felt awful to admit, but his attention was addicting. 

He was always so much sweeter when you were hurting, so much softer. Instead of fretting over your injury, you fantasized about it. The panic that would descend in Bucky’s eyes, clouding his pupils, the tenderness in which he’d offer to wrap your hand. The maddening satisfaction that he cared about you deeply enough to worry. 

It was masochistic, it was sick. Sometimes you thought you were sick. But you hadn’t gotten hurt on purpose, of course not, this was just an added benefit to the pain. 

On cue, he rounded the corner, huffing out, “Alright, I got the hard drive we needed, let's head out before the cops show up.” 

You didn’t respond with words, instead, you outstretched your palm toward his direction, like a beggar reaching for alms. You studied his face, nipped and bitten red by the cold night air, the way his brows furrowed at the revelation. Even in the modest light of the alleyway, you could see the concern melt into his face. 

“Oh, doll, what happened?” Bucky asked softly into the night, gently taking your hand to inspect for any further damage. Sirens were nearing in the background, the breeze whispered against your skin, causing a shiver to travel down your spine. 

Doll, he called me doll. 

That was his pet name for you, sparsely used except on the occasion when he believed you needed an extra bit of kindness from his direction. Doll was reserved for severely scraped knees, sprained ankles, nasty bruises on the arm, and, now, for glass in your hand. Your actual name was for all other occasions, for casual conversations, late-night talks on the roof, and group settings. You hated it.  

“Did you scrape anything else? Are you okay to walk?”

I could fly if you’d ask. 

“Yeah, I’m good. My hand needs help though,” you answered. He tugged at his shirt sleeve, ripping off a decent chunk of fabric near his wrist. 

“I don’t think anything got stuck in there, but I’ll take you to the Med Bay just to be sure.” He wrapped the blue fabric around your hand as he spoke. 

Just as quickly as you had caught him, he was slipping through your fingers. He’d drop you off and in the morning he’d be normal Bucky. Not mean or cruel but something much worse; disinterested. Your attention would be thrown towards another person as you floated in the background like a forgotten shadow. 

“Could you bandage it when we get home? I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.”

Bucky shot you a concerned look before studying your face more. “If that’s what you want, doll.” A weak smile cracked on his face before his face returned with worry. He went to wipe a small smudge of dried blood that clung to your forehead. Momentarily, you convinced yourself he was going to lean in for a kiss. 

“Let’s get you fixed up,” he added gently, wrapping your hand before ushering you into your getaway vehicle. 

Your heart tightened in your chest as your throat stung with disappointment. He would be yours for the night. You silently tried to convince yourself that this would be the last time you’d reach for his attention. This isn’t love, this is pity. He was being a good friend, a dutiful soldier. 

“You’re going to worry me to death, you know that?” He glanced over as you attempted to put on your seatbelt. “Here,” he whispered, reaching across to adjust the buckle for you in fear your hand would start gushing more blood.

“Promise?” you sighed, gazing longly at his side profile as he began to drive. 

-

“Steve’s always moving the damn rubbing alcohol,” Bucky grumbled as he dug through the kitchen’s medicine cabinet. The lights above made a low humming noise, the only sound to accompany Bucky and you. 

The air felt thick as you sat patiently at the island, studying your hand in the warm light. Everyone else was either dead asleep or several states away, allowing Bucky and you to remain in the kitchen undisturbed. Alone. 

He sighed triumphantly, pulling out the faded grey bottle before ushering you over to the sink, “C’mere, we need to rinse it first.”

Shuffling out of your seat, you gently spoke, “Thanks, again, I really appreciate it.” The cold floor tickled against your bare feet, causing you to shiver lightly as you moved. 

“Of course, I couldn’t leave my partner high and dry.” He guided your hand under the cool running water. By now, you had stopped actively bleeding. The blood had dried, floating down in flakes of browns and reds as it swirled around the sink before falling down the drain. Your eyes remained on the faucet, trying not to catch Bucky’s gaze that was barreling into your temples. 

Bucky’s hand was gently wrapped around your wrist in an attempt to control your quivering. The heat radiating from his body wasn’t enough to warm you up.“You’re shaking like a leaf, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

Feeling your face grow warm, you cleared your throat. “I’m just cold, that’s all, Buck.” You swiftly moved your hand back to your side and silently reached to grab a paper towel. Part of you believed the longer he held onto you, the sooner he’d realize this odd game he was unknowingly partaking in. 

“Here,” he said softly, wrapping his jacket around your arms. “It’s not much, but it should keep you warm until you go to bed.” 

Mouthing a small thank you, you readjusted the leather around your arms. It smelled like his cologne, a warm coffee scent that lingered around all his clothing. 

Standing in silence, you turned to face Bucky, who was now just inches apart from your face. His eyes began to traverse your face inquisitively, as if he was trying to find a secret tucked between your eyebrows or hiding on your cheekbones. 

“Doll?” he lulled so quietly you weren’t sure if he had spoken. He reached for your hand, slowly dabbing the alcohol on your wound. He stopped for a second, eyes glancing up towards your face, waiting to see if you were flinching.

It was as if you couldn’t move. His stare alone had turned you to stone, bolting your tired feet into the tiled ground. Is he onto me? “Yes, Bucky?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it was just a scratch.”

“No, I meant is everything okay with us.” 

It felt like you were swallowing rocks as your mouth ran dry. He had a disappointed glint in his eyes as he awaited your response with bated breath. 

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” The words fell seamlessly from your mouth, almost convincing yourself for a moment. Out of all the questions he could have prompted, this wasn’t the one you were expecting to tumble out of his mouth. He mindlessly gnawed at his lower lip, unsatisfied with your answer. 

Bucky slowly began to wrap a bandage around your hand. “Did I say something? For the past few weeks, I feel like you’ve been. . . distant. You don’t talk to me anymore, except on missions, and you’re quiet on those too. I thought you needed space, but now- now I’m not sure. What happened to us?”

Us, us, us, us, us, there is not us, stop saying us. 

Guilt was bubbling in your mouth as you clenched your jaw. You weren’t trying to hurt his feelings, you never were. 

“Life,” you shrugged. “You’ve been dating, I’ve just been more into work. We’re fine, though.” You smiled lightly, fighting back the burning shame that was rising in your throat. “I guess this is just what happens when you grow up.” 

“Y/N, I haven’t made it to a second date with anyone yet, you have nothing to worry about,” he reassured, taking your uninjured hand in his. “Our friendship means a lot to me, whoever I date knows you’re part of the package.” He was smiling, sure the misunderstanding had been cleared up by now. 

Your heart cracked when you heard your name. Doll was gone for the night, now in her place was what felt like a half-baked version of a person. Feelings of embarrassment and shame began flooding into your body again. This was you why didn’t say anything, held your tongue instead of telling him how you felt. 

Because you weren’t the girl he’d take out on dates. 

You weren’t even the girl he’d take to the movies.

No, you were who he came home to. Always waiting patiently for him to come back, like time froze when he wasn’t home. You were a stand in for whoever he’d find to take your place. 

“Thanks,” you could feel your voice dangerously close to faltering as you took off his jacket, shedding it like an old skin. You briskly made your way out of the kitchen, hoping he didn’t catch the deep set frown on your lips.  “Goodnight, Bucky,” you called back before making your way to your bedroom. 

It was humiliating letting someone have this much power over you. Even worse, he either didn’t notice or he didn’t care. 

“Goodnight,” Bucky murmured, eyes sadly gazing at the discarded jacket that now rested on the counter instead of your arms. 

-

Snow was softly collecting on the ground outside. Lazily, you remained curled up against your window, watching as the flakes descended from the sky and onto your backyard. A warm cup of tea was curled around your hands, warming your fingertips. 

Today is going to be a good day. 

A whole month had flown by and you hadn’t thought of him once. Well, not for long, anyways. Bucky was off on some secret operative mission in Eastern Europe while you remained in New York. It was easy to lose track of time in your endless hours of paperwork and countless mini investigations. When you weren’t working, your time was devoted to getting lost in museums and exploring any hole in the wall restaurant you could find by yourself. If no one was going to take you on a date, you’d decided you’d take yourself. 

I just needed some alone time. 

A gentle knock came from your door, you remained still, sure Natasha was just checking in. 

“It’s open,” you called out, still admiring the snow from the comfort of the heated indoors. 

I like this version of me. 

“Hey,” a familiar tone chimed out, warm and low. 

Your head snapped towards his direction, eyes widened with surprise. Bucky stood just feet away, a shy smile on his face, more than the usual amount of stubble peppering his face. The air felt thick all of a sudden, the walls too close together to breathe. 

“Your hair. It’s longer.” Was all you could manage to get out, gripping your cup so hard you thought it might break. 

“Oh, yeah,” he responded, self consciously running his hands through his chestnut locks. “I couldn’t really cut it for a while. I just showered and shaved, but I wanted to say hi.”

“It looks good,” you reassured, a familiar feeling rising in your chest. You couldn’t smile in return, instead a hesitant look still lingering on your face. 

He wasn’t supposed to be back this soon. Yes, you were glad he was home and more importantly that he came back in one piece, but you had been silently dreading his return for weeks. 

Things can’t go back to how they were. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Sure, I was about to lie down though, I’m feeling a bit tired.” 

Lie, your mind growled as he slowly walked in. He perched at the window sill besides you, gazing outside. The bright light of the snow reflected back on his features, slightly washing his face out. He was glowing. 

“You look paler.”

“You’re observant today,” he chuckled, turning to look at you. You quietly told yourself you wouldn’t look back, maintaining a faux interest on the outside scenery. 

A few minutes of silence passed between you two. It was peaceful and allotted your heart the chance to stop racing and the butterflies in your stomach to settle down. Sipping lightly at your tea, you could feel Bucky’s eyes back on you. 

“It was kind of lonely.”

“Sorry to hear.”

“I thought about you a lot.” 

You let his words hang in the air for a moment. Just a few weeks ago and you would have been vying for his attention, his secret affections he only exchanged when you were wounded. Now? You weren’t sure anymore. 

“I missed you everyday,” he cooed, gently going to place his hand on top of yours. 

Without thinking, you jerked yourself away, spilling the steaming peppermint tea all over your lap. A nasty hiss escaped your lips as you jumped off, praying the burning sensation would melt away as the liquid fell off your lap and onto the floor. 

Bucky was immediately on his feet, snatching the cup from your grasp before it could shatter to the ground and cause further issue. A firm arm had wrapped around your waist in an attempt to keep you on your unsteady feet. 

“Are you okay-”

“No!”

“Do you want me to-”

“No,” you corrected, shimmying yourself from his grasp. “No, I mean I’m done, I’m done with this.” 

His feet remained planted, unsure whether you wanted him to reach out or stand down. 

“You. . . you can’t keep doing this to me,” you sighed indignantly, clenching your hands in frustration, unsure where to channel your emotions. 

“Doll-” He had a honey like sorrow in his voice; sweet, slow. His eyebrows turned up in confusion and hurt. 

“Could you just stop! I can’t figure you out. One moment you’re sweet and telling me how much you missed me but then the next your off fucking some random girl before you come back home and play fucking nurse with me.” 

Venom was lingering in your voice as you spat out your frustrations at Bucky, months of built up resentment and anger finally boiling over. 

“Can we talk about this later, you just spilled boiling water all over yourself.” His calm tone only seemed to infuriate you more. He took slow steps towards you as if you’d jump out and bite his head off if he weren’t careful. 

“I’m fine!” you challenged back. The adrenaline coursing through your body was enough to distract you from the burning feeling on your thighs. 

“Clearly not,” he began to challenge back, exasperated. “You’re acting like I’ve just shot you, all I did was say I missed you. Is that not how you feel?” 

“Get out.”

“Doll.”

“Bucky, I know you’re not dumb,” you groaned out in frustration. “I’ve liked you for months and if everyone else has picked up on it, I’m sure you have too. You don’t have to like me back, but you don’t get to go around saying ‘I missed you’ and then act like I don’t fucking exist unless I’m bleeding or burned. You’re being mean to me.” 

“I can’t fucking read you at all.” It was his turn to bite back. An indignant scowl was situated on his face. “One moment you act like you can’t bandage you’re own fucking hand then you’re scurying away like some stray cat when I try to have a conversation. When you act like you want space, people usually try to give it to you, Y/N. I don’t think you even know how you feel.”

“I know you only give a fuck about me when I put on some stupid damsel in distress act. Do you know how that feels?” 

“And you only act like you’re not scared of me when you want attention. And I’m a fool enough to give it everytime. Do you know how that feels?”

He shot your own words back at you in a way that was so uniquely painful, you both stood there in silence, taking shallow breaths in after your screaming match. 

“Is that how you feel?” you asked matter-of-factly, voice steady. 

“I’m sorry-”

“That’s not an answer,” you said softly, the anger withering from your voice and replacing itself with an old fatigue. 

“Sometimes, yeah.” Bucky matched your low volume. It took everything he had in him to not step forward and pull you in a tight embrace, whispering sorry until his voice went hoarse. “I’m used to people being frightened. It hurts when you do it, though.”

“Your hookups don’t seem to be afraid.” You internally winced, wishing you would’ve phrased that better. 

“They’re not you.” 

“If you like me so much, why not ask me out?” 

Bucky took a moment to glance you over, tracing your outline with his eyes. You were inches away and he still felt like he missed you. 

“I have problems and three lifetimes worth of baggage. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re more than just collateral damage.” 

“We’ll hurt each other eventually. That’s life.”

“I don’t want to hurt you at all.” 

“Bucky,” you began to fiddle with your hands, hoping to avoid his eyes. “Maybe we should give each other some space.”

“But,” he desperately reached out for you, cupping your face lightly, anguished in his eyes, “I like you.” 

“But you don’t want to be with me. Liking me isn’t enough.” You were looking up at him, an injured look on your face. You couldn’t tell what was making your body ache more, this or the burn on your lap. Slowly, your hands went to rest atop of his before removing them from your face. 

“Are we still friends?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Can I at least get you an ice pack for your lap.”

“No, it’s okay. I take care of myself.”

-

Sunlight began streaming into the Grand Central Terminal, tickling against your skin as you walked around, luggage in hand. The snow was merciful enough to stop piling on the ground for a few days, allowing your 7 A.M. train to run on time. In under an hour you’d be boarding a one way trip to D.C. 

The new year had just begun, it was time for a fresh start. A start that was far enough from New York to make you forget about the city. The people who lingered about the city. A certain person from the city, to be more exact. 

A confused look settled on your face as you tried to find your exact stop before you drifted for the next half an hour at one of the local cafes. From the corner of your eye you could see something hurtling towards your direction in a frenzy. 

It was him, hair disheveled and face wild with surprise. Bucky looked like he had just rolled out of bed before coming here, sleep still desperately trying to cling to his eyes. 

There was no point in trying to duck in the crowd, he had his eyes locked on you as you stood. 

“Y/N,” he called out, hoping you’d echo back with his own name. 

“Bucky?” you spoke out, only loud enough for yourself to hear, his name a secret on your tongue.  

“Don’t get on that train,” he gasped out, trying to regain his breath as he stopped short in front of you. 

“I’m not, my train isn’t here for another 35 minutes.”

“Alright, give me a second then. Sam told me you were leaving this morning and I got here as fast as I could. I also just ran the past 10 blocks. Fucking traffic,” he huffed out, running an exasperated hand over his face in order to regain himself.

“What are you doing here?”

“Wait,” he pleaded, putting his hands out in defense. “Before you tell me to go away, I just needed to say something. Then you can curse me out all you want, I’d understand.”

“I don’t want to fight,” you mumbled, slightly wounded he was still ready for a fight even now.

“I’m a fucking idiot. Severely. Here I have, the most amazing woman I have ever met, who’s funny and kind and smart as well as beautiful and I was too much of a dumbass to treat her right. I’m insecure. I don’t like myself and I get scared that when other people get too close, they’ll see what I see, and they’ll want to go away.” 

You noted the passersby that were stopping to spectate your scene. “Bucky, you don’t have to-”

“I want to, I want you. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend and I’m sorry I made you feel used. But I don’t want to lose you.” 

Time slowed, all of a sudden the air felt too light and no matter how much oxygen you sucked in, it was never enough to satisfy your lungs. The rise and fall of your chest felt like a shake, battering your organs as you breathed in and out. 

“Are you asking me to stay?” you asked, unsure what to do with this information. 

“I’m asking that you let me follow you wherever you go. I don’t care if it’s New York, D.C., or the middle of nowhere, I just want to be with you.”

A decent crowd had circled around the two of you by then like vultures, waiting for a murder. The grip you had on your suitcase seemed to slip from your fingers as you moved towards him. You threw your arms around his torso, taking in a deep breath; it was like you could breathe again. 

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he whispered against your temple before planting a soft kiss on your forehead, entangling his arms around your body. You could feel the way his body shook like a wilting flower, the excitement at which his heart thudded in his chest. 

“Let’s go home, Bucky.”

“Of course, doll.” 

[arctrooper69]

hiii! i just found your hurt/comfort dialog prompt list you had tagged and i'm such a sucker for that kind of stuff. could you please do prompt 34. "you're covered in blood, need to tell me something?" with wolffe? maybe even a little bit of prompts 20 and 35 from the the hurt/comfort sprinkled in there too? i absolutely adore your work and your such a fantastic writer, i look forward to everytime you post, and you do such a beautiful job on your writing that i can't wait to read this once it is done (if you decided to do it) . feel free to change it how you want, and thank you for taking time out of busy day to read this. love you <333

Hey! I'm so glad you've been enjoying my work! Sorry it took me awhile to get this out to you. I had so many ideas for it but I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. Hope you enjoy it! 😁

Prompt# 20: "How long did you think that you could hide that?"

Prompt# 34: "You're covered in blood, need to tell me anything?"

Prompt# 35: "It's just a headache, I'm fine."

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

Love is a Battlefield

The new General doesn't want to ask for help. Commander Wolffe does so anyway.

Warnings: Blood. Angst. Battlefield scenes. Hurt/Comfort.

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

"Okay, today officially sucks." You grumbled under your breath, cursing whatever cosmic Force led you to be in your current state. Groaning you dragged yourself back over the ledge and collapsed in the mud. Everything hurt. Your clothes were stiff with dried and drying blood and at this point, you weren't sure if it belonged to you or to those damn splox who's nest you'd fallen into. Probably both.

Ok, now to find the rest of the company. You were sure that you hadn't strayed too far from the battlefield when you'd been drug off by battle droids and thrown from a cliff in the resulting fight. But hey, at least you took them down with you. You thought, cracking a smile. Master Plo would've been proud. On the other hand, you frowned, you had gotten separated from everyone else - so maybe not so much.

You drew a sharp breath between your teeth. A burning, grating feeling radiated from your side as you stepped over a rock and nearly fell to the ground. You paused for a moment to let your tunneling vision focus again, fighting back the urge to throw up. Maybe some of the blood was actually yours. The trek back to camp was going to take much longer than you expected.

Good. Maybe that would give you time to mull over the conversation you'd had yesterday morning with the commander of you battalion.

You were sure it was the reason that Commander Wolffe was ignoring you earlier today.

***

You'd chosen to continue on with the battalion after Master Plo had received an urgent message from the Council, recalling him from the field. Wolffe disagreed.

"You're injured!" He snapped, more forcefully than intended.

You sighed rolling your eyes. "It's just a headache. I'm fine. You know I've had worse, Commander." It was more than a headache, probably a concussion due to the nausea and dizziness that currently plagued you. But he didn't need to know that.

Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose.

"General, I saw that spider droid fling you halfway across the battlefield. Can you at least go to medical to get checked out? I need you-" He froze, then coughed quickly, trying to pass off his slip-up as though he'd been interrupted mid sentence. "We. We need you. Your men need you at your best, general."

He coughed again and quickly left the room, leaving you frozen in place.

***

Did he really say that? You replayed his words in your head over and over again.

"I need you."

You couldn't deny that it had shaken you. You couldn't deny that it had hit you in such a way that made your whole body tingle and flood with warmth. As much as you tried to suppress it and convince yourself it was nothing, you had found yourself staring at the Commander a lot recently. The way he confidently carried himself, the subtle spark in his eye, the way he cared for his men even though he hid it behind that abrasive and sarcastic front - it was all so perfect. So attractive. So him.

No, he couldn't have meant it like that. You were his superior and even more importantly, you were a Jedi. No attachment allowed. He definitely couldn't have meant it like that. It was simply a slip of the tongue. He felt nothing for you and you felt nothing for him. You told yourself that your infatuation wasn't real. Commander Wolffe was a good solider and your fondness for him was simply a professional sense of pride. That's all.

Distant voices interrupted your brooding. Several clone troopers were searching high and low, calling out for someone but you didn't quite catch the name.

"Who are we looking for?" You walked up to the trooper closest to you. His shiny white armor was streaked with mud and ash - one of the new guys. Splash, they'd christened him on account of the puddle of mud he'd landed in immediately after jumping from the gunship into the field. It was hard to believe you'd only been here for three days. It felt like three years.

"We're looking for the General!" He explained hurriedly, hardly giving you a side glance.

Your heart dropped. Surely not Master Plo. Had he not left for Coruscant after all? Your hero and former master had seemed invincible ever since he'd chosen you to be his Padawan.

"General Plo Koon?" You asked hesitantly.

Splashed grunted as he stepped over a log. "No, the other one."

A wave of relief washed over you. You could've laughed out loud if your head wasn't so cloudy. Your side screamed with every step. You took a shallow breath, trying to ground yourself.

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me.

Supplementing with the force wouldnt last long and it was draining, but it was better than the agony you'd been in. You took a deep breath, allowing the pain to become a whisper and looked back up at the clone.

"Well you found her!" You joked.

"What?" He stood up looking confused. Then he looked over at you.

Splash straightened up upon realizing that he had indeed found the General. He was glad he was wearing his bucket because he could feel his face turning red with embarrassment. He scrambled stiffly to attention. "Uhm, sorry Sir. I mean Ma'am. Uh, General." He stuttered, trying to compose himself. You chuckled, wincing as the movement pulled at your wounded side. Splash looked alarmed as if he'd just realized that his General was covered in blood. "Are you injured, Ma'am?"

You grit your teeth to hide the pain. "No, I'm fine, thank you. I believe it all belongs to the splox that I killed. Fell into a nest of em."

He looked at you, unsure if you were being serious or not, trying to recall if the regulation manuals told him what to do in a situation like this.

"We should probably make our way to medical, all the same." He concluded. "Just to be safe. Get you checked out and all." He offered his arm.

You shook your head. "No that's alright. They're much too busy right now, seeing as the battle has just ended."

"Well I'm sure..."

You put a hand up to stop him. "It's fine, Splash. I can take care of myself. Let's worry about making our way back to camp."

"Of course, General."

***

You made your way back to camp and bid Splash a farewell. Exhausted, you yawned and slowly made your way back to your tent, passing the Commander's tent on your way there.

"General!" Commander Wolffe sprang to his feet the moment he saw you. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

His eyebrows knit tightly together with a frown. If you didn't know better, you almost thought he looked concerned. Worried even. But that would be stupid. You were reading too much into it. He was simply a solider looking out for the welfare of his commanding officer. That's it. Nothing more.

"I'm good!" You grinned, hoping he didn't notice the way your teeth ground against the pain in your head and now your side.

Wolffe's face became unreadable.

"Just good!?" He growled. "General, you are covered in blood. 'Good' does not even begin to cover it. Do you need to tell me something?"

Yes. I think I'm in love with you.

"No not really." You nonchantly shrugged. "It's not mine. Fell into a nest of those giant splox beetles and had to take em out before they ate me. You know how it is."

Wolffe rolled his eyes. He didn't believe you, but what could he do? He wasn't your superior, he couldn't order you to tell him. He made a note to ask Cody and Rex to let him into the clones-with-stubborn-generals club. He could sure use some advice.

"Could you be anymore bull-headed?" he wanted to yell at you as you left the room, interpreting his silence as the end of that conversation.

Wolffe groaned in frustration. Why did he care so much? Why did the thought of you being wounded send waves of terror cascading through his core. You were acting strange, subtly walking as though every step sent agony shooting through your body thinking nobody would notice. He noticed. He wanted to pick you up in his arms and bandage your wounds. He wanted to softly kiss each scar on your skin.

You were a good leader. He understood wanting to be tough, wanting to be strong for the soldiers under your command. If he was honest with himself, he did the same.

You trudged wearily back to your tent, ignoring the pain that was slowly returning to full force with a vengeance as though it was angry at being willed into submission.

You made it a point to avoid medical. The dwindling amount of medical supplies worried you. It was only a matter of time before they would run out if they weren't sent relief. The chief medical officer had drastically downplayed the dire straits the company was in when you asked him. You'd seen the inventory. It was scarce. It wouldn't be right, going to medical right now. Not when you could most likely patch yourself up with the small medkit by your bunk. The clones made up the backbone of the GAR, it was only right that they take priority over you.

***

It was a miracle of the Force that you hadn't passed out by the time you reached the tent. Biting your lip to keep you from making too much noise, you peeled off your shirt to assess the damage, grabbing a towel from the shelf.

You bit back a pained moan and your vision swam as you gripped the edge of your cot to steady yourself. A large gash curled around the side of your chest from the bottom of your breast to your hip. The torn skin bled heavily, quickly turning the towel a crimson red.

This was...not good.

The com chirped, making you jump. You felt dazed and exhausted. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath before answering the com. Sergeant Sinker's brisk voice echoed from the device.

"General, the clankers are moving in from the North. They've engaged the front and the 501st is calling for aid. What are your orders?"

Your men needed you. Who were you to ignore them? What kind of leader would you be if you sent them off while you stayed behind. "A good leader leads by example" Master Plo always said. You were tired of the animalistic way the clones were treated - as if they were only droids or worse. You would be there for your men, fighting right up front beside them. Right beside Commander Wolffe.

You lit up the com. "Proceed with the request, Sergeant. I'll be there shortly."

You looked at the medkit. Well, so much for that. You quickly taped up the wound and slapped some bacta treated gauze on it. Then you quickly changed your clothes, willing yourself to ignore the nauseating pain. You steadied yourself with a hand on the wall before wiping the cold sweat from your clammy skin. You tried to breathe, once more closing your eyes in meditation once again squashing down the pain. The show must go on. The General must lead her men into battle.

***

General Skywalker was right to call for aid. The Separatist forces were throwing everything they had at you. You jumped over the guns of a tank, slicing through the controls to disable it. Droid after droid came at you from all sides and you cut them down. If only the Commander could see you now in all your glory.

An explosion knocked you off your feet, wrenching you from your stupor. Pain surged through your body as you pushed yourself to your feet. The continuous onslaught of enemy forces wasn't so fun now. You began to realize just how tired you were. Trying to catch your breath felt as futile as swimming in honey. Your mind felt sluggish and your arms felt like lead. A B2 took aim and fired. You saw him fire and raised your saber to block but it was a fraction of a second too slow and the blast hit your shoulder. Kriff. You hit the ground hard, letting the awful, searing pain wash over you. You wanted to close your eyes. You wished you could just rest. Just for a moment.

Your eyes flew back open. No. The men need you. Get up. Shakily you forced yourself to your knees and onto your feet. One more time. You knew this was abusing the force but it was for an honorable reason. Right?

I am one with the force and the force is with me. I am one with the force and the force is with me. Pain is temporary. Accept it simply as a signal sent by the body. Accept the pain. Respect it. Don't fight it. Ask your body to begin to heal.

You let out a feral scream, pouring every last ounce of energy and willpower into your prayers, knocking back an entire wave of droids. And then you felt nothing.

***

My head. The first thing you noticed upon regaining consciousness was the skull splitting headache that you could almost feel radiating down your entire body. It felt as though someone was spearing red hot needles through your eyeballs, twisting them through the many sections of your brain. The pain made you nauseous.

An agonized wheeze drifted from your lips as you tried to raise your hands to cup your face. When did my arms get so heavy? Pain shot through your side and shoulder as you tried to move. Panic gripped you when you couldn't.

"Ah kriff," a gruff voice cursed. "Hey! General. General, it's okay. Calm down. You're safe." You'd know that voice anywhere - it was the only clear thing that cut through the haze of pain. Commander Wolffe.

He barked a command at someone and after a few minutes the pain had loosened it's claws. It wasn't much but it was better than before.

"What do you need, General? Are you still in pain?"

"Lights," you managed to groan. Even that took too much energy and you desperately hoped that you wouldn't be sick in front of the Commander.

Wolffe immediately jumped from his chair, quickly shutting off the lights. That helped some, but not much. It still felt like your head was being lobotomized by a pickaxe. Your side and shoulder felt like they'd been broken off and trampled by a bantha. A bantha that was on fire maybe.

"You are so kriffing stubborn, you know that!?" Wolffe growled. Seeing you wince, he lowered his volume but continued with the hard and bitter tone.

"How long did you think you could hide that!? Hmm?" He motioned to your side.

"You almost died yesterday." He said, softening his voice ever so slightly.

Wolffe looked tired. His eyes were sunken and even his cybernetic one had a dark shadow beneath it. He looked like he hadn't shaved or showered since the battle. His grey armor was still scuffed up with dirt and grime. A small bacta patch adorned his right eyebrow.

You looked away, shame burning at the corners your eyes, adding to the overwhelming pressure in your head. You failed him and now he hated you. You turned your head away from him wincing at the pain but you couldn't bear to have him see the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

"Look at me." A command. He didn't have the authority to give you a command, but you felt compelled to comply all the same. Hastily wiping your eyes in a futile attempt at seeming alright, you turned towards him. Your breath caught as he wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling it from your face.

"Stop kriffing pretending that you're okay." Still a command, but this one felt softer. His voice still held the rough, bitter edge that defined him so well but as you met his eyes, they held an uncertain gaze of vulnerability.

"Your men need you alive. They care about you, General." He paused, pacing back and forth in the dark room. He came to a stand still by the foot of your bed, refusing to meet your gaze, as though he had something he wanted to say. Finally he took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Oh kriff it." He snapped. "I care about you, damnit!" He shook his head and began to pace again, the anger returning to his visage.

"General Plo said you could've died." He spat. "He said that you had spread yourself so thin, used up so much energy that you could've killed yourself. Do you..." He cut himself off and took another breath, clenching his fists tightly. "Do you know what that would've done to this company. Do you know what that would've done to me!?"

There was fire in his eyes when he looked back up at you. "It would've killed me too."

You lay there in your bed staring at him - shocked at this outburst. What was he saying? That he cared for you? That he loved you? That he thought about you as much as you thought about him?

"I.." you began softly.

"No. I'm not done."

You shut your mouth.

"General, when you came back to camp covered in blood, I had to restrain myself from throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to medical myself. I knew something was wrong but I trusted that you knew what you were doing. It was the same when I saw you collapse yesterday. It took everything in me not to race to your side."

He shook his head, disappointed in himself, and angry with you. "I should be holding the line with my men, not babysitting my General!"

You stared blankly ahead, letting his anger wash over you. So that's how he saw you. That solves one problem, you tried to convince yourself. It was good that he didn't reciprocate your feelings. That made it easier to cleanse yourself of any feeling of attachment. But then why didn't hurt so bad? Why did it feel like a part of your soul had been sawed away? Wasn't letting go of your emotions supposed to bring you peace? This crushing weight of disappointment and heartbreak was anything but peace.

The room was quiet save for the beeps and whirs of the medical equipment around you. The silence felt deafening. Then finally Wolffe let out a sigh.

"I'm....sorry..." The words dragged themselves reluctantly from his mouth.

You didn't respond.

The bed buckled slightly as Wolffe sat down on the edge. He tentatively rested a hand gently on your back, expecting you to recoil or stiffen under his touch. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as you leaned into his touch instead.

He sighed, rolling his neck. "Look," he began awkwardly. "I'm not good at this kind of thing so I'm just going to be honest with you. I..." He stopped. You turned your face towards his. He took a breathe, not daring to make eye contact. "I think I'm in love with you. Kriff. No, I know I'm in love with you."

You gasped, the dam broke and tears began to stream down your face.

Wolffe jumped up, startled and clearly embarrassed. "I...I mean... I... I didn't mean..." The normally confident Commander stumbled over his words in a shameful horror.

"No," you sobbed. You felt so relieved. Everything felt right again. "You didn't do anything wrong." He looked down at you, eybrows knitted upwards in confusion. "Then why..." He motioned to your tearful face.

"Because I love you too and I was afraid that you hated me. I was afraid that everyone would see me as a terrible General. And also my everything hurts and..." you sobbed, "...and I love you so much."

Wolffe looked down at you with amusement and a strange softness took hold of his features - a foreign look for his usually serious demeanor.

"You look nice when you smile," you whispered with a small grin. "But you can go back to frowning if that's more comfortable for you."

Wolffe rolled his eyes as he settled down in a chair beside your bed. "You should get some sleep, General." Back to his serious old self again but he kept that twinkle in his eye. Only for you. he thought.

"I'll be right here when you wake up."

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

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[kkumawrites]

Here Kitty, Kitty ― Chapter Five CW: the sliiiightest suicidal idealization if you squint WC: 901

It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore Jeonghan’s blatant flirting as you tried to pay attention to the chemistry lecture, pretending you weren’t at all affected by his smooth words. He was quickly proving to be quite the charmer and you could feel your resolve slipping. Your hands continued to type out the notes but nothing was registering in your head, just the sweet words he continued to whisper towards you.

“Jeonghaaaaaaaaan” You let out an uncharacteristic whine, trying to get the older to stop. The professor had begun to go on about an upcoming project, something you were definitely not looking forward to. “I’m trying to listen to the instructions about the project. You know, the one that’s worth like half our grade,” 

“Sorry, it’s just so hard to pay attention to boring lectures when there’s something else I’d rather have my eyes on,” you can practically hear the smirk on his face as you roll your eyes, however the blush creeping on your cheeks betrays you and tells him a different story. Still, you do your best to focus on the lecture that seems to drone on and on while Jeonghan on your other side smiles rather smugly. He can tell that despite the way you act indifferent, his words are most definitely affecting you as he watches the apple of your cheeks turn a pretty red. He’s rather satisfied, so he relents, letting you be for the rest of class. 

When class is finally dismissed and you’re putting away your laptop, you turn to face the male next to you. Jeonghan tilts his head in response, looking oddly catlike for a wolf. 

“So do you wanna work on the lab at your house?” You question, to which he simply raises his eyebrows at you before a chuckle leaves his lips. 

“That’s fine with me. That is, if you’re alright with the other 12 people who will probably be all over you the moment you step foot in our house,” You cringed almost immediately, forgetting about the multiple other wolves trying to get your attention in any way possible. Even if it meant pissing off their alpha. You’re biting at your lower lip before letting out a sigh.

“Fine, we can do it at my house. This weekend, Saturday at one? Is that ok?” 

“Works for me,” The two of you exchange numbers before parting, though you don’t notice his lingering gaze on your retreating form. 

Needing some air and time away from his rambunctious brothers, Chan finds himself heading towards the roof of the history building. A quiet place no one else really went, a perfect hideout for the werewolf when he just didn’t want to think - sitting under the sun and letting his worries wash over him. When he opened the doors however, he was surprised to find that he wasn’t alone, a single lone figure sitting precariously on the ledge. Curious, he comes closer to inspect who it could possibly be and is once again surprised to find you, the mysterious new girl that his brothers had set their eyes on. 

“You’re - not gonna jump are you?” He questions rather insensitively, not thinking he could possibly offend you with his words; or worse, startling you and throwing you off balance, sending you tumbling to the ground. The history building was at least three stories and any normal person might not survive a fall from that high. Maybe if they were lucky they’d just break their legs. 

You didn’t even flinch though, having already smelled him coming closer. A small giggle escapes your lips and the sound vibrates in his ears, wanting to hear more. 

“Jump?” You scoff, rolling your eyes despite the fact that your back was facing him and he couldn’t see your reaction. “Believe me, I would if I could,” Your voice has a bitter edge to it and it makes him more curious about you, the mystery surrounding you had intrigued the rest of his brothers and he’d be lying if he wasn’t interested.

There’s an awkward silence that occurs between the two of you afterwards, and Chan gets the feeling he has said something he shouldn’t. Before he can even utter an apology, it’s you who asks him a question instead.

“Do you know the saying? You know, that a cat will always land on its feet?” You turn your neck to look over at him, blinking slowly as you wait for his answer but he only furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“Uh, yeah. But why?” He blinks at you in return but your lips curl into a smirk. You look away, this time leaning further over the edge of the building. Your legs bend slightly and you prepare yourself to jump. Chan notices what you’re trying to do a little too late, watching in horror as you leap off the roof and fall to the ground. 

He rushes to the ledge in pure shock only to find you perfectly fine on the ground, hands clapping together as if getting rid of invisible dust. You glance up at him with an innocent smile on your face before waving him goodbye. Chan can do nothing but watch you walk away. There are a million questions running through his mind, none of them making any sense and he knows that you’re going to plague his thoughts for at least the rest of the day.