#my heart hurts so much in going to be useless the rest of the day

[lightthewaybackhome]

Stargate-Atlantis S5: E15 Remnants

You have to understand that Inquisition had a much bigger impact on Sheppard than he admitted. His people, Atlantis, were on trial because of the choices he made. I think it brought to the surface a lot of the same feelings seen in Doppelganger. Sheppard struggles with feeling like he's the biggest threat to his people.

Rodney connects aloneness with Sheppard. Sad sigh.

Woolsey is lonely, Sheppard is alone, and Rodney is cut off from the praise of his peers by the confidentiality of his work. Woolsey is isolated in his leadership, Sheppard is isolated in his warriorness, and Rodney is isolated in his genius. They're each overcome by their own strengths and weaknesses. Woolesy is easily overcome by a friendly, kind woman because he wants a friend. Rodney is overcome by praise because he wants to be acknowledged. Sheppard is overcome by isolation and torture because he believes he's the source of danger for Atlantis. This episode is a weird reflection of Home in season one. Sheppard figured that out first because things were too good. He doesn't figure things out here because he believes they should be this bad.

Sheppard tells Kolya to go to hell, so Kolya takes him there. It's so hard bouncing between the three because Sheppard is enduring so much more than Woolsey and McKay. Woolsey and McKay 'demons' help them. Just. It just hurts how broken Sheppard is.

Kolya: You can tolerate more than any man I've ever known. Why is that?

Sheppard covers his fear with a snarky remark.

Kolya: You're here in the Pegasus Galaxy to protect your people, and half the time, you can't even do that. That's what drives you, your past failures.

Kolya tells Sheppard he can't protect his people, they're as good as dead. It doesn't matter if he holds out.

Kolya's monolog is basically our insight into Sheppard's own mind. He thinks nothing he's done, that there's nothing he can do to keep his people safe. That the bad guys will always find a way to hurt them, and they'll use him to do it.

When Radek compliments Rodney, I just started crying because Rodney's all beaming while Sheppard is tortured. And it just makes you realize people can be hurting, and even their closest friends don't know it.

My heart when Kolya chops off Sheppard's hand.

😭😭😭

What is Sheppard running away from? His empty life on earth?

Kolya accused Sheppard of being easy to break, but he didn't break. They had to cut his freaking hand off. This is just another echo in Sheppard's own mind that he's not being strong enough for his people. All this was to find out what kind of people they are and see if they can be trusted. They need to keep Sheppard busy while they worked, and this horror is what Sheppard subconsciously chose.

Kolya: You torture yourself every day, John. But, in this case, it was your mind manifesting your deepest fears. You are the architect of your own self-deception.

😭😭😭The aliens apologize for what happened to Sheppard earning one of his "gee thanks" faces.

I love how, just like Doppelganger, this ends with Sheppard surrounded by friends. In light of this episode, the last really painful Sheppard episode is Vegas, the solitary man. Before Atlantis, Sheppard was very alone. I think he fears being alone again, but he's not. Rodney knows him so well, even down to the gum he likes. Then you have the final episode where Sheppard does literally save all of his remaining people with their help, as always. I know it's subtle, but ending with Sheppard and Company saving earth in a final huge battle is healing Sheppard. Yes, I wish they could have done more. A whole season of healing is what this character needed, but I'll take what I can get.

This may also be why I feel the need to rewatch this whole stupid show as soon as I finish it. I want to see Sheppard healed. But you start it over, and he gets broken all over. Really, he comes to Atlantis broken. Those soul-fractures get healed, and he gets broken in whole new ways. Why am I addicted to breaking characters???

[suntoru]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ “YOU… CAN’T WALK?” *ੈ✩‧₊˚

summary: after a night of… suspicious activities, you find that your body is rendered useless!! how does your boyfriend react??

feat. diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich, childe, kazuha kaedehara, scaramouche, xiao, ayato, al-haitham, kaveh

a/n: blue balled </3

warnings: heavily suggestive however no explicit smut, minors get tf out /lh <33, innuendos, fluff, mentions of “girlie” in childe’s, basically after aftercare

─ ✰ DILUC is highkey embarrassed about not being able to resist his urges, so much so that you’re in pain because of him. he apologizes profusely and is so guilty that he hurt you 😭😭 you’ll have to reassure him that you’re alright, but that you just need some extra help getting around today or for the next week. he’ll be your majestic horse for as long as you need him to. need to go to the bathroom? he’ll carry you to and from, waiting for you to be done outside of the door. hungry? he’s already got adelinde cooking something up for you. thirsty? he just bought thirty different flavours of herbal tea. he treats all the love bites he’s given you and iced the bruises on your legs, looking up for your reaction each time. a friend of yours asked why your legs were so shaky and you couldn’t walk, and his face exploded into a bright shade of red, making it obvious that your… nighttime activities were the cause.

─ ✰ KAEYA’S your knight in shining armour, although sometimes you may want to smack his head. oh, he’ll help you alright, but at the cost of your dignity. he’s carrying you bridal-style in his arms, which may sound wholesome, but the things he’s whispering in your ear are clearly not. turning bright red, you nuzzle your head further in his chest to prevent him from looking at you. cute. he chuckles at your reaction, pressing a soft kiss to your head before gently placing you in the bath. the warm water helps your muscles relax more, easing up the tension from your legs. you sigh in relief, sinking further into the bathtub as he scrubs the soap out of your hair. you shiver when he blows over your hickeys, deliberately trying to rile you up. this time, you won’t give him what he wants, though. you flip over on your side, turning away from him with what little self-respect you have left. but it all leaves your body when he leans in closer. “easy there princess, being a brat is what got you here in the first place.”

─ ✰ CHILDE, quite like his name suggests, is a literal child. you thought kaeya was bad? well, this giant man baby wants you to flaunt off your hickeys and bruises to the whole world, he wants everyone to know you’re his and his alone. his teasing is x10000 times stronger than normal, he has no basic decency 💀💀 will make you ask for his help to inflate his ego, at this point just get up and leave </3 when you try to angrily glare at him, it comes off as more of a sad pout, so he caves and scoops you up in his arms like a kid. “aww, is my favourite baby coochie coo girlie okay? don’t worry, daddy’s here-” please smack the living shit out of him, if you don’t he’ll continue to baby and coo at you for the rest of the day. don’t even try to complain to him about the marks, he’ll just add more until he’s satisfied 😬 oh, and one last piece of advice? don’t let him see you in his shirt unless you’re looking to get wrecked (again), he’ll go absolutely feral.

─ ✰ KAZUHA, let’s be real, would be so soft and loving that you wouldn’t have any bruises and i stand this with my life 😤 but for the purpose of the plot, let’s pretend he did. out of everyone, he’s the most delicate with you. he’s so gentle and careful carrying you like you could break at any moment, whispering one of his poems quietly and humming underneath his breath. if you’re hungry, he makes his specialty dish, spoon feeds you everything, even tipping the water cup up so you can drink from it. he gives you so much love and reassurance it makes your heart absolutely melt 🥺🥺 he kisses each mark he made on your body, whispering “beautiful” each time :,) a tear slips by your eye, never has anyone treated you with such care before him. he wipes it away and pulls you close, making sure not to hurt you accidentally, and utters endless sweet nothings. in his eyes, you are a perfect creation, and he can’t thank the heavens enough that you are his. his muse, his love, forever <3.

─ ✰ SCARAMOUCHE, this bitch, thinks you’re being dramatic when you say in a scratchy voice that you can’t walk. he tells you to just get over it, and when you get pissed and try to walk away from him, your legs fail you and you brace yourself for the impact, but it never comes. his arms are hooked above yours, effectively saving you from crashing down and causing further damage. you angrily yank your arm back, telling him to leave, but he only pulls you up closer into his arms. he wraps your legs around his hips as he holds your waist, cursing something under his breath. he places you onto the couch as you turn away from him in a huff. “are you just going to ignore me?” silence. “fine. be like that then.” silence again. “…i’m …sorry. i didn’t mean it.” you turn back around, and he’s squatting on the ground with his head twisted so you can’t see his face. he moves away quickly, flustered by your gaze, and leaves the room for a minute. when he comes back, he’s holding some warm tea for your throat. needless to say, he pampers you for the rest of the day.

─ ✰ XIAO thinks you’re seriously ill when you almost tumble out of bed and land smack dab on the floor. you’ll have to explain to him why your legs aren’t exactly working, and when he does… flustered beyond relief. when he takes a closer look at you, he notices your body is full of love marks and bruises around your thighs. in the moment, he may have forgotten how fragile humans could be. he thinks he’s broken you, and he’s genuinely concerned for you 💀 you might have to direct him on how to help you, but once he gets the hang of it, he’ll do the best he can. unlike how he wields his spear, he’s delicate and graceful. he might be rough around the edges, but he’s trying, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t need him to carry you for the rest of your life, not when he cocks his head and looks at you questioningly when you don’t climb on his back. as an apology for temporarily immobilizing you, he brings you a qingxing flower and shares his almond tofu with you. honestly, what more could you ask for ��?

─ ✰ AYATO is actual husband material <33 he’s already prepared for this for some reason 🤨 as soon as you wake up, any punishments you may have received have been treated and wrapped up carefully. a fresh pitcher of water is there for you, and by the looks of it, a bath is running. but none of it interests you if ayato isn’t there with you. carefully, with the help of thoma, you are able to wobble to the room ayato is in, concentrated on his paperwork. hobbling towards him, he pushes his chair back so you can sit on his lap. pressing a kiss to your cheek, he brushes the hair out of your face, “darling, you should be resting. i ran a bath for you, is everything okay? are you sore anywhere?” “can you come join me? please?” you beg, putting on the cutest pout you can manage. “if you can wait ten minutes until i’m done.” internally, you sigh, but you patiently sit on his lap and wait until he’s finished. ah, but don’t worry, the reward is definitely worth it. he kneads through all the sore spots, applies all your skincare, and changes your clothes. later, you do matching face masks 💗

─ ✰ AL-HAITHAM was probably prepared for this, he read hundreds of books about human reproduction 💀 he notes all the side effects you seem to have: a scratchy throat, unstable legs, exhaustion… he saves it for the next time you have… physical activities. he remembers an article he read on how to take care of your significant other after intercourse, and follows that. he makes homemade soup to soothe your throat, which he watches over you as you drink. he also forces you to take naps, he’ll read “the control politicians have over our daily lives” just to make you fall asleep. he’ll get your groceries, take out your trash, and do your work so you can focus on relaxing, all with a stoic face. if anyone asks him where you are, he’ll just give an obvious lie with a straight face 💀💀 “y/n is out collecting a census right now.” “but they told me they were sick?” normally his lies are flawless, but when it’s about you… his mind doesn’t function properly. but if you absolutely need to get somewhere, you’re going to have to ask him. last time, he locked kaveh out of the dorm for 48 hours for helping you get a book from the library because he fell asleep 💀

─ ✰ KAVEH’S face is the first thing you see when you wake up. jumpscare warning sir he’s hovering over you, observing your face. immediately after he sees that you are awake comes the barrage of questions. “my love, are you all right? i wasn’t too rough, was i?” he’s such a simp i could never see him being rough he dramatically gasps when he sees your shaky legs, pretending to be shocked, but he’s slightly happy that this means you’ll have to cling onto him for the whole day. but oh my, both of you still have work!! whatever shall you do? it seems like the only solution is for him to take you everywhere… he proudly parades you around the akademiya, much to the embarrassment of you. but there’s nothing you can really do, not when you can’t run away, so you bury your head in his back to avoid the judging gazes of the other scholars. kaveh shoots a smug grin to an uncaring al haitham, who probably knows and heard everything from last night💀💀

©hawkssimpsblog 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[snowave]

Just another brainrot of mine regarding Zayne, but then again, what's new?

Zayne who...

...is the type to play with your hair idly.

...enjoys quality time with you, no matter how busy he is with his shifts (or how tired he is).

"Dr. Greyson said you came to visit but you almost immediately left when you saw me napping. I told you, you should wake me up, my time with you is considered as resting."

...is the type who makes his presence known despite of being away from each other from time to time.

...always tries to understand you and your quirks, and grows to love them as they makes you, you.

...who subtly leaves his things in your place to have the perfect excuse to come and stay over whenever he feels like it.

"I can't find my tie, I think I left it on your couch. Can I pick it up and maybe see you as well?"

...is the type to keep track of your schedule, so that he can match his time with yours.

...is the type to give you space, and give you silent encouragement when you feel down, because sometimes, we all just need a presence to hold onto; something to keep us grounded instead of words that we usually hear.

"I'm here, don't worry. I'm not going anywhere, cry your heart out."

...thinks of you before himself. He always talks in a way that will cater you, your interests, your needs, your wants, etc.

"Hm? What am I doing here? Well, my day is free so it's all yours. What do you want to do?"

...scolds you for not having self-preservation. The man just wants you to see healthy and well all the time.

...probably does not makes you lift a finger whenever you're with him. Zayne isn't a vocal person, but his affection can be seen at the way he delivers through acts of services.

...lets you make fun of him, and you'll get away with it. It amuses him to no end how the gears in your brain work, and how you always manage to think of things that you tease him about.

...talks to you in the most gentle way. Despite his image, Zayne always talks to you softly, and probably never raises his voice even though he's upset or mad.

...gives you space when you get into fights or arguments with each other. It gives you both the mental capacity you need to talk everything out in a proper way, without the need to throw useless and hurtful words to each other.

"I'm sorry. Are you in the right headspace to talk about it now? Or do you need some more time? I can wait."

...probably keeps a photo of you, or photos of both of you in his office and home, framed and delicately placed somewhere he could see immediately.

...becomes clingy in the morning. He relishes in the feeling of you wrapped in his arms, the feeling of your body pressed against his, and the calming beating of your heart. He loves it when you snuggle closer to him, like a cat seeking for warmth.

"It's my day off today, I can stay more in bed with you. Just let me be, hm? Let me hold you much longer."

...the type to look at you with eyes filled with so much longing, yearning, and love, that sometimes you feel like you'll be lost when you stare at him.

And finally, Zayne who loves you more than you think. Lore-wise, he really does. But in general setting, if he can, he'll do everything just to make sure that you're always happy, that you always feel loved, cared for, and needed.

Feel free to add more, I really, really just like talking about Zayne. I guess, it would be nice to have someone to yap with about him.

[stevesgother]

Savior Complex - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.9k

Warnings - Blood. Mention of vomit. Partial nudity. Let me know if I missed anything!

Authors note - This is my first fic...ever. Constructive criticism always welcome but pls be nice. Takes place directly after the events of S3. Hurt/comfort, angst, acknowledging Steve’s trauma bc damn.

Summary: ANGST, hurt/comfort, happy ending but not a lot of resolution, friends to ? lovers? idk its up to you!

Inspired by my favorite poem of all time, that has always reminded me a little bit of Steve.

“In this space right here that we have made for each other, you can say anything and I will not abandon you. Unwrap the worst things you have done. Watch me hold them up to the light and not even flinch”

The air inside Steve’s car was heavy with tension and the thick July heat.

You sat parked in his driveway, the rest of The Party having dispersed to their own homes; their parents waiting for them with open arms and misty eyes. 

Not you. 

And Certainly not Steve Harrington.

You and Steve weren’t what you would call “close”. Until now, that is. Shared trauma tends to have that effect. He knew you had a tumultuous relationship with your parents, and it didn’t take much deducing to realize his parents weren’t in the picture. Barely in Indiana, let alone spending anything close to quality time with their only son.

The idea of spending the last few hours of this nightmarishly long day in his big, empty house was sounding lovelier by the minute. On the grounds that it ‘wasn’t safe to be alone right now’. You didn’t read too much into it; he was right, after all. Part of you wonders if he just didn’t want to be alone. Sluggish, and noticeably more bloodied than you, Steve made his way to the front door with you in tow. His house was silent; eerily so. Everything pristine and well manicured, as if no one lived there at all. 

“There’s a guest bedroom upstairs, and a bathroom down the hall, to the right. Towels in the cabinet next to the shower.” He doesn’t even look at you as he says it. You try not to feel like you’re burdening him, blaming his avoidance on the exhaustion and not the unwelcome presence of you in his home.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” He finally meets your gaze. The shiner he sports on his left eye is still swollen, but less so. The front of his sailor suit you once thought so endearing, is now stained with blood and vomit.

“You’re bleeding.” You say quietly. “You have -” you wince, “- open wounds on your face Steve. Probably a concussion too and that’s if we’re being modest.”

He wears a tight-lipped expression you can’t quite read. You can tell he’s frustrated, and his exhaustion is bone deep. It nags at your heart. Maybe that’s why you don’t just drop it when he answers you.

“Not my first rodeo, I’ll be fine just-” He pauses, “go shower, and get some rest. God knows this shit won’t just be over come tomorrow.”

You take a tentative step forward. “Please just…just let me help. I can disinfect the cuts around your eye. I was a girl scout! Though in hindsight I realize how useless that sounds and-” you’re rambling now; nervous.

“Stop.” You’re taken aback slightly by his tone, you haven’t known Steve to act hostile. Not in a long time. “I don’t need your help, and I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not ‘pity’ Steve! Why is it so hard for you to believe someone might want to help you?” You take a step forward from where you stand a few feet from him. You reach up to touch his forehead with the hope of better assessing his injuries.

‘Enough!” He swats your hand away, “God, I should’ve never offered for you to stay here. You think you’re some type of savior, but you’re not.”

His words feel like a knife to the chest. You knew what he was trying to do, you knew he didn’t really mean the things he said. Not when he’s like this. For the first time since you arrived tonight, you thought of how many times he’s had to come back to this empty, soulless house all alone. Damaged, emotionally and physically. Wounds he’s had to patch alone. No gentle caress of another’s hands. Just the stinging of antiseptic in his nostrils, and the heaviness of everyone he’s ever loved abandoning him.

“You don’t mean that.” You say, shaking your head in a disbelieving way.

He laughs, humorless, “Yes I do. I really, really do.” A bitter sharpness to his words. It burns like liquor washing down your throat. “Go.” 

“No!” Now you’re the one raising your voice. “Being stubborn is for when someone is haggling you at a flea market. Not when someone is trying to love you.”

Love. You realize what you’ve said a beat too late, but you stand defiant despite it. You do love Steve. This fact, collecting cobwebs in the back of your brain for months, being spat out onto the floor in front of you both is what compels you to what you do next.

Steve, who was previously standing with this index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose, is now staring at you like a deer in headlights. Before either of you can blink, you’re closing the gap between the two of you, sure of yourself. You wrap him in a suffocating embrace and he struggles against your grip.

“Stop! Please I don’t need you-” He all but shouts. Still, you sense a dent in the armor.  A crack in the wall he’s spent so long building to keep you out; to keep everyone out.

Eventually, he stops struggling. His knees give out from underneath him as the trauma and the pain and the events of today catch up to him. But not just today; a year ago when his girlfriend broke his heart at Tina’s stupid party. When Michael Harrington cut him off on the grounds of him being a disgrace to the family name. Everything flooding back to him all at once. Everything he’s spent his youth avoiding.

You sink to the ground with him, still holding him tight. He stops making an effort to hide his sobs, but instead clings to you like you’re the only tangible thing keeping him here. You sit beside him, with one arm wrapped around his shoulders and your free hand cradling his head to his chest so he can hear your heartbeat. A heart that finally beats for him.

“I know.” You soothe. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” The hair you’re gently stroking, which is usually so voluminous and perfectly styled, is now dampened with blood and sweat.

“I’m sorry-” He sobs, “I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t want you to be sorry. I’m not sorry.” 

He cries harder at that. Shoulders shaking and breath shallow, he looks at you. You cradle his sweet, bruised face in your hands. You think, like a pomegranate, Steve Harrington is beautiful, and worth the mess. Wiping his tears with your thumbs and careful to avoid the cuts and swelling that decorate his face, you give him a smile. Shy, but earnest.

“Can you take me to bed?” He asks you, eyes bleary.

–

Neither of you speak as you turn on the faucet and watch the porcelain tub fill with scalding hot water; still not hot enough to wash away the memories this day has tainted you both with forever. Tentatively, you lift your shirt over your head, and slip your shorts down your scraped legs, revealing your mismatched bra and underwear. A pang of guilt washes over you when you look down and realize Steve took the brunt of the Russian soldiers. He was the bravest and most selfless person you had ever met.

You give him a look that asks “is this okay?” as your fingertips brush the cotton of his ruined Scoops uniform. You aren’t sure what the boundaries are anymore. Momentarily Steve worries this will irreparably change things between you two. He nods anyway. You lift the shirt over his head, catching a glimpse at the real extent of his injuries. His ribs were badly bruised, and he had clotting cuts all over his abdomen. Something swirls in your stomach at the sight of his chest hair. You wish the circumstances of this moment were different.

He pulls his own pants and socks down with a hiss, eyes screwed shut, leaving you both in just your undergarments. He steps into the tub and slowly sinks beneath the hot water. You step in behind him, and he looks over his shoulder at you, a look of confusion contorting his features. You don’t bother to explain, for the fear that speaking would break the trance you both seemingly were under. You had built a space here for each other, one you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Sitting behind him now, you wrap your arms around his chest and pull him flush to you. You rest your chin in the space between his shoulder and his neck, and close your eyes. You can feel how he tries to match his breathing to yours; slow and rhythmic.

You reach up to the hanging shelf on the wall above your head, and grab the cedar and sandalwood body wash. The second you open the bottle, your senses are flooded with him. Only in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever get to smell his scent in any way other than passing. A slight brush of shoulders in the hallway; a friendly hug when you’d gotten back from a month long vacation.

With a dollop of body wash on a washcloth you found on the edge of the tub, you gently start to scrub the blood and grime off his freckled skin. Like this, you can see every birthmark, every scar, the way the hair at the nape of his neck curls up around his ears in the damp bathroom air.

Steve rests his calloused hand on your knee and squeezes. A silent reassurance that what you’re doing is okay, that he’s okay, that he’s here. Everything feels overwhelmingly intimate as your hands explore his body. You lather his thick, brown locks with the shampoo you found next to the soap. With a heavy sigh, Steve allows his head to fall back into the crook of your neck. He doesn’t tell you, but this is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him.

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit in the tub together, but at some point he turns to face you, cupping your jaw in his larger hand. The look he gives you is so tender, you think you might cry. His caramel eyes flicker to your lips and back up to your eyes, so fast you would’ve missed it if your senses weren’t dialed up to 11.

With the delicacy of someone touching a flower petal, he closes the gap and presses his cut lips to your soft ones. Hesitant at first, giving you the option to pull away. He fears he may have misread the moment when you separate from him, a look in your eyes that he can’t read. His worry dissipates as you take his face into both of your hands and kiss him deep and slow. You only break when the air feels too stiff to continue, the water droplets accumulating in the air and Steve's kiss making it difficult to catch your breath. His hands slide from where they were grasping your hair, and down to your neck where they stay.

“I love you, too.”

[weneeya]

Hii :D may I request Genshin Sumeru men with an s/o who always has cold limbs? my best friend prohibited me to hug them because of my cold hands *sigh* so I need something to warm up :( anyways, have a great day!!

always cold w/ sumeru boys m.list | rules

note. hiiii thank you for your request! I hope you're doing okay with your cold hands and that it's nothing too worrying <3 hope you'll enjoy this!

Al Haitham

act like he doesn’t really care

does care in fact 

annoyed but deal with it 

He was sitting at his desk, working on some paper as he was the Acting Grand Sage now. He was so busy that he didn’t spend time with you for the last few days. But you knew how to get his attention, and you were sure that it would work. 

You arrived from behind him without making too much noise, and you let your cold hands rest on his neck. It surprised him, he couldn’t say otherwise, as he slightly jumped on his chair at the touch. He quickly looked behind him, frowning a bit as he met your gaze and your proud smile. 

“I’m busy,” he said, “and I’m cold,” you answered him without any hesitation. He knew what you were trying to do, and it simply made him sighed discreetly. He had work to do and he wasn't going to stop right now ; but he wouldn’t brush you away either. So he let you warm up your hands against his skin, as he kept working. 

Kaveh

the definition of softness

he would always try to warm up your hands with his

he’s always worried that you might be cold so he’s really attentive on this 

You were sitting on the couch, rubbing your hands together as you were trying to warm them up. They were so cold, as always, and it almost started to hurt you. When Kaveh came home after some time, he saw you there, slightly shaking. 

He came quickly closer to you, a bit worried because he knew you were frequently cold. He sat right next to you, grabbing your hands between his. He slowly brought them closer to his lips so he could softly blow his warm breath against your skin. 

“Are you okay? Is it working?” he asked you, raising his eyes to meet your gaze. You couldn’t help but to smile slightly at how adorable he was with you. Always so caring about your cold hands: it warmed your heart. 

Cyno

he doesn’t really care about your cold limbs 

except when you’re trying to warm them up with him

Cyno was laying in your shared bed, sleeping peacefully ; or at least trying to sleep. You were right next to him, bundled up in the blanket. You were so cold right now, almost shivering, and you couldn’t understand how your boyfriend was sleeping without any problem. 

You looked at him, when an idea crossed your mind. A smirk appeared on your lips before you brought your feet closer to him. You put them right against his back, making him jump slightly in surprise. 

“What the-” he turned his head, trying to look at you as you started to giggled softly. It was even funnier than you expected, and your feet were feeling warmer. Cyno was a real radiator. He sighed a bit, before turning completely around to face you. He opened his arms and you almost rushed against him, hiding your face in his neck. You were feeling way better now. 

Tighnari

always taking care of your health

so your cold limbs are always a concern for him 

“You should wear warmer clothes,” he said, frowning as he saw you going out in such light clothes. You looked at him in disbelief, you didn’t expect such a reaction from him. Your boyfriend was always concerned by your health, worrying too much about your whole problem with the cold. 

“I’m fine Nari, it’s just my hands,” you told him as you showed him your hands, a little smile on your lips. He came closer to you, grabbing your hands between his to examine them. He looked back into your gaze, before shaking his head slowly. 

“Here, wear this,” he holded gloves out to you, waiting for you to take and wear them. You rolled your eyes but didn’t fight back. With Tighnari, it was completely useless. He would never let you go out without being sure that you would be warm. 

It was his way of taking care of you as he could. Health was his domain, so protect your health was the least he could do.

I love sumeru boys sm they're my favorite pls hoyoverse bring them back

[joekeeryswife]

plz could you write something about mase looking after you when you’ve had a rough day with the baby!!

stress - m.m

a/n: hello angel! thank you for your request. omg i love it so much, kinda changed it a little if that’s okay! (dad! imagines own my heart!!!!). idk how to feel about this one so lmk what you guys think! anyways, let’s get on with the imagine, enjoy reading 🫶

mason mount taglist: @noturbabe22 @luvvtrent @peterparkerbae

four weeks, it had only been four weeks since you’d had your baby and you were already feeling like you’d failed her.

you knew becoming a mum would be difficult but you didn’t realise just how hard it was going to be. it was like everything you did was wrong.

Mason had gone back to work only a week after Margot was born and that was one of the worst thing to ever happen. you felt like you didn’t have support even though he would get up with her during the night and as soon as he got back from work he would take over looking after her. what was funny was whenever Mason got back from football she was never crying, it was like she could sense he was coming home.

Margot loved Mason. whenever he had her she hardly cried, she’d watch his face with such concentration and coo at him all the time. but when she was with you, she’d scream and cry no matter what you did.

you felt useless.

you felt like the worst mum in the entire world, not understanding what was wrong with her as she cried just hurt your heart. you just wanted to be in the ‘baby bubble’ everyone spoke about.

you wanted to feel like your friends did when they had their kids. they were always smiling, always happy when they were with their babies who hardly cried when they were with them, it was like you were broken.

today was like no other. it started out okay, Margot was actually happy this morning when you woke up, Mason had given her a bath and put her in the cutest outfit but then as soon as he said his goodbyes to the two of you and he drove out of the driveway, all hell broke loose.

she was just sobbing and it hurt you to hear those cries. “oh Margot, what’s the matter my angel. please don’t cry sweetheart. are you hungry? is that what it is?”

you quickly balanced her with one arm as you tried to lift up your pyjama top so you could breastfeed her but every time you tried to get her to latch she would turn her head away and sob louder.

you had realised that Margot would hardly ever latch when you tried to breastfeed her. it was very rare that she would allow you to breast feed her so you had decided to start pumping your milk and give it to her in a bottle instead and most of the time she would drink it from the bottle.

“how about we get you a bottle instead hmm? would that make you feel better?” you knew she wouldn’t reply to you but it was nice to speak to her. you got up from the sofa after fixing your top and warmed up the milk.

her sobs grew louder as you rocked her. waiting for the microwave to ‘ding’ felt like hours. “i know sweet girl, not long now” you poured the milk once it was warm enough into the bottle and went to sit back down on the sofa. you tried a few times before she finally started drinking the milk, her sobs died down but her eyes were still filled with tears and the tear stains on her cheeks broke your heart.

she was hiccuping slightly as she drank her milk but her eyes were fluttering masa img she was trying her best to not fall asleep. “you rest angel, mummy isn’t going anywhere. and i’m sorry i can’t understand you like your dad does, i promise i’m trying my best”

with that, her eyes closed and it was finally silent in the house. you just hoped today would be a lot better than the rest.

-♡-

Mason was back home a little later than expected tonight, he had been asked to stay back to speak to ten Hag which he forgot to tell you about but he knew you had it all okay at home. you always had Margot in a good-ish mood when he would come home and it was always nice to come home to a quiet house after training or a football match. he would hear shouting all day and coming home was just perfect.

you didn’t want Mason to know you were struggling, to you it felt like the worst thing i’m the world. you were meant to be a good mum as soon as you gave birth but you just felt like all you did was struggle. you had no idea what you were doing and you didn’t want Mason to be disappointed in you.

however, tonight Margot would not stop crying. after her bottle this morning she napped for maybe 30 minutes before her sobs started again and that continued for the entire day. you didn’t know what to do and you felt like you had failed as a mother. you had no idea what was wrong with her and you hated that you couldn’t understand what she was crying for. you felt like she hated you.

as Mason entered the house he could hear the wails coming from Margot, he had never ever heard her sound like this before and or worried him. he could hear you, speaking to her softly over her cries, you sounded just as upset as her. “i’m so sorry angel, i don’t understand why you’re crying. i’ve fed you, cuddled you, changed you, i don’t know what else i can do. i’m sorry i’m failing you”

his heart broke. he walked into the living room and saw you holding Margot in your chest with tears streaming down your face. you looked so defeated and he hated it. “hey, what’s going on? are you okay?” he questioned as he slowly walked towards you.

you hadn’t heard the front door close so hearing him made you jump. you didn’t want him ti see you like this so you quickly wiped your eyes and showed him your best convincing smile. “oh yeah i’m fine, she’s just, i don’t know what’s the matter. i think she just might be tired” you lied, of course you weren’t okay.

“do you want me to take her?” he held is arms out so he could take Margo from you so you quickly passed her to him and he gently started rocking her which no i’m surprise stopped her cries. you felt your heart break. was it really that easy?

your eyes filled with tears, jealousy and frustration taking over your body as you saw how easy it was for him to calm her down. “look, go upstairs and have a shower, i’ll take care of Margot and you just have a break okay?we can talk after if you want to” he watched your shoulders drop slightly and your chin quiver as you tried to hold in your tears, something was definitely wrong and he was going to figure out what.

once he heard the bathroom door close he sat down on the sofa with Margot. he watched her huge brown eyes dart across his face. “what’s happened angel? you giving mama a hard time?” she cooed at him, a small smile on her face which looked exactly like yours. “you can’t give mama a hard time honey, mama’s with you all day” she squealed, obviously not understanding him.

“i’m sure you tired, if you’ve been crying like that all day i’m surprised you’re up right now” he decided to grab a bottle and try get her to nap so he could speak to you. he had never seen you like that before.

he warmed up the bottle and went upstairs to her nursery and sat in the rocking chair. he started feeding Margot and immediately her eyes started to close, he honestly wished that he was able to stay off work with you when Margot was first born. he had only gotten a week off work before he had to go back and he felt awful but ten Hag wouldn’t give him anymore time off.

once Margot finished her bottle he turned on the white noise machine and put her down into her crib. he quickly exited her bedroom to leave her to nap and went to your shared bedroom. he wanted to talk to you, you barely speak to each other now and he wanted to spend time with you.

after waiting for a while you finally came out the bathroom in new pyjamas and your hair was wrapped in a towel. your eyes were red, it was obvious you had been crying. “hey” you said, noticing him on the bed. he opened his arms and waited for you to sit on the bed next to him so he could hug you.

you quickly got onto the bed and cuddled into him. “we haven’t cuddled in ages, we haven’t spoke in ages. i want to know what’s bothering you sweetheart. i’ve never seen you look so upset” he kissed your forehead.

“i just, i feel like i’m not a good mum. like everyday all she does as soon as you leave is scream and cry and i’m trying my best to understand what’s wrong with her and i’m struggling. i’m struggling a lot” you felt your eyes well up with new tears. Mason felt his heart break. he was annoyed with himself for not noticing sooner.

“it feels like she hates me. and i just feel stupid because as soon as she’s with you, you calm her down. she even smiles at you. i’m feeling so lonely and i feel like a terrible mum.” your tears started flowing down your cheeks. you were quietly sobbing as Mason pulled you in closer and ran his hand up and down your back.

“i’m so sorry sweetheart, i really am. i’m sorry i haven’t been here to support you, i’m sorry you’ve had to do it all on your own. it’s not fair at all. and i’m sorry you think that you’re a bad mum because you aren’t. you are the most incredible mum” he heard your sniffles, guilt eating him alive.

“if you weren’t a good mum you wouldn’t do half the shit you do now. she doesn’t hate you angel, she loves you. you don’t know what she tells me when i come home” he joked which made you giggle through tears.

“i know it is tough right now, but i promise it’ll get better.” you looked up at him with uncertainty. “it will, stop giving me that look” he gave you a sympathetic smile. he hated that you were feeling this way, he wanted you to enjoy being a mum.

“you stay here for a bit, i need to go do something. don’t come downstairs until i say alright? just watch some tv and i’ll be back” he gave you a few pecks before he left you in the bedroom, confusion filling your body. but nevertheless you grabbed the remote and turned on the tv, trying to finally relax.

-♡-

it had been over an hour since Mason asked you to stay upstairs and all you could hear downstairs was Mason’s footsteps. you had absolutely no idea what he was doing and you were nervous to even go back downstairs.

“y/n sweetheart you can come down now” you heard him shout up to you so you quickly turned off the tv and made your way downstairs. whilst you were upstairs Mason did come to get Margot who had awoken from her nap about thirty minutes into him leaving you upstairs.

you had gone to get her out of her nursery but Mason quickly shooed you away back to the bedroom so he could take care of her. you were grateful he went to help Margot, he knew how stressed you were and he was trying to make you feel better so he took Margot downstairs with him.

you walked down the stairs and into the living room and saw blankets and pillows covering the sofa with your favourite food on the coffee table and your favourite movie ready to play on the tv. Mason was holding a now very aware Margot who actually reached out for you.

“i know it’s not much but i thought maybe we could spend time together for once?” Mason handed Margot over to you and kissed you passionately. “i’d love to” you kissed him one more time before you both made your way to get under the covers on the sofa.

Mason pulled you into his hold and kissed your forehead. “i know this doesn’t make up for what’s been happening these past few weeks but i do want you to know me and Margot appreciate everything you do” you felt a smile form on your face as he spoke, he had a way with words which always made you feel special.

“i have also spoken to ten Hag and told him that i’m gonna take a few weeks time off to look after you both. i don’t want you to feel alone, ever, because i am here for you” you looked up at him, it was the first time he’d seen you smile in ages.

“i know you are, you didn’t need to take a few weeks off. will he not get angry at you?” you kissed his cheek and he shook his head. “i didn’t get to take the time of when she was first born so i i don’t care if he’s mad. i have a family to look after” he lent down to kiss you again.

you didn’t know why you were so anxious to tell Mason how you were feeling, you knew he would help you and you appreciated him. “thank you mase, i love you” he smiled at you “i love you more”.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— Setbacks are going to happen sometimes | Our wonder kid

this is raw and it comes from the heart.

Being sat on the sidelines with an injury is an ordeal in itself, but nobody ever told you the grind of rehabilitation would feel even more daunting.

You wake up every single morning with a sense of dread and getting up out of bed even feels like a constant battle sometimes, the whole idea of going into the gym is something that leaves a sour taste in your mouth knowing that you have to do something that you actively don’t want to do, but you don’t have any say in it.

There’s this constant internal tug of war between the urge to just quit and give in and the necessity to keep pushing forward to reach your end goal.

Every stretch, every set of exercise, every moment of discomfort is a battle against not just your injury but your own growing frustration.

You have to push yourself to do this to get better

You have to– You need to do this.

“You might want to slow down there, kleintje,” Viv’s voice cuts through the haze of frustration as she walks over to you in the gym, there’s beads of sweat on your forehead while you huff and puff and push yourself to continue.

There’s one thing that is bothering you though, the pain in your knee.

It’s really been bugging you today but you’re just trying to ignore it and continue with your rehabilitation.

“I’ve gotta push myself though,” You barely look up from what you are doing, the grit evident in your voice.

Viv shakes her head and steps closer towards you, “No, that’s not the right thing to do here. You push yourself too much and you’re gonna make this injury worse.”

“This sucks,” You admit, giving up on the task at hand and taking a moment to catch your breath as your breath hitches slightly, trying to not wince at the intense shooting pain in your knee you currently feel.

“I know it does kleintje,” Viv rests her hand gently on your shoulder, “But nobody said it would be easy.” She says, the tone of her voice gentle to reassure you.

“Why not? I… I’m just stuck, I feel like I’m making no fuckin’ progress,” Your voice cracks with frustration and self doubt, “Non, what so ever!” 

“Setbacks are going to happen, it’s going to be okay though,” Viv’s eyes soften with empathy, “There’s no time limit on your recovery, remember?” She adds.

Shaking your head in disagreement, you can’t help but think the older woman’s words feel hollow, “I feel like, I literally feel like.. Why do people constantly tell me that? I’m useless!”

“No you’re not,” Viv insists, her voice firm.

You can’t help but scoff slightly and shake your head, “Yes I am, “ You retort, the tears stinging your eyes, “I… One day I think that I’m doing well and then, it’s just… it’s just not, I hate this!”

“Kleintje,” Viv says gently, taking a step closer.

“No, I hate this… I hate this so much!” The words tumble out of your mouth, raw and unfiltered as you grit your teeth and try to push through the pain.

You have to ignore the pain and continue.

It’s the only way that you’re gonna get better.

“Look, I’d love to sit here and chat some more with you Vivi, but I need to get back to my rehab exercises,” Your sarcastic wit remarks as you try and go back to the task at hand.

“Hey, hey, whoa, no, that’s not a good idea to do that kleintje,” Viv states, taking a gentle hold of your wrist, “You can’t push yourself more than needed, okay? You’ll end up hurting yourself more if you’re not careful.”

“You… You don’t know how hard this is, Vivi,” You murmur, trying to pull away from her, “You don’t know what I’m going through right now!”

The dutch woman didn’t let go off your wrist as she pulled you towards her, “Kleintje, of course I know how hard it is. I do understand, you’re not alone in your thoughts there.” She tells you, “It’s going to be okay.”

“I… I hate this Vivi,” You admit, sinking into her side and trying to keep the tears at bay.

Viv takes a deep breath, her hands cup your cheek as she looks you in the eye, “It will be okay, alright? I know it feels this way, but it will be okay,” She pauses, “Come on, let’s go find Beth and head home, yeah?”

“I… Alright then,” You admit defeat and allow Viv to guide you out of the gym, walking by her side to go and find Beth somewhere around the training grounds.

You sit slumped on your bed, staring at the wall with a sense of hopelessness that seems to grow with every passing minute, you hate the toll this injury has on your life at the minute.

The weight of your frustration and isolation is almost suffocating, it feels like nothing can pull you out of this dark spiral that you feel right now.

The knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts, it’s soft but it’s enough to pull you out of your spiral of self-pity.

Maybe right now you could do with another famous lecture from your england skipper, that seemed to somewhat help last time.

“You okay?” Beth peeks her head around the door, her expression a mixture of concern and determination.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You mumble, though your tone betrays the lie.

Beth raises her eyebrow before she crosses the room to sit beside you on the bed, “Y’know you’re not a very good liar. Maybe try saying it a bit more convincingly and I may just believe you kiddo.”

“I… I’m fine,” You insist, clutching your  hands together tightly as if they might hold all of your turmoil in check, “Seriously, you don’t need to check up on me, Beth. I am… I am fine.”

“Okay then,” Beth says, her tone softening, “How about we talk instead?”

You roll your eyes and shift uncomfortably, “Well, I’m not much in the mood to talk either.”

“Right,” Beth exhales a small sigh, “Then just listen instead. What’s with pushing yourself so much?”

You whip your head up in the blonde’s direction, “Vivi told you about that?” You ask, a pang of irritation inside of you.

“Of course she did,” Beth agrees as she nods, “And Leah did as well when she found you in the gym on your own. You know we’re all worried about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You snap, the frustration bubbling to the surface which makes your voice sharper than you intended.

“It helps to open up and talk about it sometimes kiddo,” Beth says, her voice steady and soothing despite the cold shoulder you were giving her.

“Does it?” You retort, the bitterness evident in your voice.

“Yes–”

“Well, I don’t wanna!” You cut her off, feeling the frustration boil over, “I told you that I didn’t want to talk, but you don’t listen!”

Beth’s face falls slightly as she still remains calm, “You… You should, kiddo. You can’t keep all this emotion bottled up, it’s not healthy.”

“You don’t know crap about what’s healthy, Beth!” You snap, the anger in your voice making your words more biting than you intended.

“Hey, kiddo. Whoa, calm down,” Beth says, holding up her hands in surrender, “I’m not trying to upset you, I just wanted to talk and find out what’s going on.”

The walls feel like they’re closing in as you try to suppress the wave of emotions threatening to break through again, “Can you… Can I please just be alone? I… I don’t want to talk, I just… I want to be alone.”

The blonde’s eyes soften with a mix of sadness and understanding, “Okay, alright… We’ll be in the other room if you need me, alright? Just shout for me if you need me.”

“Uh huh, thanks,” You mutter, feeling a twinge of guilt for yelling at Beth as she stands up and heads for the door.

As the door closes behind her, you’re left in the quiet of your room as the weight of your thoughts and feelings press down on you.

It’s all too much.

“Urgh!” You exclaim in frustration, letting your actions get the better of you and before you think about it, you slam your fist against the headboard of your bed with a hope that the physical pain might somehow offer a release for the turmoil that has been building up inside of you.

The sharp thud resonates through the room, a brief harsh distraction from the emotional weight that feels almost too heavy to bear.

You know it’s the right thing to apologise, you didn’t mean to lash out but your anger got the better of you, once again.

You just ended up lashing out at the wrong people.

“Hey, there you are,” Viv spots you lingering in the door frame as the two of them sat cosy in the living room, “We thought you fell asleep. Come sit with us?” She offers.

“Sure,” You shuffle to move and sit down on the sofa in between them, “Sorry, I snapped.” You turn to Beth to apologise.

Beth smiles at you in understanding, “Not every day is going to be easy, kiddo. You’ve just gotta take it one day at a time.” She reassures you.

You nod, though it doesn’t completely ease the ache inside, “I hate this,” You murmur, trying to keep your emotions in check.

“I know, I get it,” Beth replies, her tone encouraging but gentle, “It’s going to be hard, but you’re stronger than you realise.”

You hang your head and struggle to keep your tears at bay, “I feel like… I feel like I have no purpose in life right now,” You admit quietly, “I’m just… I’m stuck. I’m useless, everything in life right now is so hard.”

Beth gently wraps her arm around your shoulder, “Listen to me, alright, kiddo? Setbacks happen sometimes even when they’re not expected,” She pauses, “One minute you think you're fine and then the next, you’re not. It comes out of nowhere and your emotions hit you like a full blown tidal wave, it’s understandable.”

You know the blonde’s right about that.

You guess your bruised knuckles are enough proof to admit how you really feel, a stupid dumb split decision that you really regret now at least.

“It will take time,” Viv chimes in, smiling at you sympathetically.

You feel a pang of frustration, “I… Why am I not further along, why am I… I hate this!”

“It’s like we said,” Beth gaze remains steady and supportive, “Setbacks are bound to happen, it’s not always smooth sailing but it’s going to be okay, alright?”

“I hate this,” You admit as your voice cracks, “I hate this stupid injury. It’s a complete burden on my life!” You exclaim, the burst of anger being realised.

“It will get better with time kiddo,” Beth still tries to reassure you, “Now, how about we order a pizza for dinner? You haven’t eaten much today.”

Shaking your head, there’s a familiar sense of resistance rising up, “I’m not that hungry. I just… I don’t want to eat anything right now.”

Beth and Viv share a worried glance between the two of them, “You’re sure? You should try and eat, even if it’s something small,” The Dutch woman states, worriedly.

“I’ll eat something later, I promise,” You agree begrudgingly, “The rehab kinda wore me out today, I think I’m just gonna and get some sleep if that’s okay?” You ask them both.

“Of course,” Beth replies to your question, “Get some sleep kiddo. Tomorrow will be a better day.” With these words in your mind, you exchange hugs with them both and make the walk back to your bedroom to collapse into bed with hope in your thoughts.

Tomorrow will be a better day, setbacks will happen and it’s okay to admit that.

You just have to take it one day at a time.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[fieldofdaisiies]

Scars Like Mine pt. 2

paring: Azriel x Reader | type: fluff | words: 1,6k | warnings: none. playlist: hurts | scars to your beautiful | beauty marks | stronger | fly with me finally part 2 is here, I am sorry for the long wait; part 1 (how Azriel meets Elia and her mother)

“Are we going flying now?” Elia bounces up and down on her chair, then gulps down the rest of her hot cocoa in one big sip. She taps her fingers onto the wooden table, her gaze ping-ponging between Azriel and you.

You reach for your daughter’s hand, trying to calm her a little while throwing Azriel an apologetic look, but he only smiles politely. “Azriel has just arrived here, my love, give him a little break and let him enjoy breakfast with us.”

It has become a natural thing for the three of you. Azriel has come here often in the past months, at least two times a week, to have breakfast with you and then go flying with Elia. Maybe on one or the other occasion, unbeknownst to your daughter, Azriel already arrived the evening before and spent the night with you. Yes, yes, it is true. The two of you have started dating a while ago and you couldn’t be happier. 

Elia knows that you are dating, knows that her mummy is suddenly a lot happier, and her days are brighter. Elia loves this, loves to see her mother smile and laugh so much, and loves to have Azriel here to fly with her. He is great at flying and can teach her so many things. She has already learned how to do a turn, a twist and fly a spiral. 

It gives you small heart attacks whenever you see those stunts, but you know that with Azriel, and him always being close to her, she is safe and nothing can happen to her, or will ever happen to her. 

“It is fine,” Azriel says, “I’m almost done anyway.” He takes a sip from his water, before gulping down the whole glass and rising from his chair. Your gaze follows him, the outline of his strong, solid body, and you pull your lower lip between your lips when memories of the other night fill your mind. It is insane and should be forbidden what his wicked mouth and his hands can do, and you wonder how you got so lucky to have met him. 

Not only for yourself. He is not only a god in the sheets. Azriel is everything you have ever hoped for in a male. Kind, caring, charming, wonderful, smart, and he loves your daughter and treats her with so much kindness and fatherly-love (even though she is not his daughter) your heart wants to cry. You have cried on many occasions already, not believing that you actually got so lucky to finally have this amazing male in your life. 

Azriel reaches out his hand when Elia jumps up from her chair and starts punching the air. He brushes his scarred hand over your head and smiles when he meets your gaze. “We’ll be careful, I promise.”

“I know,” you smile up at him and place your hand atop his, thumb stroking his marred skin. “I trust you.” You rise as well, and kiss him on his cheek and then pull your daughter into your arms, squeezing her tightly while plastering her face with kisses. “I also trust you, no crazy stunts or twists or spins,” you tell her, knowing it is useless anyway. 

In the corner of your eye you catch Azriel grinning at her, knowing that they plan on doing stunts and crazy twists and turns, but if it brings her joy, you would never forbid it. She will be fine you, you know it. 

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“I am flying!” Elia blazes ahead of Azriel, throws him a big grin over her shoulder. She is now onto her third spin in a row, Azriel always close to her in order to catch her if she threatens to fall. She has turned into a great flyer, but Azriel doesn’t fully trust her abilities yet. She is still very young, the muscles in her wings not yet so strong. 

She is so fast, and her laughter so radiant it fills Azriel with pure bliss. Seeing her happy, it is so good and knowing how happy her happiness makes you, is all Azriel needs in life. The two of you have made his life so much better – in you he has found a family, one that resembles the one his brothers have and he couldn’t be any happier. 

“Look!” Elia hollers and Azriel grins brightly. 

“So amazing, Elia!” he shouts to her over the rising wind, showing her thumbs up. She makes another spin and now even Azriel’s stomach dips. She catches herself and blazes away once again. She twirls around Azriel when she changes direction. And then…

Out of the blue, words leave her mouth that nearly make Azriel lose balance, that nearly throw him off his wings and make him slam to the ground.

“Look, dad, I am flying like a bird. I am weightless and free” She makes another twirl, one big swirl around Azriel, grinning from one ear to the other, fully oblivious to what she has just said.

For a few months, he has flown with Elia, many times, more than he can count on both hands, but never has she called him anything but Azriel before. It is hard to catch himself now. Although he never admitted it, he has always hoped for a little family of his own and children. And now…now this might truly become reality. 

The rest of the flying session passes too quickly, Azriel is unfocused, distracted but always careful so nothing happens to your daughter, but his thoughts stray, and he finds himself imagining a future where the three of you are truly a family – you and him married, and Elia calling him dad on a daily basis. It is a beautiful dream, so beautiful tears start to burn behind his eyes when he catches Elia in his arms and helps her lower herself to the ground. 

She inhales deeply, then tucks in her wings. “I need to tell mummy about flying today, come come!” She tugs at Azriel’s hand, already setting out for your hut, dragging him along with her. 

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

You brush the wet sponge over his back, and softly move on to his left wing, careful not to touch the sensitive parts. Leaning in, you kiss the nape of his neck, then carry on to help him wash his back. Elia is already fast asleep, after telling you everything about the flying session while you ate dinner. It was wonderful to listen to her, and you couldn’t stop smiling when she recounted all the swirls and twirls she made and how much joy flying brings her. 

The only thing that confused you, how absentminded Azriel seemed during dinner. He hardly added any comments, normally he loved talking about flying with Elia, this time he kept calm, was mostly distracted and you really hope he will open up what has been going on within him. 

It is almost as if he can read your mind, because only a moment after you finish your thought, he says, in a voice full of emotion, “Elia called me dad today.”

You stop. Everything stops. Your hand folds over your mouth, to keep the gasp that threatens to escape contained. Tears start to build up in your eyes and then the sponge drops into the water. “Are you–is it–I hope–”

“I didn’t mind,” Azriel answers quickly, having noticed your sudden tension. He turns in the tub, tucking in his wings so he can look up at you. “Actually…” He inhales a deep breath and his eyes close. “I actually appreciated it a lot, and didn’t mind at all. I liked it,” he sheepishly admits. “I have always wanted children, and being with you and having Elia in my life as well has brought me more joy than anything else in my life before. I couldn’t be happier and her calling me dad…it felt so right.”

“It is alright for you?” you ask, carefully.

“Of course!” Azriel turns even more in the tub and places his hand on your knee. “Is it alright for you? She has a father after all and he–”

“He was an asshole and I never ever want her to have anything to do with him. You are the best thing that could happen to her, and I love that she has probably realised that as well. She has never asked for her father, she knows that he has caused us this pain, that her body is marred from fire because of his doings.” 

You swallow around the lump in your throat and tears roll down your cheeks. “I couldn’t have hoped for a better father substitute than you. You are everything I could have ever asked for and she loves you.”

“And I love you, and our little…”

“Family,” you finish for him, cradling his face in your hands and kissing his lips softly.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

At first you hear a door open. Azriel is deep asleep, he doesn’t hear it and also not the soft padding of feet over the ground. The bed dips on your side, and you reach out your arms, lifting your daughter into the bed. “Can I sleep here tonight?” 

You kiss her brow. “Of course, my love.”

You help her crawl over your, so she can get comfortable between you and Azriel, snuggling up to your side, her face buried in the crook of your neck. Azriel stirs awake, but not completely, he mumbles a few incomprehensible words and then simply curls his arm around the both of you, inhaling deeply before falling right back asleep. 

You have to smile to yourself, your heart so full of love and bliss, it nearly bursts out of your chest. And the smile stays on your lips when you fall asleep, the two most important people close to you, in your arms and you know that everything is alright and a bright future is ahead of you. 

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @azriels-mate2 @callmeblaire @lilah-asteria

[sunsents]

neteyam sully - beautiful boy

This is the fluffiest thing I've ever written. I'm on my period and very emotional.

➵ summary: Neteyam's beauty renders you speechless, you can't help but gawk at him.

➵ pairing: neteyam x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

➵ word count: 990

➵ warnings: pure, teeth rotting fluff. it's so sweet that even I was embarrassed while writing it. reader is literally just pining after him like an idiot and doing nothing else. reader is a simp.

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

"Will you stop it?"

"But you're just so pretty,"

Sat snugly on Neteyam's lap, you're tracing his facial features with a gentle finger. Your mate, frustrated and flushed - a combo you've come to adore after years of knowing him - keeps swatting at your hand and grumbling lowly.

You can't help it though, he's just so pretty. The type of pretty you stare at for hours without getting enough of it, no matter how much you trace and retrace his facial features with wandering eyes. The type of pretty that has you questioning how, or rather who allowed him to be this beautiful. The inquiries are daily and, nonstop - Eywa's likely fed up with you bending your neck at the sky and letting out a muffled scream of misery. 

Because Neteyam was a hurting kind of pretty - like he was incapable of making a facial expression that made him look even a tinge bit ugly, and this hurt your chest. Squeezed your heart until it shriveled and let out a pent, 'Enough, no more'. Worst of it all, you were free to touch. Free to look, free to fondle, and free to love. He was your mate, after all.  

This thought brought you immense joy every waking hour of the day.

So, he should cut you some slack. You were allowed to trace his facial features, because he looks like that, and he needs to be marveled at and cooed at. 

"I'm not pretty," he grumbles and squeezes your side in an effort to make you stop. It's useless, you're going nowhere. This is where you'll be spending the rest of your years, growing old and all that. Right between his arms. "I'm handsome and mighty!"

"Sure, you're all those. But you're also," you lean close to his ear, "pretty..." 

Neteyam grumbles all the same but stays still when you return to tracing his romanesque nose. His eyes are closed and you can't help but stare at his lashes - dark and long, kissing his cheeks. "I can never say no to you, can I?"

You smile, deciding to stay silent. You both know the answer, Neteyam would jump into a fire if you asked nicely.

So, with this in mind, you give him the softest kisses - peppering them on his smooth cheeks tenderly. His face is truly gorgeous and right in front of you; you can't help but kiss his lips. It's tame but drawn out, a press of lips as Neteyam stays completely still. (Which is a struggle for him since your mate always has to be doing something useful with himself.) You feel him smile against your lips, and a big, warm hand closes around your nape. His beautiful lashes - the ones you were admiring just moments ago - flutter against your cheek.

Neteyam likes to look. Not as much as you, but he had the strange habit of opening his eyes mid-kiss. You don't know how this action became a habit of his, but you're sure it was between the periods of I want to hold your hand longer, and I think I'm in love with you.  It would have been weird if you opened your eyes as well, but your heart never allowed you to. It's surprising you even noticed him doing this since you melt into pudgy goo whenever his lips touch you. So curse Neteyam's long and perfect eyelashes, it's hard not to notice them when they flutter softly against your cheek and tickle your heart. 

You pull away to which he whines, then continue your tracing. The tip of your pointer finger lingers on the curve of his lips - another feature you absolutely adore. His lip twitches and your finger moves to his bottom lip, pulling it down to watch it bounce back. The scene drives you crazy - causes your mind to reel. 

His lips are plush and soft, and his skin is oh-so pliant under your body. Your hand cups the sides of his face, massaging his temples. Neteyam hums and wraps his tail around your waist possessively. "Feels good," his eyes flutter shut again, letting you knead at his face. You try to be as gentle as possible, yet determined to make full use of this moment your mate has allowed you.

You feel the need to knead and smooth over every inch of his body so somehow - hopefully - the ache to just settle into his entire being and live there for the rest of your life is soothed. And the ache scares you.

The intensity of your love scares you because sometimes you feel like you cannot breathe. Neteyam has that effect on you - stealing your breath away with a kind smile and not even being apologetic about it. He's not even aware of his effect on you, and you think that only makes him more guilty. 

Punishing him is fun though - peppering kisses all over his face so he's unable to catch his breath as well, serves him right. You don't stop your kissing, out of breath and flushed. 

"Stop!" Neteyam laughs breathily, trying to push you away. He catches your face between his palms and harshly kisses your lips. Like a kiss a young child would share with a crush, only to run away, giggling, because ewww. 

You scrunch your nose, mumbling protests against his mouth. "You stop!"

He pulls away with a grin - and, oh Eywa. You're truly done for.

"I love you, so much. I could stay here all day, even if people come looking for us. Even if Eywa wills it herself for us to separate. I'm never letting you go, my love." he casually hums as he wraps his arms around you again, pressing you into his chest. So casual that you're baffled, looking up at him through your eyelashes with your lips parted. You feel your heart melting, sliding off from your parted lips and into his palms, snugly finding a new home in his hold.

[stardust-kenobi]

moonlight & heartbeats

Hunter x Fem!Reader

Summary: A year after being rescued by Hunter from near-death on Tantiss, your peaceful life on Pabu is plagued with rampant nightmares. Hunter, now your close friend, senses your distress one night and comes to check on you.

Word count: ~5.5k

Warnings/tags: SMUT (piv sex, fingering, oral, dirty talk), hurt/comfort, mutual pining, mentioned violence, friends to lovers trope, Hunter cheesily senses reader’s heartbeat, the usual “use of his abilities” smut tropes, sorry not sorry<3

A/N - this has maybe more backstory than necessary but I decided my porn would have SOME plot this time. Enjoy <3

Read on AO3

Partially requested by @yunggoblin. Hunter uses his hearing more than his scent here but still goes along with your prompt :)

The rain poured relentlessly from the darkened sky. Your clothes now weighed heavy upon your beaten figure. The metal beneath your knees felt more unforgiving by the second. The trooper behind you, a clone trooper, held you by your shoulder, keeping you firmly in place.

Your trembling body barely had the strength to sit upright as you painfully craned your neck upward to the steel blaster barrel now level with your forehead. Just moments before, you were sheltering from the attack on the base inside Hemlock’s ship that you were repairing. A mechanic. You were just a mechanic. They’d accused you of treason, and there was no right to a fair trial if they’d thought you betrayed your mighty employer.

"The Empire thanks you for your service" The well-dressed Imperial officer spoke blankly as his finger hovered over the trigger. You’d never even seen him before, and somehow he held the right to take your life.

Your heart sat uncomfortably in your throat as your eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of the final breath you'd ever take.

Just as the blaster fired, your vision went hazy, and your eyes flashed open.

You found yourself sitting upright in your bed, panting frantically as a bead of sweat dripped down your temple. You grasped at your chest like it would help you breathe better, but you knew it was useless. It was only the third time this week you'd had the same nightmare, or at least, some variation of it. Usually in your nightmare, you were in the rain, as it truly happened. Other times you found yourself elsewhere on Tantiss base. Regardless, the dream always ended with a blaster at your head, reliving what you thought was going to be your final moments.

That is, if you had not been rescued by Clone Force 99. Had it not been for Hunter stealthily jumping into action. He didn't know you, not at the time. He saw a woman seconds away from execution and didn't think twice. You wonder, though, why he saved a woman in imperial dressings. What about you made him see you differently among every other imperial he and his squad killed without hesitation that day on Tantiss?

You were a mechanic for the Empire, and barely one at that. You were in training at the time of your near-execution. Somehow, your skills working on speeders on your outer-rim home world caught the attention of an Imperial Admiral during their invasion of your planet. You didn't have much choice, but you tried to make the best of it.

A few weeks into your job, you were accused of tampering with the safety of Admiral Tarkin's ship. It wasn't true, but your word meant nothing once you were accused. Truthfully, you never signed up for what the Empire had planned for you anyway.

Almost a year had passed since that day, but it never seemed to get any easier. The warm and happily endless days in your new home on Pabu were an oasis compared to your days serving the Empire. Unfortunately, though, even in a paradise of unbothered territory, the Empire still held you in its grasp with these unrelenting nightmares.

Your head rested heavily in your palms as you leaned over the side of the bed. Your roommate was thankfully gone for the night, so you were confident that no one heard your panting and muffled pleas for mercy in your sleep.

The beating of your heart began to pump the breaks ever so slowly. Looking around your home, you felt comfort in knowing you were safe. It always took you a few moments to let it sink in:

It wasn’t real.

The Empire cannot hurt you.

You are safe.

Your attempted solitude was abruptly halted by a sudden knock at the door. You rubbed your face to gather your composure before walking to the door and cracking it open.

Hunter’s face, illuminated by the glow of the moonlight, came into view. Your heart skipped a beat. His presence was always welcomed, but no matter how close you were to Hunter, he always gave the gentlest butterflies.

“Hunter, wh-” You began, your voice rough from sleep.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” He spoke gently, his eyes heavy with worry. He cared so deeply for you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer that question verbally. Pulling the door open, you gestured for him to come inside.

He entered, hesitantly. His eyes not so subtly traveled the length of your body, barely covered by the silk nightgown you wore. His jaw clenched as he made himself look away.

“Sorry, I’ll cover up” You said frantically, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Scrambling to find a tunic, he politely interrupted you.

“No, please” He begged. There was a hint of desire in his tone that you chose to dismiss, “I mean, it’s your home. Don’t worry about me”. His eyes still wandered. Hunter couldn’t peel his eyes away from your exposed skin. At least not completely before finally finding your gaze and holding it.

Setting down the tunic, you crossed your arms, nodding in agreement.

“I’ve…been better. Just a…bad dream is all” You struggled with your words, answering his initial question.

“I, um, sensed that you were…distressed” He started, nervously, “Sorry, It’s not by choice. But I couldn’t ignore it”.

It was no surprise that he could tell. The villa you were housed in was side by side with Hunter and Crosshair’s villa, with Hunter’s bunk being on just the other side of the thin walls of your own room. It wasn’t a lot of space, but it was graciously gifted to you by the Pabu government, and you were grateful.

But although it wasn’t surprising, you were startled by the idea that he could sense your nerves and heartbeat through the wall.

What else could he sense? What could he hear?

“What were you doing awake? It’s the middle of the night” You countered, shaking your head subtly, wearing a soft smile in admiration of his concern and derailing from the topic only slightly.

He sighed and sat himself on your bunk, “Was having some bad dreams myself” he confessed, his elbows resting on his thighs. You followed suit, sitting on your bunk next to him.

You nodded and let the silence between you fill the small space for a moment. It wasn't awkward. It never was with him.

“It’s been a year. I just…I can’t shake how real it feels. Every single time I have this dream -- it’s like I’m right back on Tantiss, staring up through the barrel of a blaster. But…in my dream— my nightmare—you never come to save me” You breathe out, almost choking on the last part.

Hunter’s brows furrow with concern and pain. He thought it over for a few seconds, reliving that moment when he saved your life, shooting the officer dead where he stood as well as the troopers surrounding you. His face twisted in sorrow once more before he spoke again.

“I see Tech” He began, his voice broken, “Every time I close my eyes to sleep. Over and over again, I see him die”

“Oh, Hunter” your voice cracks with his name falling off your lips. Your heart broke for him, for the others. You never had the pleasure of knowing Tech, but from the endless stories the others in the squad had to share, you knew he was extraordinary.

Hunter's eyes remained on the ground for a moment before looking over to meet your gaze. He reached out and rested his hand upon your knee. You were ashamed to admit that the gentlest of his touch was electrifying to you.

“I know what it’s like” He consoled you, “it’s terrible”.

You nodded and stared into him, communicating more in your expression than what your words could provide.

“That trauma — it’s a part of me now”

“It is. But it does not define you” Hunter countered, “That’s what I tell Omega. Shes a tough kid but…she’s haunted by the Empire, too”

You thought of her and smiled. Over the past year, you'd grown close to all of them and were so happy to have them in your life.

Hunter always tended to you back when you were trying to adjust to life on the island. He used check on you several times a day, just to see if you were okay. He still does occasionally, but he’s given you more space as time has passed. He was a good and caring friend.

A Friend.

You chuckled to yourself at the thought of that word. It wasn’t even a week after you met him that you’d fallen head over heels for him. He blissfully plagued your every waking thought. Often you’d worry that he noticed your fixation on him, and were weary of his possible rejection. Other times, you’d hoped he noticed and would do something about it.

There were lingering glances, brushes against one another in a hallway, kind and flattering words exchanged…but you’d both been too afraid to act on it. You accepted that it may never be anything more than that, but it wasn’t without disappointment. Everyone around you, the other guys specifically, all noticed the tension between you two, but it never affected your friendship.

“Can I ask you a question?” You broke the silence, seemingly curious in your tone.

“Anything” Hunter quickly responded.

“Is this the first time you’ve sensed that I was… distressed in the middle of the night?”

Slowly, he sat up straight, “Yes…and no” He answered, hesitantly. You swallowed hard in anticipation of what you already assumed.

You tilted your head at him inquisitively.

“It's your heart rate. But I uh...I don’t think it’s always nightmares" He trailed off, cautious of what he was insinuating. Your heart sunk to your belly. Surely he didn't mean that he could sense when you pleasured yourself?

"What do you mean, Hunter?” You pried, hoping to get him to bring it up first.

“I shouldn't have said anything. I was just worried about you and wanted to check in" He hurried through his explanation, standing to his feet and walking toward the door to look out your window.

Your cheeks burned red with both excitement and embarrassment.

"Sometimes it's the best way to get to sleep" You indirectly admitted, shrugging your shoulders and letting a playful smile sneak upon your face, “Don’t you do it, too?�� You casually suggested.

His eyes snapped back to where you sat on your bed.

Touching yourself was the best way to relax. Truthfully, you were starving for Hunter’s touch instead, and you had been yearning for him all this time. It was always him that you thought of when your curious fingers traveled in between your legs.

Hunter swallowed hard, feeling the delicate tension in the air.

“Well, of course I do, I-“ he stumbled over his words.

“Hunter, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it” You reassured him, cutting him off before he felt any more flustered.

You approached him at the window, feeling so dangerously close as you placed your hand on his arm.

“Thank you for checking on me. I’m okay” You offered a gentle and reassuring smile.

“I want to protect you, cyar’ika. You mean a lot to me and I…sometimes I don’t know how to help”

Hearing endearing terms in Mando’a always melted your heart.

“Just having you around is enough protection for me”

“I’m on the other side of the wall if you ever need me. You know that”

“I know” You nodded, but couldn’t seem to break your attention away from his face. The tattooed side, something you’d always adored, was lit once again by the brightened moon. Stars, he was so beautiful.

It was a mutual exchange of a longing expression between you two. Hunter’s eyes searched your gaze for any hesitation as you both leaned into each other. Your body pressed firm against him as your hands rested on the back of his neck. In the quiet of your room, it was you who could hear your own heartbeat now.

His lips landed blissfully upon yours, sending a radiating current through your body. You sucked in a sharp breath, overcome with the feeling of this sudden intimate contact. You kissed him back delicately, letting your mouth become barely familiar with his after so much longing for this exact feeling. You pulled away only slightly, seeing if he had any urge to stop. You looked up at him, searching for any sense of regret but found none. Hunter’s eyes were hungry for you...so much more of you.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice low and desperate.

You ached for him. Maker…you had ached for him for so terribly long. His lips on any part of your body were near close enough to send you into a frenzy. As your lips returned to his, Hunter’s arms found themselves wrapped around your barely clothed waist, pulling you closer to him, and deepening the kiss.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt ready to remove it, eager to continue this further. To your puzzling surprise, he stopped you.

“Oh, I-“ You began, flustered and confused.

“Mesh’la” he groaned.

“I’m sorry”

“No, don’t be. I just…I can’t” He strained through his words, shutting his eyes for a moment, finding it difficult to reject you but forcing himself to do so.

As you stood there confused, he looked at you with a wordless apology on his face.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I'm right here if you need me” He concluded, gently planting a kiss on your forehead before seeing himself out.

Emptiness consumed you as you stood alone in your villa. Had you done something wrong? Surely not, it was clear he wanted you too, but something stopped him.

With such worry on your mind, you laid awake for a while before your fatigue finally took you over, sending you into a deep sleep.

————————————

“Have a nice day!” You called out to your last customer of the day. You loved your job working in the marketplace in the city square. It was a peaceful and rewarding existence.

Throughout the day, memories of the night before played like a broken holoscan in your mind. You could still feel his lips against yours, devouring you. It was hard not to smile as you reminisced about the feeling, but your smile would quickly fade as you remembered how it ended.

The sun casted an amber glow over the sea, letting you know the day was near over. The entire day had passed without seeing Hunter, which made you anxious. You wanted to see him. To talk to him. To apologize for trying to go too far.

As you processed these thoughts, you felt a presence approach your booth.

Hunter.

“Oh, hi!” You said surprised.

“Hi” He began, his smile warm, “can we talk?”

“Sure. I’m just closing up for the day”, You grinned back to him.

“I’ll be at our spot by the cove” He said, pointing toward the side of the island where your secret spot was. Only you, the guys, and Omega really knew about it.

You nodded before hurrying to finish closing your shop. Never had you packed that quickly before.

You arrived on the shore, in the hidden cove on the beach to find Hunter sitting alone on the boulder.

“Hey stranger” You said, approaching him.

“Hey, you” He smiled. Maybe with anyone else, this would be awkward. But with Hunter, somehow it wasn’t.

“Everything okay?” You questioned.

“I wanted to apologize about last night” He started, not making eye contact at first, but finding your eyes shortly after.

“It’s okay, Hunter, really. I understand” You responded, not entirely sure what you were understanding. Truthfully, you still weren’t sure why he stopped you last night.

“I don’t think you do, sweetheart”

You sat next to him on the boulder, leaving a bit of space between you two, contrary to how close you’d found yourself the night before.

“I had to stop myself” He continued.

“Why?”

“I care about you” He sighed.

“I know you do, Hunter. I don’t see why that made you want to stop what we had started” You countered, growing flustered, shifting your hips slightly.

“Because no matter how hard it is for me to resist you, I cannot take advantage of you like that”

“Wha— you’re not taking advantage of me, Hunter” You subtly scoffed in disbelief.

“I want you. Make no mistake about that” He said confidently yet softly, sending a tingling feeling through your veins.

“I want you too. I think about you…a lot” You began, letting your tone lead his mind toward the deeper meaning of your words.

Hunter looked over to you and raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

“I don’t want to mess up what we have” He admitted, disappointingly, “you mean too much to me”

You wanted to fight it. You wanted him. But he made a fair point. Was it worth running the risk of ruining your friendship?

You nodded, offering no further comment on the situation. It made your heart ache terribly, but you couldn’t risk losing him due to your mutual desires.

“I’m lucky to have you, Hunter” You said, scooting closer to him before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too” He concurred.

The sunset on Pabu had never felt so bittersweet. As its warmth and glow made a gradual exit, you felt any chance of something more with Hunter disappearing with it. You sat and talked with him for another hour, chatting about the weather and how his job on the island was going, and you were just grateful for his presence, even if you’d never feel his lips upon yours again.

Returning home some time later, you noticed your roommate had left you a transmission.

“Sorry, still off-world, be back tomorrow!”

You felt relieved. Having privacy was rare but welcomed and appreciated.

The steaming shower in your refresher washed the day away from your body. You didn’t bother to put on your clothes, as you preferred to sleep naked anyway. As you sunk into your bed, you feared this would be another night of endless tossing and turning.

To make matters worse, you couldn’t stop feeling Hunter’s lips on yours. Over and over again, you kept feeling the tingling sensation that came over you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You were already wet just thinking about it, but as you rubbed your legs tightly together, you provided a friction that lit a fire in your lower belly.

He’d know if I masturbated, you thought. He’d sense it.

“Fuck it” You whispered to yourself.

Your fingertips found their place where they always did, right atop your sensitive bud. Rhythmically, you rubbed delicate circles around your clit, just beginning to tend to your aching needs. You whimpered softly. So softly that even you barely heard it.

What you were doing was going to drive him crazy. You knew that. The walls were thin, and he’d already told you that he’d sensed something in your heartbeat other than your nightmares before. But you’d be dammed if you’ll be left unsatisfied after the tease you’d felt last night.

You rocked your hips upwards into your own touch, biting your lip to suppress noises any louder than a heavy breath, especially with what you knew now. Visions of Hunter came to you as you fantasized. You pictured his fingers touching you like this, his body on top of yours.

Slowly, you felt your climax creeping toward you, inching closer like a looming threat. As you covered your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your orgasm was suddenly ripped away from you at the sound of a knock on your door.

You froze.

“Y/N” Hunter’s voice rang quietly from the other side.

Quickly, you pulled the covers to shield your naked body.

“Come in” you boldly called out. Sure, your door definitely should have been locked, but, you never worried for your safety here.

Hunter opened the door with caution. His eyes met yours immediately. As he closed it behind him, he leaned against the door as he took in the sight of you.

“Not a nightmare this time, was it?” He slyly suggested.

“No” you breathed, your heart now certainly beating in your throat.

He walked to your bed, slowly, “Tell me, mesh’la, all those times you’ve pleasured yourself, did you think I couldn’t hear those pretty little noises you make when you come?”

You stared at him, eyes heavy with intense lust and hint of blissful shame. There was a primal desire in his expression and demeanor, something you’d not seen but only a hint of last night, but it was undeniable tonight.

“Every time you touch yourself, I know” He whispered, “And you know what else? Every time you touch yourself, I can’t help but touch myself, too” He admitted, hovering above your bed, looking down to your delicately covered body. You melted at the image of him masturbating and getting off on the idea of you pleasuring yourself too.

“Hunter” you breathed.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what you want” He begged you. Hunter needed you to give him the green light he desperately needed.

“Please, fuck me” You begged shamelessly, “I can’t take it anymore. I need you”

Within the same second that the words left your lips, he was in bed above you, your lips tangled within his. He kissed you passionately, his tongue slipping into yours, exploring you further. You moaned at the satisfaction of his raw desire, picking right back up from where you left off. One hand held him up while the other ran through your hair. As you stayed covered beneath him, you reached up to grab his face and pull him into you and the kiss deepened between you.

The presence of his body above you pulled the blanket down, revealing your bare breasts. Hunter pulled away from your lips to look down at the sight. He growled lowly in approval and pent up urge to see you like this.

“Cyare” he whimpered, releasing his hand from your face down to cup your breast. He then redirected his attention to your stiffened nipples, taking one into his mouth, causing a gentle cry to fall from your lips.

With his mouth still upon your breast, he pulled the blanket completely off your body, tossing it to the floor, exposing your skin to the chilled air.

Maker, he was eager…so incredibly eager to see you fully bare beneath him. Every inch of your skin on display. Something he’d only dreamed of. Something that fueled every fantasy he had while he stroked his cock mere inches from you on the other side of the wall. And here you were, right beneath him, laid out pretty, just for him.

“You are so beautiful, sweetheart” He praised you, leaning back to fully take in the view. Swiftly, he removed his shirt, revealing the chiseled, beautifully scarred body beneath it. You stared in awe at his physique, your heart skipping a beat.

"Spread your legs for me, baby", He instructed. You obeyed, opening your legs to provide him better access to where you desperately ached for him the most. The moonlight gleaming through your window was enough to offer you both the light you needed. As Hunter caught sight of your pussy, already slick with desire for him, his face turned in pure adoration.

"Touch me, please, Hunter" You begged, feeling as though you could do nothing but beg him in this state of arousal. You were his. All his.

FIngertips trailed softly up your thigh before reaching the wetness between your legs. Hunter whimpered as he felt you.

"Oh sweetheart, is this all for me?" He asked, beginning to rub your clit gently while he whispered into your ear. Chills erupted down your body.

"It's for you. It's always for you" You responded breathlessly, letting your words flow in between your cries of pleasure. Hunter applied more pressure before inserting two fingers inside of you. While he does this, he watches you, enamored with the way your face twists in pleasure, all from his hands. Not yours this time — his.

With a curl of his fingers and a steady pace, Hunter fucks you with his fingers. His thumb remains at your clit, stimulating you beyond what you're used to. No one had paid this much attention to your body before.

His lips returned to yours, stifling a moan that escaped you as you felt your orgasm quickly approaching.

"I'm so c-close" You choked on your words muttered against his supple lips. The bundled coil in your lower abdomen threatened to burst at any second.

"I can feel you tightening around me. Come on my fingers, mesh'la" He encouraged you.

Hearing Hunter talk to you like this, after so long of being just friends, was exhilarating. His words alone were enough to push you over the edge, but the way he worked his hands to pleasure you was so good. Too good.

Your climax unraveled, washing over you gracefully, starting at your core and radiating like a fire throughout your entire body. Profanities flew from your lips as you instinctively rolled your hips against his palm.

"That's it, princess, right there" He coaxed you gently, unrelenting in the curling of his fingers, fucking you steadily through your orgasm, "good girl".

As you came down from the pure euphoria with stars dancing in your eyes, Hunter was careful to pull his fingers out of you slowly. Holding your gaze, he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting you and savoring it like a last meal.

You leaned up, propping yourself on your elbows. Hunter stood, quickly pulling the hem of his pants down before removing them completely. You audibly gasped at his size when his cock came into view. Hunter was smirking as your eyes travelled back up to his gaze.

As he stood beside your bed, you got on your hands and knees and put your mouth level with his length. Hunter melted when your tongue licked up the side of his cock. His eyes fell closed when you took him into your mouth completely, or at least, as much as you could. You started to suck him off, using your tongue to guide your motions.

You peered up at him, watching his face twist in ecstasy as you bobbed your head back and forth. With a swirling of your tongue on his tip, you felt his hips twitch subtly.

“Fuck, Y/N. Just like that. Suck my cock” He growled through his pleasure, using a tone you’d usually only heard when he gave orders. This was an order you’d follow any day without question, “That’s my girl”, he praised through his clenched jaw.

His hand rested on your head, gently guiding you in your motions. The sound of his soft little whimpers that quickly turned into deeper groans made your cunt ache for him even more. You clenched your walls around nothing, pitifully empty and needing to be filled. As you moved your hand to your clit to relieve the ache, he reached down your back and plunged two fingers into your pussy from behind. You cried out, sending vibrations over his cock as you tried to still focus on his pleasure.

He pumped his fingers at a faster pace than before, sending you into a overstimulated frenzy and you couldn’t take it anymore. You pulled your mouth from him, desperately catching your breath and crying out his name.

“Fuck, Hunter, don’t stop” You begged him, but instead he disobeyed your request, removing his fingers completely.

Without struggle or hesitation, Hunter lifted you and placed you on your back on the bed. He positioned himself in between your trembling legs. He kissed you passionately once more while lining his cock at your entrance.

The whole world fell silent for you as your bodies seemingly fused together. You’d dreamed of this moment, this intimacy with Hunter, for so long. To have him inside of you was the most erotic experience you’d ever had. He bottomed out slowly, both of your mouths agape, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the connection you felt in that moment.

There was only a slight tinge of discomfort as he filled you completely. You winced only a little, before it was replaced by pure pleasure.

“Mesh’la” he moaned deeply, “You..ugh…you take me so well” he praised you through his expressions of pleasure.

“Feels so good, Hunter” you whine, staring deep into eyes, seducing him further.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to feel you like this?” He whispered against your ear before moving his lips down to your neck, kissing softly at your skin while he thrust deeper and faster.

You choked on your moans as his change in pace overwhelmed you. The room was filled with your whimpers, along with the irresistible sound of Hunter’s rough and deep moans.

“Such a good girl, letting me fuck you like this” Hunter’s praises lit a fire within you, and he could tell, encouraging him more.

You lifted your knees, pressing them against his chest, allowing him to slide inside of you at an even better angle. You cried out, overstimulated and overfilled in the most amazing way. The thin walls were no match for how good you made each other feel, but you cared very little about who heard you.

The year long pent up tension between you two was unraveling beautifully as he fucked you like he was making up for all that lost time.

With one hard thrust, he stopped, holding his cock fully sheathed in your cunt, “Gonna come on my cock, princess? Make those pretty little sounds for me?” He teased, grinding his hips hard against your thighs. Held inside you like this, he brushed against your most sensitive spot, driving you crazy.

You were drunk off him, drunk off his words, drunk off his body. You could barely form a response, but offered him a nod as you felt your next release building quickly inside of you. Maybe he just loved to tease you endlessly, because he then pulled out of you, making you whine pitifully at the sudden loss of his cock and your orgasm.

He was firm yet gentle with your body as he flipped you over flat on your stomach. Similar to how he reacted to your breasts, he growled at the sight of your ass, grabbing a handful to admire as he ran his other hand down your back.

He leaned down, his cock resting on your ass, and he moved your hair from your face, pulling you into a passionate kiss as he sunk himself into your pussy from behind. You moaned against his lips, so satisfied with being filled again.

He continued his pace from before, fucking you with raw desire to claim you. Hips slapped firm against the skin of your ass as Hunter grabbed your waist for even better leverage.

“Hunter!”, You cried out, “right there…right there…I’m gonna come”

Never would he dare to stop now. The sounds he emitted grew louder and more inconsistent, and you could tell he was close too.

The fire that burned inside you erupted into the a burst of absolute ecstasy. It took over every fiber of your being as your vision went hazy. A slew of profanities flew from your lips while your body convulsed, your cunt pulsing around his cock as you came harder than you ever had felt before.

“Yessss, good fucking girl, come for me just like that” He cursed, grinding and pounded hard to chase his own release as well. You tightened your walls for him, pushing him closer, even though you never wanted this to end.

You were breathless beneath him, still taking his cock like you were made for it.

“Come inside me, Hunter. Please” You pleaded. It seems your words sent him over his limit, because as the words left your mouth, his hips faltered and his breath grew shaky. Hunter filled you, coming deep inside you, marking you like he wished he’d done a long time ago.

Together you caught your breath slowly. Hunter was careful to remove himself gently, knowing that you’d be sensitive, as was he. You winced as the last inch of him left you. Exhaustion overtook your body as you lay there, floating on a high like no other.

Hunter laid down next you, your bodies pressed closely together on the small bed. You turned to your side, looking up at him in pure adoration.

“Y/N…” Hunter broke the silence that was only filled with panting as you both tried to catch your breath, “you are…so perfect”

“So are you” You smiled at him.

“I’m never letting you go. That’s a promise” He assured you. The words brought you comfort, and you truly believed him.

It wasn’t but shortly after that you both drifted into a deep sleep, holding each other close while your minds rested. The sleep was peaceful and uninterrupted, as neither of you had nightmares that night.

——

A/N: Please comment/reblog if you enjoyed. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!❤️

Thank you for reading 😊

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Glutton for Punishment | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello, hello! I am back back back again. My life has been busy, y'all. School is kicking my ass. But this fic has been like 94% complete for like a month, and I finally got to finish it! yay!

wordcount: 8939

Warnings: angst, self harm, Bucky's trauma

Bucky collapsed onto the bed with a defeated huff. The mattress rippled under his weight and jostled the computer resting on your thighs. His chest rose and fell with another dejected sigh. His meetings with Fury never went well- but they weren’t always bad. Sometimes, things between them were cordial. Neutral. This was not one of those times. Bucky wanted to sink into the bed and never come out. He wanted to dissolve into the earth and disappear. The only thing anchoring him to reality was, as always, you. 

“Hey, how’d it go, babe?” The comforting lilt of your voice floated through the air. Maybe drenching your words in overt positivity was too much, but it seemed necessary. Maybe if you could coat your voice in optimism, it would fix whatever plagued Bucky. But you knew it was useless to hope. 

He didn’t answer. He just stared up at the ceiling, a blank expression on his face. Coming home to you after a bad day or a shitty meeting was always his saving grace; being near you brought him peace. But he hated bringing the shame home with him. 

“That bad, huh?” you ditched your laptop and laid next to him, propped up on one elbow. “What happened?”

Silence. He didn’t tear his eyes from the ceiling. Didn’t even blink. He just gazed upward- hopeless. 

In the quiet, your fingers traced up and down his arm. You pressed kisses to his shoulder. He always had a way of shutting you out before allowing you in. It wasn’t personal; it was just his process. He opted to suffer without your help until the pain ate away at him. And when there was almost nothing left, he tore down the walls and welcomed the onslaught of comfort. 

“He said it was my fault.” Bucky tried not to sound too pathetic. He knew you worried about him- a lot. Knew that his misery always hurt you. Seeing him in pain brought you nothing but heartache. But his efforts did nothing to hide the anguish in his voice. 

You didn’t want to make him repeat the whole ordeal, to relive whatever messed up shit Fury said to him- but you needed context. Your words were soft, your voice gentle. “He said what was your fault, baby?” Bucky didn’t deserve more blame, more guilt. Though none of what he did was his fault, a lifetime of remorse rested heavy on his shoulders after his Winter Soldier days. You wondered how much unjust blame he could carry before it crushed him. 

Bucky sighed, “All of it. Everything that went wrong on that last mission- the explosion, all those agents getting hurt-”

“What? You weren’t even the lead on that job- how is any of it your fault?” Heat rose in your chest. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Defending Bucky was your first instinct, your first priority. And while he accepted the shame with which Fury saddled him, you immediately turned to protection. To rage. 

Bucky shrugged, “he said I’m the most experienced, so I should’ve known better than to let the lead take our team into the lab.”

 “Wait- he said you should’ve argued with the mission lead?”

Bucky nodded. 

“But didn’t he reprimand you last month for that exact reason?”

Again, he nodded. 

“What the fuck?” Wrath sizzled beneath your skin. No one was allowed to treat Bucky this way- not even Fury. He contradicted himself and put his hypocrisy on full display, knowing Bucky hated himself too much to argue. 

“I can-” Bucky’s voice came out hollow. Empty. Guilt had him in a chokehold. “I can see where he’s coming from…”

“No, don’t do that.” It wasn’t a reprimand- but a reminder. You laced your fingers with his, “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

He refused to make eye contact. “I mean, I could’ve spoken up-”

“You weren’t even with them, were you? Didn’t Fury tell you to hit the warehouse on your own?”

He nodded.

“So how is any of it your fault, Buck?” Fury sent Bucky into a tailspin with almost no effort. He knew exactly which buttons to push, which wires to pull. Fury made him his puppet, his scapegoat. He made Bucky work harder than anyone else and never delivered the praise he deserved. Instead, he met Bucky’s efforts with tongue-lashings and bitter insults. With blame. 

“I don’t…” he shrugged. “I don’t know- but it feels like it’s on me. A lot of people got hurt and I am the most experienced. I should’ve said something-”

“But if you did, Fury would’ve called you into his office to tell you that you’re arrogant- like he did last time.” A deep breath filled your lungs and calmed your system; anger wouldn’t help Bucky. You needed to channel that energy into comforting him, easing his mind. 

You softened your tone, “You know you can’t win with him, Buck.”

“Maybe because I tried to kill him… twice.” Finally, he looked at you, “And I can handle being called arrogant- those agents got hurt, doll. That’s different.”

“I know it’s different. I’m just saying… you weren’t involved. You did what you were told- what Fury told you to do.” Your hand cupped his cheek, he leaned into your touch. “And if he wants to get mad at you for that, he’s a piece of shit. He knows he fucked up, and he’s pinning it on you.”

Bucky pulled you close. He curled in on himself with you at his center, his head resting against your chest. The logical part of his brain believed everything you said. It disregarded Fury’s false accusations and willed the blame to dissipate. But the rest of him took Fury’s every word as gospel. It rejected your assurances, categorizing them as obligatory kindness from a significant other. Shame feasted on his soul. He didn’t want to feel this way, but it came easily. By now, it was second nature. 

“Thanks, doll…” He lifted his head and brought his face to yours, “I appreciate you.” He meant it; no one ever supported him like this. But you always listened. You were always there for him, even when he was too ashamed to look you in the eye. You showed him patience and kindness and led him out of the dark more times than he could count. 

He dotted a few soft kisses to your lips, “I’m gonna take a shower.” 

“Wait-” Your hand caught his as he tried to get up, “I love you.”

A shy smile pulled at Bucky’s lips. He once again met your lips with his, needier this time. “And I love you.”

He stripped off his shirt and, immediately, your eyes landed on it. By now, you knew better than to stare. But sometimes, you couldn’t stop yourself.  

The first time it caught your eye, you couldn’t avert your gaze. You noticed it right away- how could you not? It drew your focus the first moment Bucky removed his shirt in front of you. You didn’t think anything could ever distract you from his perfect body- but you were wrong. 

A massive bruise splashed across Bucky’s skin. The cluster of broken blood vessels was dark at the center- nearly black. It exploded into by purples and blues that stained his right shoulder and eclipsed his chest. Sometimes, an angry, red haze leaked from the edges like a wine stain. Greens and yellows- signs of healing- colored the border every now and then. But no matter how many times you bore witness, they never seemed to overtake the tones of violet and navy. 

For whatever reason, this thing refused to heal.

On more occasions than you could count, you asked Bucky about this large indigo mark. And he always had an answer:

“Ran through a wall”

“Jumped out of a plane”

“That John Walker asshole hit me with Steve’s shield”

He did, indeed, have a dangerous job and a penchant for peril. For taking risks. But no one else on the team ever seemed to have a bruise like that. Even you received your fair share of stitches and broken ribs, but never anything as persistent as Bucky’s bruise. 

Wasn’t he a super soldier? Wasn’t he supposed to heal fast- really fast? His other injuries disappeared like they’d never happened; why did this bruise stick around? 

“I think you need to get that looked at,” you told him once, “it can’t be good that it never heals...”

Bucky shrugged it off with a smile. He kissed you on the forehead and thanked you for your concern. But he didn’t get it checked out. He downplayed the massive bruise eclipsing his body and moved on, just like he always did. 

“What are you lookin’ at?” Bucky quirked a brow at you, his shy smile making another appearance.

You shrugged, “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It’s not- it’s not that bad,” Bucky did his best to hide his bruise with his vibranium hand, but the colors extended far past what he could cover. “I’m used to it.”

Something had to be wrong with him, right? Something inside his body had to be out of order. The first time you saw it- the first time you saw him without his shirt- was six months ago. How long could a bruise last? And how long did he have it before he showed it to you? 

Why hadn’t the serum fixed it by now?

Bucky was well past his expiration date. He lived more years than the universe intended, and his body suffered enough trauma for a hundred lifetimes. He was strong, he was a survivor. But every time you stole a glance at the inky spot on his skin, anxiety blocked your airway. Part of you wondered if this mark signaled his end. There was a chance that his body already started breaking down, that all those years of abuse caught up with him. Maybe his bruise was a harbinger. Maybe his days were numbered. Maybe he was dying. 

Maybe you were about to lose him.

Those kinds of thoughts pushed bile into your throat. You shoved them into the darkest corners of your mind and did your best to lock them away, but they reappeared from time to time just to hurt you. Taunt you. Bring you to tears. And while Bucky made his way into the bathroom and turned on the hot water, you remained fixated on the inky spot. On his demise. 

Bucky did his best to let the shower cleanse his mind. He told himself he’d let it all go- all the guilt and the blame. He knew he didn’t deserve it. But his shame didn’t run down the drain. It didn’t wash away with the warm spray of the shower. No, he remained coated in it, dripping with it, no matter how hard he scrubbed. And though it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, he never welcomed its reemergence.

A sliver of levity wriggled into his chest as he emerged from the bathroom. He found you reading in bed, your brows knit together in that cute way he loved. But your focus shattered when he stepped into the bedroom. He watched you dogear your page and shut your book as he climbed into bed. 

“You don’t have to stop reading because of me, doll-” 

“I was only reading while I waited for you,” you extended a hand in his direction and tugged him closer. He didn’t need to know that you only opened your book to distract from your crippling anxiety about his condition. He didn’t need to know that you read the same paragraph over and over and over without retaining a word. “Now that you’re here, I don’t need any other form of entertainment.”

“Is that so?” He narrowed his eyes at you and gestured to the book resting on your chest, “I’m better than Dracula?”

“Way better. So, the guy drinks blood and sleeps in a coffin-” You shot him a wink and knocked your book to the floor, “big whoop.” A dramatic eye roll and a quick laugh accompanied your comments about Bram Stoker’s masterpiece. But a sudden seriousness banished your playful tone as you gave Bucky a once over. He didn’t look any better- not that he ever looked bad. But the hot shower did nothing to help him relax. All his muscles remained taught. His brow still furrowed. The tension in his jaw seemed to turn to concrete. He was hurting. 

“How you doin’, Buck?” A gentle hand smoothed over his shoulder and slid down his arm. “You okay?”

A manufactured smile spread across his face. His shoulders rose and fell in an all too casual shrug. “I’m fine- I’m good.” He couldn’t seem to maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds.

Another tug of his hand brought him closer. “You don’t seem fine…”

“No, really. I’m okay,” he brought your hand to his lips and pressed kisses to your palm. He was the farthest thing from okay; it was written all over his face. And though he did his best to put on a façade for you, you saw through the cracks. A heaviness lurked behind the grin he wore. A deep sadness darkened his gaze. You knew he probably spent the entirety of his shower replaying Fury’s words and berating himself within an inch of his life. 

An extra helping of guilt dropped upon Bucky’s shoulders as he studied you. One of your nails dug into the cuticle of another. Your smile remained tight and tense. He could practically see the anxiety surging through your nervous system. And it was all his fault. You were worried about him, upset about him. How could he do this to you when you brough him nothing but peace?

He found it in him to take a deep breath, to let his shoulders fall a fraction of an inch. “It’s just gonna take a little time for me to get out of the shitty headspace Fury put me in. I’ll be alright-” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, “I promise.”

Fucking Fury. He seemed to allow everyone else chance after chance; he granted grace to every other member of the team. Everyone but Bucky. “You wanna get some sleep, then?” you cupped Bucky’s cheek, “hopefully, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Bucky nodded. He reached over and flipped off his bedside lamp before giving his pillow a few adjustments. He got settled under the covers and waited for you to do the same- but you didn’t. You laid there, watching him. 

“You gonna turn your lamp off, doll?”

“Not until you’re all situated.”

Bucky looked down at his perfectly arranged covers and then back at you, “I’m um, I think I’m settled, baby.”

You quirked a brow at him, “Are you though? Come on-” you found his hand under the covers and pulled him closer. “Assume the position, Barnes.”

He let out a labored, tired laugh. “Baby, thank you, but I can’t. My hair’s still wet, you’re gonna be cold-”

“I don’t care- you had a rough day.”  You could practically see the war raging within Bucky’s psyche. He was dying to crawl into your embrace a disappear into your warmth. But he couldn’t- not tonight. 

“It’s okay, doll. You don’t have to, it’s-” 

“Come onnn, Buck. You knowwww you waaaant toooooo.” You gave your chest a few light pats, beckoning him to you. “I know it always makes you feel better.”

Of course, he wanted to. Something about resting his head on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, and feeling your hands in his hair eased his soul. Even on his darkest, most soul-crushing days, he found solace with you. But guilt still gnawed at him; Fury’s rant played on a constant loop inside his head. And after what he’d supposedly done, he didn’t feel as though he deserved your love. 

“Baby, I know you feel bad; And I know you’re trying to deprive yourself. But guilty or not- which you are not-” you gave his hand a squeeze, “you deserve comfort.”

A touch of heartbreak colored your voice. You were desperate to help Bucky, nearly begging him to grant himself some grace. Some care. In his attempts to hurt himself by staying far from your embrace, he’d hurt you instead. He’d made you sad, filled you with worry. He wondered if he’d ever be able to do anything right. 

In an instant, he did as you asked; he’d do anything to make you feel better. His head rested against your chest, his wet hair dampening your shirt. It sent a rush of goosebumps over your skin- but you didn’t care. A deep sigh left Bucky’s chest as he melted against you. He often swore his body was made to fit yours, that he only existed to touch and be touched by you. 

“See? Isn’t that better?”

“Mhmm…” he sighed, “much.”

You ran a hand through his wet hair, “Good. Now, let’s get some sleep. Okay?” You flicked off your lamp and wrapped your arms around Bucky, willing every ounce of your love into his body. He’d feel better in the morning- you knew he would. He just needed time and rest and a little love. And you gave him more than he ever dreamed of. 

But around two in the morning, a strange sound vibrated on the edges of your consciousness. The dense ‘thud’repeated endlessly, like an eternal metronome. It resounded inside your head, mixing itself in with your dream until it finally woke you. 

With your face still smushed into your pillow, you muttered Bucky’s name. The sound stopped- maybe you imagined it. Maybe it really was just part of your dream. Silence settled over your room once again and lulled you back to sleep. 

But only a few minutes later, that sound woke you once again.

Your words came out sloppy, heavy with sleep. “Whass tha noise?” 

No answer. 

“Baby,” you said, more alert this time, “You hear that?”

Bucky didn’t respond. 

With a groan, you forced your eyes open. There was no sign of disturbance or struggle; nothing out of the ordinary caught your eye. Everything was in its place- except Bucky. And when you pressed your palm against his side of the bed, the sheets lacked any remnants of his warmth. 

This wasn’t like him- not anymore, anyway. Back when you first got together, Bucky left the room when he woke from a night terror. He’d slip out of bed and escape to the living room, forcing himself to withstand his panic attack all alone. But one night, you found him on the living room floor- desperate for breath. He clutched the corner of the rug and gritted his teeth, willing the anxiety to receded. 

He flinched when you touched him; he didn’t hear you approach over the pounding in his ears. But the second he saw you, he reached for you. His sickly white knuckles regained their color as he released his fists and collapsed against you. He dropped his head into your lap, falling forward with the weight of his trauma. And he allowed your voice to soothe his racing mind. He let you guide him out of the agony. 

Of course, he apologized for waking you. For inconveniencing you. Of course, you wouldn’t hear it. And when the panic finally subsided, he let you walk him back to bed. He buried his face in your chest and thanked you a million times over. After that night, you made him promise to wake you when these things happened- no matter what time it was. You made him promise not to suffer in silence. And he agreed. 

You didn’t know he had his fingers crossed. 

“Buck?” the anxious pounding of your heart boomed in your chest. “Baby?” You kicked the blankets from your body and abandoned your bed. Slivers of light made their way through the blinds and splashed across the floor, allowing you to search through the darkness. He wasn’t sitting on the floor or in the armchair near the window. Nor did you find him in the en suite bathroom.  

“Bucky?” The hall was empty and the office void of Bucky’s presence. And while you searched for him, the sound refused to cease. It echoed through seemingly every fiber of the apartment. It haunted every space. Unfounded worries threw themselves at you, fighting to topple you to the ground. What if Bucky was hurt? What if he was gone? 

No- he was fine. Of course, he was. Right? He had to be. The home you shared was safe. Nothing here could hurt or harm him in any way. 

Well, maybe not nothing.

The thudding of your heart grew loud in your ears, nearly eclipsing the mystery sound all together. Part of you even doubted the existence of the noise- maybe it was just your anxiety getting to you. Maybe Bucky was in the kitchen grabbing a late-night snack, perfectly safe and happy. 

But when you rounded the corner into the living room, all doubt fell away. Shards of your heart did the same as you stood in shock, watching the source of the sound reveal itself. 

Bucky sat on the floor near the window, his back resting against the couch. 

His metal fist hammered against his right shoulder again and again, beating the flesh a sickly blue. 

The utter shock stole your breath, forcing it violently from your lungs. A burning erupted from your chest and spread through your every cell like wildfire. The floor seemed to tilt and ripple as a wave of dizziness sent you nearly collapsing into the closest wall. And through all of it, the sound persisted. The sickly thud of metal striking skin, striking bone.

But there was no time for your shock or sadness or heartbreak. Bucky needed you.

“Buck? Hey-” In only a few strides, you made your way to his side. But he didn’t look at you. He didn’t meet your eyes when you sat down in front of him, nor did he stop his assault. “Bucky, baby, can you look at me?” 

He didn’t. He simply forced his hand against his chest over and over, no matter the pain. 

“Bucky,” you didn’t recognize your own voice. It came out more strained, more desperate than you’d ever heard it. The sight of Bucky doing this to himself almost made you sick, the sound covered you in goosebumps. A flood of saliva rushed into your mouth, warning you of the impending threat of vomit- but you forced it down.

Every time you asked about it, every time you wondered what caused that bruise- you never imagined it was self-inflicted. 

“I need you to stop, okay?” Your words came out frantic, “Can you- can you just look at me for a second?”

His hollow gaze remained fixed on the floor. Anguish twisted his features, pulling his face into a pained mask. But his eyes held no life. 

“Please-” your palm landed on his bruised shoulder mere seconds before the next strike. The force of his vibranium fist was sure to shatter your hand, but you didn’t care. You’d do anything to stop him from hurting himself. Anything to ease his pain. And if you couldn’t make him stop, maybe you could soften the blow. 

But just as his fist once again neared his shoulder, he stopped. “Move,” his voice was low, almost timid.

“No.”

“Doll,” his eyes remained downcast, “I need you to move your hand.”

You refused. “I’m not gonna move, Buck. I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself.”

Finally, he dragged his shame-filled gaze upward. His despondent look sliced through you, cutting right to the bone. This was worse than the vacant stare he wore moments ago; this was utter misery. “Please…” his voice caught in his throat, barely pushing its way past the tension. “Move.”

But your hand remained; you’d keep it there until the end of time if you had to. 

Warm, salty tears breached your lips as you spoke, and only then did you realize you were crying. “Buck, why are you doing this?”

“Because I know you won’t.” He clenched and unclenched his metal fist in a never-ending cycle, itching to resume his efforts. “None of you will. Not Sam. Not Hill. Not ever Fury. So, I have to.”

“Of course, we won’t. Why- Why would we?” It was an unfathomable thought. 

“I need- I deserve to be punished. I deserve to face consequences for my actions.” The words fell from his lips in what resembled a recitation, like he had a script to follow. Like he’d said this before. “There are always consequences…” Again, he pulled his hand into a fist; the vibranium whined under his strength. “There have to be consequences.”

“There were consequences- your meeting with Fury? That was the consequence.”

He shook his head, “It’s not enough- people got hurt.”

“It’s more than enough…” With your free hand, you reached for Bucky’s cold fist. He resisted at first, almost scared to be without his method of punishment. But he never could resist your touch. One at a time, you uncurled his fingers from his tight fist. You pressed his cold palm against your chest and held it there, allowing the beat of your heart to vibrate through the metal. “Especially because you didn’t do anything wrong. People got hurt- but it’s not your fault.”

Bucky ached to maim himself. He needed to feel pain. Needed to get what he thought he deserved. But he couldn’t bring himself to tear his hand from your chest. And though you blocked his bruise and made punishment impossible, he liked the way your palm felt against his black and blue skin. It was the one part of him you always shied away from for fear of hurting the already tender flesh. But your touch soothed the deep ache.

“Baby, how…” you swallowed the lump forming in your throat, “how often do you do this?” You weren’t sure you wanted the answer; just the thought of Bucky doing this to himself day in and day out filled your chest with storm clouds. But you needed to know.

His words held a deep shame, “Whenever I deserve it.”

“Buck, you’ve had that bruise for at least six months...”

He shrugged, “I deserve it a lot.”

Everything inside you burst into flames. You wanted to tear Hydra apart, to destroy them for what they did to Bucky. They altered his sense of self so violently, so irreparably, that they changed who he saw in the mirror. He viewed himself only as a vehicle for destruction, a receptacle for other peoples’ wrongs. They drilled into him an acceptance of abuse, of pain, of torture. And now, he didn’t know how to operate without it. 

“No, you don’t- you don’t deserve this.” A small quiver forced its way into your voice, “even if this whole thing was your fault- which it wasn’t- you wouldn’t deserve to be hurt.”

He stared at you for a long moment. Sometimes, he didn’t understand. He couldn’t comprehend the sentiment that he didn’t deserve pain and suffering; that he wasn’t always to blame. It was almost like you spoke different languages. Shuri may have eliminated the Winter Soldier programming and rendered his trigger words useless, but she couldn’t remove his shame. His guilt. His instinct to assume blame.  

“I can’t do anything right-” His right hand gripped the edge of the rug. He needed some way to release his tension, his anxiety. The fabric bunched inside his fist and twisted with his every move. 

“It seems like no matter what I do- or don’t do- someone ends up hurt. That says something about me, doesn’t it?” 

“No. It doesn’t.” You slowly removed your hand from his metal wrist and found his right fist. He eased the tension in his grip with your help and released the corner of the rug. It fell crumpled against the hardwood, struggling to regain its shape. “Buck, you always say that you blame yourself because you think you’re a bad person. But I actually think you blame yourself because you’re a good person.”

He gave a small shake of his head. 

“You’re willing to shoulder whatever guilt or blame other people put on you- regardless of whether you deserve it- because you’re not selfish.” He was, in fact, the least selfish person in the world. He’d set himself on fire to keep you warm. Would move heaven and earth to make you smile. He was loyal, devoted. He cared about you, about his friends, without ever putting himself first. 

“And you haven’t buried yourself in ego or pride like some of the other guys we work with.” 

Bucky let out a soft laugh. 

No, he didn’t bury himself in ego; he had no ego. His self-image wasn’t inflated or overexaggerated. He just wanted to do his best. To help. To offset with light some of the darkness he caused. 

“And maybe it’s your way of seeking redemption- not that you need to be redeemed,” you gave his hand a squeeze. “But maybe part of you feels like if you accept enough responsibility, it’ll make up for the things you were forced to do as the Winter Soldier.” 

He let out a sigh from somewhere deep within him, somewhere he didn’t know he had. It seemed to him like he’d been holding on to this truth, this breath, since the day he escaped. And here, in the darkness, he released it. “I just… I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore.”

“That’s the thing Buck,” you gently stroked a few fingertips across his massive bruise, “You never were.”

His forehead fell against yours. The two of you sat there, motionless, for what felt like forever. Cars moved on the streets below. Thunder rolled through the sky. Rain drops tapped against the large windows. But neither of you noticed. 

“If I move this hand-” you tapped your once again fingers against his bruised shoulder, “are you gonna do it again?”

He shook his head. 

With great hesitancy, you removed your palm from the evidence of his self-inflicted punishment. It looked worse in the eerie 2am lighting, like a black hole formed on his skin; you feared it might envelope him completely if you let it. Your lips replaced your hand, leaving the softest of kisses across his skin. Bucky let loose a small sound- something like a whimper- as you traced the bruise with your mouth. He let a few tears slip down his cheeks. 

“Thank you…”

You took a moment to drink him in. He was stronger than humanly possible. Hugely muscular. Nearly indestructible. But in the middle of the night on the floor of your living room, he looked so small. So fragile. His shoulders caved forward, and his read remained bowed. His voice wavered. His right hand shook ever so slightly. He was a man haunted, possessed by his past. Fearing the future. He was hurt. Broken. Lost in others’ perceptions of himself. He lay trapped under his need for validation from those around him. He sought approval from people who never dreamed of granting it. 

You wondered if he’d ever be free from his ghosts, or if they’d follow him until he became one himself. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “All I ever want is to be there for you when you need me.” The tremor in your voice matched Bucky’s. Pure hurt rendered the air around you thick and heavy. You ached for Bucky, and he, in return, ached to be anyone but himself. 

“What do you wanna do? We can go back to bed. Or if you don’t feel like sleeping, we can hang out in here and watch some tv.” You ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, “Up to you.” 

Bucky’s mind still raced. His brain sat stewing in a deep pit of sorrow and anguish. But he was tired- exhausted. And while his mind wanted to stay up for a while, he let his body decide. His chest and shoulder screamed with pain. His skin stung. Each breath forced a sharp agony into his consciousness; he knew he must’ve cracked a rib. “Let’s-” he grimaced as an inhale filled his lungs, “let’s go back to bed.”

As gently as you could, you helped Bucky from the floor. He smiled when your hand found his as you led him in the direction of the bedroom. The two of you shuffled down the dark hall in silence with no clue what to say. Bucky wanted to apologize; you wanted to drown him in promises of your love. 

Bucky stopped short when you paused, almost running into you. You turned to him suddenly, eying his bruise in the dim light. “You go ahead, okay? I’m gonna grab you an ice pack.”

“Doll, thank you, but I’m fine-”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “does it hurt?”

He shrugged; the motion made him wince. “I mean, yeah. But it’s-”

“Exactly.” You pushed up on your tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m gonna get you an ice pack. You get your ass to bed- I’ll be there in a second.”

Bucky whispered a ‘thank you’ and headed in the direction of the bedroom, leaving you alone. But just as he turned the corner down the hall, guilt wrapped around his ankles like a ball and chain. He was stuck; his need to apologize rendering him frozen. He watched you turn in the direction of the kitchen and wondered what he did to deserve you. “Hey, doll…” he called after you. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I promise.”

“But I-”

 “You’re doing your best. You’re coping in the only way you know how. That’s not something to be sorry for.”

Bucky shrugged, winced, and disappeared into the bedroom, eager to escape your line of sight. Everything you did, you did for him. And though that knowledge should’ve eased Bucky’s soul, it only added to his guilt. He marked yet another tally to the long, long list of ways in which he didn’t deserve you. 

The walk to the kitchen wasn’t long- but it provided a sliver of extra time for you to cope in private. If Bucky knew just how much this upset you, how heartbroken you were, he’d never forgive himself. He, instead, would add that knowledge to his ever-growing mountain of shame. He’d adopt a new method of self-punishment, something more subtle, easier to hide. And he’d never express his guilt or shame to you ever again, all to save your feelings. You couldn’t do that to him; he deserved an outlet, a sounding board, a space to vent. You’d never dream of robbing him of that. 

“Alright, here we go,” you pushed open the bedroom door. “I got you one of the big ones, cause that thing is massive, and-” If you didn’t look up at the right moment, you would’ve crashed right into Bucky. 

He stood near the foot of the bed, just inside the door, almost vibrating with anxiety. It rolled through him in waves and placed tremors in his hands. He didn’t stand a fighting chance. 

His massive frame looming in the darkness almost blocked your path completely- and scared the hell out of you. “Shit-” You tripped over your own feet and stumbled backward, but Bucky wouldn’t let you fall.

He caught you in the nick of time, snatching you from the air and righting you on your feet. “Oh, hey- I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

Without a word, you pressed the towel-wrapped ice pack to his skin. Though he detested the cold, the sensation awarded him much needed relief. A deep sigh left his chest as his pain receptors deadened and the constant, months-long throbbing subsided. This was the first thing to put his pain on pause in- he couldn’t remember how long.

You searched his face for any indicators of discomfort, “How does that feel?”

All he could do was nod. The two of you stood there a while as Bucky drank in the relief. The muscles in his shoulders released their tension, his breaths came a bit easier. But something dark lurked beneath his quiet surface. 

“Such a gentleman, waiting for me to come back before getting in bed,” you threw him a wink.  

Bucky’s attempted laugh came out broken, disjointed. To his credit, he tried to laugh for real. He wanted to put this whole night behind him and slide into bed with you. Under the covers, surrounded by your body heat, nothing could hurt him. The skeletons of his past couldn’t claw out of the ground and wreak havoc on his psyche. But a nagging dread yanked at his heart. 

He couldn’t pretend things were resolved. He couldn’t forget his troubles and intertwine his body with yours like the knit of a well-loved sweater. The crushing weight of Fury’s blame sat atop his shoulders, growing heavier by the second. But he couldn’t find it in him to tell you, to ask you for help. 

“Come on, let’s go back to sleep. Okay?” You tucked the ice pack into Bucky’s hand and started toward your side of the bed, “I know you’ve gotta be exhausted.”

But Bucky didn’t follow. He didn’t join you, didn’t even nod. He stood there, stuck, his feet anchored to the floor. The cold pack ate through his nerve endings until his hand went numb. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fill his lungs. They felt shallower, somehow- like they lost all capacity. 

His deadened fingers fell open, allowing the ice pack to fall against the floor. The sound pulled your focus, halting your efforts to right the sheets and blankets. 

“Buck?”

He didn’t answer. 

“Hey…” Quick steps brought you face to face with his empty stare. “Is everything-”

His knees met the hardwood as the weight of his anxiety forced him into submission. He fell against the cold floor with a sickening thud, his body shaking with the force. His head bowed; his spine curved forward. Ragged inhales forced their way into his ever-constricting lungs.

“Please-” he begged through choppy breaths, “if you won’t let me do it myself, I need- I need you to.”

“Buck, I’m-”

“I need you to hurt me.”

His words gutted you. 

“Baby, no.”

He begged over and over for punishment. For pain. 

Bucky fell against you the moment you joined him on the floor. His head lay buried in your neck, his sharp breaths fanning your skin. He begged through the tears, through the torment, for pain. And you refused. Instead, you gave him the lightest, softest affections you could manage. 

Under different circumstances, your gentle touch would’ve saved him. It would’ve brought him comfort in his moment of distress, grounded him during a bout of panic. But he didn’t want kind hands. For the first time, your soft touches prolonged the agony. The light circles you rubbed against his back filled him with impending doom. With misery. He wanted torture. Agony. 

And even if he were dying, he’d willingly sacrifice his last breath to ask for punishment. 

As carefully as you could, you helped Bucky lay down on the floor. How his body continued to run remained a mystery to you. He was drained, physically and emotionally. He was hurt. Panic ravaged his nervous system and pumped him full of cortisol. He was running on empty. 

“Let’s try to relax a bit, okay? Let’s try to breathe-”

He shook his head against the rug, “No, I need- I need it. I need you to- can you…” His words came out weak- but desperate.

Your hands raked through his hair and massaged his knotted muscles. Over and over again, you swore your love to him. You showered him in assurances and words of kindness. And though he was grateful when sleep won him over, it didn’t stop his efforts. Even as he finally dozed off, he begged. 

“P- please…” he sighed, his eyelids fluttering. “Need you… need you to.” His hand twitched, his brow furrowed. “Hurt- hurt me.” Hearing it didn’t get any easier. 

For what must’ve been the millionth time, you refused. 

And while Bucky slept in your arms, you remained wired. Every cell in your body swam in a cocktail adrenaline and cortisol. You wondered if you’d ever sleep again.  Just when you thought Bucky’s story couldn’t get any darker, it seemed to do just that. His life was all shadows and wormholes wrapped in an inky abyss. No stars, no moon. Just shapeless, unsettling, endless night. 

He deserved better. 

The sun rose as you fell asleep. Your mind shut off; your body gave out. Thinking yourself in circles while Bucky slept in the safety of your arms depleted your every ounce of energy. Worrying this much didn’t seem healthy; you didn’t think it was even possible to feel such deep concern. You never knew how taxing crying could be. But Bucky was worth it- hands down. 

No part of you wanted to fall asleep; Bucky couldn’t be left unsupervised. But a biological need for rest demanded you get some shut eye. And while you slept off the gut-wrenching night you’d spent with Bucky, anxiety seeped into your dreams. Images of Bucky maiming himself flashed behind your eyes. You saw him bloodying his body, abusing himself. His bruise haunted you. 

Waking in bed threw you for a loop. Only a few hours ago, you’d dozed off on the throw rug covering your bedroom floor. But when you opened your eyes, you found yourself snuggled under the duvet with Bucky’s body under yours. His arms held you tight, your face nuzzled into his neck. This was how things were supposed to be. 

It was then you realized- your head lay against his bruise. Even in your sleep, you did your best to protect him from himself. He wouldn’t dare strike his shoulder and risk hurting you. But the weight of your skull had to hurt him, didn’t it? He was sore, miserably so. Just the pressure of your palm resting against his bruise the night before made him wince- surely, your head was too much. With the utmost caution, you pulled your head from his chest.

“It’s okay- doesn’t hurt,” his voice was weak, full of exhaustion. You didn’t know he was awake. 

“Oh. Okay, good. I, um,” you looked around for a few seconds. “I don’t remember getting in bed.”

“We didn’t- well, you didn’t.” He couldn’t believe that after everything he put you through the previous night- all the pain, the heartache, the worry- he let you fall asleep on the floor. It was selfish of him, inconsiderate. He should’ve insisted that you get in bed. He should’ve done what you asked and crawled under the covers with you. He failed you- again. “I didn’t want you to sleep on the floor…” 

Your lips met his skin in a chain of soft kisses, “You know I don’t mind.”

“But I do,” he returned every kiss you granted him.

He woke nearly half an hour after you finally dozed off and found you curled up against him. Your head rested against the cold hard wood; the itchy rug left marks against your skin. A small shiver rattled up your spine and pushed you closer to Bucky’s warm embrace; it was too cold for you to sleep without a blanket. His body begged him to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t- not yet. He lifted you from the floor, his shoulder aching with the effort, and tucked you into bed with all the care in the world. Only then could he fall asleep once again. 

“I’m sorry about- about all of it,” he said. “Last night was-”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you pulled your face from his chest, “I just wanna know what that was about.”

Bucky hoped that acting innocent would save him. “What?” Maybe if he pretended like he didn’t know what you were talking about, you’d move on. Maybe you’d tell him to forget it and save him the explanation. You didn’t.

“When you asked me to…” you gave a small shake of your head, “to hurt you.” The pain in your voice sliced through Bucky. He wondered if words could make him bleed. 

“Oh. Yeah. That was… I was out of line,” his jaw tensed. “That wasn’t okay. I know I made you uncomfortable- I’m sorry. I never wanna upset you. I was being stupid. And selfish. It wasn’t fair of me-”

The shame practically dripped from Bucky’s lips. You could almost see in running down his chin, staining his skin. He expressed his remorse for things that weren’t his fault, for things he couldn’t control. He told you how sorry he was for his trauma responses and the anxiety that held him hostage. Maybe one day, he’d believe you when you told him he didn’t have to apologize. Today was not that day. 

“I’m just worried about you, Buck. And I wanna help in any way I can-” you took a deep breath, “I just can’t help in that way.”

“I know.”

“Can you maybe tell me- can you help me understand?”

He remained silent for a long while. If he stayed quiet long enough, he could avoid any further distress on your part. With his silence, he could provide solace. But no. You had a penchant for knowing what made Bucky tick, no matter the pain it caused you. 

Your unflinching stare drilled through him until he couldn’t take it any longer. “I needed you to hurt me because that’s what I’m used to. I’m used to punishment,” he finally said. “Because when I fucked up at Hydra, there were consequences. They’d beat me within an inch of my life to get the message across.”

Of course, this was a sad truth you already knew. But hearing it aloud- from his lips- gutted you. The image of a cowering, broken Bucky sent bile rushing up your throat. You could see him lying in a cell somewhere, his blood staining the concrete as Rumlow tore him apart. And of course, he’d never fight back- he couldn’t. Not unless ordered to. 

“And now, that’s what I’m accustomed to,” he rested a hand against his bruise, almost on instinct. “I don’t know how to operate without it. I thought I’d be happy to never experience it again but… I feel like I need it.”

Showing Bucky kindness and understanding sat atop your priority list- but you couldn’t grasp his perspective. It didn’t make sense. He lived a life so foreign to you, so utterly other, that the things he said often left you confused. While the two of you had many similarities and things in common, some experiences would simply never be relatable. Some stories could never be shared. 

And similar to how Bucky couldn’t understand your flagrant disregard for locking the front door, you couldn’t fathom why he’d beat himself blue.  

“Why, Buck?” It wasn’t that you wanted to know. No, the truth could only serve to hurt you. But you needed to understand. You needed to untangle every knot within Bucky’s psyche and help mend his frayed edges. In order to help him, you had to first grasp his perspective. “Why do you ‘need’ it?”

“Because I know I deserve it.” The words came out course, almost aggressive. Bucky shot you a sheepish look, his method of a wordless apology. The next time he spoke, his voice was softer, his tone more even. “I’ve been conditioned to expect it. And waiting for that pain is- it’s torture. It’s almost worse than the punishment itself.” 

He thought back on all the beatings he received as result of fucking up missions. On one occasion, they broke all twelve of his ribs in one sitting. Another time, they turned almost his entire body blue with bruises. But the times they made him wait it out were far worse than any bloodshed. He jumped at every sound, lost the ability to think. To sleep. To breathe. Every moment fell prey to the anticipation of agony. Bucky shuddered. 

“I keep expecting pain. I feel like I have to look over my shoulder.” The urge to tear himself apart scratched at the inside of Bucky’s skull. If he could just deliver his punishment- if he could just get what he knew was coming- he’d be okay. By destroying his body, he could soothe his mind. But with you so close, staring at him with your blood shot, heartbroken eyes, he was stuck. “It’s like this sense of impending doom that doesn’t end unless I get what I know is coming.”

Things fell quiet as you thought over his words. Anxiety was an old friend you knew well. It accompanied you through everything, never leaving your side for more than a few days. But what Bucky described- that was the stuff of nightmares. That was misery. 

“Hang on,” you tripped over a detail in his story, “then what happened last night?” You didn’t mean to sound skeptical- it wasn’t like that at all. You believed every word Bucky said. One part, however, didn’t quite make sense. “Last night, you got your punishment. You got the pain. Why did you ask me to-”

He sighed, “Last night was different. You caught me. I had to stop- I’ve never done that before. I’ve never stopped right in the middle. I was only out there a little while before you found me.” His vibranium hand pulled into a fist and slowly released. He did this time and time again as the urge hurt himself gnawed at him. “I didn’t do enough. It felt like holding in a sneeze or something. And when we came in here to go to sleep, I still had this sense of looming pain, an impending punishment. And I knew you wouldn’t let me give it to myself. So, I asked you to do it.” 

The far-away look in his eye dissolved as he came screeching back to the present. Guilt dragged his features downward into a near scowl. “But I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry.” The remorse weighed more than he could shoulder. If he thought he knew what guilt felt like before, he was wrong. 

“It’s okay, Buck.” You knew the memory of Bucky begging you for punishment would haunt you forever. It took up prime real estate in your mind and cut you deeper each time you paid it attention. But he couldn’t help it; this was part of his journey. When you started dating Bucky, you knew he wasn’t a ‘regular’ person. Darkness and demons followed him wherever he went, filling his mind with horrors most people could never imagine. Of course, there were going to be speed bumps and rough patches on the road of your relationship. But he never did anything with malice in his heart. He was simply trying to survive. “I know you’re just doing your best-”

“My best is pretty shitty.”

He was always so callous with himself, so unforgiving. It wasn’t fair. “Baby, you’ve made a lot of progress.” He was a completely different person than he was a few months ago. He’d worked hard every day to wade through his trauma and find himself on the other side- all while saving the world. “But it doesn’t all have to happen at once. You can’t heal from everything in one fell swoop. It’s not linear. It’s a slow process-”

“Really slow.” He let out a huff and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. Part of him wanted to run; he couldn’t believe he’d subjected you- the kindest, most loving person on earth- to this corner of his awful reality. But he knew being without you was a fate worse than death. Worse than Hydra. 

“I don’t want to do this-” he motioned toward his bruise. “I don’t want to hurt myself. But I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to heal the part of me that’s always looking over my shoulder for a punishment.”

You smoothed his hair back and let your hand drift down his cheek, “You don’t have to do it on your own, Buck. Maybe you should talk to someone-”

He shot you a pointed look.

“Not Dr. Raynor. Someone else. Someone with empathy.” 

Bucky gave a firm nod and a quiet laugh. “Okay, yeah. That works. 

“And in the meantime, whenever you feel that impulse, I want you to tell me, okay? I want to help you through in whatever way I can.”

He tried to protest, but you silenced him. “I’m in this with you- full stop. I’m with you for all the hard stuff and the things you hate about yourself. I’m always in your corner.”

He snaked his arms around you and pulled you as close as possible, relishing in the feeling of your heart beating against his skin. 

“This is a pain-free household, okay? We don’t do punishments here. We don’t hurt ourselves, and we don’t hurt each other.” You wiggled a hand free and offered Bucky your pinky, “promise?”

Not hurting you was a given; Bucky would never dream of causing you pain. But refraining from hurting himself was another story. The need sometimes possessed him, drove him to harm himself when the guilt grew too heavy. The look in your eyes, though, pushed him to promise you. You held such love for him, such adoration. And he knew you meant every word you said. You were going to help him through, to support him, no matter what. 

He linked his pinky with yours, “Promise.”

“Good.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away, “hey, do you have Fury’s address?”

Bucky cocked his head to the side, “Uh, yeah. I think it’s in my notebook in the office. Why?”

In one swift motion, you slithered from Bucky’s arms and slid out of bed. “Oh, no reason,” you sighed as you headed for the door, “I’m just gonna egg his house.”

———————

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[cevans-is-classic]

18+ Only. Mommy issues/kink, submissive Homelander, sexual themes, language, drug use.

My Master Post

Homelander

First part: Selfish Boy

Second Part: Listen to me

@chocolate-floof for non sexual homelander fics

It takes four days before he feels his hands itching to touch you.

Four days since he’s felt your touch, smelled your hair, heard your voice. 

Four days of being surrounded by idiots or sycophants

Things are worse. 

No matter what step he takes everything crumbles before his eyes and he can only bullshit his way for so long.

He needs you more than ever before — maybe he should keep you here? 

Hide you in a place only he knows.

Somewhere no one else can touch you, where he has you ready day in and day out. 

He’s dreamed of being here, wrapped in your arms, floating in that wonderful place where he doesn’t exist. 

You were here — your voice being used to soothe others — while he was in a tailspin.

Sage betrayed him, A-Train dug out his tracker, and Ryan? He keeps that in the back of his mind, refusing to feel the heartache he carries. 

Ryan is his son, and he loves him. 

He should listen to him. 

“Well?” He snaps his head to the left. 

You leaned on your windowsill, arms crossed, the sun rings a circle of light in your hair. He can’t make his mouth work. You’re smiling at him, head cocked to the side with a fondness in your eyes. 

He wants to hurt you

 “What?”

You raise a brow. “Are you going to come in? Not to complain, but people will notice a superhero on my porch.” 

Oh. 

He straightens his back when you roll your eyes. The window closes with a suction noise — the screen sliding down. He watches until you disappear, then waits for the door to open. 

It does. 

He sees what you’re wearing and nearly begs to touch you. 

“Come on, Johnny.” 

Stepping over your threshold relaxes his shoulders and covers him in warmth and safety. Your house smells like warm flowers and lemon, faint, hanging in the air. 

Your arms are around him before he takes in the candles around the room. He’s watching the group of them burn, thickening the smell. Your arms startle him when you wrap around his neck, your toes tipping to bring your face close to him. Your nose nudges his ear, humming tunelessly. 

Homelander isn’t sure if he should touch you. 

He wants to. 

“It’s okay, Baby. I want you to hold me.” It tastes like chocolate on his tongue when he swallows it, the sweetness of it travels into his lungs. 

He sighs and pulls you in, his hands landing on your hips. He bumps his forehead against you until you notch your head back and smile up at him.

“Why did you come to me, hmm? What can I do for my good boy?”

He isn’t a fan of music. The mumbled lyrics about dying or useless love-drunk teenagers being drilled into people’s minds. It played too loud, danced too much, and talked about it. 

He doesn’t listen to music, but he listens to you.

Your voice rings in his ears. 

He sees the light behind his eyes, pink, soft, trickling down to his chest where it heats his heart. The soft murmurs a symphony in his head, he keeps listening as he lifts you into your arms and carries you to the guest room. 

Not your room. 

He doesn’t deserve your room. 

“Johnny,” he rests you on the bed, “Come here.” 

Stepping back, Homelander takes all of you in. Your leg stretches, sliding your feet along the sheets. Your arms stretch over your head the blue cropped shirt rising to show the barest hint of your chest. 

If he wanted to, he could reach in and rip your heart out. Hold it in his fists and squeeze as he watches you choke to death. 

It’d be easy. 

He’d be able to shove pieces of it into your mouth and down your throat while the light dies from your eyes. 

Homelander crawls towards you, sliding between Your legs touching your stomach with his nose and into the curve of your chest.

“John.” 

He whimpers.

“You came to me for a reason, Johnny. Mind sharing with the class?” 

He shakes his head but feels the lie in his core. 

He came to you to unwind, be free, and let someone else control him the way he deserves. His head hasn’t stopped spinning and the urge to wrap around himself until he’s a small little boy again aches in his chest. 

The Homelander needs nothing. 

He’s perfect.

You guide his head to rest on your chest, carding through his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. He whimpers into you nuzzling his nose along your collar trying to find comfort, find his safe place. 

“You need someone to care about you.” Your voices drizzle honey over his body, “My baby boy. You’re such a powerful hero saving people, smiling for cameras and controlling those around you. It gets tiring being what others expect of you, but even more so when you know nothing else, yes, baby?” 

It hurts him to hear those words. 

To hear someone telling him the truth.

“I need you.” His nose your chest seeking your nipple. 

You smack his cheek, “That special, you selfish boy. You don’t deserve it.”

John whimpers again, whining, whistling from his nose. 

He craves you.

“You know what you deserve?” He blinks up at you, feeling excitement stir in his chest. It drips arousal to his core, tingling his legs, and making his body shake. 

“What do I deserve, Mommy?” He sounds desperate.

You hum gliding your fingers down his nose, tracing his lips to trail along his neck and push his Adam’s Apple in. John choked for a fraction of a second, fear mingling with the burning in his stomach. 

He can’t choke to death.

They tried. 

Sucking the air from his lungs until he choked, but it never stopped,d there was always more. They were endless about it, how deep he can swim, how high he can fly. 

“What do you think, My Sweet Boy?.” You stopped pushing against his neck, moving your hand down his chest. He’s still wearing the suit. It gives him vertigo being in this place with you whispering in his ear making him into John not Homelander all by your hand trailing over his suit top. 

He watches you walk your fingers over the muscles in his suit. Embarrassment flames in his chest knowing that all the fucking suits. He’s flat, stomach rock hard but he can’t get visible abs. Only a tight stomach that tapers into sharp hip bones showing off his lean build. 

He hates himself. 

“A kiss?” He’d beg for your lips on his.

“I don’t think so.” A warm blanket drags across his skin, prickling goosebumps to life. His nipples tingle with the softest brush over them to make his hips jerk, mind going fuzzy. 

You aren’t touching beneath his suit. 

“I think you deserve to want more, to crave more, but not have it.” His skin turns icy. The warmth of your voice disappears. Freeze burns his skin a blanket of frost replaces the safe, home, warm feeling.

“But-”

“What was that?” You stop touching him. 

Losing your hands ghosting over him is excruciating.

You should touch him, kiss him, let him sink deep like he deserves because he’s the strongest superhero. 

The best superhero. 

He’s perfect and perfection deserves whatever perfection wants. 

“I want you.” 

“Do you?” Your nails are at his neck. John doesn’t feel the pain. He feels the dig into his skin, your words pouring ice into his veins. Every nerve is light up, burning, aching.

 He feels too hot and too cold all at once. 

Tears burn his eyes.

“Do you want me, or do you want to be in control? The more you hold back, the more you refuse to let me in the colder you’ll be. I can make you drop deeper than the ocean. You won’t know what’s good or what’s bad because selfish, naughty boys don’t deserve to feel good.” 

“I deserve nothing.” He cries, “Nothing.” John sobs, deep heavy sobs that rattle his chest. He cries into your collar, begging out loud for your forgiveness. 

John wants the warmth to come back. “Please.” He cries.

He wants the pain to stop, the reeling in his mind that takes him away from his floating place. All he wants is to fall into the silk wrap of your voice and let you hold him.

“That’s right, baby boy.” 

He takes a breath. 

The blanket returns.

“You deserve nothing but what I wish to give you. Everything else you take and take, but here in this room, in my arms, you only have what I want you to have.” Your fingers are back in his hair, stroking it back, pulling tight at the base. 

You come into view with the harsh tug of his scalp. “You’re beautiful.” 

His tears fall in fiery streaks down his cheeks. “I’m not - I don’t-”

You pop his cheek, “You deserve what I give you. If I say you’re beautiful, you do not argue with me, boy. Now say it.” 

He can’t see you past the pool of tears. “I’m,” His voice trembles, “I’m beautiful.” 

Another pop, “Louder.” 

He sobs, “I’m beautiful.” 

Another pop, harder, followed by a brush of your fingers, “Almost, baby, I want to believe you but I don’t.”

Shame boils his stomach the bile burning his throat.

He wants to make you happy. He wants to keep you happy and he can’t. When you’re not happy — he’s stuck in those ugly dark places inside himself. 

“I’m beautiful.” It comes out clear, strong, the voice of a real man and not the Vought-made man he is, “I’m beautiful.” 

“Yes, baby.” Silk over his skin, clouds rested beneath him, helping him float. “You are beautiful, my sweet boy. All of you.” The snap of his suit flap pricks the fog in his mind. He feels your hand slide in, pulling the other snaps. His suit becomes looser, falling from his frame, your nails dragging over his undershirt. 

“All wrapped up in this patriotic suit, like a gift. I like gifts, fun ones too, gifts that I can play with. Do you like gifts, Johnny?” He waits for you to undo his suit pants. Instead, you grab his hands, untangling them from your shirt. He follows you as you press your lips to his knuckles.

His cock throbs, stomach tightening. 

Your lips aren’t his to have.

He must earn every single one. 

You kiss the top of his head with a long, searing kiss.

John wants you to kiss him everywhere, over his ribs, licking his nipples until he shivers.

He wants them all.

If he gets nothing but your kiss, he’ll break apart from pleasure. 

“I want you to go change. I have your soft clothes in the closet. Be sure to brush your teeth and comb your hair.” 

“What-” 

“I want you to feel snug. I want to hold you until you fall asleep and I can’t do that in this, can I? You want me to take care of you, right?” 

With heavy legs, he steps up from the bed. The sheets rustle, then your hands drape over his shoulders, pulling the suit top off. The eagles make a dull thud when they hit the ground and the skin of Homelander sheds. You come up his chest from his ribs, hands sliding beneath his shirt to lift and lift until he pulls it over his head. 

You hum warm hands following the path of his spine. “Beautiful indeed.” 

He shivers, groin tightening again, cock kicking in his pants. 

Pleasure radiates from your words of appreciation. Your cooing sounds as your hands travel back up his ribs to his chest. You squeeze what little he has, praise him for being strong, and flick your thumbs over his nipples. 

His body shakes, and trembles, he’s worried his knees will give out when you kiss his shoulder and it blooms pure pleasure inside him.

“Take your pants off.” He undoes the snaps, letting your hands follow his when he pushes them down. 

“I should make you wear panties.” He moans, deep, dragging from his chest, and he wants it.

He wears the satin kind that wraps around his cock like a fucking hug.

You asked him once, kicked your legs when he dropped his pants and showed the silk blue panties. The black bow stretched from the curve of his cock and you’d cooed at him as he leaked. 

“Please.” 

You chuckle, “Go into the closet, baby, get your clothes, and come back out here.��� 

He forgot to kick off once to fly. He rose higher than before but couldn’t straighten himself out and free-fell to the ground. Leaving you behind in your bed, if only to change clothes, feels scarier than falling to his death.

(He thought so at fourteen, at least)

He goes as told first to the adjoining bathroom to find his toothbrush and scrub his mouth raw. Afterwards, with mint stinging his tongue he steps into the closet flicking on the light as he steps inside. Instinct that takes him to the dresser on the left old wood, and broken handles. The shirts are in the second drawer and he pulls a soft green one from the confines followed by a pair of shorts that stop mid-thigh. 

You smile at him when he wears them, crooking your finger and beckoning him closer. 

You laid out on the bed again, a joint in your fingers the smoke rising from your lips in concentric rings. He follows them with his eyes as he steps closer, hitching his knee onto the bed. You open your legs, guiding him to slide between them, and lay back on your chest. 

The smoke smells that pungent weed smell he detests. 

Drugs only worked on him in copious amounts and what’s the point of that when a simple word from you is the greatest high he’s ever experienced?

“Mommy-” You take another drag, blowing it out then sucking in another. He hears your heart slowing down, feels your body relax under him, and knows happy snuggles are his to have. 

When the joint has burned to your fingers, you stubbed it on your nightstand, burning marks into the deep wood, “Come here, Sweet Boy.” Your leg drapes over his hip as the other settles to the side. One hand goes to his hair and the other rests on his back. “Rest. If you’re good, I’ll give you a surprise.” 

He closes his eyes with a smile.

[wwooyology]

Want You More | K.HJ

「prompt」 : crocodile tears 「pairing」 : hongjoong x fem!reader 「word count」 : 0.8k

「synopsis」 : he was your sister's boyfriend, but hongjoong never wanted her; he wanted you, and that brought demise to your sister, you, and your family.

「genre」 : angst

「warnings」 : making out, infidelity, slightly suggestive, hongjoong calls reader babygirl, mentions of disownment, hongjong is lowkey toxic asf, manipulation, lmk if I missed anything!!

「notes」 : this is kinda short and I apologize, I kinda lost my train of thought on where I was going with this one :')

masterlist ─ navi. ─ angstober list

The family dinner was supposed to go smoothly; Hongjoong would be talking to your parents about marrying your sister while you watched from afar, wishing that it was you. But things didn’t exactly go as planned.

You were currently perched on your father's desk in his study, and Hongjoong fit snugly between your thighs. He had reassured you that the door was locked and that no one would be walking in, but you missed the smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

Even if he was your sister’s boyfriend, you couldn’t help your feelings; you had fallen in love with him the first day that your parents brought him to the house. At first, you kept your distance because he was your sister’s new boyfriend, after all, but when he started making advances on you, you felt like a fool to not play along. He had always told you that you were the one he wanted and to just give him time to end things with your sister, but he never did. So you just kept things under wraps, just like now, as you sat there trying to stay quiet.

Your clothes were a mess, as well as your hair, as Hongjoong’s hands and lips explored your body. There was a little voice in the back of your head that was telling you that this was wrong. Hongjoong was your sister’s boyfriend and soon to be fiance, you shouldn’t be doing this. But the warmth of his body against yours and the way his lips lit a fire in the pit of your belly made all those useless thoughts flutter away.

“Hey Joong, did you find– oh my god!” The sound of your sister’s voice before the study door opened caused your blood to run cold. Your hands instantly went to cover yourself as Hongjoong detached himself from your body, but not straying too far.

“Chaewon, I can explain–” You started as you stared at her in disbelief, but she wouldn’t hear any of it.

“Explain what? How you and my boyfriend had your tongue down each other's throats?” She shouted, catching the attention of your parents, who came rushing to check out what was going on. Your mother gasped in shock while your father just looked at you with disappointment.

“Y/n, how could you do this to your own sister?” Your mother asked, arms wrapping around your sister, who had tears running down her face.

“I–” You couldn’t find the words to say because you knew that no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t explain or even defend yourself.

Hongjoong, however, just laughed, which surprised all of you in the room. Your father looked over at the younger male with a glare, and a look of hurt flashed across Chaewon’s face.

“Hongjoong, explain yourself!” Your father’s voice echoed throughout the room, making you jump. Hongjoong started to look slightly panicked as he looked between your father and sister, tears pooling in his eyes, making your heart lurch.

“I’m so sorry, this was all a mistake! I didn’t mean any of it.” He cried out, dropping to his knees to beg for forgiveness, making your father sigh. However, in the next second, a low rumble of a laugh erupted from his chest, making your eyes grow wide. He then stood back on his feet, a borderline smile tugging on his lips, “What’s there to explain? Isn’t it obvious?” He started, moving towards you and resting his hand on the small of your back, “The only reason I was with Chaewon was to please our families, but she’s not who I want. Y/n is.”

Your heart started to hammer in your chest as you stared at the man standing in front of you. Was what he said actually true? Would he rather have you over your sister? Your hand moved down to wrap around Hongjoong’s arm, missing the glare that your sister was sending you.

“If you can’t accept that, then maybe we should just leave.” Hongjoong let out a faux sigh as he helped you off of the desk, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist.

He then pulled you towards the door, pushing past your parents and your sister. You couldn’t say anything; all of the words got stuck in your throat as you allowed Hongjoong to pull you toward the front of your house.

“Y/n, if you leave now, you will never be welcomed back into this home.” Your father stated sternly, causing you to stop dead in your tracks.

You loved Hongjoong dearly but weren’t sure if you would be willing to throw your family away for him. Noticing the hesitancy in your eyes, Hongjoong leaned into you, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

“Don’t worry about them babygirl, I’m the only family you need. They’re just a waste to you.” His voice was sweet, making your mind reel. You couldn’t decide. However, with the soft tug on your hand and the genuine gleam in his eyes, you couldn’t tell him no.

So you let him pull you out of the house despite your family’s protests, leaving behind that part of your life. Yet you didn’t know what kind of trap you had just walked into. One that you would never be able to escape from.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[literary-motif]

Midas

Andrew Marston x Reader

You have a fight with Andrew. It does not end well.

“I hate this so much!” you exclaimed, throwing up your hands in exasperation. The words would not come, and you needed to type up this in-depth review tonight. “I just want to read these lovely little manuscripts and write some silly little notes on the margin, not do this!”

Andrew chuckled tiredly at your theatrics, continuing to chop the carrots for dinner. Today had been particularly challenging at the museum. He had been looking forward to spending the evening with you for the whole day, cooking you dinner and cuddling on the couch until you fell asleep in each other's arms. It was a fail-proof remedy to improve his mood, and he desperately longed to be trapped in your soothing embrace until all his worries melted away like wax under a flame.

“I wouldn’t call the blocks of paper you go through ‘little,’ exactly,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you from the kitchen aisle, “Nor are your comments ‘silly.’ You do your work well and thoroughly, Darling.” Perhaps a little too much of the latter, he reasoned, the sight of your frown as you continued staring daggers at the words in front of you both amused and annoyed him.

You had promised to reduce your working hours. You had promised to call it a day when he got home, no matter the unfinished work. Yet here you were, going back on your word to him.

“Yeah yeah,” you mumbled, waving dismissively as you continued working on the report. “I’m not sure why I’m struggling so much with this, honestly. I know what I want to say, but the words get jumbled when I try to express myself coherently” — you paused, reading over the absolute garbage you had just typed out and deleting it again with a groan, trying again — ”And I don’t see why I should be the one running the numbers here either. What do I have to do with mathematics? Why do they want me to do it?”

“You should really take a break,” he said, trying to drain the impatience from his tone as much as possible. 

It was obvious you were tired, and no matter how much you hated leaving your work unfinished before you allowed yourself to rest, he knew that what still needed doing would get done in at most half the time tomorrow, when your body and mind were rested, than it would take you to do today.

Doing a half-spin, Andrew raised the lid of the cooking pot, adjusting the heat to keep the water from boiling over. “If you can’t finish it, I can always do it for you,” he added absentmindedly, pulling out another pot to cook the carrots. 

His words made you pause, stilling the sound of your typing as they fully registered. An odd feeling of inadequacy washed over you as you looked up at Andrew. Surely, he had not meant to sound condescending. But the wording, the way he phrased it, the careless tone in which he told you that whatever you were struggling with, he could complete with barely any effort at all—

If you failed, he was sure to do it right.

“What,” you began, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice as you dropped your gaze to your half-finished review, “do you think I’m incompetent?”

Your tone must have been flatter than you had meant it to be because Andrew’s head snapped up immediately. “What?” he asked bewildered, confusion evident on his face, “No! Why would you— what are you talking about?”

You scoffed, the hurt his words caused you only now fully settling in. Why had he offered to do it for you instead of simply offering his help? Was that what Andrew thought of you? That you were inefficient, slow, and dragging him down, failing at doing useless little things he wouldn’t even bat an eye at doing?

“Do you think I’m unable to do my own work? Is that it?” you asked, the ache in your heart quickly bleeding into annoyance. You frowned, resuming your work. There was no way you could concentrate and finish this review now that the air between you and Andrew was filled with tension. 

The thought of him being right — that you truly could not finish this on your own right now while he could probably do it in less than twenty minutes — made your jaw clench, further fueling your anger at the situation.

“I never said that!” Andrew exclaimed. His shock at your initial reaction quickly fading into exasperation. This was not the way he had hoped this evening would progress, and the last thing he wanted to do right now — or ever, actually — was fight with you. Especially when he figured that it was your exhaustion making you snap and jump to conclusions. Turning off the stove to give you his full attention, he began with a calmer tone. “Darling, what—?”

“You sure implied it,” you muttered pettily, not looking up even as his footsteps drew closer.

“I did not imply anything,” he said, placing his hands on the kitchen table and looking at you closely. 

You still refused to meet his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed on the screen. He was growing tired of it, his fried nerves from a long day at work adding to his own irritability. So knowing all your files were saved automatically, he pushed your laptop shut. 

“Look at me when you accuse me of things at least. Frankly, I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up over, so how about you explain it to me instead of acting out dramatics.”

“Oh, ‘acting dramatic,’ am I?” you scoffed, annoyance turning into outright anger as you rose to your feet as well. “At least I don’t waltz it everywhere and declare that I can do everything perfectly and with no effort at all unlike some people, just because I’m a few years older and held a damn professorship!”

Andrew’s expression darkened, his mood souring further as he listened to your opinion of him. “I don’t know how I did not fail you in literature,” he said, his tone of voice reverting to his flat academic monotone, “evidently you are abhorrent at reading between the lines.”

The angry reply died on your tongue as his words sunk in, and you blinked at him Once. Twice. 

Silence hung heavy between you two as you looked at him speechless. His words reminded you of the power imbalance that had hung over your heads and, while it never truly felt that way, it was undeniably there all the same. 

Although you had been the one to bring it up, it still knocked the breath out of you to hear Andrew wield his power over you.

“Wait, Darling, no. That was—” he stuttered, running a hand through his hair nervously. He was frustrated. This was the opposite of what he wanted. The argument was bleeding into a fight, and he feared that he had escalated it now even though he had set out to do the opposite. “I didn’t mean to—”

You only shook your head once, expression blank as you straightened and walked away towards the entrance hall. He watched you, the gears in his head turning for a moment until he heard the rustling of your coat. He dashed to the door. 

“Where are you going?” he asked around the lump in his throat, hands balled into fists to stop them from shaking as an argument that happened years ago flashed before his eyes. 

The last part he saw of his brother was his back, disappearing behind the slam of the front door as he walked away from him. The last thing Andrew said to him was a tearful ‘I’m sorry,’ nearly drowned out by the church bells tolling for mass. It was not enough neither to keep him from leaving nor for him to stay in Andrew’s life.

His brother disappeared entirely when he stepped through that door, and perhaps he would have managed to slip from Andrew’s mind as well if he didn’t stare back every time he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Out,” you answered briskly, putting on your shoes.

“What do you mean ‘out’?” he asked, his voice shaking slightly. 

He could not bear the thought of you leaving, could not face the possibility that this could be it — you could walk away from him just like that, shattering his heart and leaving a mess of broken shambles in your wake that he would never have the energy to place together again.

“When will you be back?” Andrew asked, heart racing as he wracked his brain for a way to get you to stay when he saw you pick up your keys. ”Where—”

“Just out, Andrew!” you said with more force than necessary. “I need to clear my head.”

Andrew panicked, the image of his brother disappearing behind a slammed door making him tremble. 

“Running away from conflict, are you?” he said shakily, his tone as daunting as he could manage. If you continued your argument, that meant you would stay. He could turn this around and keep you from leaving. If you were screaming at him, at least you were still here. “How mature of you.”

The anger flashing in your eyes at his words felt like a newly ignited fire. “Immature, am I?” you spat, stepping towards him. “How rich coming from you,” you said, pointing an accusing finger at him, “Your favorite movie is a child’s movie!”

Andrew clenched his jaw. Bringing up his childhood, one of the most vulnerable sides of him and one that had taken him a lot of courage to trust you with, felt like a stab in the heart. It hurt hearing you use it to make a point. 

It hurt hearing you use the trust he put in you against him. Rationally, he knew you didn’t mean it; the words were spoken in anger. Still, it was hard not to take them to heart, especially with how closely connected this part of himself was to his brother. 

Andrew stiffened, his back straightening as if the walls he was rebuilding around himself drew him up as well. “I have achieved more in my career than you ever will!” he retaliated, panic overshadowed by hurt and anger.

You let out a huff of laughter, looking at him incredulously. “You’re so arrogant. I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before. What, you think academic validation is everything?” you scoffed, shaking your head. “At least I managed to make friends during my time in university because I’m not an insufferable, uptight, perfectionist asshole so full of himself because—”

You cut yourself off, biting back the insult. 

“Because what?” Andrew asked challengingly. “Go on. Or are you too much of a coward to speak your mind?”

Your expression darkened. The irony of being called a coward when you were the reason this relationship developed in the first place left a bitter taste on your tongue. 

“Because mommy and daddy never taught you how to make a mistake,” you finished flatly, relishing the expression of hurt flashing across Andrew’s face and wiping away the self-satisfied smirk. 

He felt like he’d been slapped. 

All the trust he had put into you, opening up about his difficult family relations — his parents, his brother — ultimately leading him to be alone in the world, was now thrown carelessly at his feet. You stomped on his heart, taking all his secrets and insecurities, and laughed in his face.

Blinking away tears, he clenched his fists. “At least I don’t struggle with basic mathematics and English,” he retaliated, raising his voice to hide how it shook, “because I actually spent my time studying instead of ogling my professor!”

“Are you calling me stupid you prodigy?” you screamed. 

“What if I am?” Andrew screamed back, holding your gaze. “Do try to keep up with me, but oh” — he chuckled condescendingly — “I forget. You’re too slow. How I put up with you daily is a mystery even I haven’t figured out yet.”

His words made your heart sink. Was this what he thought of you? You still hadn’t fully forgiven yourself for being the reason he quit his job at the university. Having the confirmation of your deepest fears — that you were a burden to him, that you were too stupid, too slow for his excellent mind — tore you apart. 

You averted your gaze, turning from him to hide the tears in your eyes. He did not say anything as you dashed to the door with a choked-off sob, letting it fall shut behind you without sparing him another glance. 

It made you miss the immediate regret appearing on his face, his wide eyes as he processed his words and their implications. He stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the shut door as if willing you to walk back over the threshold. 

Andrew was alone again. 

[educatedsimps]

Hi! You blog is so adorable it makes my day :))) I’m not sure if you write for Nishinoya but could I request him for the angst prompts “I didn’t know where else to go” and “It wasn’t supposed to end like this” in a time probably right after the game where Asahi left and the team kinda fell apart? He had said something about how he was useless in the game (before Asahi took the blame instead) so I think he needs some comfort from the reader :(((

≪ back to fics masterlist

nishinoya yū x f!reader

a/n: HI ANONNNNN we’re so glad our blog makes ur day a little brighter ❤️ we actually HAVE been thinking of writing for nishinoya but had no idea where to start so this request is literally perfect THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SENDING IT IN 😆 love u lots and take careee

You jumped as the sound of your doorbell rang throughout the house. Placing your pen on the table and putting your homework to the side, you got up and padded over to the front door in your fluffy home slippers. Opening the door, you were greeted with the sight of your best friend on your doorstep.

Nishinoya stood at your front door in his gakuran with his schoolbag hanging off one shoulder. His signature tuft of blonde hair almost glowed in the evening light, and his hair looked soft as ever. You couldn’t help but notice that he looked absolutely dashing in his uniform. It fit just nicely over his shoulders and chest, hiding the lean muscles in his upper body. It was the same uniform that all the boys wore at Karasuno, but you couldn’t explain why he just looked better in it than anyone else.

It wasn't unusual for Nishinoya to show up to your house in the middle of the day to study or hang out - you used to be neighbours and you were childhood best friends, after all. Although, he'd normally call or text you to let you know before he came over.

Before you could ask, his brown eyes met yours and it was as if a dam had broken. Hot tears started flowing freely down his face as his shoulders shook with how hard he was sobbing. His lower lip quivered and he bit down on it, nearly hard enough to draw blood.

Your eyes widened in panic, freezing for a moment as you processed what was happening. Quickly, you reached out to grab his arm and pulled him into the comfort of your home. Closing the front door, you led him up to your room.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, Yuu's hands were clenched into fists, resting on his knees. His back was hunched and his shoulders tense as he cried. Carefully, you sat next to him and gently took one of his hands in your own. His chest heaved with angry sobs as you slowly ran your thumb over the back of his hand. Your heart physically hurt seeing how hard he was crying, with tears dripping from the edge of his jaw and soaking the front and collar of his uniform.

Eventually, he managed to calm down and quickly wiped the remaining tears off his face. You wanted to comfort him, but you weren't sure what you could say to help. You didn't even know what was troubling him, so you hoped that just being by his side was enough for now.

For a while, the only sounds in your room were the electric whirring of your ceiling fan and his quiet sniffles. You swallowed, thinking of what you could do to comfort him now, like maybe a glass of water and some tissues...

"I got suspended."

You stared at him in shock for several seconds, freezing just as you were about to get him some water. His voice was hoarse, and he swallowed thickly before sucking in a breath. "The vice-principal suspended me for a month 'cause of what happened this morning."

"Yuu..."

"I'm sorry, I should've asked before coming over. I just... I didn't know where else to go." His voice hitched as he pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, turning away from you slightly.

You reached out and gently brought his hand down from his face, now holding onto both of his hands. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were puffy. You could've sworn you heard your heart break into two as you looked at his tear stained face.

"Yuu, it's okay. I'm here." You hesitated. "What happened?"

He sniffled again, his mouth forming words he couldn't speak.

"It's okay, take your time," You said, offering a gentle smile. He glanced at you, eyes softening a little before he let out a breath.

"You know how we had a match with Dateko last weekend? At the inter high?" He asked, looking down at his hands. You nodded slowly. "Well, we lost. And it's all my fault."

"No, it's not. How could it have been your fault-" You responded almost automatically.

"I wasn't good enough, and I wasn't fast enough. I couldn't pick up all the blocked balls and now it's my fault the entire team is falling apart. Why didn't I try harder to save those plays? I could've saved them, Y/n. I'm a useless libero," His voice broke, full of regret. New tears welled in his eyes and his face was filled with anguish. "And now Asahi-san left. He doesn't wanna play volleyball anymore and it's all my fault. It wasn't supposed to end like this, Y/n."

Before either of you realised it, you had pulled him into a hug. You felt him freeze momentarily from your touch before melting into your hug. His lean arms encircled your torso and held onto you as he buried his face into your shoulder, fresh tears slowly staining your shirt. Your hand moved up to rub slow circles on his back. The two of you stayed like that for several minutes and you prayed to heaven that he couldn't hear or feel how hard your heart was hammering in your chest.

Pulling away, you knew you had to reassure him somehow. You couldn't let him keep thinking he was useless when he was the exact opposite.

"Yuu, I know for a fact that you're not useless. You're one of the best liberos in the country and you know it. Losing that match was not your fault. I know you think it is, but it's not. Volleyball is a game played by six people in each team. So every point that you win, and every point that you lose, you bear the victory and the loss together. I promise you, your teammates won't ever blame you for not being able to save those plays," You stated assuredly. "And it's not your fault that Asahi-san left. I'm sure he just needs a break and he'll come back when he's ready."

"But... but the team is falling apart. The team morale is gone and I can't do anything about it. It's all my fault-"

"Stop, Yuu. It's not. Your. Fault. It's perfectly normal for you guys to feel down after a hard loss, but I can assure you, the team isn't falling apart. Yes, Asahi-san may have left, but the team is still strong. You have amazing bonds within the team and I'm sure things will work out just fine, I promise. Yuu just need to give it time."

Your best friend snorted beside you, his face lightening up a little at the lame joke. You let out a small sigh of relief, glad your poor attempt at humour worked.

"Got it, Y/n," Yuu nodded slowly, rocking back and forth on the edge of your bed. "So... you might be wondering why I got suspended."

Before you could ask, he continued. "I bumped into Asahi-san in the hallway this morning. I was upset that he decided to quit volleyball and that he blamed himself for being a 'useless ace' and I… I kinda just lost it. Yelled at him in front of people and I, uh… may have, maybe.. accidentallyknockedoverthevice-principal'svase…”

“What?”

“I said, I… may have, maybe… accidentally knockedoverthevice-principal’s vase,” He mumbled, sniffling again. You pursed your lips, looking down.

"Anyway, thanks, Y/n."

You looked up, confused.

"For always being there for me," He clarified, before sighing. "I didn't wanna go home first, 'cause my parents aren't gonna be happy about my suspension. And I know Grandpa would try to cheer me up with loud music and stuff and it's... it's not that I don't appreciate him trying to cheer me up, I just- I just wanted to be comforted, and you're the only one who can do that."

A small smile played on his lips, and you swore you saw something shift in his eyes as he looked back at you. Though you might have imagined the way his eyes darted down to your lips for a millisecond.

You don't remember when your heart started doing flips and somersaults in your chest but you sure hoped he didn't notice all the blood rushing to your face.

Suddenly, he stood up, jabbing his thumb to his chest and declaring, "I'm not going back unless Asahi-san goes back, but I'm gonna keep practising my block receives so I'll be better and stronger for the team."

There it is, you thought. That fighting spirit he's always had in him.

"Can you spike for me, Y/n?" he asked excitedly, all traces of his previous sadness gone.

"Sure, Yuu," you laughed.

a/n: i haven't written anything other than argumentative essays for the last two years so i'm really rusty but i hope this was okay :,)

© educatedsimps 2024. do not repost, copy, translate or plagiarize any work from this blog on tumblr or any other platforms. if you do, the simps will hunt you down (likes and reblogs are appreciated!)

[a-simple-imagine]

Help! My Girlfriend just Fell Down The Alt - Right Supe Supremist Pipeline pt.2

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a cate hurt/comfort where unlike andre's coward ass u actually fix her 🫶 pls and tyy”

Pairing: Cate Dunlap x fem!reader

Words: 1.3k+

A/N - turned this request into part 2 of my other cate story because i'm obsessed with the idea of cate dating an empath. you don’t have to read the first part

WARNINGS - mention of murder, death and blood

PREV //

it's a bright sunny day but the air is polluted with the rich taste of fear; a chaotic blend of fear and anger. you don't know what to do. where to go. you thought you left this behind when you ran. your head aches. heart hammering in your chest. all around you students and faculty scramble in search of safety. Bodies litter the ground. blood drowns the lush green grass. and you are powerless to stop it. useless. this school housed so many heroes but your powers were far from useful. you're almost frozen in time. this very spot on the godu campus, your newfound home. waiting. waiting for the inevitable moment someone notices and you end up just another casualty.

it's so hard to focus with the swirling emotions that invade your head. every inch of your body burned with other people's pain. everyone was feeling so much; too much. it hurt. it felt like your brain might explode. you kinda wish it would. but despite it all your eyes settle on familiar blonde hair. beautiful blue eyes stained deep red. Cate. you had left so abruptly. perhaps you should be more apprehensive right now. but you feel no ill intentions.

"h-hey," it's a pathetic murmur restrained by the pounding in your head. She was your girlfriend and you could hardly say a word. You're not even sure what you could say to rectify this. murdering dean Shetty was one thing. a sad attempt at vengeance. it was hard enough to ignore but this? this came across as insane. this was too much. you had told the others you would deal with Cate not because you actually thought you could help but because you were scared of what they would do. Cate was public enemy one on the campus today.

"I've been looking for you," there's a tenderness to her voice. a softness she reserved for you; especially right now. her emotions are hard to shift through when mixed with so many others. too many others. but a deep anger settles over you. you know it's not directed at you. it's fighting with a desire to have you understand her point of view.

"you have to stop this cate," if only it was that straightforward. if words were enough this wouldn't have happened. you wouldn't have to beg your girlfriend to stop her lethal rampage. even if she physically was not the one killing. it's a weird position to be in. one that fills your stomach with a bottomless darkness pit... or maybe that was just the scene before you. either way, you felt nauseated.

"we're actually getting somewhere," there was an overwhelming weariness to her voice. She was clearly exhausted; struggling to stand straight as she clarified her frustration. you knew well the toll her powers took. that pang of fear every time you've watched her overdo it. you wonder how many people she has pushed into doing her bidding. how much her brain must hurt. how much she needs to rest. even how many people are dying under her authority. "people need to know what was going on here. We aren't just lab rats for Vought- we deserve respect."

"I agree," a flicker of surprise almost sends the blonde tumbling to the ground. "we deserve respect but this isn't how to get it. just stop and we can- we can figure this out." it takes everything in you to risk a step closer. pinpointing her feelings amongst the rest. it was a hazy feeling; tingly almost. you couldn't quite decipher what belonged to who still.

"Why can't you see that this is the only way," she implores. "it's the only way they'll listen."

"it's not worth it Cate," you express. "you're hurting innocent people-"

"they're not innocent." she snarls. Red-hot anger bursts through your veins. your jaw tenses. fist clenched. "you heard what Shetty said. they think we're freaks. they hate us-" You don't want to think about Shetty; you couldn't. it was too much. too taxing. the blood. so much blood. so much bitterness. an unsteady breath pushes its way past your lips.

"you're hurting me, Cate," you bark; fuelled by Cate's fear. her emotions were taking over. driving you forward. "all these emotions- all this fear. my head is on fire. it's too much. I can't- I can't handle it."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, dragging her eyes away. almost like she was unable to bear looking at the suffering she was causing. "I know this is hard for you, I wish it didn't have to be but this is the only way. I'm protecting us. I'm protecting you." you didn't need to be a mind reader to know Cate's intentions. her misguided desire for retribution. more fuelled by revenge for how she has been treated than a will to help people. she's explained it all already.

"Cate..." her name slips tenderly from your lips; biting back her fire that's burning inside. "I don't need protecting. I just- I need you." your desperate now. desperate for the pain to stop. for Cate to give up this crazy crusade. you wanted to go back to how things were. you wanted to hold her hand as you walked across campus to class each morning. wanted to surprise her with a cupcake after a hard day. cuddle up in bed while you watch the cheesiest movie known to man just because she enjoyed it. you wanted normal. you deserved that. you all did. "we can figure this out. I promise we can- just give me a chance." you continue. "I don't wanna lose you." you know she's hesitant by the way her eyes flicker to you and then away again. searching for a reason to deny you. to push you away further. her anger was no longer a raging fire but a muted flame as your words settled over her. "please," expressed softly. "we can get through this together." she could read your mind. She must know you are being genuine.

"Okay," the blonde mumbles, finally meeting your gaze. such pretty eyes even stained with abuse of power. "yeah," she nods a little; holding out her hand. you pause. it would mark a sign of trust. She didn't have her glove which meant that there was a possibility this was just a trick. if you take her hand she could make you do whatever she wanted. she could push you into believing her philosophy. She could kill you if she wanted. surely she wouldn't though? your girlfriend had never used her powers on you. She used to be all about consent. but you also thought she wasn't capable of murder and look at how that turned out. she was probably in your head listening. could hear your doubt. you watch a sadness wash over her face as she retracts her peace offering and in a panic, you roughly grab her hand. it's unexpected even by you. but you couldn't give up on her. you loved Cate, you wanted to trust her. you needed to trust that she was still good.

"I trust you" blurted out loudly. drowning in her anger. in her pain and fear. it's all so much. your legs buckle and it takes significant effort to stay upright. there is a glimpse of something unexplained in her eyes. Cate was the most important person to you. you struggle to watch your paths diverge before you have a chance to tell her your feelings. She probably knew. there was no hiding with Cate. not anymore. but she couldn't hide from you either. you can feel everything. our emotions expose true intentions. and even amongst all the dread, there was a warmth radiating through now like the sun breaking through dark clouds. She held bright feelings for you. you could feel her passion radiating.

"you... trust me?" Cate asks. her voice quiet. unsure.

"I trust you," you give her hand a gentle squeeze. "I just wanna help you- let me help you."

her eyes search yours for a moment before arms are wrapped around your shoulders and Cate falls against you. you stumble back under the weight of her body; the weight of her emotions. but you still hold on tight. chasing that beautifully warm feeling. "just me and you."

"Always," whispered softly.