#wrote this the other day fighting against sleep but for them i would

[rosenclaws]

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

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

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

wc: 3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I knew you could do it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just this once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I in trouble?" You ask nervously.

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

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

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

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry." You whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[srgntjamesbuckybarnes]

Past, Present, ...

Summary: After sleeping with Bucky after months of comforting him during his nightmares, Y/N returns from a three-week mission to find out she's been replaced.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Near death, Implying attempted suicide (it's not)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Not Beta'd. Dusting this off from the drafts. I wrote this while sleep deprived. Not sure how we got here but the original ending wasn't a happy one. Enjoy whatever this is instead.

How much space is too much?

According to James Bucky Barnes, three weeks isn't enough.

Three weeks on an assignment was enough for Y/N to become homesick. She understood she would have to pause her life to save the world, but what no one informed her was that the rest of the world would continue to play.

“Y/L/N?” A familiar voice shouted.

Adjusting the strap of her duffle bag on her shoulder, Y/N turned her head to find her co-worker jogging towards her. Slanting her eyes, Y/N raised her palm to block out the sun.

“Wilson,” she addressed the man when he was near.

Bent over with his hands on his knees, Sam panted. His sweatshirt stretched across his back making the dark patch of sweat more prominent. Squinting up at Y/N, Sam breathed, “Did you just get back?”

Y/N bobbed her head, adjusting the strap on her shoulder once more for emphasis rather than comfort. She did not need to ask to know Sam just returned from his run. He usually ran with Steve and Bucky, but they always finished well before Sam. It wasn’t uncommon for him to return hours after the super-soldiers.

Pushing off his knees, Sam stood, tilting his head toward one of the many entrances in Avengers Tower. He knew better than to offer to carry her duffle bag. The weight of missions was often packed in the bags they returned with.

Y/N and Sam strolled side by side. Sam only paused to open the door for Y/N. Trekking into the tower, he could finally relax his eyes from the intense sun. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“I thought you were already back,” Sam admitted, watching the light above the elevator doors.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. Her mission was supposed to be longer. If anything, he should have anticipated her return later. Facing the man beside her, she asked, “Why?”

Ding.

Scrambling into the elevator, Sam leaned against the wall across from Y/N. She reflected his behavior, leaning against the wall behind her.

Once the elevator started moving, Sam confessed, “Bucky skipped his run today. I thought I saw you with him before I left. Guess I was wrong.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, reopening a recently closed wound. She released her lip long enough to confirm what Sam already knew. “You were wrong.” Ignoring the coppery taste flooding her tongue, she drew her bottom lip between her teeth again.

She hadn’t seen her teammates in three weeks. She hadn’t seen Bucky longer. She assumed they were doing great, but Bucky didn't share her thoughts. He denied it, yet he went out of his way to avoid her since their last mission together, since they slept together. How one could be sweet in one moment and cold in another, Y/N would never understand.

Y/N and Bucky started off rocky. He hated her from the moment they met. Bucky was struggling in the field, so Steve asked her to keep an eye on him. Bucky rejected her the second Steve introduced them. He saw through Steve’s plan and stomped his feet like a child. Rather than confirm Bucky’s insinuation, Steve vouched that she deserved to be on the team for her talents, not to babysit Bucky. He even suggested that Y/N and Bucky spar to prove it. Bucky loathed her then. She laid him out several times that day. It was the reason Steve sought her out in the first place. Bucky was a far more experienced fighter than Y/N. He should have won every fight. He lost them all.

Muffled voices were heard from the other side of the doors. Voices Y/N craved to hear since she departed for her mission. When the doors spread, Sam was the first to enter the room. “Hey guys,” he called out, extending his hands toward Y/N, “look who I found.”

Y/N tentatively stepped off the elevator, joining her friends in the living room. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen so many eyes on her. “I didn’t know there was a party,” she joked, waving.

Tony was the first to speak up, a glass of honey liquid in hand, “Glad, you're back. We were just getting to know Bucky’s girlfriend over here.” He lifted his glass.

Y/N’s eyes followed the direction of Tony’s glass. Her hand tautened around the strap of her duffle bag for support. Y/N hadn’t noticed the extra body in the room at first. The team always had someone over for business or pleasure; it didn’t matter. This time it did because staring back at her was Bucky’s guest, his girlfriend, undoubtedly here for pleasure.

The stunning woman beside Bucky introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Evangelina, but everyone calls me Lina.” Y/N could see the muscles in her uncovered arms tense. Even though she couldn’t see the hand attached to the arm from the other side of the bar, she knew Evangelina was holding Bucky’s flesh hand. “But Bucky calls me Angel,” she added, batting her eyelashes at Bucky.

The woman wasn't solely attractive; she also had a heavenly name. Y/N mentally gagged at the thought of hearing Bucky call his girlfriend Angel.

The coward refused to meet Y/N’s eyes. He took a lengthy drink from a glass matching Tony’s. Stark usually drank top-shelf liquor. Y/N might have been concerned under different circumstances, but she knew the liquor did not affect him, unlike herself.

“Y/N,” she weakly introduced herself, gnawing on her bottom lip again.

“We were just having drinks. Care to join us? There is plenty of alcohol. I can make you something,” Evangelina offered politely.

Y/N’s teeth clamped tight on her bottom lip. She spent three weeks wishing she could return to the tower, only to be treated like a guest, an outsider in her own home.

It was then that Bucky decided to face her, yet his eyes looked right through her. Y/N’s chest tightened. She didn’t know it was feasible to feel more alone in her home, surrounded by friends and a man she had been intimate with, than by herself in a foreign country. She wondered if he could see the hurt written on her face.

“I-I don’t-”

Bucky’s whiskey-strained voice interrupted, “No. No drinks.”

A gasp pulled Y/N's attention away from the couple. Cold, pale hands rested on her cheeks, rotating her head from side to side. “Y/N, you’re bleeding,” Natasha chastised.

Wrestling out of Natasha’s hold, Y/N utilized the back of her hand to wipe the blood from her lip. Staring at the crimson fluid coating her skin, Y/N jerked her head. “I can’t.” Blindly smashing the elevator button behind her, she whispered, “I have to…” her voice trailed off as she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. Disregarding everyone’s silent questions, she bolted into the elevator, only letting her shoulders sag when the doors closed. The strap of her duffle bag slid from her shoulder landing with a thud. Gliding her back down the wall, Y/N cradled her knees and wept.

Every night before bed, Y/N prayed the sun would never rise because when day broke, Bucky vanished. Her dreams filled with memories of their last mission together. Reality was the price of admission for eight hours in heaven.

Y/N clenched her jaw at every public display of affection between the new couple. In the time she had known him, Bucky had never been touchy-feely in public. Now, he couldn’t appear to stop. Bucky only ever reached for Y/N after a nightmare or horrific mission. He reached for her at his lowest and she responded with open arms. He might have another woman occupying his bed, but he continued to fuck with her head.

The voice in her head wasn’t her own anymore. Every thought she had echoed back in his familiar deep timber. She couldn’t shake him. A twisted part of her brain wondered if he couldn’t shake her either.

Sam’s comment when she returned from her assignment should have been her first clue. He had mistaken Evangelina for her. Sam had been the first to mention the resemblance between the two, but it wasn’t the last time Y/N received those kinds of comments.

In the time that Y/N had gotten to know Evangelina, which wasn’t much, she concluded that she didn’t hate her. The two had more in common than she wanted to admit. Evangelina made it a point to befriend all of the Avengers; Y/N included. Y/N hated that she enjoyed her company. It was a tough pill to swallow at first, but she couldn’t hate the woman for her taste in men. Who didn’t find Bucky Barnes attractive?

Bucky had been more challenging to read. He didn’t prevent the women from becoming friends, but he didn’t encourage it either. He continued to keep his distance from Y/N, only interacting with her in group settings.

The Avengers were unaware of Bucky and Y/N’s history. Their relationship was exclusively behind closed doors. Y/N wondered if Evangelina would be her confidante if she knew Y/N had warmed his bed first. Maybe Bucky told her and that was why she pushed to be Y/N’s friend. Maybe that was the reason she asked to raid Y/N’s closet for her date with Bucky. Even though Y/N desperately wanted to slam the door in her face, Evangelina was innocent in the situation. So, she agreed.

“You have so many pretty dresses,” Evangelina said in awe. Her hand ran across each piece of fabric dangling in the wardrobe.

Y/N’s fingers plucked at a loose thread on her comforter. Although they were now friends, helping Bucky’s girlfriend pick out an outfit for their date was still awkward. At least it was on Y/N’s end. Evangelina was none the wiser.

“Perks of being an Avenger.”

“What’s it like being an Avenger? Bucky never talks about his work life. He’s always tense when he returns from a mission.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow even though the other woman couldn’t see her. Bucky was slow to open up, especially about his past as the Winter Soldier. Y/N wasn’t surprised he dodged the topic. Ever since Natasha leaked classified files, Bucky’s past became public knowledge. Bucky and Evangelina’s relationship progressed beyond what Y/N previously had with Bucky, at least on the surface. She didn’t know much about their life behind closed doors. Bucky never took Y/N on a date or made her his girlfriend, but he let her hold him in her arms at night and let her in after a difficult mission. Yet his girlfriend practically confessed she knew nothing about his troubles. That was what shocked Y/N.

“It’s…” she paused, attempting to find the right words to convey the difficulties of the job without disturbing her. “It’s like war. You save and lose people. It’s rewarding and sucks at the same time.”

Evangelina pivoted with a black cocktail dress in hand. “That sounds awful.”

Y/N shrugged. “People do it every day. Steve, Sam, and Bucky were all military men before this.” She waved her hands around the room.

Evangelina caught the shift in Y/N’s tone. It wasn’t something she wanted to talk about, a reaction Evangelina grew used to from her exchanges with Bucky. Altering the subject, Evangelina pressed the cocktail dress flush to her body. “What about this one?”

Y/N sucked in a deep breath. She wore the dress on her last mission with Bucky. Though he didn’t say it in public, his reaction when they returned to the safe house that night was enough to know Bucky admired the dress. With Evangelina’s similar figure, Y/N knew Bucky would equally appreciate it on her, especially since he wouldn’t get to rip it off of Y/N again.

She would have told Evangelina about the dress, but it was none of her business. The past was in the past. One Evangelina wasn’t a part of. If Bucky hadn’t told her about their past neither would she. Was it bad to send Evangelina on a date in the dress Bucky had fucked her in? Probably. Did she hope he would think about her the entire date? Absolutely.

Clearing her throat, Y/N plastered a phony smile on her face. “Good choice.” After the date, the dress would be tarnished, like rerecording over an old tape.

Y/N never considered herself a masochist, but she couldn’t escape the role of a domestic sinner. She couldn’t sabotage Evangelina’s relationship no matter how Bucky made her feel; however, she could ruin her own relationship. There was a time in her life when she thought Bucky was the one. Part of her still believed it. It was the part she had to sacrifice.

She told herself Bucky’s soft caresses and lingering stares meant nothing, that every promise spoken was a lie to satisfy the moment. Everything Y/N ever loved had been hard to part with, so she convinced herself Bucky never truly loved her. He couldn’t with how readily he replaced her. Could he? It didn’t matter because he chose Evangelina.

“Hey, Y/N,” Steve welcomed jovially.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as Steve’s voice carried down the hall. Who was he talking to? Rounding the corner just in time, she hadn’t missed the way Steve’s eyes enlarged at the sight of her.

“I didn’t realize,” Steve began, his eyes flashing between both women. “I thought you were Y/N.”

Evangelina chuckled, gliding her hands across her abdomen to smooth down the front of the dress. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Y/N was considerate enough to lend me her dress.” She turned to Y/N, who was still standing in the archway of the lobby. “Thanks again.”

Before Y/N could reply, a hand slinked around her waist, drawing her into a solid body. Startled, Y/N tensed.

“Hey, Ange-” Bucky’s tongue twisted as his eyes landed on Y/N. He was relieved he peeked at her face before he complimented her appearance. He dragged his arm back to his side in a flash. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

Y/N chewed her lip, taking a step back. Bucky was dressed from head to toe in black, matching Evangelina. Y/N wondered if they planned to dress for her funeral before or after they killed off any romantic feelings she had for Bucky.

“I did the same thing,” Steve laughed. Bucky glowered at him, forcing his hands into his pockets. Steve held his hands up, “I didn’t touch anyone though, that was all you.”

Bucky grumbled, crossing the lobby to plant a kiss on Evangelina’s forehead. His right hand rested on the small of her back. “You look gorgeous,” he whispered against her hairline.

Evangelina grinned, “You don’t look bad yourself.”

Y/N couldn’t argue with that.

The faint smile on Bucky’s lips disappeared as the hand on Evangelina’s back ran up her spine. The tips of his fingers halted over a loose thread beside the zipper. Anyone would have glossed over it, but not Bucky. Not when he was the one to patch the dress up and certainly not when he was the one to tear it in the first place. When his gaze collided with Y/N’s, she knew he recognized the dress. His eyes blatantly proceeded to check her out.

Y/N flushed as he studied her; however, the moment his eyes drifted to his best friend, Y/N’s blood ran cold. “Are you two,” he pointed between Y/N and Steve. His voice was unable to fully ask the question he wanted to.

Steve slung his arm over Y/N’s shoulder. It was meant to be a joke, but Y/N saw the blaze in Bucky’s eyes. She didn’t know if it was directed at Steve or herself.

“I wish,” Steve beamed down at her. “I have a conference with Fury in an hour. I was hoping to get there early.”

Y/N sent Steve a soft smile. Steve and Bucky were best friends. If anyone knew what transpired between the two on their last mission, it would be Steve. His reaction proved otherwise. She was confident Steve didn’t know about her past with Bucky or he wouldn’t have unknowingly taunted Bucky.

Evangelina ran her hand along Bucky’s back affectionately. “What about you, Y/N? That dress looks amazing on you. I’m almost jealous I didn’t borrow that one.”

Untangling herself from Steve’s hold, Y/N focused on responding to her new friend rather than Bucky. Puffing out her chest, Y/N said, “Thanks, Lina. I have a date.”

Evangelina grinned, “You should join us.” She directed her attention to Bucky, slapping the center of his chest. “They should join us.”

Y/N’s eyes bulged at the prospect of a double date with Bucky. Absolutely not.

“Could be fun,” Bucky added, but his voice lacked emotion.

She officially lost her mind. There was no way Bucky was actually on board with this idea. The man spent most of his time avoiding her. The second she attempts to move on, he tries to interfere. No. No. No.

Y/N shook her head, lying through her teeth, “It’s still new. I’m not ready to introduce him to anyone I know yet.”

Bucky’s eyes lingered on Y/N’s figure for a moment. “That’s not exactly a new relationship kind of dress.” His eyes narrowed in a challenge.

Y/N pursed her lips. “It is for the kind of relationship he and I have.”

Bucky and Y/N’s first assignment together was a disaster. Bucky wasn't prepared to return to the field, but he insisted he was fine. The mission was successful, but only after Bucky hesitated and Y/N was stabbed. The knife was meant for Bucky, and he took her sacrifice for his mistake poorly. They argued even while Y/N was getting stitched up. At the time, they couldn’t stand one another, but looking back on it, it was the tipping point from enemies to friends.

Tony pressured the two to get along for everyone's sake. He suggested going out for a drink and hashing it out. It was the typical outing for a man of Tony’s status with enemies. Bucky had been the first to yield, offering to buy Y/N a drink. As long as it meant they could move forward, he didn’t care. Y/N declined. Bucky scowled in frustration.

“I probably shouldn't tell you this, but ever since the whole enhanced superpower thing, alcohol is like poison to me.”

Bucky’s face softened. Alcohol had been an issue for him and Steve as well. He detested that he couldn’t get drunk, especially with the unwanted memories that plagued his head frequently. It paled in comparison to her side effects. At least he could still consume the liquid and pretend.

“How about dinner then?” Bucky proposed.

Y/N nodded. “Dinner would be great.”

After that, the pair functioned well together. At least until Y/N witnessed Bucky’s nightmares or when he pulled away from everyone after a challenging mission. That was when Y/N began comforting Bucky. While it wasn’t a problem before, it was now.

“Stop staring at me,” Bucky grumbled.

Y/N couldn’t tear her eyes away from the super-soldier. It was their first mission together since he began dating Evangelina. The two of them were trapped in a safe house on the other side of the world. It wasn’t the first time they had stayed in this particular safe house. It was the exact safe house they inhabited on their last mission.

“You’re hurt,” Y/N observed. Bucky naturally had a sway in his gate. Today, it was heavier, as if he had been lugging extra weight around for hours.

“I’m fine,” Bucky rasped, keeping his back to Y/N. He kept his focus on igniting the fire in the fireplace before them.

Y/N frowned. “I don't mean physically.” Bucky remained silent. “Maybe you should call Evangelina,” she proposed. It was the practical thing to suggest, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Bucky than she intended.

Bucky whirled around; the fire blazed behind him. “I said I’m fine,” he barked. His dark eyes pinned her to her spot on the worn couch.

Y/N chewed her bottom lip. If he was going to get angry with her for caring, then she’d get furious right back. “If you’re so fine, then why have you been avoiding me?”

Bucky grumbled something under his breath, running his hand through his hair. “I already told you, I haven’t-”

“Bullshit.” Y/N rose from her seat. “You fucked me after that HYDRA mission and discarded me like garbage,” she fumed. “I gave you space. I’m gone not even an entire month and suddenly you have a girlfriend. Fuck you, James.”

Bucky stormed the room until he was standing in front of her. His nostrils flared as he ran his tongue along his teeth before baring his teeth. Y/N tipped her head back, daring him to put his hands on her. Bucky studied her face momentarily, their faces hairsbreadths from one another as he hissed, “Fuck. You. Y/N.” From this distance, she could see the muscles in his face twist. She knew he was pissed. Bucky pulled away. “You think you know everything. You have no idea what it's like to have someone fuck with your head.”

Y/N shoved his chest hard. Bucky didn’t even flinch. “You! You’ve been driving me insane with your games!” Her hands moved to shove him again, but he caught both of her wrists.

“Don’t,” he growled.

Y/N ripped herself free from his hold. His grip wasn't tight enough to hurt, still she rubbed her wrist anyway, trying to rid her body of his touch.

“Go back to your boyfriend, Y/N,” he commanded.

Y/N squinted at the man in front of her. This version of him was a stranger. “I heard you,” she voiced softly. “That night,” she pointed to the bedroom down the hall, “when you thought I was asleep, you said you love me.”

If she wasn’t an Avenger, she wouldn’t have detected the way his eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Bucky no longer had to wear a mask from HYDRA, but it seemed everyone except Bucky got the memo. His voice matched the stone-cold expression he wore. “I lied.”

It was the lack of sympathy in his voice that slammed the casket closed. With two little words, Bucky Barnes had buried her in the same place he made love to her.

Bucky returned to the tower after dropping Evangelina off when he stumbled across Natasha with a glass of wine in hand. She was snuggled under a blanket on the couch, watching a true crime show. Since he was unsure where everyone else had gone, he settled on the spot beside Natasha.

“Long night?” Natasha questioned, side-eying the brunette.

Bucky moaned, running his hands down his face. “Long week.”

Natasha swirled her glass of wine. “There is still a bit of wine left. It won't get you drunk but it might help you relax.”

Bucky pursed his lips. “I don’t think that will help.”

Natasha shrugged. “There’s some liquor Y/N’s boyfriend left on the counter over there.” She pointed to the nearly empty bottle across the room. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, “He’s here?”

The red head nodded. “They just got back from dinner. She said they were going upstairs to watch a movie, but after the amount of alcohol they had, I’m sure they are doing more than that.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Bucky stiffened. “They were both drinking?”

“Yeah. The boyfriend came down a couple times to make mixed drinks. He offered me one the last time he was down here, but,” she raised her wine glass.

Before Natasha could continue, Bucky was out of the room, taking the stairs three at a time. He didn’t expect Natasha to understand. People didn’t go around broadcasting their weaknesses. Y/N told him hers, despite them not being friends. It wasn’t his position to share the information. He regretted it now.

Bucky pounded his fist on the wooden door of Y/N's bedroom with a force that made the hinges creak. “Y/N, you in there? Open up,” he pleaded, his voice laced with concern. When he tried the handle and found it locked, his heart sank. “Y/N,” his voice grew more desperate. He could hear shuffling on the other side of the door and leaned in, straining to hear anything that might give him an indication of what was transpiring inside. Despite his repeated requests, the door remained sealed shut, and Bucky's impatience and frustration mounted with each passing second. His voice grew louder, his fists clenched tightly, as he roared for Y/N to open the goddamn door. But there was no response. Finally, Bucky stepped back, his eyes flashing with rage, preparing to kick the door down.

The door opened the second Bucky lifted his boot. A man Bucky had never seen before pushed past him, flying down the hallway. “I didn’t do anything,” he cried as he stepped onto the elevator.

Whiplash hit Bucky hard. His head twisted between the man on the elevator and Y/N’s open bedroom door. The second he caught sight of the man's face, he filed it away preparing to deal with him later. Bucky ran into Y/N’s room. His heartbeat drummed loudly, drowning out the sound of the TV playing in the background. He called her name, but there was no response. He scanned the entire room, finding it empty. His boot kicked a glass, the brown liquid staining the carpet. With a lump in his throat, Bucky knocked on the bathroom door and waited for half a heartbeat before he jerked the door wide open.

There she was, sprawled out on the bathroom floor. Bucky crouched down beside her. His flesh hand shook her shoulder as he called her name. No response. He rolled her onto her back, his fingers searching for the pulse on her neck. Bucky almost missed the faint thrum of her pulse beneath his fingers. His own body was shaking. He called her name once again but was met with silence.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. send the medical unit to Y/N’s room,” his voice quivered as he addressed Tony’s artificial intelligence.

He stepped over her to turn the shower on. Leaving the sliding glass door open, he enveloped her torso in his arms, dragging her bodying into the shower. Crumbling to the floor behind her, he cradled her body under the spray of the cold water.

“Come on, Y/N. Wake up,” he pleaded. He tapped her face repeatedly. “Come on. Not like this,” his voice began shattering. Her head lulled into his chest. Bucky’s fist clenched, mindful not to crush her, as a loud sob tore through his chest. Bucky held her tighter than the clothes adhering to their skin beneath the water. He swayed her slowly as tears gushed down his face. “Come on Y/N. Come back to me,” he croaked. “Tell me to go fuck myself. Anything,” he begged, praying for a reaction. It was futile. Bucky smashed his lips onto the top of her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open with a groan. Her body was sore on the brink of death. One look around the room confirmed she nearly died. She visited the medical wing frequently between missions. The injuries she had endured on the missions were nothing in comparison to what she was experiencing now.

A pressure landing on the back of her hand had her head snapping to her side. Bucky sat with his forehead pressed to the back of her hand, a prayer escaping his lips. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows searching for her last memory of Bucky.

The brunette lifted his head, running his fingers through her hair. “You scared me,” his voice was shaky, his eyes never left her face.

“Where’s-”

Bucky snarled, “Your boyfriend? Don’t worry about him, he’s an asshole.”

Y/N flinched. “He didn’t know.”

“That’s not why he’s an asshole. He ran and left you on the bathroom floor to die.” Bucky watched as Y/N processed the new information. The lack of surprise concerned him. He didn’t want to ask, but he needed to know. “Did you know there was alcohol in your drink?”

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “Of course, I didn’t, Bucky. You’re an asshole for leaving me too. I’m pissed at you. I’m not suicidal. You did your good deed. I’m alive. Now you can go back to your Angel.” She spat the last words, parodying his words from the safe house.

Bucky sat back in his seat, rubbing his chin. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He just wanted to push her away. He pushed too far. He almost lost her. He couldn’t avoid her any longer, she deserved an explanation.

“It wasn’t a lie,” he mumbled. Part of him didn’t want her to hear it, still wanting to starve off the conversation.

“What?”

He took a deep breath, leaning forward. His elbows rested on his knees with his hands clasped in front of him. His face turned serious. “I love you.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat while her face turned sour. “But I can't be with you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “Why are you doing this? Why now?”

Bucky winced at the hurt in her voice. It hurt him too. That’s why he avoided the conversation for so long. “I’m too vulnerable around you. I fall back into my head way too easily. I don’t want to be reminded of my past. Then I met Ang- Evangelina and suddenly, I’m not thinking about all of the people I’ve killed, or the way HYDRA tortured me. With her, I’m living in the present.”

Y/N sat up harshly, the tears had stopped flowing a few sentences ago. “Because you won’t open up to her! You’re running from your problems and the second she’s gone, you’re gonna be stuck in your head again. Alone this time. Sorry, I was only a distraction long enough for you to fuck me. You don’t love her. You love the idea of normalcy with me!” She insisted, jabbing her finger into her chest.

Bucky closed his eyes, his head in his hands.

“For fucks sake, Bucky. She looks like me. This isn’t reality. This isn’t you. You're playing a role in some cheesy romcom. You’re letting her emulate me to fill a spot. She’s my understudy and you know it.”

Bucky ran his hands through his hair before looking up at her. Teary-eyed, he confessed, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who I am anymore. I just want to be normal again.” His head rested on his bent arms, leaning against the bed. His back jolted with each sob.

Y/N rubbed between his shoulder blades. “We’re not normal Bucky. None of the Avengers are, but we’re real.” She ran her hand through his hair comfortingly. “You and me, we’re real.”

He wiped his tears, shaking his head, “She’s out looking for a dog for us to adopt.”

Y/N scrunched her nose. They were taking the next step. Before she knows it, they'll be moving in together, getting married, and have a kid on the way.

“I don’t even want a dog. I couldn’t take care of it with my lifestyle. It just seemed like the normal thing to do. Most families have dogs.”

Y/N hated the idea of Bucky considering a family with Evangelina. She knew him better though. “I always took you for a cat person.”

Bucky smiled at her. “Yeah? What about you? Are you a cat person?”

She nodded. “Less work to train. More realistic in our lifestyle.”

Bucky hummed. The idea of them sharing anything both scared and delighted Bucky. “What kind of cat would we get?”

The corner of Y/N’s lips turned upward. Playing along, she didn’t need to think about her answer, she had already thought about it before. “It doesn’t matter, but he’d have to be white so I could see him against all of your black clothes. Although, cat hairs might be a pain before missions.”

Bucky nodded, his elbow on the bed, propped his head up in his hand. His other hand held Y/N’s as his thumb rubbed circles on the back of her hand as she talked. With a raised eyebrow, Bucky asked, “He?”

Y/N nodded, offended he would suggest otherwise. “You know, so I can come home to my boys. Plus, you need more friends. You two can have a guy's night while I’m away.”

“What if I want to come home to my girls?” Bucky argued.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “We’ll let fate decide. Whichever we find first.”

He nodded, agreeing to the compromise. “Alpine.”

“Huh?”

Bucky sighed dreamily, “The name.” It was too easy talking with Y/N about adopting a cat as if they were discussing children. It hadn’t crossed Y/N’s mind yet, but Bucky was aware that he wasn’t thinking of the past. He was thinking of the future. A future with Y/N.

Y/N snorted. It wasn’t the name she would have picked but Bucky liked it. She got to pick the color; it was only fair Bucky got to pick the name. “Alpine it is.”

Three weeks later, Bucky and Y/N welcomed Alpine to their shared room at Avengers Tower. The team melted when they met the feline. Even Evangelina. Despite the breakup, Y/N and Evangelina remained friends. The women were filled with too much grace and poise, not to. A trait Bucky had admired in both of them. It should have unsettled Bucky for them to remain friends, but Bucky knew where he belonged now. He might not know who he was or who he is now, but he was certain his future was Y/N.

[lives-in-midgard]

Finally Safe

Paring: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: After being kidnapped from Hydra you get saved by Bucky and the Avengers.

Word Count: 1300

A/N: Hey everyone! I finally wrote a Bucky fanfic again and I hope you like it!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

 You weren’t sure where you were or how long you had been there. You didn’t know what time it was or what day it was. Has it been weeks or months since you were there? You weren’t sure. The only thing you knew was that you were on your way home from work. It was only a short walk, so you decided to walk. You always thought it is a safe path until someone hit your head and you suddenly woke up in a cell in a place where no one would probably ever find you.

You were so scared, especially when these strange men came to you. The first day they didn’t do anything to you and just laughed, but the next day they started doing experiments on you. The experiments made you feel nauseous, and you began to feel a change. Whatever they wanted to do to you seemed to work. After a while you finally found out where you were…it’s a HYDRA base. You couldn’t believe it. You’ve heard stories about them. Scary things. The winter soldier was one of those things you heard about. Is he still here?

You always had to think about your friends and family. Are they looking for you or did the people who kidnapped you made it look like you died? Every night you cried yourself to sleep and hoped that one day someone would come and save you. Maybe the Avengers would somehow find out about this Hydra base and save you. Maybe this was just your dream, and no one could ever save you, but you didn’t lose hope. Not even after everything they did to you.

You suddenly woke up when you heard someone screaming and it sounded like someone was fighting. You quickly sat up and took a shaky breath because of the injury on your left arm. There was again a scream to hear. What happened?

Suddenly a loud noise was heard, and your door opened. You couldn’t recognize him…you have never seen this man before and he didn’t look like the others here. He had short brown hair, a black leather jacket and then you noticed that he has a metal arm. You got scared and moved further to the back of the room so that your back was leaning against the wall.

“Hey, it’s okay…I won’t hurt you.” He said in a soft tone and made a few steps near you.

“I’m Bucky.” He knelt down in front of you. Bucky looked friendly, but you weren’t sure if you could trust him.

“You can trust me, I promise.” He said with a worried look. You thought about it for a second, but then you told him your name and he began to smile. Then he reached to his ear.

“I found someone.” Bucky looked at you while saying that.

“Okay, let’s get out of here.” He said to you. Then he stood up and reached his hand out for you. You took his hand and stood up.

“You stay behind me…I promise I’ll get you out of here.” He said with a slight smile. As you followed Bucky through the halls, it was quiet until a Hydra agent suddenly appeared who started to attack Bucky. Then everything happened so fast they started to fight and suddenly more came. Then a shield flew behind you and you jumped to the side. Captain America and some more Avengers came to help. When you saw another guy trying to hurt Bucky from behind, you finally got out of your shock and wanted to help him. It was the perfect time to use the powers they gave you. You pointed your hand at him and then he started to turn to ice.

“Woah, what was that?” One of the avengers said while Bucky looked at you impressed. You helped them take down the others by using your power and turning them into ice and stone.

When you walked outside with them, they talked about how amazing you were.

“You okay?” Bucky asked quietly.

“Yeah.” You mumbled and looked away again. As you sat down in the quinjet, Bucky sat down next to you.

“Oh no, you’re bleeding.” Bucky said when he noticed the wound on your left arm.

“That’s from yesterday…it must have started bleeding again.”

“Steve, can you get me the first aid kit?” Bucky asked, looking over to Steve, who nodded. A few seconds later Steve was back, handing it to Bucky and giving you a soft smile. Bucky gently took care of your wound and wrapped a bandage over it.

“Thank you for saving me.” You said, looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

“You’re welcome. I’m so glad that I could save you.”

You didn’t talk much the rest of the fly. Steve told you that you would be staying at the Avengers compound for a while and that there is a spare room next to Bucky’s room.

It was already dark when you landed at the compound. You followed them into the building and to the living room.

“I’ll go get you some clothes of mine, so you can change.” Wanda said and you nodded.

“And I’ll make you a sandwich.” Natasha announced and went into the kitchen. You sat down on the couch next to Bucky and Steve. After a while Wanda came back with some clothes. Then you changed into some new clothes which made you feel a little better, then you ate the sandwich, and Bucky showed you to your room.

“If you need anything, doesn’t matter what time just knock on my door, okay?” Bucky said and you nodded.

“Okay, thank you Bucky.”

“Of course.” He said with a smile.

You sat down on the bed and began to smile. You were happy that you are finally safe. After a while you laid down in bed and tried to sleep but it took a long time for you to fall asleep.

When you woke up you let out a scream. You had a nightmare that felt so real, like you were there again. You sat up quickly, starting to sweat and starting to breath fast. Someone opened the door to your room and ran over to you.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, you’re safe.” Bucky whispered as he sat down next to you.

“Bucky.” You mumbled and reached for his arm.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He said but it still didn’t calm you down and Bucky was really worried about you.

“Let’s try to breath together, okay?” He suggested and you tried to nod and follow his breathing. But it didn’t work that well.

“Okay, let’s try something else, doll.” He said and then laid down next to you.

“Put your head on my chest and try to follow my breathing.” Bucky said in a gentle tone. You did as he said and laid your head on his chest. Then Bucky started rubbing your back, you listened to his heartbeat and tried to follow his breathing.

“That’s it, doll. Just breathe in and out.”

“You’re doing so well, doll.” With every minute you were laying like this, you felt better and safer. After you calmed down, you looked up at Bucky.

“Thank you.” You whispered and Bucky smiled at you.

“You’re welcome, doll. I’m so sorry you had to go through all that.” Bucky said in a sad voice.

“It wasn’t you’re fault.”

“I know but you don’t deserve it, no one does.” Bucky said and you nodded.

“You should try to get some sleep.” Bucky suggested.

“Can you stay here?” You asked.

“Of course.” He said and you laid your head back on his chest. Bucky held you and gave you a kiss on the forehead. After a while you fell asleep in his arms and felt safer than you ever did.

Taglist:

@marvelogic | @eviebuggg | @buckys-wintersoldier | @nicoline1998enilocin | @kandis-mom | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @noellez-best-life23 | @sgtgarricks | @ratchildspartan | @scott-loki-barnes |  @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 | @mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @brnesblogposts

@beaubbdoll

[mydadleft471]

An Ailing Heart, A Shimmering Soul

Summary: Another Tarnished invades the Shadow Keep and Messmer takes care of them. But something seems off this time. You comfort him when he is most vulnerable.

Spoilers, per usual, for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. Warnings for descriptions of violence and a slight amount of spice wink wonk ;D (I've never wrote anything spicy please go easy on my ass, I'm so down bad)

I had two requests, one from the lovely @asianbutnotjapanese and the other from anonymous, and I thought they'd go so well together! I'll link the posts here and here! Thank you both for the requests! I love writing comfort for this lanky man.

As always, thank you for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting! It makes my day every single time!

Another Tarnished had invaded the Shadow Keep today. This one made it to Messmer himself. Many others found themselves terribly outmatched by his many knights and guards.

You waited patiently in Messmer’s chamber for him to return victorious, just as he had done a multitude of times before. Fiddling with your hands, you tried to drown out the screams and thudding from the room adjacent to Messmer’s, but your thoughts did little to distract you. Your mind wandered, as it always did in these moments: would he come back from this fight?

You shook your head. Of course he would. He was a mighty demigod with more than his mother’s wishes to fight for now. He had you. It was something he whispered into your hair when you lay huddled against his massive form in his bed. You were drifting on the very edge of sleep when his voice, silky and smooth, cut through the silence.

“I will return to thee, beloved consort. This I shall promise.”

Your heart had flipped in your chest. You knew he meant it and he never went back on his word.

The large door creaking open interrupted the sweet memory. Pushing yourself off the bed, you stepped timidly until Messmer came into view.

Blood adorned his chest like rubies and his eye was glued to the floor. He had left his spear in the previous room.

You hurry towards him. “Are you hurt?” You grab his hands and clutch them tightly.

“Merely scratched and covered in blood that is not my own.” He sounds tired.

Carefully, you lead him over to his ornate washroom. He doesn’t say anything as you pull him behind you like dead weight. Even his serpents stay still as they’re perched on his shoulders. Dropping his hands, you hurry to grab some bath salts he likes and a fluffy towel. You turn the faucet and the tub begins to fill with warm water. Pouring some of the salts in and swirling them around, the room begins to smell sweetly of jasmine and vanilla. 

Looking back at your lover, you notice that he watches you tiredly. His eye droops and he doesn’t stand as tall as usual.

“Do you need help taking your armor off?” He merely nods in response, so you get to work.

You stretch your arms up to take off his helmet and he bows his head. You set it on the table behind you and comb your fingers through some of the rebellious strands of red. Carefully raising the cloak he wears, you allow the serpents to wiggle out of it before undoing the clasp and letting it fall to the floor behind him. Moving around him, you work on the various buckles on his armor and before long, it joins his cloak in a bloody, crumpled heap. 

“Come, my love,” you call out to him and his eye shimmers in response. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You take his hand and gently guide him into the bath, letting him go as slowly as he needs to. Once he settles into the warm water, he lets out a sigh of relief. You tilt his head back and pour water over his hair, just as you have done many times before. It’s become a daily thing to wash his hair and body. He loves the tenderness in every touch you lay upon him.

You begin to massage some of his favorite shampoo into his fiery locks. You take your time ensuring his scalp has been thoroughly washed and thread your fingers through the tips of his hair. He shudders and shivers in pleasure. 

You want to ask what’s wrong. He’s come back from fights exhausted and worried, but he’s never looked so dejected. Perhaps the fight was too close for his liking? When you took off his armor minutes earlier, you hadn’t seen any new bruises or wounds on his body, so that couldn’t be it. The Tarnished that came to his Keep enraged him, sure, especially if they had hurt any of his men, but they had never made him like this.

“Messmer?” His eye opens slightly. “What’s bothering you?”

“Whatever dost thou mean?” His voice is dejected and quiet.

“Did something happen during your fight?” You tilt his head back and wash the shampoo from his hair.

“‘Tis nothing. Thou needn’t worry.”

You sigh. “I thought we talked about this, about being open with each other. If something is bothering you, I want to help.”

He reaches for your hand and you gladly give it to him. He turns it over in his hand, seemingly marveling at how small yours is compared to his. He kisses your knuckles and moves your hand so you cup his cheek.

“That Tarnished held the belief that I was keeping thee prisoner here.” 

Your mouth hangs open. “Prisoner? My love, no! I’m happy here.”

“They did not thinkest so. Perhaps they imagined themself a protector, like I.”

“Messmer,” you make him look at you. “I stay here because I want to. I stay here because I love you. Okay?”

“I had never felt rage such as that. I lost myself.” He admits.

“I’d be angry too. It’s okay.”

He lets out a shuddering breath and a golden tear streaks its way down his pale cheek. You reach out to brush it away.

“I do not deserve thee, beloved. I am naught but a cursed monster.”

“You are so much more than that. I don’t care if you’re cursed.” You pull away from him and pour a generous amount of conditioner into your hands. You gently apply it to his hair. 

“You make me truly happy. I hope you know that.” You whisper those words into his ear.

“I shall try to remember that.”

You wash away the conditioner and wrap your arms around his shoulders, not caring about how the water soaks through your clothes. He grabs one of your hands and holds it. You lay a light kiss on his neck and he shudders again.

“Do you want me to wash your body, my love?” You ask into his hair.

“Please.”

“Okay.” You smile and unwind yourself from him.

You gather some soap and begin to lather it on his shoulders. You take your time and even knead out some of the knots in his back as you go. He lets out small gasps and you can see that his ears are a bright red almost rivaling his hair. You raise his arms from the water and squeeze his arms, feeling his muscles. He shoots you a look and you quickly look away, continuing to wash him as he requested. You tilt his head back, sweetly sweeping your hands across his neck and travel down to his collarbones, giving them the same treatment as the rest of his body.

“I ask thee stop this teasing.” His eye is screwed shut.

“Oh shush. You like this.”

“Perhaps.” You smirk.

Continuing down his body, you lather his chest in soap and delicately make your way to his stomach. He visibly tenses at this and you shoot him a puzzled look.

“Thou’rt cruel indeed. Continuing may force my hand.” He warns you, his eye shimmering a bright gold.

Oh. Oh.

As much as you would love to indulge in him, right now he needs comfort. You nod, face blushing as red as his, and you begin to wash away any remaining bubbles kissing his skin. Grabbing a fluffy towel, you wordlessly hand it to him and he stands. You tear your gaze away from him as he dries off and try to keep your thoughts decent. You go fetch his favorite robe from his chambers and grab his brush from where it sits on his bedside table. 

When you return, he’s sitting on the plush chair in front of the large vanity he had made for you. You offer him his robe and turn around, waiting for him to dress himself. He clears his throat and you turn around.

“Would you let me do your hair tonight?”

“If it would make thee happy.”

“Always. I love taking care of you.” That earns you a loving smile.

You begin to brush away any tangles he has, but since you’ve been giving his hair regular maintenance, it’s become easier to manage. The bristles gently scratch against his scalp and he lets out a pleased hum. You have such a lovable demigod.

Once you’ve ensured his hair is soft and smooth, you part his hair down the middle. You can see him watching you in the mirror. 

“I think you would look stunning in braids.”

He shakes his head. “Braids are intended for nobility and those with honor.”

“You’re a demigod, my love.”

He opens his mouth to say something but he stops when he sees you standing behind him with your hands on your hips, daring him to refuse you. “There is no sense in arguing with thee, it seems.”

“You are correct.” He rolls his eye. You were so stubborn.

Staring on the left side, you take three small strands and delicately weave them together. His hair is easy to work with and within a few minutes, you have a tiny braid.

You hold out your finished work. “Hold this, please.” He does as you ask, and you almost chuckle at the sight of him concentrating on keeping it pinched between his fingers.

Moving to the right side, you do the exact same thing. Strands of red dance in and out and soon, you have another braid. You admire your work.

You take the first braid from him with a small thank you and carefully lay them down on his head, making them join at the ends. It creates an oval-like shape and emits an air of importance. You grab a small hand-held mirror from the table in front of him and give it to him. He stands and faces away from the vanity, repositioning the tiny mirror so he could see the beautiful, yet simple, job you did. He eye crinkles and he seems to like it.

“Thou hast done a wonderful job. I thank thee, beloved.” 

You take the small mirror from him and return it to the vanity table. You gesture for him to sit, which he does without protest.

“Your serpents deserve braids too.” He chuckles and his companions look at you with wide eyes.

You open the drawer of the vanity and pull out two tiny braids made from some fabric. You had been practicing with these so your braids would look perfect.

The serpents come closer and you gently lay the strand of fabric on them. They shake a little at first, then flick their tongues excitedly.

“I think they look handsome, don’t you think, Messmer?”

He throws his head back and laughs. “They look quite ridiculous.” The serpents hiss.

You gently pat them both and they nuzzle into your touch. “Don’t listen to him. You both look wonderful.”

In truth, they did look a little silly, but they seemed proud to wear braids like their master.

“Thou always tends to my ailing soul, beloved.” He kisses the top of your head.

“Proud to serve, my Lord.” He rolls his eye at the use of his title.

He scoops your hands up in his and gazes into your eyes tenderly. “I shall say it now for fear that thou dost not realize: thou art free. Wherever thy soul wishes to roam, thou mayest go. I only request that thou returnest to me safe.”

You shake your head. This man. You lean up on your tiptoes and he bridges the gap, placing a loving kiss on your lips. There is no rush, no fight for dominance, just the both of you existing in the same space. Your hearts swell in admiration for one another.

There is nowhere else you’d rather be.

[wonijinjin]

seventeen’s hiphop unit when their s/o falls asleep on them

author’s note: was feeling tired, wrote it quickly hehe. let me know if you guys want the other unit versions aswell! the vocal unit version of the fic is available here.

synopsis: what the title says

word count: 0.7k | genre: pure fluffiest fluff | pairings: hiphop unit x gn! reader | warnings: mention of food in wonwoo’s

you were laying in bed with cheol, pillowtalk being the routine of most of your nights, just casually discussing how you spent your day. “then i had to scold mingyu because he wasn’t listening and we couldn’t make progress regarding the lyrics.” he explained, voice low and quiet, waiting for your usual giggles about his members being silly as always, but silence was your only reply. he looked down at you on his chest, seeing your eyes closed, mouth slightly open, a bit of drool coming out of it, right onto his shirt. “seriously? man, my shirt is gonna get soaked.” he sulked jokingly, knowing fully well you couldn’t hear him, otherwise it would’ve earned a betrayed whine from you. “you are lucky you’re cute, i will let it slide this time.” he giggled while trying his best to keep his voice down as much a possible. he rubbed your back while looking head over heels at you, easing you to dreamland even more so, whispering. “good night my love, see you in the morning. i love you.”

wonwoo knew you were tired the moment he saw you when he arrived at home, so he figured that it would be a matter of time when you were gonna stop fighting sleep and let your eyelids get heavy. he was editing the photos he took on his walk earlier, you snuggled up into his side, watching him do his magic in different editing softvers on his laptop. “these pictures are so pretty wonwoo.” you said sleepily. he smiled softly while looking into your eyes. “thank you sweetheart, but you are way prettier.” his cheesy line normally would’ve made you burst out laughing, but as he expected you were already half asleep, eyes closing for longer amounts of time every minute. a moment later he sensed how your head felt heavier on his torso; he kissed your forehead and patted the crown of your hair, smiling sheepishly to himself seeing you rest at last. “my sweet baby.” he said while shutting his laptop down, holding you closer to him.

“wow, the special effects are amazing!” you commented to which mingyu hummed in agreement. you and mingyu were watching a movie, your head in his lap. you were invested in the plot, but it was a bit late in the evening. in fact it was so late that mingyu had actually kind of dozed off for a few minutes, resting his eyes after hours of work with woozi in his studio, the screen’s hue taking a turn on his optic nerves. when he opened his eyes he did not expect to find you asleep, especially since you chose the movie; it was one of your favourite director’s new films. he took a moment to just stare at your face shamelessly, feeling like he was falling in love all over again; your cheeks were squished into his thigh, nose scrunching up from time to time thanks to a few strands of hair tickling it. you were just so adorable in his eyes. he brushed the hair out of your face, stroking your cheeks gently. “i am so lucky to have you. i will always protect you, my darling.” he muttered, draping a blanket that was resting on the couch next to him over your slumbering form.

you were in the practice room with vernon since he had to work overtime with their newest comeback approaching, you offering to stay until the end so the two of you could go home together. he knew you were exhausted from all the exams you had to take, and even tried to talk you out of staying, but you insisted, getting into a comfortable position on the floor, head resting against the wall. he sat down next to you, drinking a bottle of water while you put your head on his shoulder. “i should’ve urged you to go home. look at you, so tired and in an uncomfortable room!” he whined, feeling extremely guilty about the situation. you didn’t reply to which he raised his head a little, upon doing so seeing your relaxed face, soft snores and breaths escaping your mouth. he slowly lowered your head into his lap, but not before putting his hoodie on it, making up for the lack of a soft pillow. “i should take a break anyways. sweet dreams, babe.” he smiled, gently kissing your lips.

[zeroducks-2]

What's up with batman and the erasing of queer history? Sry I try to interact with fanon as little as possible

There is no simple or short answer to this but to try and not make it a wall of text - Batman/Robin has always been a staple of the queer community, so much so that to this day there are "brudick" graffiti in big cities and lots of older gay couples have been using them as a reference for solid partnership which endures in spite of adversity.

Originally there was no indication anywhere that Bruce and Dick were in the roles of father and son, rather they were partners against crime, one the shadow of the other, and they would share everything both when it came to crime fighting and in their everyday lives. They're shown sleeping together, going on lake trips together, finishing each other's sentences and Dick being viciously jealous every time Bruce would "replace" him with any of the women he used to have flings with such as Talia or Selina.

Did DC mean for them to be read as a queer couple? No, of course not. Bob Kane and others wrote a partnership, an unbreakable bond which would allow these two men to overcome any obstacle together, and queer people read into it as queer people always do.

Someone else read into it though: Frederick Wertham, who called Batman a pederast and used Batman and Robin as an example of how the evil comics would corrupt young minds to send them on the way of perdition and sin. He wrote all of this and many more infuriating shit in his book Seduction of the Innocents, which was then the major influence in creating the Hayes Code, which is the reason why we never had queer characters in comicbooks and movies and anything really for decades (and we're still struggling today).

Wertham and the Hayes Code did not stop the queer community from loving Batman and Robin though, therefore what started happening was the more subtle shift towards Bruce and Dick having a father and son relationship rather than a partnership. You can see this clearly with Jason Todd for the first time: Bruce takes Jason in and treats him as his own son, the narrative calls them father and son, and there is no doubt in the mind of who's reading that Bruce perceives Jason as his child. It all went steadily downhill from there.

Nowadays, writers have Dick say character assassinating things like "I love you dad" to Bruce, Tim saying "we will save our dad" to Damian, and everyone in the fandom acting like this has always been the case and actually you're weird and you should be sent death threats for shipping Brudick, because "UMMM that is literally his son?!??!?!?". DC has been pushing the idea that these folks are a nuclear family for a while now, but whoever has actually read the comics knows it's not the case, and it used to be very different before.

Brudick, among queer people, used to be entirely uncontroversial. While Wertham raged about how it corrupted the minds of young men and the Hayes Code prevented queerness to be anything but vaguely hinted and coded in the text, queer folks didn't care and kept having matching Batman and Robin shirts.

Today queer people will call you a pedophile and a groomer and try to doxx you for posting Brudick art because apparently they're doing the fascists' job for them, either because they are genuinely misguided or because they think that if they're enough morally pure they will have a spot among the chosen ones, hell if I know. What I know is that they'd suck Wertham's cock and balls if he wrote Seduction of the Innocents today, and it's DC's fault too with their erasure of every found family dynamic among the batclan, and the way they've been pushing the idea of a "batfamily" instead, in which everyone has a strict role of son or brother or father, and shipping them makes you the antichrist.

[jinkicake]

After A Long Night... 

He returns home to you. 

Diluc, Kaeya, Ayato, Xiao x Reader

A/N: I originally wrote this for my beloved Kaeya and then i did the same for Xiao and then Diluc and surprise, Ayato. Anyway,,,, i need fluff and all things sweet. forgive me! this might be my fav fluff... i think im getting better at it! 

WC - 2.2k

~~~

Diluc R.

When it comes to his everyday life, Diluc doesn’t regret it very much. The young tycoon owner knows exactly what role he has to play and what needs to get done. 

Despite his strong resolve and fortitude, it still physically pains his sensitive heart to be away from you. 

Diluc knows how lucky he is to have you, he’s aware of the fact all too well. He cherishes you and loves you day in and day out, spoiling you rotten in the hopes that his actions will convey his own intimate feelings for you. Somedays he worries that his double life will be too much for your kind soul to handle. 

If you were to disappear from his life, the winery owner fears he would never see light in his own dark world again. 

He tries his best to return from his nightly missions at a reasonable time, just when the moon is descending from its peak position. There is nothing more Diluc looks forward to than you asleep in his bed. Knowing that he gets to hold you in his arms and rest is what gets the man through each day. 

Although he can’t stand the teasing from his brother, Diluc is a sap for you and everyone knows it. He’s not ashamed of it. 

His love for you is what carries him quietly through the house once he locks the main doors of the large home. Diluc checks to make sure all doors and windows are locked before quietly taking off his external accessories, hanging them by the door to his office, and then finally making his way to your shared bedroom. 

At the sight of you asleep in his bed, messily splayed out (because you can never get comfortable without him), Diluc sighs. He tugs at the loose ponytail holding his hair up and lets his fiery strands run freely against his back. Most nights, he would brush his hair and maybe apply some oil to the ends but all Diluc can focus on now is you. 

He happily sneaks under the covers and carefully presses his body into yours. The way you melt into his embrace is almost instant. Diluc softly kisses your temple before moving his arm to wrap around your waist. Gently, he squeezes you in his hold and runs his nose along your jaw. 

“My love,” He can’t help but murmur against your skin, sometimes it becomes too hard to fight the hold you have over him. However, the moment you begin to stir, Diluc freezes. There’s nothing he hates more than waking you up, knowing how highly you value your sleep. It’s as if an internal alarm is ringing in his mind and Diluc all but holds his breath as your fingers tighten against his hold. 

“Diluc?” Your sleepy tone melts into a whine as you shift and turn on your side to press your face into his chest. “When did you get back?”

The large man couldn’t pretend to be asleep even if he tried. 

Diluc kisses your temple again. 

“Not too long ago,” His comforting voice, deep and kind nearly lulls you back to sleep. It’s hard fighting fatigue when you’re in his arms. “go back to bed.” When you look up at him and Diluc sees the pout on your face, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss it off. 

“We can talk in the morning, dearest. I promise.”

Kaeya A.

Most nights, Kaeya prefers a drink. He often works late and into the evening so one of the only things that provide him with a sense of pleasure is the tart fruity taste of wine on his tongue. 

Every night before he sets out in search of a bar, he finds his way back home to you. Regardless of his alcoholic desires, there’s something special about sharing extra time with you in the evening. Sometimes, the captain finds himself skipping the drinks and staying inside to enjoy your loving embrace. 

Tonight is no different than his other nights. Kaeya is caught up in work, having to check through documents and give them a seal of approval, and he finishes his tasks late. It’s nearly so late that the bars are almost closed and the moon is high up in the night sky. 

For once, closed bars are not a concern to Kaeya because when he is most exhausted he always searches for you. He always returns to you.

“Oh, my love,” Kaeya’s quiet coo does not reach your ears from where he stands in the doorway to your apartment. The cavalry captain is extremely careful as he maneuvers the space and makes sure to be extremely quiet as he shuts and locks the door. He slips off his shoes and places his keys on a hook against the wall before making his way over to you. 

Kaeya loves to watch you sleep. You’re completely angelic and the sight always makes him feel as if he has been punched in the gut, he’s absolutely winded by your beauty every single time. He can’t help but reach out and brush his cold knuckles against your soft cheek. 

In the morning, he’ll have to chide you for falling asleep at the table but he knows this wouldn’t have happened if he came home earlier. It’s more his fault than it is yours, he can never find a flaw in you. In his eyes, you can do no wrong.

Keeping his touch light and soft, Kaeya cups your shoulders before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. His lips turn incredibly warm at the feeling of your skin and Kaeya attempts to fight off the flush he is feeling. You aren’t even awake and you’re still making the man flustered. 

When you lightly begin to stir in your sleep, Kaeya only places more kisses along your face. He pecks your cheek and then your nose before gracing your forehead again. 

“Hello, angel,” He whispers against your temple before leaving his lips glued to the spot. You grumble at him, just as he expected, before trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Kaeya,” Your quiet whisper makes his heart skip a beat and any fatigue he was feeling earlier in the night is nearly washed away by your voice. The way your eyes flicker over his features, darting from his eye to his lips makes the captain burn up inside. You’ve always been so shy with him. “how was work?”

“Dull, boring, slow.” He answers as he gently tugs on your wrist, pulling you up from your chair. There is no fight in you as Kaeya leads you toward your bedroom. “However, I did hear new speculations about Donna’s love life. Lisa spoils me whenever I drop off a book on time, would you like to hear about it?”

By the knowing smile on your face, as you fall into bed with Kaeya in hot pursuit, it’s going to be another evening where you both talk through the night. 

K. Ayato

Ayato hates being away from you. He detests impending work and having to be locked away in his office for days on end, running on little sleep, just to see that deadlines are met. The thought of you alone in your shared room with your lone futon spread on the floor makes his heart ache.

For the last couple of days, Ayato has been in a time crunch. He has to get some official documents between two clans under wraps before their political marriage or the entire relationship will be in shambles. The task itself is not hard but, it is incredibly tedious.

When all Ayato wants to do is spend some time with his beloved, small pesky tasks become the bane of his existence.

“Would you like some tea, my lord?” Thoma’s gentle knock on the sliding door reminds Ayato to stay focused, that he still has work to finish.

“There is no need for that, Thoma. I’m almost finished up, please get some rest.”

As Thoma excuses himself for the evening, the head of the Kamisato clan smiles knowing that he can continue working at night knowing he has such formidable people beside him. Ayato thumbs through the documents again and mulls over the agreements two more times. He ensures that each of the bargains balances out the other before stacking the papers in a neat pile.

One more time, he will go over each and make sure that they’re in proper order and format.

When the mind-numbing task is complete, Ayato places the documents in the bin on his desk for it to be carried out in the morning. He stands tall from his low workstation and stretches until a satisfying pop reaches his ears.

It’s now early in the morning with the sun sure to rise in just another few hours. Ayato wastes no time in making a quick trip to your bedroom. He is silent in his steps as he presses against the hardwood of the floors and slides open your door.

He could almost sigh at the sight of you curled up and deep in sleep. Ayato makes quick work of closing the door and then kneels beside you, he lifts your hands up to his face so that he can kiss the inside of your wrist. In his own way, it’s like a silent apology for making you spend the last few nights alone.

Ayato doesn’t even bother himself with getting into his own futon, neatly made and laid out since earlier in the night. He settles in right beside you and squeezes into the tight space. With his long arms, he wraps them around your torso before tracing your hip.

Kiss after kiss, he places soft pecks of his lips underneath your ear. He doesn’t mean to wake you and he certainly doesn’t want to but, he just can’t keep his hands off of you.

Luckily for him, you are a heavy sleeper.

Fatigue finds the commissioner easily and he shuts his eyes to try and catch a break from the feeling. In your touch, Ayato finds himself at ease. Relaxation is of second nature to him and it is all because of you.

“Thank you, darling,” He sweetly kisses your ear before melting into the sheets, slumber is sure to find him just as it had found you.

Xiao

Xiao doesn’t often feel fatigued. There are some nights when he almost wishes something new would happen in his monotonous battle of protecting Liyue but, he doesn’t get tired of it. 

Well, in the past, Xiao did not get burned out so easily.

The adeptus thinks you’re partly to blame if he could ever find a fault in your character. You’ve got him in some sort of routine. 

In the past, Xiao would stay out until the sun came up patrolling one area before moving on to another. It was a cycle that he would consistently keep up with day in and day out. 

The schedule he has now is a little different. Instead of clashing with hostile creatures throughout the night, he finds himself before your door once the moon peaks past the highest point in the starry sky. Xiao is still adamant about protecting Liyue but, he also prides himself on making you happy too. 

He doesn’t understand why his heart tugs in his chest at a certain point during the night every single day. It’s a tug that demands him to return home, to find his spot in your bed and hold you in his arms until you stir awake and kiss his fingers. 

Xiao melts whenever you pamper him, it makes him feel less alone. 

Like most nights since your entry into his life, tonight is not so different. Xiao finishes his duties once the moon reaches high into the sky and when his heart starts to become impatient, he finds himself outside of your window with simple teleportation.  

The adeptus tries to remember that he has a key and walks around to your door to quietly unlock your apartment. He places his staff beside your coat rack and takes off his shoes, dropping his mask on the nearby table, after he locks the door and ensures that it is shut. Your apartment is small and cozy and Xiao focused his eyes on you as soon as he walks into your bedroom. 

It’s not a surprise that you’re asleep, but Xiao softly gasps when he reaches the foot of your bed. Whenever he is in your presence the eternal ache that he feels starts to dull. The sharp pain in the ends of his fingertips and the tips of his ears become numb. For a mortal, Xiao considers you to be quite special. 

He doesn’t say anything as he softly gets into your bed and gently lifts up the covers to get beside you. The adeptus can’t help himself from touching you as soon as you are within his reach. Almost immediately, Xiao wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. He remains quiet as he buries his face into your neck but, his heart leaps at the feeling of your stirring awake. 

The man hates to wake you, he truly does, but the feeling of your hand reaching for his own is something Xiao will never get tired of. 

“Welcome home,” Your sleepy tone and sweet whisper keep him grounded and alive each day. The way you kiss his knuckles soothes all the aches the adeptus has ever felt. “I missed you.”

[bloodiedrogue]

EASY DAYS AHEAD

SUMMARY: Astarion's not used to feeling cared for. Luckily though, you're as caring as they come.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,925

WARNINGS: Astarion's POV, 18+ sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), body worship if you squint, CONSENT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, consent is incredibly sexy. That's all I gotta say. Also that I'm pretty sure I was possessed by something because I wrote this in literally an hour and a half???

MASTERLIST

-

Astarion doesn’t deserve the care that goes into loving him. With nothing more to offer than a broken mind wrapped in precious, tainted silk, it’s hard to wrap his head around the tenderness. Specifically the feeling of your skin, trailing patterns down his spine —painting fresh images over the scars that line his back as you praise him for his efforts. 

Your voice sounds wrong in his ears. Every word distorting. All the syllables jumbling up in ways that make him narrow his eyes, staring through the darkness of the tent at nothing in particular. 

“You okay?” you ask, and even now, weeks after your first night spent together, he has to muster up everything he’s got not to break down in front of you. 

“I’m fine, darling.” 

His lips always pull in that liar’s grin, ripping through his face like knives. Slicing the inside of his cheeks each time his fangs bite down on the wet flesh inside. 

He has to force himself to look at you. To stare at the exhausted smile that slowly shifts to a frown, showcasing your insight. How you know he’s lying before he can even elaborate on why he’s fine or how you shouldn’t worry about him —he’s a creature of the night after all. 

Pressing fully against him, he hears you click your tongue and shake your head as if scolding him. “What do you need?” 

Each time you pose that same question he feels like dying. Despite the fact his heart no longer works like yours —despite the act of breathing being nothing more than a habit he’s carried over from his deathbed— there’s a dread that coats his chest. Like oil, thick and slick, it completely drowns his organs. Suffocating his body while his mind and soul fight over what comes next. 

As the internal argument grows, his eyes always dart back and forth. One moment they’re locked onto your face, obsessively viewing each section and the next they’re anywhere but. In the forest, on the battlefield, back home tucked tightly inside the palm of his master’s hand —each night he travels everywhere, lingering in certain places while speeding through others, praying to all the Gods that never listened that he’ll make his way back to you. That just this once, instead of drifting off to sea, they’ll grant him the anchor he so desperately craves. The one that’s tethered to you and the solid ground beneath. 

“You still there, handsome?”

He is —sort of— depending on the moment, but instead of saying that he merely hums. Offering the bare minimum to the only person he’s ever met deserving of more. 

“Tired?”

“Incredibly.” 

You push your chest against his back and grip his shoulder, allowing your fingers to tighten around as you maneuver your lips to his cheek. “You should rest then,” you tell him afterward, but like always the words get pushed together. Morphing into something else entirely, causing him to narrow his eyes. 

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he teases, watching you roll your eyes —feeling your nails tentatively dig into his flesh as a warning. 

“Shush. Don’t make me shove a sleeping potion down your throat.”

In response, he lets out a humorous huff. Then, his hands move to snake around your waist, pulling you on top of him. “Go ahead. I’m sure Gale would thoroughly enjoy such misuse of his wares.”

“My wares,” you correct, pressing an annoyed kiss to his chest, making sure to catch his skin between your teeth in the process as a warning. “I bought them from him fair and square.”  

Immediately, he grabs your chin and raises his brow. “Why the hells would you need a potion of sleep anyway? You already sleep like a corpse.”

You merely look away with a smile. All while rolling your eyes in that way that makes him feel like he’s young again. Freshly born into a world that hadn’t yet chewed and spat him out. One where the veins beneath his skin are full of warm blood, pumping through his system, fuelling the desire he knows he should have now that you’re lying against him, flesh against flesh. Beating heart against— 

Your lips press against his sternum and he swears they’re the most tender things he’s ever felt. Next to the way your fingers always seem to lace in his when you’re sitting by the campfire, they’re softer than any touch he’s ever experienced. Hungry yet restrained for his benefit, knowing it’s hard to feel like this. To experience the kindness of a pair of lips, worshipping a slab of skin so undeserving of such care. 

Each time your mouth makes contact, your eyes are always on him, asking for permission. Begging for consent. He’s never told you this but it’s the most selfless thing he’s ever experienced. Despite it’s obvious subtly, that look you give each time your mouth can’t help itself or your hands grow a bit too greedy, means more to him than life itself. More than power or revenge. More than freedom. Because that look requires worth. Value. An offering of submission he’s long since memorized. 

Each time it’s given to him, he has to compose himself. Otherwise, he might just shatter entirely —fall to the floor in a hundred tiny pieces not even you may be willing to put in the effort to fix.

Swallowing hard, he has to stare intently at your face, taking in the way you look up at him through your lashes. How you arch your brow just slightly upward, asking for forgiveness. Atoning for your sins in the form of restraint until he eventually nods, hearing your voice. 

You always ask out loud to make sure. An act that only further fuels his desire to feel you wrapped around him. To experience the warmth of your flesh tenderly pressing against the iciness of his. 

“Go ahead, darling,” he tells you, and for once, he means it. Truly. 

Instead of pretending like he wants this for the sake of a game, he accepts you in full. Watching you genuinely grin as you lean up to capture his lips, savouring the taste of his approval. Consuming the sound that absentmindedly passes through his lips as your hand lingers down, drifting past his chest and stomach until you’re pulling away to breathe. 

He can feel his mouth swell with need. The rest of his body following suit as you begin to descend, touching and kissing and biting —putting him through every sensation he’s gifted so many others. 

Leaning up to watch you work, he can see the excitement in your face each time he accidentally twitches beneath you. How the edges of your eyes crinkle with anticipation the moment you find yourself tucked between his legs, looming over him with heavy hands and breaths. 

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him then, and for once it means something. 

“You’re beautiful,” he repeats back, and for once it isn’t a lie. In fact, it’s the most honest he’s ever been, and secretly that scares him. So much so that he has to look down to see if you’re still there. 

Hoping that the sudden sincerity in his voice hasn’t scared you away, he can’t help but focus on the curve of your spine. How it starts low; your chest slightly leaning against one of his inner thighs.

Somehow despite the precarious position, you look perfect. Like a piece of art so carefully made, he can’t help but reach down and touch, revelling in the way you shudder beneath him. Sighing at the sudden desperation that erupts when you pull at the fabric against his waist. 

“Greedy, are we?” he jokes. 

Shooting him an embarrassed look, your hands continue to work his underwear down his legs —ignoring the way they catch at his knees and ankles. “I just really want to make you feel good.” 

The way you speak sends him over the precipice of ruin. Even before you discard the cloth and wrap your hand around the head of his cock, he’s already done for. Lost to the feeling of your digits. Fully enraptured by the heat of your breath as you lean forward and take him between your lips, coating him in spit. He has to close his eyes despite wanting nothing more than to look at you. Feeling the way your cheeks hollow out against him, he can already imagine the expressions of your efforts. All the time and care put in as you stroke him gently, maintaining the slowest pace he’s sure he’s ever experienced. 

It drives him mad with need. Bucking upwards each time your tongue drags across the tip, he instantly feels you push back. With a firm hand, you grip his hip and dig the pads into his flesh as yet another warning, telling him to behave. To just sit back and savour the pleasures he’s deserved rather than rushing through. 

He isn’t used to enjoying this. More often than not feeling like nothing more than a body designated for others enjoyment, he isn’t entirely sure how to properly relish your efforts. Or at least, in a way that doesn’t feel forced. Because he could do what you’re supposed to in this situation: touch you, moan for you, utter sweet nothings in your ear to further spur you on. He could do one of them or all of them, perhaps a mixture of two and still, it wouldn’t be enough to fully showcase the weight that fills his chest each time your mouth bobs up and down. How, as you begin to push him further and further into your mouth until he’s grazing the back of your throat, everything you do feels like the greatest gift he’s ever received. How maddening it is to feel loved like this even when he’s at his most unloveable.

Because that’s what you do to him. With the simplest of touches, you make him feel like him again. Like his mind hasn’t been shattered by the repeated slams of a sinner’s hand. As if his skin, etched by the knife of that same bastard, isn’t scarred. That instead it’s merely just skin. A grouping of muscle and tissue wrapping around his bones —a simple casing of flesh meant to be licked and sucked and pumped for all it’s worth until he’s gasping for air and uncontrollably shaking. 

And sometimes he feels like he’s earned it. During the easy days when he’s able to forget about his past and instead focus on the beauty that’s pressed against his leg, continuing to suck the come from his orgasm, it’s as if he’s on top of the world. Standing on a pillar of his past self’s hopes and dreams, he can easily look down at you with pride. Reaching down to touch your temple, he can feel the haze of your affections in full. The tremors of your possessive lips slowly slipping off, granting him a slick-coated smile that makes him almost faint. 

During those days he can smile back and pull you up into his chest, ignoring the ache between his thighs in your absence. Opting to hold you close. 

“Was that okay?” he hears you ask, and despite the question seeming almost juvenile, all he does is kiss your face. Starting at your forehead before moving to your nose and cheeks —eventually ending on your lips, he answers the question the only way he can. By showing you that, thanks to the care you foolishly offer, the days really are getting easier.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(tags continued in comments)

[yayakoishii]

can we get some drunk love confessions from sanji?

Sober (Pt. 1) | Sanji x Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre/Tags: Light Angst, Fluff, Insecure Sanji; there's a scene that might feel like dub-con to some but it's consensual from both sides– please read at your own discretion! ♡

A/n: thank you so much for this prompt anon,, I love drunk confessions myself so I was excited to write this!! I wasn't sure if you wanted the reader to be confessing or Sanji, so I decided to make it Sanji this time since I already wrote a fic where reader drunk confessed. I hope you enjoy this ♡

Part 2

also available on ao3!

The shouting on the ship got your attention from where you were playing cards with Usopp. Across the deck, Zoro and Sanji were fighting again. Even in the dark cloak of nighttime, they sure had the energy to fight without missing a beat. You sighed to yourself then decided that it would be better if you went over and distracted Sanji so the fight would end.

Except, before you had even stood up, the screaming stopped and the two were now stomping towards Zoro's stash of sake. You raised an eyebrow as you saw them sit down across each other, still glaring. You hurried over to them after telling Usopp that you'll be back in a while.

"What's going on?" You asked quietly to Nami and Chopper who had been watching over the two.

"They're having a drinking contest," the navigator replied matter-of-factly. Your eyebrows shot up in shock. Why would Sanji challenge Zoro to a drinking challenge of all things? "Zoro challenged him. And of course your lover boy couldn't back down."

"Nami!" You hissed at her, cheeks flushing. "Don't say that so close to him!"

Nami gave you a deadpan look. She still lowered her voice for your sake, "Sanji is dense as fuck. I bet all my money he wouldn't figure out your feelings from such a simple term."

"I'd still rather not risk it," you muttered underneath your breath before turning your attention to the drinking challenge in front of you. The two of them had already managed to down more than half of the first bottle. Illuminated by the lights on the deck, you could see the slight flush starting to rise on Sanji's cheeks.

The blonde chef could hold his liquor well but going against Zoro was probably equivalent to digging his own grave.

"This is not gonna end well," you sighed. "I'll just go finish my card game with Usopp. Are you gonna watch over these two or…?"

"They're paying me to play referee," she shrugged. You rolled your eyes and bit down the smile trying to come up. Chopper announced that he was going to sleep and to call him if something happened. You both waved him goodnight. Giving Nami a thumbs up, you went back to your seat too. Usopp was staring intensely at his own cards. You stared at him for a few seconds.

"You looked at my cards, didn't you?" You said flatly. Usopp's eyes widened and he started denying but gave up when you started shuffling the deck again. "Let's play one short game before turning in for the night."

You could still hear Zoro and Sanji fighting in the background, the noise just incoherent enough that you couldn't quite make out the words. You could tell Sanji was steadily getting more and more drunk as his voice started getting a little higher and shrill as he shouted. Even in the dead of the night, the Thousand Sunny was as lively as ever. The thought made you smile to yourself as you triumphantly showed your card sets to Usopp, finishing the game.

"You're suspiciously good at this," Usopp complained as he started packing up the cards.

"Be happy I didn't bet money on this," you grinned and leaned back in your chair. "You'd be a penniless beggar otherwise."

Usopp muttered something under his breath that you didn't quite catch. The day's exhaustion was starting to catch up and you decided that it was a good time to go to sleep. You had the early morning lookout shift anyway.

"Goodnight," Usopp called out as he left. You tilted your head up and down to acknowledge his words but stayed in your seat for a few more minutes. The shouting had ceased sometime ago and the low murmurs of conversation washed over you like a lullaby.

"(Y/n)!" Nami's shout of your name startled you awake from your half-asleep state.

"What is it?" You asked with a yawn as you made your way over. "Is their match over?"

"I had to stop them cause I don't think either of them plans to stop," she frowned. "I don't know about Zoro but Sanji would definitely die of alcohol poisoning if this goes on."

You laughed for a second but froze when you realised that Sanji was staring intensely at you. It made you self conscious and you automatically carded a hand through your hair to ensure it wasn't sticking out awkwardly.

"You should take him back while I squeeze my money out of Zoro," Nami winked at you and ran after the swordsman who had already wandered off somewhere. She was gone before you had even finished nodding.

"Alright, Sanji, come on," you smiled down at him, holding your hands out so he could stand up with the support. The chef stopped staring at your face and switched to staring at your hands instead. From your angle, you couldn't quite see his full face but the red splotches on his ears and cheeks were enough indication of how drunk he was. You waited for a few seconds. After a few beats of silence, Sanji placed his own cold hands into yours. You immediately covered them, trying to warm them as you pulled him up. The blonde must have been more drunk than you had thought because he lost his footing and nearly crashed into you.

Thankfully, you realised just in time and instead of the two of you falling on the deck, Sanji had crashed into your arms. Chests pressing, now he was the one looking down at you with a half-lidded gaze. The proximity resulted in Sanji's smell enclosing you, and you flushed at how one of his hands had sneaked around your waist in the confusion somehow.

"So beautiful," he whispered. Your heart was thudding faster, almost like it was trying to escape the confines of your ribcage. You nervously laughed it off.

"Alright, you've had too much to drink," you joked and tried to separate but Sanji's grip did not loosen. He always fought with his legs so you tended to forget that his arms were just as strong. Fingers spreading apart, his hand splayed across the small of your back. The cold touch over your shirt made goosebumps rise on your skin but you were distracted by the way Sanji's tongue was lightly grazing over his lips. The soft pink seemed to be shining in the light.

"This must be a dream," he spoke quietly, seemingly more to himself than you. You stayed still, praying that Sanji couldn't hear your crazy heart rate and that he would forget this tomorrow. (Or well, maybe he shouldn't forget this. You didn't know which option was more appealing at the moment.) "You smell divine, my love."

"Y- You too?" You squeaked out in panic, wanting to hide your face but your hands were trapped between your bodies, resting on his shoulders. Sanji laughed at your words– a soft, genuine, relaxed laugh that you didn't often get to hear. It made your embarrassment quell down and your heart felt warm. Sanji wasn't wrong. Something about this whole night seemed to feel hazy and distant, like a dream. He would only say such words and smile like that around you in a dream, right?

"I wish this wasn't a dream," his words sent something cold down your insides. "If only this was real…"

You paused and looked up at him. Pushing your body on the tip of your toes, you leaned into his ear and asked quietly, "What if it wasn't a dream? What would you do?"

You didn't know what had possessed you but it felt like the right thing to do, the only natural question to ask after his previous words.

"So many things I've wanted to do for so long," his words were still quiet, almost like he was afraid to break the tranquillity of the night. You stepped back and Sanji let you this time. His expression seemed broken and his eyes looked glassy.

You had never actually seen Sanji drunk. He had a high tolerance for alcohol and he usually didn't drink much to ensure he could take care of anyone else who was. (He always said it was just for the ladies but you knew he was secretly looking out for everyone even though he wouldn't admit it.) He never really cried in front of you either. The fact that a drunk Sanji was sad and broken was news to you.

"Sanji," you didn't realise you had cupped his cheeks until you had already done it. Something about that desperate look on his face had spiked an intense urge in you to hold him close. "Is everything alright?"

"If this was reality," his voice wavered, unconfident and so unlike the usual him, "you wouldn't look at me like you're doing right now. If this was real, you wouldn't be in my arms right now. You would never love me the way I love you and you would never see me as something beyond a crewmate."

Your breath hitched at the words, fingers accidentally pressing harder into Sanji's jaws. He didn't seem to feel it because a tear slipped down his cheek and onto your hand, the liquid trailing between your touch.

"That's okay," he blinked, a few more droplets falling down or getting stuck in his eyelashes. "As long as I can hold you like this in a dream… that's enough for me. I won't ask more of you if this was real. All that you give me is already more than I deserve. After all, for someone like me… There's no way you would fall for someone like me. And that's okay. Because you deserve someone better. But I'm so selfish. I wish I could keep you all to myself. I wish I could hold you like this in reality, and tell you how much you mean to me. I wish I could make you smile all the time and be a shoulder for you to cry upon on your bad days. I wish I could k- kiss you and tell you over and over… how much I love you."

It felt like a swarm of butterflies had suddenly erupted in your chest. The fluttering feeling was ticklish and you couldn't quite form words and you could only gape at Sanji. He still seemed to believe this was a dream because his other hand cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed against it, gentle and warm, no longer cold after all the proximity in you two. Before you could say anything, he dipped down and captured your lower lip in between his own, gently caressing it with his tongue. The sudden sensation made you erupt in flames, the blush reaching the tips of your extremities.

"S- Sanji," you breathed out shakily when he let your lip go to slip his tongue into your mouth. You wanted this. You had wanted it for so, so long– but not like this. You drew your head away before he could successfully infiltrate the warm, wet cavern of your mouth and instead gave him a flushed smile. His eyes still looked glossy but there was an unmistakable softness in them.

You would normally have told yourself that he was just drunk and didn't mean it. But there was a part of you that knew it wasn't the effect of the alcohol. Sanji was unbearably honest when he was drunk. His true feelings were what's making him sad. Denying them would be both idiotic and disrespectful, but you couldn't accept them either. The words he spoke weren't ones he had decided to say himself. He thought this was a dream.

"Tell me this tomorrow morning," you whispered, pressing a gentle and slightly wet kiss on his cheek. "Tell me you love me when you're sober. Tell it to me, when this is real and no longer a dream. I'll wait for you to tell me when you feel ready for it."

Sanji stared down at you, his eyes starstruck and in an expression of awe. The sight made your heart clench but you told yourself that he will do it. He will tell you his feelings again, when he is in full consciousness. For that, you had to let him go right now.

"And then we'll do everything that we have wanted to do for so long, yeah?"

°•❀•°

All likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! ♡

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Part 2 now available!

[stardancerluv]

A Space Journey

Part One of ???

Summary: Introduction to Tyler and his girl.

Notes/Warnings: I saw Alien Romulus and fell very hard for Tyler. 😍 Wanted to give him a story. Might be a bit of an AU in bits giving him a backstory and fuller future..probably write leading up to the movie & such. 😬Hope I do him justice. 😬Also first time writing scifi..and writing in a future of any kind…so 😬 hope I did good.

18 & over. Consensual sex between and man and woman. Angst. (It wrote itself..a bit long!

❤️s, reblogs, comments, & feedback always welcome! Enjoy

The elevator whispered its way up from the depths of the mine to the top level. Some stared blindly ahead or in front of them, you chose some indiscernible place, not really seeing it. Your imagination conjured up happier moments from the past.

Behind you in one of the shadowy corners, the yellow bird in the cage chirped and fluttered its wings. Happy to be out of those large caverns. It was a good day. No leaving work prematurely. You would get your full credits for the day.

Stepping, out of the elevator you saw your boots were caked with the usual soot and mud. A cold, heavy rain dropped from the heavy clouds. It was not long before the rain seeped under the many layers of your clothes.

Tiredness, wore you down as you walked. Your body ached. You knew there were liberal smudges on your face, your hair was matted and oily under the hood you pulled more around your face.

You had not taken a decent shower in a few days since you knew you’d be pulling extra shifts back to back and since your boyfriend was off world till the end of the week. You just rolled in and out of bed and went and returned from work.

With all the soot flying around you squinted and paused when you saw the red neon sign, Bar. You pressed your lips together. You could go for a cold one, but you knew how rough the crowd could be at times. Without Tyler by your side you really didn’t want to venture in.

You decided to keep on going, pulling your hood tighter around you, wishing you could hide completely. A grumble gurgled from your stomach as it twisted in hunger. You would stop at the mess hall and grab some food before turning in at your sleep bunk.

Before, you realized what was happening you were tugged harshly into one of the nearby alleyways. Fear shot through you. You immediately started fighting. It was a regular occurrence people would get beat up, mugged or worse. People lost it out here on the mining planets, at least that was what your parents had always said.

“Shh, shhh. It’s easier when you don’t fight.” The voice whispered, as one hand had already slipped under the top layers of your clothes and now crept across your torso.

Only a thin, very worn scrap of fabric laid between you and the hand. Your hunger turned to nausea as you could feel the warmth from it. It was all you needed to fight even harder. You finally managed to stomp down on one of their feet.

“Oooooouch!” The voice called out and instantly let you go.

You turned around, your heart beating harder since you knew the voice.

“Tyler!” You scream and slapped his arm.

A large smile spread across his handsome face before he howled with laughter. Easily, he pulled you close and this time you wrapped your arms around him. Happily, you pressed yourself even closer against him.

“My strong, feisty girl.” He said breathless against the top of your head.

Easily, you forgot the wind or the rain pelting the two of you.

“You weren’t supposed be back for three days.” You managed to mumble out against his heavy clothes. Your body beginning to relax knowing you were now safe.

“We did good. Found more then expected and came back.”

You blinked up at him. “Really?”

“Yes.” He nodded, he was so soft and warm. “Let me take you home.”

*******

He took your hand as you walked up the steep steps into the hauler he shared with the others. You couldn’t help but notice no one was there.

“Bjorn and Navarro, left in a blink to get their drink and dance on. And Kay barely told me she was going out, when I heard the door shut.”

Leaning against the wall, you were relieved to be out of the soot cloaked air. You pulled and tugged, till you were free of your heavy boots. Once in your heavy socks, you were relieved the boots had kept your socks dry.

“Can’t blame them these last three weeks had felt long despite coming home a week early. I’m sure.”

You said with a fleeting smile. After you pulled off your gloves, you began working on the buttons of your heavy coat. Seeing, two of the buttons had been undone by him you glanced at him.

He winked. “What? I missed the feel of my girl.” You didn’t know how he could look cocky and sheepish at once but he did.

His cheekiness always made your heart flutter. In the few books, you managed to get your hands you figured you shared that with the girls of the past long gone.

“To be fair, I scrubbed up as fast as I could and headed out to find you.” He scratched at the back of his head. “Was going to check at the mine and the sleeping bunks.”

His mouth twisted at the last bit. You went over and gently tugged on his shirt. “I only do it when you’re not around, I’m cautious.”

“That’s what worries me.” He looked down at you and smiled, softly.

You could swim and lose yourself in his dark eyes, as the two of you looked unwavering at each other. No words were needed as the emotions welled up at his return. You swallowed. There was always chance he’d crash during reentry. Heck could during take off too, but Navarro was a pretty good pilot so you didn’t worry too much about take off.

He rubbed your arms. “Why don’t you go and wash up and I’ll make us something to eat.”

“Alright. Just don’t burn it this time.”

“Don’t invite me into the shower cubicle and I won’t.”

“I did that didn’t I?”

He smirked. “You certainly did.”

“Alright. Maybe this time I will behave myself.” You giggled.

******

The water from the shower head fell on you with a good pressure. Since Tyler and the others were known as pretty scavengers the company allowed them some nicer things. Water pressure and rations were among them.

You stood there not worried that the warm water would run out too fast. You just let it melt the cold from the mine and outside that remained in you. The water around your feet obscured with the soot that had clung to you, your hair.

Stretching, you sighed as the crisp scent of his soap comforted you. Turning the knobs, you finally stepped from the shower onto the rough mat which had become a welcome feel under foot as opposed to the cold tile in mass shower rooms.

You smiled, seeing that Tyler had hung up a fresh shirt and the pair of cotton pants, you usually stole when you stayed there. They had shrank in one of the laundry services so they fit you better. Seeing the bundle of yours gone, you knew he must have taken them to put into cleaning cycle.

After slipping on the fresh clothes you reached up and grabbed his towel, it was still faintly wet from his using it earlier. The thought made you smile as you rubbed your hair with it.

*******

You gently slumped against Tyler’s side. Reaching, you placed your fork with a clank on the plate in front of you, only some cornbread crumbs remained.

“You did it. You made a half way decent meal which you didn’t burn.” You said with a half smile on your face.

“Well, I got to do good by my girl.”

******

His sheets were softer, his pillows fuller and they smelled liked him. His bed, softer then the bunks easily gave under the weight of the two of you.

He was partially on you, your arms around him. His hair soft, as your fingers entwined in the inky strands. Your lips had met and not wanted to part. They were much softer now, then a few month intervals after discovering that softening ointment. It beat away the chapping the wind whipping at your faces did and made the kisses all the more enjoyable. They were far sweeter then any candy you could save up for with your credits.

Pausing, as you felt his hand slipping under the hem shirt you wore; you excitedly letting your fingers leave the softness of his hair pulled up on the shirt and more of yourself was revealed to him. You happily tossed it without worry. His room was always clean and fresh, once he had peaked into his cousin’s room and they couldn’t be anymore opposite.

It puzzled you that Navarro could even tolerate it. But then again the two of you were also very different.

You were soft compared to his toned torso. It excited you and made you feel safe. You had seen him handle himself more then one time at the Bar. Whether defending your honor, his sisters or some stupid fight by the tempers flairing.

Opening, yourself you did so with a warmth and love that you would never allow the company steal away from you.

His lips, grazed your cheeks as he drew close to ear to whisper soft words only spoke between the two of you. Never to be shared.

“Are you well, is now a good time?” You could practically feel his heart thudding in his chest.

You nodded.

The first time or at least the aftermath of it had been right on the cusp of your cycle. Your excitement of him reciprocating your feelings and sharing first touches, kisses had stolen your body’s cues to its soon arrival. When the two of you had awoken the next day, worry had clouded your mind, believing it had ruined any chance of continuing things. But he had been kind, warm not just the cheeky guy who had made your heart squeeze with a wink or a smirk.

“I could barely focus these last three weeks, all I could think about was this. I needed to fuck, my sweet girl, remind her who I am after being off world for so long.”

The contrast to his sweet nature and razor sharp lust, made you moan and make your desire sharpen for him.

“I’m all yours.”

A soft moan broke from your lips and his, as he entered you. You arched against him, you had craved him as well. It had been hard to not answer any of the wanton calls from your body in his absence. Together you found your rhythms and moved. Your breathless moans became louder, sharper the closer you drew to cumming hard under him. You always felt so wonderfully wilted liked the dried flowers people once would keep in those books you had read from that had spoken of love and dreams.

Clutching him hard, your fingers gently pulling on his soft strands you arched against him once again. Your body tightening with pleasure he was giving you. Before you could hold it; it all shattered into moon dust. You softened and wilted under him. He was and would only be the only one to ever make you feel like this.

You met his hungry kisses, whimpering at the well placed love bites, he loved leaving. You felt how his body tightened above you. His deep, pleasure filled moan that filled the small room, you knew he had felt what you had. You relished making him feel just as good. His breath hot as he panted, a soft peppering of kisses as he rested his forehead against yours.

*******

“Hey! Where are you going?”

You had thought you could safely grab your discarded shirt from earlier and curl back up to his side before he even noticed. But that wasn’t the case.

One of his strong arms wrapped around you and held you tightly against him. You turned easily in it to face him. “Was just grabbing my shirt. I had taken a small chill.”

“You’ve got me.” And soon he pulled the blanket and himself closer around you. You were enveloped by him, almost completely.

You pretended to think about it. “This is so much better.”

“It had better be.” And he gave you a quick kiss.

The rain streaked down his window. The brightness of the fluorescent lights that lined the roads of the colony were muted from where he was.

“How long do I have you this time?” You whispered after a few beats of your heart.

“Long enough.”

You wanted to reply with the snappy answer that it never was but you learned this, right now was long enough. Every moment the two of you were together was.

A commotion, peels of laughter and a door slamming shut; drifted through his closed door.

“They’re home.”

You could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Hey, hey you’re here lady. Missed you! We need to catch up and have some girl talk in the morning!”

“If she’s awake.” Tyler called back.

“Hey! I wasn’t talking to you.”

You giggled against his chest. “Sure! Sounds like a plan.” You finally called back.

“Great.” She called, her voice further away and then you could hear the one creak in the floor that you knew meant she was now by her own room.

“Here we go.” Tyler whispered.

As the exaggerated laughter came closer flowed by a thud as either Bjorn or Navarro bumped his door, by tipsy accident or deliberate. When they had a few drinks one could never be sure.

“Tyler, now you better be treating that girl of yours in there right. No funny business.”

“Hey, hey now.”

There was a smack and a similar oww, must run in the family you mused.

“He used to be a brute my cousin. He had to learn to be nice and charming.”

“He was always charming and nice to me.” You spoke up.

“Good.” His cousin replied.

“See she confirms. He’s been good to her.”

“Do I give him a gold star then?”

“Come on, let them have some peace. I want to get out of these high boots.”

“Now, I like hearing that.”

And there was only muted muffled sounds, if at all.

“Now that the circus passed.”

You giggled and shook your head. “You love them.”

“I do. I do.” He stretched, but still kept an arm around you. He gave your hip a squeeze.

“So you used to be a brut huh?”

“Yes, but you changed things.” He winked.

[americas-ass-writing]

Happy Ending

Steve Rogers x reader

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: some swear words

A/N: For @fluffystevefest last day (it went by so fast)! Thank you for doing this 🥰

I wrote this on my phone so there will probably be mistakes 😅

Devider by @saradika-graphics

Happy endings were something from fairytales. The real life didn't offer this. Steve would know. Every single piece of happiness was taken from him after way too short. His dad, his mom soon after, Bucky (who luckily returned to him), his own life. After trying to reclaim what he could of his life things looked better. He had friends, a found family, a sense of purpose... only for it to be taken far too soon. After the fight with Thanos everyone went their separate ways. Tony quit to be with his family, Natasha went on a lengthy solo mission. Sam and Bucky went on their own adventures after Steve gave the shield to Sam, too tired to continue being cap. Being someone he just isn't anymore. Thor went back to new Asgard. Bruce went to California. Which leaves Steve alone in New York. Alone to pick up the shambles of his and everyone else's life. Alone.

The only social contacts he has are Peter when he needs help with his history homework, the old man from across the hall who bakes too much and gives Steve some sweet treats every sunday and the stray cats in the alley behind the building that he feeds. And theres the people from the therapy group he leads... And of course the people on the street who absolutely seem to hate him and love to let him know.

Do his neighbors to the left that constantly fight so loud he hears every word count? Steve sighs as he hears then fight once more and he isn't strong enough to hold himself back. "Fucking finally break. up! The building is sick and tired of you two fighting! Move out!" He barks against the wall. Against the picture of him and his friends... who kind of broke up. No more avengers... No more found family. Steve blinks at the picture and mutters a sorry before someone bangs on his door. Great! It's probably the asshole from next door.

With another sigh he goes to open the door. The angry gnome from next door stops in his tracks, the red falling from his face faster than his eyes grow the size of dinner plates because of all people it was the ex captain America that just told him to fucking break up. "Uh..." Steve rolls his eyes at the stammering. "Listen, sorry for the profanities but damn I'm so annoyed at your constant fighting. Keep it down or I'll complain to the building manager." He says, his tone serious and the gnome nods as if Steve just gave him an order... Well maybe he did. Steves eyes flutter to the poor girlfriend who stands in the doorframe. She's cute. "You deserve better." Is all he says before he turns around, catches a glimpse of the old man, Stanley, across the hall and closes the door. He lets out another sigh and crawls back onto the couch. Silence at last... At least in his environment..his head is loud as ever as his eyes fall back on the picture of his found family. Maybe he should go visit Tony. Or maybe Clint on the farm? Maybe he could guilt trip them all to see him for his birthday? He purses his lips and is about to text them when there's a gentle knock on his door. He swears if it's that gnome again he'll punch him into the next century.

As Steve opens the door he's met with the most beautiful woman he's every seen. His eyes grow wider and his mouth opens slightly. "H...Hi! You don't know me, I just moved in on the other side of the loud apartment... I just uh... Thank you for making them shut up?" You give him and unsure smile and all he can do is nod and stare. Which makes you nervous. "I uh... I had the night shift and I should sleep but they were so loud I couldn't. I already knocked against the wall but that didn't stop them. So thank you again!" You ramble on, nervously wringing your hands. Something makes Steve snap out of it. "Oh! No problem... They annoy me a lot too, although I don't have... work..." He offers awkwardly and then he holds out his hand. "I'm Steve" you smile softly at that and put your hand in his, offering your name. He softly shakes it and maybe holds it for a bit too long, not that any of you care.

"I should let you get back to sleep. Night shift sounds awful. Exhausting job?" He asks with an easy smile. "Sometimes? It's just exhausting when you have the night shift immediately after your move to scream town" he chuckles at your joke, which makes your insides release thousands of butterflies. "Yeah I think the building manager makes them leave for showings. They didn't scream for mine or for Stan's showing" he points to the door across from him and you immediately know that that must be where Stan lives. "They probably do or they'd have an empty floor" you joke and there's another sweet chuckle. "I uh... Thanks again, I'll leave you to it." You say before he can answer and give him a sweet smile and a small wave before heading back to your apartment. Steves heart flutters as he watches you leave. Did screaming at the gnome just introduce him to the sweetest human alive? He closes his door after you've entered your apartment. With a new pep in his step he goes to his phone and reaches out to his friends.

It's just a couple of days later when you knock on his door again. He's surprised to see you but oh so happy. "Hey sorry if I'm disturbing you" he smiles and shakes his head, urging you to go on. "I... That'll sound like I'm a creep but I uh... I saw you feed the strays and I wanted to bring you some food for them." You hold up the bag of food and Steve smiles sweetly. "Yeah... I started feeding them when I moved in. Can't have 3 cats though and I can't just take one. Would be a shame to separate them" he says as he takes the bag from you and thanks you sweetly. "Yeah it would be... They're so cute though" you gush and he smiles even more. "Hey uh... Wanna come in? Stan made too much cake and gave me like half of it... We could share?" You immediately nod and give him a shy smile. "I'd love that" Steve beams at that and let's you in. As you sit down he gets some tea for the both of you and gives you some cake.

One slice of cake turned into two. That turned into dinner and dinner turned into the two of you kissing on his couch. Kissing on his couch turned into a beautiful relationship filled with love and laughter. Steve has never been happier and he vowed to the universe to give everything in his power to not lose you. And whoever in the universe listened fulfilled his wish. A short engagement led to a beautiful outdoor wedding on Tony's property with everyone from his found family showing up. The two of you bought a house and moved in together with the 3 strays that you just couldn't leave behind. And your little family soon grew to a family of 7 when you got pregnant with twins.

Steve has never been prouder to carry a title then the title of daddy. Little chubby hands around his finger, big eyes taking in the wonder of the world and your beautiful smile as you're watching him with your little ones.

If Steve would have to describe a happy ending it would be this. You, his little ones and the 3 cats.

[saphiccarma]

You drew stars around my scars

Summary - You used to selfharm and despite being clean for a while now, the scars from it still affect you.

Words: 1.6K

Warnings: Smut (although it's not very good), mentions of SH, SH scars.

A/N - just a little drabble I wrote cuz I was bored. It's not very good tho.

Natasha had been your girlfriend for just under a year. Over that year the two of you had several make out sessions, going as far as to remove each others shirts, but it had never gone further than that. You hadn't allowed it. Deep down you knew she wanted to take it further, to take that extra step but there was this nagging voice in the back of your head. A voice that said she would find you disgusting, find all the crisscrossed scars that lined your legs horrid.

You had stopped cutting yourself a while ago, but it still haunted you to this day. Natasha had assured you to take your time, she wouldn't judge you for it, but you couldn't shake the lingering feeling of shame. And despite your fear, you wanted to go further, to have that pleasure with her.

Kicking your legs against the couch, you sat next to Natasha. She had her laptop in her lap, blue light classes adoring her face, and red curls framing them. She looked adorable. Not that she would admit it - The Black Widow couldn't be adorable. But this was a soft side that rarely anyone saw. The side that ordered in pizza because she couldn't cook. The Natasha that reads books to your when you were unable to sleep. This was her soft and gentle side, a side that you adored.

You leaned your head on her shoulder, nestling into the crook of her neck as the television played in the background. She turned her head to place a chaste kiss onto your hair before returning to her typing. Feeling a tad bit cheeky, and not that you were willing to admit it, needy, you placed an open-mouthed kiss on her neck. Her breath hitched ever so slightly, just the tiniest pause in her typing before she resumed. A large part of you enjoyed her reaction, placing another kiss on her neck and sucking.

Her fingers paused completely as she froze. You licked the spot on her neck that you had just kissed, a sly smile spreading across your face once you finished. Before you could process it, your back was pressed into the couch with Natasha straddling you. Her lips attacked yours. As always, she tasted of strawberries as her tongue pushed itself into your mouth. You didn't even try and fight it as Natasha took control. It was a clash of teeth and tongue. Her tongue explored the inside of your mouth. You whined when she pulled apart, a small smirk on her face.

"Is someone needy?" she cooed; her tone filled with faux sympathy when you knew she wasn't at all sorry. That was all you got before she started attacking your neck. Her lips pressed kisses down the column of your throat, drawing soft, breathy moans out of you. Your hands fisted her shirt as her soft lips worked their way down.

Gentle teeth bit slightly into your skin, just a tiny prick of pain, not that you noticed. Then her mouth was moving down to your collarbone, feverish kisses pressed on every inch of skin. The warmth of her mouth made your skin vulnerable to the cold air and you shivered slightly.

She snipped and sucked and kissed your neck, collarbone, shoulders, her touch rough, but caring. Her fingers, deft as always, slipped under your shirt. She took hold of your nipples, twisting and pinching. Her ministrations, combined with her soft lips, drew more breathy moans from your lips as you fisted her shirt. One of her hands tugged on yours, trying to bring it above your head.

You obeyed, leaning up so she could slip your top off. A large smirk coated her face when she took in your breasts, devoid of a bra. You barely had time to pause before she was kissing along your chest. The session progressed quickly after that and before you knew it, she had shimmied down to rest on your shins with her mouth right above the waistband of your pants. Natasha paused, staring up at you carefully.

"Can I take these off?" she asked softly, her voice filled with concern. The tips of her fingers dipped below your waistband and just that shot panic through your veins. You shot up from your lying position, moving away from her. You shook your head, hair brushing against the tips of your eyes. Despite the fact that she looked the slightest bit disappointed, Natasha offered you a small smile.

She lifted her arm up for you to snuggle underneath, and without bothering to put your shirt back on, you curled up next to her.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. Shame ran hot through you as your cheeks heated and not from the passionate kissing that had just happened.

Natasha kissed your hair, "Don't be," she murmured, "Take your time."

You knew that Natasha was willing to wait, she would wait as long as you needed. That didn't stop the voices that told you she would never want you if you couldn't take it that step further. You curled your hands into your pants, trying to shove down a heavy feeling that had settled onto your chest.

^_______________^

You had some time to think after that instance. You loved Natasha so much. She knew that - you knew that. But you wanted to show it to her in the special way that was sex. The only thing stopping you was yourself. Looking down as the warm water from the shower dripped down, you saw the scars littering your upper thighs. Natasha had your own scars, but that did little to soothe the anxiety you had. Hers were given through hardships, through other people who had hurt her. For you, you did it yourself. It was different.

You shut the water off, stepping out and wrapping a soft towel around yourself. You stepped out of the bathroom to see Natasha sitting on the bed, a book in her hands and glasses framing her eyes. She looked beautiful. Her red hair was let down, loose curls falling around her glasses. Green eyes scanned the pages and her she bit down on her lower lip.

You must have been staring because Natasha glanced up, "Take a picture," she teased.

A fiery blush heated your cheeks. Taking a few timid steps forward you sat on the edge of bed, right next to her. Natasha seemed confused, but it was erased from her face when you crashed your lips onto hers. Hands that were previously holding the towel up, were dropped to tangle into Natasha's hair and pull her closer. It allowed the towel to fall, just barely covering your private parts and legs. Just as you were about to deepen the kiss, Natahsa pulled away.

"Baby, you're not dressed," she glanced down not so subtly. Her hands rested gently on your shoulders to hold you back, a bittersweet smile on her face.

Courage surged through you, fed up with your own insecurities, "So?"

"Are you sure?" green eyes scanned up and down, looking you over with tender care. You nodded firmly.

With that Natasha dove back in for a kiss, her lips attaching to yours. She flipped you around, pinning your back to the bed. Somehow the towel came with your, still wrapped around your legs. She pressed open mouthed kisses down, down, down. Not wasting any time, not even on your breasts as she often did, Natasha reached your hips. Her hands gently tugged on the towel, eyes searching for permission. You nodded and she pulled it down to reveal your legs.

Trepidation filled you as Natasha stared at your scars. Softly, her fingers traced the raised, white lines. Her brows here furrowed and her lips set into a small frown. Just as you were about to say something, maybe even pull away, Natasha looked up at you with a slight shimmer in her eyes.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, placing a soft kiss onto your thighs, "So beautiful. Let me show you how beautiful you are."

A shaky breath escaped you as she leaned down. Perfect lips kissed the insides of your thighs, heat filling your core. Her lips worked their way up, still not quite touching the spot you wanted her most. Whining, you tugged on her hair, trying to pull her closer. A small chuckle escaped her as Natasha glanced up at you once more. Then, without warning, her lips attached themselves to your clit. They sucked and her tongue flicked out a few times.

Pleasure was running through you as you threw your head back, eyes squeezing shut. A soft finger prodded at you, inching it's way in slowly. Lewd moans escaped you when Natasha started pumping in and out, her lips still attached to your clit. With her fingers pumping in and out and her ministrations on your clit, you felt a pressure building in your stomach. The coil was tight and hot, ready to burst at any moment. Natasha inserted a second finger as you moaned her name, her pace increasing.

"Just let go for me baby," she said softly against your core.

You tugged harshly on her hair and felt that pressure inside you so close to snapping. All it took was a final flick of her tongue on your clit and you came undone. The tight knot in your stomach snapped as you came, pleasure filling your body. Natasha pulled away, your cum shimmering around her lips as she licked it away. She lay down next to you, her arms pulling you close.

Her smile was filled with pride, "You're so beautiful. So, so beautiful."

[on-a-lucky-tide]

HELLO!

Thought of asking you bc I ADORE your writing, the way you write the NikPrice ship is by far my fav, I would've wrote it myself but I love your way of writing more heh.

BUT price, having a nightmare or ptsd attack at night, but not waking nik up nor does he wake up. Prob just stirred a bit. But he doesn't end up telling him, cause hes a big strong boy he doesn't want to show nik how vulnerable he really is. But nik notices how tense he is during the day, which ofc worries him. Que the emotional conversation maybe a cry and long hug :3

If you haven't written something like this anyway! Also ty for the follow made me giggle and die a bit inside from happiness <3

Thank you for this prompt and your fic is below, but! Please write. Write your heart out, bud. No one can write like you do and the world is richer for having your art in it. So please. Write this too. Even if just for yourself.

Price spent three years in a Gulag. That leaves a mark.

cw: PTSD, nightmares, mention of torture, dissociation, depersonalisation, shameless canon blending.

"Prisoner 627, confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-5-1-2-1-0."

A rib cracked. He spat blood onto the table next to the file. The ropes around his wrists tightened.

"Prisoner 627, confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-5-"

He bit through his bottom lip when the fist landed. Someone stepped forward to intervene. You don't break their faces because then they can't talk. Interrogation 101. He coughed. More blood, and they yanked him upright by the hair.

"Svyazat yego."

The chair clattered to the floor as he was pulled from it. The ropes cut only for his hands to be chained above his head. The same knife sliced his shirt off, the rags falling around his shoulders. Metal tools rattled to his left, the embers from the nearby fire stirred by an iron.

"Last chance, prisoner 627," his interrogator held the list of names in front of his face. He recognised five of them. He had attended the wedding of one, "confirm which names on this list are undercover operatives."

"Price, Jonathan, Cap--"

His voice broke as pain tore through his back.

Price woke tangled in damp sheets, his body paralysed. The scream couldn't even rip out of his throat because his lungs needed air to make noise. Through sheer force of will, he drew his first shuddering breath, pulling himself back from the precipice.

See: digital clock. 04:30.

Taste: dry mouth. Need a drink.

Feel: hot, no; cold... both? Damp sheets.

Hear: breathing, not mine.

Price sat up slowly, forcing movement through his limbs like he was prying them from manacles. The next breath was easier. Burned less. He dropped his face into his palm and shivered in the cold. Feel: cold, he updated on his mental map.

Breathing, not mine. Price looked over his shoulder to the sleeping face of his lover. Half nuzzled into the pillows, his black hair splashed over crisp white cotton, Nikolai was serene. A small mercy.

All the manuals would tell you about wounded soldiers waking screaming and begging in the night, perhaps wetting themselves in terror at the ghosts haunting the inside of their skull. They warned against storing weapons nearby, of sleeping in the same bed as your loved ones in case you lashed out. There was a laundry list of suggested therapies and interventions too.

Sometimes, Price wished he woke screaming, because at least then he would know he was alive. His throat and lungs would burn as he roared, his hands would flail and he would be left panting, raw, but fighting. Alive. Now, in the numb silence, he wasn't sure.

He touched his cold wrist with cold fingers and just felt... cold. Like an absence of something. Prisoner 627. No name, no identity; a nothingness stored in a castle with hundreds of other voids where people should have been. Everything human about them stolen away until just the cold and the pain remained.

Price stumbled from the bed, his legs barely working as he groped his way out of his bedroom. He had to sleep with the doors open these days, even on base. Even if it was just a crack, a sliver, he still needed to be able to lift his head and see an escape. A beyond the little box room of his quarters. Not imprisoned, not restrained.

His feet registered the change from carpet to tile as he navigated his way down the hall to his flat's little kitchenette. Lit by the full moon streaming in through the balcony door, Price managed to fill the kettle and set it to boil.

There was a small blue light inside - one of those modern glass varieties that showed all the bloody limescale on the inside - and it illuminated Price's face against the black laminate of the back splash behind the hob. Price stared at the phantom image, blue and featureless, and saw nothing of himself.

He remembered being rescued, watching the castle fall to the joint task force attacking it, but when you spent three years bleeding in a place, did all of you really ever get to leave? When they spent those three years chipping away at you, breaking parts off, what was left to bring back at all?

As he stared at the ghostly blue outline of his own face, he felt a disconnect. A hollowness where that familiarity with self should be. Lost in the cold and the dark. Prisoner 627.

The kettle clicked loudly in the silence and he startled. His heart beat hard against his rib cage, felt like a distant echo, and he drew another deep sigh. Numb fingers pawed at the cupboards and he found his Liverpool FC mug, the one his sister had got him for his birthday while he'd still been in training at Sandhurst. There was a chip missing out the rim, dark stains and scrapes in the ceramic at the bottom that would never wash out; evidence of hundreds of cups drunk, a small shard of a life lived. An anchor to himself.

As he poured the water over the tea bag and dumped four teaspoons of sugar in, Price fluttered his fingers through the steam, rubbing his thumb through the dampness it left on the tips and letting the sensation crackle through his nerves. He drew another breath and muttered, "Price, Jonathan, Captain..." Prisoner 627.

He cupped both hands around the mug and carried it slowly, stumbling, towards the balcony window. The sky wasn't quite dark anymore, but a fuzzy, ashen grey. His eyes turned east. And he waited.

Waited...

Unmoving. Frozen in place. Like the cold had taken root and turned him to stone. The only things that kept him anchored were the cooling mug of tea clasped between two hands and the yellow light bleeding over the rooftops of the Clydeside.

The sun chased the dark away across the sky, bleeding an ombre of fire into the midnight black. With the sun came the heat. He couldn't feel it though. One hand left the mug, alive with warmth, and played in the dust motes illuminated by the morning light. They whirled around his fingers in white spirals, untouchable light.

He turned the key in the balcony doors and staggered outside, thrusting his arm into the dappled orange light passing through his neighbours fluttering laundry. "Price, Jonathan, Captain, 9-0-" he leaned over, and--

"John!"

Nikolai's hand wrapped his elbow, pure, scorching heat and strength, and it knocked the breath from Price's lungs. He nearly dropped his mug, but Nik caught that too, scooping beneath it as he drew Price to him in a bear hug.

His ear fell against Nik's chest, listening to his heart thundering on the inside. Ba-dm-ba-dm. Price's hand lifted and buried itself in dark chest hair, feeling it run between his fingers, soft, warm. The sensation rolled through him, cracking away the ice, and he turned his face into it with a shivering gasp.

Alive.

I'm alive.

The mug clattered on the glass surface of the little balcony table they had smoked at only the night before, Price lost in his thoughts while Nikolai had watched him pensively from the other chair. Both big hands now free, one stroked up his back to grasp his neck, and he shuddered again.

Nik looked terrified, his usually calm eyes blown wide, glistening. "You nearly fell," Nik said, so softly, and yet so clear. So real. Price touched his lips, relaxing into his hold.

"Was fine, Nik. Just got a bit carried away with the sunrise."

Nik glanced at the rooftops, his brows knitted together. "It is... pretty, but better viewed from inside, hm?"

"Yeah, s'pretty chilly out here, ain't it?"

Nik hesitated before he let go and Price missed the warmth of his arms immediately. He followed inside, let Nik pull him onto the sofa and drag one of the big fleece blankets over them. The heat of his body as it closed around Price's burned with intensity and a stuttering gasp broke out of his throat. Nik only held him tighter.

Every moment he laid there, wrapped in the bed warm scent, a piece of Jonathan Price thawed. From the tips of his toes to the cheek pressed to Nik's chest, warmth and feeling returned, bringing with it a sense of reality and connection to the world. To himself.

"Why were you on the balcony, John?" Nik asked. Price got a sense that he was afraid of the answer, and wasn't entirely convinced he would be given the truth anyway.

"In Petrovpavlosk, my cell faced east," Price said. "Would watch the sun rise every morning. It was like... No matter what they did, no matter what they broke away, if I could feel the sun on my skin, then I was still alive. Still me. Not just a dead man walkin'."

Nik sighed, burying his face in Price's hair for a few deep breaths. "You thought you were there again?"

"Dunno if I ever really left, Nik."

They held each other in silence as the light continued to creep into the flat, illuminating the empty bottles of beer they had left on the coffee table to clear up. "I sensed these past weeks you have been struggling, I know the anniversary of your escape is soon, and I feared you were..."

"That I was gonna throw myself off an' give Beryl a fright."

"John, do not joke about these things..."

"'m sorry, I... I wasn't gonna do it, Nik. Swear to you. I..." he struggled upright a little and Nik let him go reluctantly, "I struggle in the cold. The winter is... I dunno... it's like the cold makes me think I'm still there. That I never got out. That this," he glanced around the flat, his voice cracking as he spoke, "is just some dream my mind made up to escape to. I... I didn't know whether I was real, whether I was me... or... I didn't... Nik, I didn't know whether I was even alive, I..."

Nik's fingernails raked through his beard and he leaned into it. Felt them graze gently over the soft skin beneath his ear, and then into his hairline to draw him down. He yielded to the kiss, mouth opening desperately to let Nik in; he pawed at Nik's chest, stealing stuttering gasps as their tongues worked together.

He didn't notice the tears until he pulled back and one dripped from his chin to Nik's chest. "You are here, solnyshko. Right here, with me," Nik whispered. "Captain Jonathan Price, serial number 9-0-5-1-2-1-0," Nik took the hand on his chest and placed a kiss to the knuckles, "Bravo Six, you are home."

Price crumpled into Nik's arms and his shoulders shuddered as he sobbed. No longer mute, no longer cold, no longer frozen out of his own fucking body, the raw pain of it sunk its claws in, overwhelming and savage.

Nik's hands stroked down Price's back to the burn scars at the base; an uneven, mottled pattern that stretched over his right hip. The sensation was sporadic, some sensitive, some numb, but the muscles underneath still seized with pain. Nik placed his warm palm over them, chasing away the last shadow of Petrovpavlosk hanging over him.

As the morning ticked over and the rest of the block woke up, Nik dragged Price back to the kitchen and pushed a pan into his hands. He stood behind him, huge body looming as a bulwark, chin on Price's head, hands caressing his belly and chest, as the eggs cooked.

Home, Price's mind offered weakly, battered and bruised from its fight with the cold. Home.

[reiderwriter]

Baby, If You Only Knew

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female Reader

Part Two of this fic, inspired by Taylor Swift's I Can See You

Summary: On the edge of a break, you and Spencer find ways to claim each other that get everyone's attention.

Warnings: Day 17 of Kinktober - make-up sex, possessive Spencer, marking, biting, love bites/ hickeys, penetrative sex, creampie, breeding kink.

A/N: Day 17 is finally here! I once again wrote this on my phone, but at least it was my nice, new, functioning phone. I hope you like it!

Sneaking back out of the closet wasn't easy when you were so pissed at Spencer. He wasn't able to control his impulses, and now it was your problem. So yes, it was hard to storm out of a closet in the middle of an argument without drawing the attention of all your team members. 

They each sent you strange looks as you walked back to your temporary desk and finished up your work, not talking to anyone until the days work had ended and you could escape back to your motel room for some much needed peace. 

Spencer didn't feel so strongly about your need to be alone. Catching a hand around the door before you shut it, he let himself in and closed it behind himself as you hugged and threw your bags down. 

"I don't want to fight again, Spencer, I'm tired."

"Then don't fight, but you need to listen." 

"Oh, do I? Couldn't imagine what else I'll be able to do in my room when you pushed your way in here." 

"Don't be unreasonable." He said wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you up into him once again.

"You know, for someone whose such a stickler for our no public dating rule, you sure have been risky today. Pushing me into that closet, following me into my private room." Your words were angry, but they were softened by the feeling of him against you. 

"I told you, if they were good at their jobs they'd have realised how I feel about you by now." 

"Sometimes people need words, Spencer to make things very clear," his head fell to your neck then, inhaling your scent before pressing his lips lightly against your skin. 

"What people would that be? You? Detective Dreamy?" He pressed another kiss to your skin, distracting you momentarily. Your next words came out in a stutter, and you almost cursed how weak you were being now. 

"That's not fair and you know it." 

"Let's test that theory, shall we?" He bit down on your neck then, lifting your legs and wrapping them around his centre as he began rubbing up against your core, head not lifting from the spot on your neck he'd evidently taken a liking to. 

"Spencer, fuck.." Your moans were breathy, held back by your anger and the knowledge that you were surrounded on both sides by FBI agents trying to get some sleep. 

"So pretty for me, just a little longer, I swear." You had no clue what he was talking about, and you weren't sure you cared, letting him suck and kiss and lick in anyway he wanted, just as long as he didn't stop. You could feel his dick in his pants, could feel it poking up against you as his hips shifted up and down, trying to give the both of you some release. 

He pulled away sharply after a few minutes, grinning boastfully at the blooming mark on your neck. 

"There," he said, wiping his lips carefully, setting you back down. "Is that enough of a public announcement for you?" You clapped a hand over your neck and ran to the bathroom to check your suspicions. 

Sure enough, there was a ferocious red mark that you were sure would swiftly discolour to purple. 

"Get out. Now, Spencer." He didn't stick around for long after that, evidently just as angry as you, but wearing that stupid smug look on his face still. He left you alone in your room and you wanted to scream and cry and make him come back and finish. 

You climbed into bed and let sleep take you. 

The next morning, you searched long and hard for an item of clothing that would cover his territorial marking. But your go bag had limited items in it, a fact that he'd known and exploited, placing the mark just high enough to poke over all the tops you out on. 

If he was going to play petty, you would, too. Pulling out your lowest cut top, you wrapped your hair up into a bun and decided to forego makeup entirely. He wanted the world to see what he'd done, and you were going to let them. 

Just as you'd suspected, Spencer's plan didn't work as he'd hoped. Instead of the team settling quietly and connecting the dots between the two of you quietly, they were almost more curious about what had happened. 

"Wooo, mama, getting up too close and personal with the locals are we? Good for you." Morgan had cheered at you S soon as you'd walked into the precinct that morning. 

You had similar, careful questions from JJ and Hotchner as well, and Emily had slapped you on the back and laughed maniacally as she asked you if you'd had a good lay. The best part was Spencer got to watch all of it happen, he got to watch himself get proved wrong right in front of his eyes and his stupid ego wouldn't let him say a word either way. 

You gave him a wink as you sat next to him, ready to continue reading up on files that'd help you nail the criminal. You had a suspect, now you just needed irrefutable evidence and possibly a confession to be able to return home. 

Your local admirer had followed you into the room, however, and you weren't expecting to have such a direct confrontation with the man who'd until this point had been nothing but polite. 

"You know, if you weren't interested, you could've said so in a less slutty way. Now you're parading around this precinct like a cheap whore. Not a good look." He said it so nonchalantly, you didn't even realise he was talking to you at first, only really tuning in when Spencer stiffened up beside you. 

"Excuse me?" You blinked at him again, wondering if you'd truly misheard him. 

"You heard what I said, you look like a who-" 

"Finish your sentence and I promise you, I'll have your badge, gun and pension by the end of the day." Spencer growled the words from your side, forcing the man to meet his eyes. 

"Come on, you're a smart man, Doctor Reid, surely you know what a little slut she's being, trying to play hard to get." You have to grab Spencer by the arm to stop him from reaching over the table and hitting the man. He responds by pulling you into his chest, effectively lifting you from your chair into his lap. 

"My girlfriend is not a whore just because she doesn't want your tiny dick. I'd say that actually makes her quite sensible." Your heart thumps at the confrontation, but choking on the tense atmosphere in the room, you're unable to say anything until Emily bursts into the room, breaking whatever spell had trapped you there in that pissing match. 

"Y/N– oh. We, uh, we need you in interrogation." Spencer grabbed your hips and stood you up, but he didn't let his hands leave you as he held his angry gaze with the detective. Spinning you around he bought your lips down to his, smothering you for a good minute before releasing you to Emily. You stumbled slightly, but made your way over, silently reeling at your boyfriends actions.

It was possessive, and shitty, and territorial, and so goddammit funking arousing. The growl in his voice had sent a spark through you that made you want to press your legs together until it stopped. So when the time comes for you to clock off that night, suspect safely behind bars, you practically skip all the way to your motel room. 

Once again, you found yourself with an alien object in the door, blocking you from closing it completely. This time, it was Spencer's satchel. 

"You trying to shut me out again?" He asks, a small smile grazing his lips.

"That depends, are you going to make me mount you in the office again tomorrow?"

"I was thinking the jet, actually. Join the club, you know?" He dropped his bags by the door and pulled you in for a kiss, letting you moan softly against his skin.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling away and walking you back to the bed until it hit the backs of your legs and you let them buckle beneath you. "He wouldn't have talked to you like that if I hadn't marker you up like that." 

His words were an apology, but the fire in his eyes said he didn't really regret a thing. In fact, you were sure that'd he'd do it all again in an instant, but this time he wouldn't stop short on the violence.

"No, you're not." 

"No, I'm not. He shouldn't have talked to you, but I did enjoy watching him realise whose good little whore you are." You gasp at the words as he pushes you down fully on the bed, lips meeting yours again in a furious clash. 

"Fuck, Spencer," You gasped, as he ripped apart the tights you were wearing, desperate for access to your body. 

"I enjoyed it so much, I think I'm going to do it again. That's what you want, right baby?" He kissed his way down your neck while spreading your neck. It was more gentle than the previous night, more tender, but you knew you'd be waking up just as sore, so what did that matter now. 

Nails digging into your skin as he pushed the tights away from your core, you gasped at the contact, opening your chest and neck up further for him as you reacted to the sensations plaguing your body. 

You moved your hands up to unbutton his shirt, certain that anything he was going to do  you were going to repay tenfold. Undressing became a war between the two of you as you rolled around, mouths still connected, desperate to see each other completely undone first. 

Spencer had the advantage of not caring about how much of a wreck your clothes were, and in almost an instant, you were bare to him.

He kissed up and down your neck, over your breasts and down your stomach, leaving a trail of happy red marks to match his previous artwork. Installing each one took time, but you willingly gave him the freedom to bite, suck and sooth your skin, knowing you'd be on display for him for the rest of your life. He was still trapped inside his boxers, cock sufficiently hard and distracting against your core. When he finally pulled away to admire his work, you took the opportunity to push up, rolling the two of you over so you could grind into his large member as you gave reciprocated his kisses. 

He stoked a soothing hand down your back as you writhed on top of him, leaving a trail of small love bites from collar bone to collar bone, pressing a few higher just so you knew they'd be seen in the morning.

"That's it baby, you belong to me. Let's show everyone." When he decided you'd done enough, he flipped your position again, finally letting his cock free and shoving it into you with little warning, leaving you crying out his name as you finally received what you'd been begging for.

"Yes, Spencer, right there, right fucking there." Your voice was loud, desperate and raspy, like you wanted to hear what a desperate slut you were. He reciprocated in kind, playing into the pleasure of the moment.

"Oh you like that? You like my cock inside of you? Tell me who that pussy belongs to." 

"Spencer! It belongs to you, it belongs to Spencer." His fingers fell to his clit as he pulled his dick out of you for a second. Flipping you over onto all fours, he thrust in again, picking up a rougher pace as you listened to the creak of the bed, the wet slap of his balls against your ass. 

"That's right, my little slut, Y/N. My little slutty girlfriend." His arms wrapped around your torso as he began thrusting like a dog in heat, using your warm wet holes to get off, as a place to dump his load. 

"Gonna fill your fucking pushy so everyone knows who you belong to. Gonna knock you up and keep you filled so you remember, too." He pulled your head up by your hair as he said the words, and in an instant you were Cummings on his cock, screaming his name as he somehow found the energy to increase his speed.

The hand in your hair was the only thing keeping you from collapsing into the bed, your face covered in the tangle of hair and the drool dropping from your open mouth. 

"Did you hear me, Y/N? I'm gonna breed you. You want that?" You loudly moaned another barely coherent 'yes' and then you were away in the clouds, letting your eyes roll back in your head as the first rope of cum shot into you. 

He kept his hips flush with yours as he released into you, loving the feeling of your walls milking him for all he's got. He didn't pull out until he was certain that not a drop would fall out. 

He make a start to move towards the bathroom when the room phone rang, practically jumping off it's receiver. Picking yp the phone, Spencer greeted the reception clerk, knowing you were still such a panting mess, you'd never be able to carry out such a mundane conversation.

But mundane it was not as you watched your boyfriend flush in front of your eyes. 

"We got a noise complaint." He told you shyly, and you greeted him with a fit of giggles, breaking into crying laughter after about 10 seconds of looking at his bewildered face. 

"Where from?" 

"Room 127. It's the one on this side." He said gesturing to the left. That only set you off into more laughter, frustrating him ever so slightly. 

"What? What's so funny?"

"Spencer, that's Morgan's room. I guess if he didn't know from his brilliant profiling skills before he will now."

[angiechia]

"Little Brother"

John joins the gang

No ship intended, just a short random thing i wrote instead of sleeping :P

☆☆☆

Some random day in 1885

The day had been awful for Arthur.

It started with some promise, as Hosea suggested a job robbing a dressmaker in Saint Denis. Arthur agreed without realizing he'd end up running from three huge dogs guarding the lady’s house like loyal bodyguards, ready to bite and tear anyone who got too close. Meanwhile, Hosea was "distracting" the lady—if you could even call it that. It looked more like he was courting her.

After all that, Arthur’s cut was only 10 dollars. Not much, he thought, but he had no choice but to take it. He decided to blow off some steam at a saloon, where some fellow tried to pull a fast one on him and picked a fight. With his ego far too big for a man of just 22, Arthur accepted the challenge, even though the drunk was twice his size.

After getting beaten up, Arthur was in a foul mood. The only thing that might calm him down was a ride out in the open, so that’s what he did.

For some reason, he chose to ride through the Bayou, a place known for its giant gators and treacherous swamps. Lucky for him, Boadicea was a brave mare—brave against gunfire, hunters, and even ferocious wolves. But gators? They scared the hell out of her, which Arthur learned when a sleeping gator spooked her. She threw him off, sending him tumbling into the mud, and he had to scramble away from the reptile, who had just been trying to get some sleep.

After that, Arthur figured he’d distract himself by picking up a newspaper from a kid selling them in Rhodes. Maybe there’d be something interesting going on. But his heart sank when he read the newlyweds section and saw a name he knew too well.

Mary Gillis had gotten married.

Or rather, Mary Linton now.

He let out a deep sigh and threw the paper in the trash, anger boiling inside him. That’s it, he thought, I’m heading back to camp. I need some sleep.

Luckily, nothing much happened on his ride back to camp. If he was fortunate, he’d get to feast on Pearson’s stew tonight, and Miss Grimshaw would probably make him take a good soak in the nearest river.

When he arrived, he left Boadicea with the other horses and tried to sneak over to his tent, hoping to avoid Hosea, Dutch, Grimshaw, or Pearson. They were always asking favors, and being the youngest in the gang, that burden often fell on him.

“There you are, Mister Morgan!” Miss Grimshaw’s voice called out. He sighed. “I was just about to ask if you could fetch me a—My word! What in the world happened to you?” the woman exclaimed, seeing him covered in mud.

“…I fell” Telling her his horse threw him off seemed a bit embarrassing, right?

“Sure looks like it… Let me see—” She moved in quick to grab his hat, probably planning to clean it up and send him off to wash, but Arthur stepped back, gently pushing her hands away. Nobody touched his hat.

“Whoa there! I reckon I’m just fine, Miss Grimshaw. Just need a little sleep.”

“You smell like you’ve been rollin’ in a cesspool, young man! I ain’t havin’ you stinkin’ up the camp. Get yourself cleaned up, you hear?” Her voice took on a sharper edge, and Arthur rolled his eyes, heading toward the river.

“Just what I needed,” he muttered, tossing his jacket on the ground. Miss Grimshaw snatched it up with a huff, planning to wash it later.

His bath was quick but did the trick, and once he was cleaned up, he headed back to camp.

“Much better, Arthur!” she said with a clap of approval as he walked past her, making him feel a bit sheepish. Once again, he made for his tent, but before he could enter, another voice stopped him.

“Mr. Morgan!” It was Pearson, the camp cook.

Arthur let out another weary sigh and made his way over to the “kitchen,” if you could call it that. “Mr. Pearson,” he greeted, his tone dry.

“I’ve had a hankerin’ for some rabbit lately,” Pearson said as he skillfully chopped vegetables. Dinner was close, the sun sinking fast.

“Rabbit?”

“Yep! Them big ones you find out on the prairies. Think you could hunt me some for tomorrow?”

At least he didn’t need it now. “Sure,” Arthur agreed, giving a nod before turning once more toward his tent. Just as he was about to step inside, he was intercepted by...

“There ya are, Arthur!” Dutch Van Der Linde.

"Now what, Dutch?" Years of trust between them allowed for a more relaxed exchange.

"Son, I heard about Mary..."

"No."

"I know, I know, Arthur. You probably don’t wanna talk about her, but… well, I remember how much you cared."

"Dutch," Arthur grumbled, feeling his face flush with embarrassment.

"What I’m tryin’ to say is there’s plenty of women out there, son, plenty! You can find another."

Arthur got angry, pushing open the tent flaps without stepping inside yet. "Mary’s in the past!" he lied. "It doesn’t hurt 'cause I’m over it, and I don’t want another woman, thank you!" His tone betrayed him.

Arthur entered his tent and let the canvas flaps fall behind him, shutting Dutch out. He ran his hands over his face in frustration, cursing silently while quickly untying the bandana from his neck and shrugging off his suspenders. That’s when he heard something coming from his bed—a snore.

Arthur fumbled around his desk until he found the gas lamp and lit it. As the tent filled with light, his eyes landed on a kid with dark hair sprawled out awkwardly on his bed, uncovered, mouth open, drooling on his pillow with crooked teeth.

"And why in the hell is there a damn kid in my bed?!" Arthur bellowed from inside the tent, waking the boy with a start.

"Ah, that’s John," Dutch replied from outside. "Hosea and I rescued him today; they were gonna hang him."

"Wha... what’s goin' on?" the boy, around twelve years old, mumbled, his face barely masking the confusion as he looked up at the man before him.

"And you gave him my bed?!" Arthur got out from his tent, incredulity etched across his face, while Dutch beamed like he’d done the best deed of the day.

"Well, we didn’t think you’d be back so soon. You took your time."

"Well, here I am. But who’da thought we’d turn into a damn orphanage and start adoptin’ brats?"

"What’d you call me, old man?!" the kid hollered from behind him.

Arthur, surprised, turned slowly to face John, repeating what he’d just heard. "Old man? Old man?! I’m twenty-two!"

"Yeah, twenty-two in each foot. You’re older than a barrel of aged whiskey."

Arthur resisted the urge to pounce on the quick-tongued kid. "Who do you think you are, you little...?"

"But ain't this a heart-warmin’ sight?" Dutch chimed in with a smile. "He’s just like you were when we found you."

"At least I respected my elders," Arthur shot back, glaring at the kid sprawled in his bed. "Outta my bed, now!"

"I ain’t movin’ nowhere, old man!" John retorted.

"Oh, come on, Arthur, the boy’s exhausted. You know what it’s like to be nearly hanged? First, they tighten that noose 'round your neck so hard you can barely breathe, and when they hang you, crack, your neck snaps. Poor little John must’ve been scared outta his wits."

Arthur glanced at the kid again, who now put on a pitiful face, nodding along.

"This is a joke, right?" Arthur said, exasperated.

"You wouldn’t mind sleepin’ under the stars tonight, would ya?" Dutch asked.

Arthur looked at the man, then at the kid, sighed, and said, "Just… don’t touch my stuff," with a stern voice.

"Relax, I won’t touch your junk," little John said innocently as he settled back into bed.

"Little shit..." Arthur muttered under his breath as he walked out of the tent. He looked at Dutch. "He ain’t gonna be in my tent long, is he?"

"Well… you wouldn’t mind sharin’ it, would ya?"

"DUTCH!"

"Oh, quit your whinin’, Arthur! The boy can’t sleep alone. We don’t know if he’ll try to rob us or slit our throats in our sleep."

"And you’re makin’ me watch him?"

"You’re the youngest of the gang, ain’t you? Or, well… you were." Arthur gave him a hard look. "Look on the bright side; it’s like you got yourself a little brother."

[stargirlrchive]

late night talking ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: soon to be dad!jake sully x female!reader, talks of pregnancy and discomfort but its so minimal, literally pure fluff babes i need to carry his babies fr

word count: 718 - short and sweet

syulang (n) - flower

comments: i hate this title w/ a passion, i feel like the vibe does not match? but whtvr, we are pushing through! <3 anyways i was in a silly goofy mood when i wrote this, like yall are gonna see what i mean lol but this can be like a prequel to this other jake fic but can also just be a standalone, kk bye! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Jake woke to the sound of your discomfort, feeling you move around in his arms as you tried to find a comfortable position. The task was proving to be impossible. You let out a long sigh, realizing there was no way you were going to be lulled to sleep again.

“What’s wrong, Syulang?”

Your eyes flew to your mates, unaware you had woken him up, “Nothing, he is just kicking so much tonight.”

Jake's hand instantly went out to sooth your belly, the bump growing beautifully everyday. He began to rub small shapes into your skin, hoping to calm his child down and ease your discomfort.

He whispered quietly to you, as if it was his biggest secret, “I wish we were Seahorses.”

Your mouth dropped in shock, that was not at all what you thought was going to leave your mates mouth. The confusion clear in your eyes, “What for?”

“Well I don’t know how true it is, but once on earth I read that male Seahorses carry the babies. I would do that for you.”

You wanted to laugh, it was fighting its way up your throat, but Jake was looking at you so seriously that you could not dare poke fun at him. His hands had made their way to your back, soothing the knots that had begun to form. “You would not last a day, JakeSully.”

You pressed a kiss to the widest part of his nose, “Besides, I should get used to it. I want more.”

“Is that so?”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his hands trying to massage any area of exposed skin he could find, your body relaxing into his with each swipe of his hand. “Mhm, I want three more after. He needs siblings.”

Your hand rubbed gently along your own stomach, feeling a small thump from within. “Two girls and two boys.”

“Now wouldn't that be perfect.”

He was teasing you, trying not to smile as you shuffled closer to his body. Neither of you spoke for a while, your eyes were beginning to feel heavy, begging to sleep. “You keep referring to the baby as a boy?”

You nodded absentmindedly, practically melting under his fingers. “Because he is, I can feel it.”

Jake's nose scrunched up, “Has Eywa given you a sign?”

He was teasing you again, pure amusement dancing in his eyes as you looked up at him. His hand had fallen back to your stomach, fingers treading over you with a featherlight touch. “She has actually.” You huffed in his direction, noticing his eyes dilated at the new information. “Tell me Syulang.” He was pleading, softly tapping against your belly.

Jake had already adored you beyond belief, swore the sun rose when you smiled, but when he learned you were carrying his child, he practically worshiped the floor you walked on. “Please.”

You decided to end his suffering, laying your hand above his so they both rested on your stomach. “Well-this was only a few days ago, Ma’Jake, but I had gone to the Tree of Souls, I wanted to see my mother.”

Your shoulders caved in a little, pressing yourself impossibly closer to Jake, “There were so many ancestors trying to speak to me that day, but I could not make anything out. There were too many of them.”

Your face pinched together as you recalled the events, “Then, out of nowhere I heard something so clear, only one word. It was a name.”

You nervously played with the beads that fell on Jake’s braid, “What was it, Syulang?.”

“Neteyam.”

Jake blinked rapidly, ears twitching gently. It was perfect. “Do you like it?”

He nodded, unable to form words, suddenly struck with an overwhelming amount of adoration for you. He had to blink back the happy tears that threatened to leak from his eyes.

Silence fell between the both of you, Jake’s hands only stopped moving when he heard your breath even out. “Neteyam.”

He liked the way the name rolled off his tongue, he felt a soft thud from your stomach. Letting him know his son liked it too. His eyes instantly jumped to your face, wanting to make sure you had not woken up.

You remained peacefully sleeping, not even waking as Jake shifted to lay his arm under your head.