#if someone isn’t this gentle with me after a panic attack | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darling-i-read-it · 9 months

Text

System

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: set after insidious the red door so spoilers for that, the readers scared daltons wandered off again

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long love! I’ve been a bit everywhere lately but I was finally happy with this. Also my spell check is being hella weird so if there’s some misspelled things just ignore it lol. I hope you enjoy!

Requested: by anon, hi i literally just got home from the insidious movie with my friend, but i was wondering if you are taking requests, if not feel free to ignore! but i was wondering if you’d be able to do a dalton x reader where they maybe meet his family? and he has an episode during it and gets stuck in the further and reader has to try and coax him out of it? or he has an episode and comes out of it in a panic attack like state and reader helps him through it and his family is in shock that dalton lets her see him like that. they think its really sweet that she can help him through it and everything.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Thanksgiving break. You could fear the cold in the air as people talked lightly going down to their cars, happy to leave school behind for a couple days of rest. Dalton threw his bag over his shoulder, watching you watch the window. The leaves were falling onto the street, whisked away by the gentle wind. You could see people’s silent laughter through the glass.

“You ready?” Dalton’s voice broke you out of your trance. You nodded once, pulling your bag up over your head as well. It just had some clothes and your laptop, plus chargers. You hadn’t been expecting to go back for Thanksgiving with your heavy workload.

“Your dads here?”

“Yeah, pulling up outside.” You turned back to the window like you could locate him. Dalton grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the door. You followed him outside of his dorm room. He shut and locked it behind him before leading you down the stairs among the stragglers of people leaving for break.

You had never seen the parking lot so crowded.

Dalton put his phone to his ear, keeping a firm grip on your hand. You followed him blindly.

“Near the flag poles isn’t an instruction dad,” Dalton said, voice annoyed. You looked around, trying to place the car. You didn’t actually know what he was driving but you knew Mr.Lambert’s face. “There are a ton of flag polls.” Your eyes scanned the area. “Are you talking about the one with the school flag?” You sat Josh Lambert, standing outside of his car with the door opened. You hit Dalton and pointed. He followed your gaze. Dalton hung up the phone and guided your way through the parking lot.

Mr. Lambert smiled when he saw you both. He pointed beside him, where an American flag was posted between some trees.

“It was the only thing near me,” he explained.

“Don’t worry about it.” You offered your hand to shake.

“You must be Y/N. I’ve heard a lot.” Josh shook your head.

“Thank you for letting me stay over the break. My family is so far away and getting a plane ticket in this weather has never been good odds.” Josh’s smile was genuine and kind. You had only met him over the phone but Dalton had mostly assured you of his normalcy. After the whole flying away possessed by demon thing, you understood that Josh also had issues with staying in his head. You felt for him.

“Oh of course. Any friend of Dalton’s is a friend of ours.” Josh winced, trying to find the right words. “It’s a pleasure.”

“That’s good dad.” Dalton took your backpack. You smiled gently, trying to let him know you understood what he was trying to give off. “This is gonna be a long drive.”

Josh asked you plenty of questions, happy that someone in his car actually answered him. You didn’t mind chatting. It was a couple hours after all. Before you were there, Dalton couldn’t exactly shut out and put his headphones in. Still, he sat behind you, sketch book out, half listening.

Eventually you came to his and his moms home. It was nice and large, almost secluded but not quite. You didn’t peg Dalton for a large house kind of guy but the second his mom opened the door, it all clicked into place.

Josh had started recently living with Renai again, much to Dalton’s surprise. He didn’t talk about it often, only in passing. You were able to pick up bits and pieces from everyone’s body language but that was about it.

Renai had Josh take your bags.

“Thank you so much Mrs. Lambert for letting me stay,” you said hurridly as she ushered you inside. She smiled, so brightly it hurt. She looked just like Dalton’s pictures of her. Goregous and kind.

“Renai, please. Dalton go take those upstairs.”

“Are we allowed to sleep in the same room?” Dalton asked, teasingly.

“You can sleep in the guest room,” she said, ushering him away. She turned to you. Dalton walked up the stairs, followed closely by his father and your bags. “It’s nice to formally meet you Y/N.”

“And you! I’ve heard so much, seen your face on a lot of different sketches,” you joked. Her smile remained, dripping in generosity but not so much it made you uncomfortable. You felt instantly comfortable in the house.

“I’m sure you’ve become the new muse,” she joked.

“He’s extremely talented. He could make a tree look interesting.”

“Don’t say it to him, it’ll go straight to his head.” Renai would sometimes call you when she was worried about Dalton. After the demon event she grew more worried about having him out of the house. You became her eyes and ears, which she was eternally grateful for.

There was a childlike commotion upstairs. You both turned to see a little girl barreling down, her hand loosely holding the railing. Once she hit the bottom she halted. Dalton was following close behind her and behind him was another teen boy, though younger than Dalton. It was easy to guess the names.

“Oh shit D,” Foster mumbled. Dalton hit him.

“Are you Y/N?” Kali asked. You nodded.

“And you must be Kali! It’s very nice to meet you.” She smiled, ogling. You grew self conscious under everyone's gaze. Dalton pushed through his siblings to get to you.

“Hey, go get your own person to stare at.” He grabbed your hand. “C’mon, I wanna show you my room.”

“No funny business,” Josh said as he came down the stairs. “Keep that door open.”

“He doesn’t bring girls home often,” Renai explained.

“Mom,” Dalton seethed. You laughed as he tugged at your arm. You followed him up the stairs.

“It was nice to meet all of you!” you called, your arm half way out of it’s socket. You observed the place as you walked, glancing at the family photos on the wall. At some point they started to lack Josh completely. “You’re were so cute,” you cooed at one of the photos. “What happened?”

“Woah there.” You laughed as you finally landed upon his room. It was a normal teenage boys bedroom but cleaner. You wondered if Renai had cleaned when Dalton left. There was art supplies still scattered on the desks and some laying on his made bed. Your bags were put off to the side, next to his.

“I see you have no intention of posting up in the guest bedroom?”

“Oh no,” he said. “My mom’s a lightweight and will be in bed by nine.” There was countless pictures on the wall. Some were painted, some where with ink, some with just pencil. It was like a whole other gallery. “I have a couple new ones to add up there.”

“Oh yeah?” You turned back to him. He was grabbing his sketchbook out of his bag. He turned it open to the one he was working on in the car. It was a back view of his dad and you talking. Josh was mid word but you were smiling, watching intently. “Is that why you weren’t talking with us?”

“I don’t like my dads taste in music.” You grinned warmly.

“I love it. Like I love all your stuff.” He carefully went to tear it out and you moved to get some things out of your bag.

You had dinner, courtesy of Renai, and quickly turned in. Dalton made a big show of going to bed in the guest bedroom, rolling his eyes and pretending to pout. You cuddled into his bed, scrolling through your phone as you waited for him to come back. Your eyes drooped. It had been a long day, filled with new things. Dalton’s bed was way more comfortable then the dorm room bed and far bigger too.

At 10 you heard the door open slowly. You turned on your side and smiled sleepily at Dalton walking in. He ran his hands through his hair, shutting the door quietly behind him. He climbed under the sheets beside you. You moved over to make room but the bed was big enough where it almost didn’t matter.

“Bigger than the dorm room bed huh?” he questioned. You usually had to squeeze together. You got very used to being on top of each other.

“Just a lil.”

He dipped his head over you, kissing you gently. Your body eased into his touch. His lips were lazy and sleepy, also fueled by the long day. He moved away after a moment and layed his head down next to you.

“Tease,” you joked.

“My mother is in the next room.”

“No more kisses then.”

He scoffed and the two of you got comfortable, his arm under your head, your cheek against his chest. The window was creaked open, the sound of the suburbs floating into your ears as you drifted off.

You woke up with a start. There was an echo of a noise but you were still half asleep and couldn’t pinpoint it. You sat up, glancing down at Dalton. He laid on his back, eyes shut. You looked around the dark room. You didn’t know it’s curves well enough to know what had changed. You rubbed your eyes, trying to decide if you were still asleep or not.

Through your shadowy perception, you saw the door creak open. It was slow but the movement struck home. You turned to Dalton and nudged him. He didn’t move. You nudged him again, harder this time. He stayed completely still, the only indication he was alive from his breathing.

“Dalton,” you muttered. You shoved him again, almost knocking him off the bed.

Nothing.

Fear shone in the lights of your eyes. You sat up completely and turned on the lamp beside your bed. You took a deep breath. You had done this before. You could do it agian. Dalton and you had talked about what you could do when this happened. He assured you that, while he likely couldn’t get possessed by that same demon, there was no guarentee he couldn’t drift off.

You cleared your throat and set your shoulders back.

“Dalton can you hear me?” Your voice was loud and clear. It needed to project if he was gonna hear you. You took clear breaths in, counting and then releasing. “Dalton, baby, you’ve gone to far.”

You glanced back at the door. Had he left? Was that him coming back in? How long had be been out?

“Dalton, listen to me. Follow my voice.”

With each passing tick of the clock you got more anxious. You wondered if you were too late. Your breathing became more labored as you sat there, starring at his face, begging it to move. “Dalton.”

You knew shaking him did no good but you did it anyway.

Renai could hear your speaking in the other room. Despite what Dalton said, she was also easy to rise. She had gotten into the habit when Kali was a baby, always able to easily identify her childrens voices. She knew it was yours immediately. She nudged Josh, who woke up after a couple pushes.

They listened for a moment, making sure they weren’t going to enter some sort of scene they would never be able to unsee. But then your voice came again.

“Dalton, follow my voice. I’m right here.” Renai knew the script well. It sent shivers down her spine to hear someone else say it. She quickly moved the covers aside and padded down the hallway to Dalton’s open door. She stood in the frame, Josh behind her. You were turned away, looking down, sitting practically on top of Dalton. Your voice, though stressed, was soothing.

“Dalton I’m right here. Come back to me.” Renai was about to jump forward and start helping when Dalton sat up straight. He hit your head with his because he was moving so fast. You both groaned in pain.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, grabbing your cheeks. “Are you okay? Did I bruise you?”

“No, no I’m okay,” you breathed. You let out a hefty sigh of relief. “Are you okay? You scared me!”

“I’m fine, I’m okay,” he promised. “Followed your voice.”

“Everything okay?” Josh asked. You both turned on a dime. You almost fell off the bed with the speed you were trying to get off Dalton. He still had his hand on your cheek and it fell just as quickly as he had put it there.

“Yeah we’re fine.”

“Totally okay!”

Your voices overlapped into a scrambled mess.

“You’re still floating away?” Renai asked. She hadn’t heard anything about that. Josh was still grounded, as far as she knew. Dalton shook his head.

“Not often,” he promised. “I think being back home triggered something.” He rubbed his eyes. “But I’m fine. We have a system.”

“Yeah, just in case. I can usually tell because he starts to move things around when I’m sleeping,” you explained. “The door usually opens.” Renai nodded. She parted her lips, the fear dissipating. You had it handled.

She was impressed.

“Is that why you’re in the same bed then?” she questioned, eyebrow raised. Dalton rolled his eyes but you had the heart to laugh.

“Sure mom.” Her gaze lingered.

“You sure you’re alright? Do I need to quiz you on something?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Dalton promised. “No demons here.”

“None over here either,” Josh promised. Renai scoffed.

“Good to know.” She turned back towards the two of you. “It’s late. Get some sleep and stay in your shoes okay?” Dalton nodded quickly. She left the door wide open as she turned to leave but not after giving you one last look.

“We could’ve used a system,” Josh mumbled.

“Maybe we should get one,” Renai concluded.

You turned back towards Dalton.

“She let you stay.”

“Yeah well, I think that was the astral projecting.” You laughed a bit. You were still reeling from the fear, even though you were trying not to show it.

“Wanna grab a midnight snake or something? Just to shake off the demons?” He smiled, thinking of kissing you in his kitchen, the privacy something he wasn’t used to.

“I would love to.”

#dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert x fem!reader #insidious the red door imagines #dalton lambert imagines

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tequiilasunriise · 1 year

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The thing that really kills me about that fight against the walkers is the Bees get this incredible fight sequence of being perfectly in sync partners and easily covering each other’s bases but then it suddenly cuts to Weiss stumbling during her fight because Ruby, her partner, isn’t there. Jaune was good at helping her recover, sure, but nevertheless the parallels between functional partners and partners that are split apart were very, very prevalent.

During the Ace Ops fight Weiss was holding her own well against Marrow, yet Ruby still rushed to deflect his weapon when it was coming towards Weiss. Harriet had thrown her into the room, Ruby- still dazed on the floor- looked up, saw a weapon coming towards Weiss (who was poised with her rapier ready, mind you), and didn’t hesitate to come in and smack it back with Crescent Rose. The parallels between Marrow and Harriet arguing vs Whiterose silently nodding at each other making sure the other was alright, like! Ruby didn’t have to check up on Weiss but she did so anyways because they’re partners, because they’re there fer each other rather than individual units strung together on the same team.

After making sure Weiss was alright, Ruby continues to draw Harriet away from the rest of the fray. Then when Ruby is fighting Harriet, Weiss comes back to check up on her and summon an ice wall to defend her partner from Harriet charging at her. There’s something to be said about how Marrow and Harriet were so disjointed in comparison to Whiterose being there fer each other. Love versus a lack thereof, so to speak (and yes, I may be a Whiterose shipper, but this love I’m referring to is that deeper special platonic bond between people who fight fer their lives and trust and care fer each other wholeheartedly).

So now parallel that fight with the one against the walkers, where Weiss is stumbling in a 1v1 and Ruby gets overpowered by a walker because she’s having an extremely justified panic attack. They’re apart, and now both are struggling because neither has their partner there to support em. The Bees are doing all of these sickass combo moves and combining their different fighting styles perfectly while Whiterose is just having a plain ol Bad Time™️ right now. Love versus a lack thereof, so speak. That being said I do wanna point out that when Ruby was down on the ground, it was Weiss who called out to her and made the first blow against the walker who had her pinned. Shit man even when they’re falling apart Weiss is still the first one to reach fer her partner. The love isn’t fully gone, it’s hurting yes, but o h how the love is still there through it all. There is something to be said on love and the lack thereof and love that’s struggling to breathe but still persists.

What I’m saying is, there’s shit to be said about partners, about people tied together in trust and loyalty, about people who know the other so well they can almost effortlessly cover each other bases. There’s shit to be said about found family, about choosing people, about doing the very brave thing that is loving them. In V8, Yang talked to Ruby about risks and sacrifices and heroes. Later on, Blake had her gentle heart to heart about admiring Ruby as a leader, but what Ruby really needs right now? She doesn’t need a pep talk revolving around duties and respect, what she needs right now is someone to speak to her as an equal. As a best friend. As a partner.

Weiss, please fer the love of god, talk to your partner. She needs someone to lean on right now, and my clown makeup fer Bees Kiss is OFF but goddamnit am I polishing my shoes as I hope fer a Weiss and Ruby heart to heart.

#i adore how bumbleby fight together as an absolute UNIT but I also love the tragic undertones it has fer Whitwrose completely lacking that #like it doesnt have to be in a wr way- tho im so delusional i’d still countnit as a wr moment in the smallest- but CMON WEISS PLEASE #YOURE SO COMPASSIONATE AND BIG HEARTED AND RLLY GOOD WITH COMFORTING PEOPLE #like ur talk with Yang in v5? living rent FUCKEN free in my head please pull through fer Ruby im begging #rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #bumbleby #whiterose #rwby v9 #rwby spoilers

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arlana-likes-to-write · 7 months

Note

For the sisters serie, how would it be for reader to adapt to normal things and living without the red room and dreykovs control, and how would Nat, yelena, carol, etc react and help? I hope you like this idea for a fic

-💣

Through Your Eyes

Family is More Than Blood

Warning: mention of past sexual assault, big talk about consent, our lovely reader learning how to be a person, guilt, anxiety, mention of past Red Room trauma

Note: These aren't in timeline order per say, just moments in the reader's life that have shaped her.

Relationship: Carol x Reader, Avenger x Reader (platonic)

Word Count: 4.4k

It shouldn’t be this hard, right? It was such a simple choice. Ice cream or fruit. Ice cream or fruit. Ugh, you were going to work yourself into a panic attack over a stupid choice. “Kid, you are letting all the cold air out,” you jumped at Tony’s voice and slammed the fridge and freezer closed.

“Sorry, I was distracted,” he raised a questioning eyebrow at you as he poured himself a cup of coffee. It was well past 5 o’clock, you had no idea how he drank that and managed to sleep. Well maybe he wasn’t sleeping, that was his secret.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked.

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” you sighed. Tony leaned back on the counter and sipped his coffee.

“Try me,” you began to pick at the skin around your thumb.

“I wanted something to eat,” you explained. “But I couldn’t decide if I wanted ice cream or strawberries. The decision almost caused me to have a panic attack.” It sounded a lot stupider when you said it out loud. He was quiet and you expected him to have left.

“You know you can have both, right?” You spun around to face him.

“Both?” You questioned in disbelief. He nodded and set his coffee down.

“Sit and watch this,” you sat down and he grabbed the per-cut fruit from the fridge and the ice cream from the freezer. He scoped a few spoonfuls of ice cream in a bowl and sprinkled a few cut-up strawberries on top. “Here,” he handed you the bowl with a spoon but you refused to take it. “What?”

“I didn’t have to have both,” you said. “What if someone wanted those strawberries or that ice cream? I didn’t need both.”

“Kid,” he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and placed the bowl in front of you. “If we run out FRIDAY will just order more. You can have anything you want as much as you want.”

“Oh,” you whispered. There was a limit to certain things in the Red Room; food that was given, free time without the cuffs, and a break from the ballet bar. Everything good was limited. “Uh, thanks, Tony. Sorry, that was so dumb.” And a little embarrassing.

“Don’t apologize,” he smiled. “If there is something specific you want let FRIDAY know or ask me, okay?” You nodded as he cleaned up the mess he made. “Enjoy!” He left you to devour your sweet treat.

You heard giggling as you entered the kitchen after your workout with Steve. A smoothie, a cold glass of water, and a nap was calling your name. Sitting on the island were Wanda and Yelena, hunched over a laptop and that was the source of the laughter. “What’s going on you two?” You asked, grabbing a glass of water.

“Yelena is a croissant,” Wanda said smiling. You stared at the Slovakian and your sister, mouth slightly open as you tried to process what she told you.

“I’m going to pretend I understand what that meant,” Yelena giggled and turned around the computer.

“It’s an internet quiz,” your sister said. “It will ask you a few questions and you answer at the end it will give you the type of bread you are, or dog, or cartoon character.” She explained. You tilted your head.

“Why do you want to know what type of flower you are?” You questioned, scrolling on the page to see the other quizzes. “What’s the point?” You saw Yelena roll her eyes and take the computer from you.

“There isn’t a point,” Wanda said. “It’s just a fun way to pass the time.” Fun? You weren’t allowed to have fun. There was always a mission or job that needed to be done. Fun was something you weren’t allowed to have in the Red Room.

“Can I take one?” You asked Yelena smiled, nodding her head excitedly. That was where Natasha found you, sitting between Wanda and Yelena with the computer on your lap. “I am not a red panda,” you whined. The two girls laughed at you.

“According to the internet you are,” Yelena smiled, pinching your cheek. “My big krasnaya panda (red panda).” You slapped her hand away.

“I hate you,” you deadpanned.

“There you are,” Natasha said, rounding the corner to stand in front of you. “I thought we were meeting at 3.” You frowned. You were done with your workout by noon so you could shower, eat, and maybe take a nap. Natasha wanted to meet with you because there were some Widows in Central America and the Avengers wanted to see if they could do some surveillance. You looked at the clock in the corner of the laptop. It was 3:15. Shit. You looked back at your sister, her arms were crossed and she wore a smirk on her face.

“I got distracted,” you cringed.

“They got you addicted to those dumb quizzes.”

“Hey,” Yelena said. “They aren’t dumb.” She defended. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Are we meeting or..”

“Yup,” you put the laptop on Yelena’s lap and stood up. “That was fin. See ya guys.” You followed Natasha to the conference room. “Sorry I was late,” you said to her as you sat down in the chair. “Time got away from me.” You were never late, when you needed to be somewhere you were early. If you were late there would be horrible consequences. Natasha waved you off.

“I’m just messing with you,” she smiled, handing you a folder. “Messing around and not working all the time is good for you. We all need to do it every once in a while. It reminds us why we keep fighting.”

Walking by Yelena’s room, you heard a groan from the slight crack. Frowning, you gently knocked on her door. “Go away,” she groaned again. You chuckled.

“It’s me,” you opened her door. Yelena was cocooned in the blankets on her bed. “Are you okay?” She burrowed her face in her pillow, muffling the sound she let out. “Come on, sestra,” you sat down on her bed and ran her fingers through her blonde hair. She flopped on her back, pouting.

“I don’t feel good,” you placed your hand on her forehead. She wasn’t warm. “No, it’s not that type of sickness,” she huffed out a sigh. “It’s that time of the month.” Her cheeks blushed slightly. Ah, that explained her mood the past few days. You smiled.

“What do you need?”

“Can you get my heating pad?” She asked. “I think it’s in Nat’s room.” You nodded, kissing her forehead. It was a quick trip to Natasha’s room to grab the heating pad and into the kitchen for water, a Gatorade, and some chocolate. You weren’t subjected to periods but you knew people who were and what they liked. Yelena sighed when you reentered with your arms filled with goodies. You bent down to plug in the heating pad. “Ugh, I hate having a uterus,” the off-handed comment made you freeze, subconsciously moving your hand to wear you bared the mark of the Red Room’s choice. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Her panic snapped you out of the fog, turned on the heating pad, and placed it on Yelena’s stomach. You sat down and cuddled up against her.

“It’s okay,” you said and handed her the chocolate bar. She unwrapped it, picking at the bar slowly. You could tell she was still upset with herself. “Yelena, I’m serious. It’s okay. You didn’t mean any harm,” she sighed. Your sister sat up and placed her hand where she saw where you rested yours. Natasha saved Yelena before the graduation ceremony. One day she could have the choice of having children.

“Do you and Carol want kids one day?” You laughed.

“Funny enough we haven’t talked about that fair into the future,” you smiled, resting your hand on top of hers. The Red Room forced all Black Widows to be sterilized upon graduation. A child of your own was the one thing worth more than the mission. It made everything easier, with undying loyalty to the cause. “Not sure if I want kids,” you told her. “I never thought I’d be given the opportunely to have them.” Yelena nodded, moving to rest her head on your stomach.

“I think you’d be a great mom,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

“Do you think so?” You asked. She hummed in agreement. “Thank you,” you whispered. “Get some sleep.”

‘What the hell was the noise?” You thought as you walked out to the balcony. It sounded like a cat being murdered. The source of the sound was coming from Steve, a guitar resting on his lap. You grimaced at the note that was very out of tone. "Whatcha doing?” You asked, holding the book you were going to read behind your back. The super soldier looked at you, pausing the song he was playing.

“Trying to learn how to play the guitar,” you smiled, sitting down in the empty chair next to him.

“And how’s that going?” He sighed and set the guitar on the side table between you and him.

“Well Sam was out here with me at one point so does that answer your question.” You chuckled.

“It takes some practice,” you said, leaning back in the chair and opening the book. Steve mirrored you but with a sketchbook. “You’ll get it,” you added and you both fell into a comfortable silence. But as you read your book, you kept glancing at the guitar. It had been so long since you’d felt the strings of a guitar underneath your fingers. You enjoyed every callous you earned. Sighing, you put the book down and carefully picked up the guitar. You couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face as you tuned it and began to strum. It was a weird feeling it’s been years since you felt this level of peace. Your smile grew. The world seemed much smaller when a guitar was in your hands.

“I didn’t know you could play,” you jumped, stopping mid-song. “Sorry,” Steve chuckled. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Not, it’s fine,” you ran your hand over the body of the guitar. “I was in my own little world,” you sighed. “I haven’t played since Ohio and I didn’t realize how much I missed it.” You admitted, resting your chin on the guitar.

“I could tell. I haven’t seen you smile that big before,” you felt your body warm up. Steve closed his sketchbook and stood up. “You should keep it. You’re the best person to play it.” It took a moment for your brain to register what Steve said.

“Wait,” you stood up. Steve was already at the door. “Hold on. I can’t just keep this.” It was ridiculous, a little absurd.

“Why not?” He questioned with a tilt of his head.

“Because,” you licked your lips. “Because I’ve done nothing to deserve this.” He sadly smiled at you. Did you say something wrong?

“You know you can be given a gift without having to earn it,” that couldn’t be correct. You had to earn everything. Extra portions at dinner time. A mission success meant you could get a break. “Besides, that thing has been bouncing between everyone looking for a home,” he continued. “I think you can give it one.” You stared at the guitar in your hands.

“Thank you, Steve,” he shrugged.

“You should play for all of us,” he said. “At dinner or something.” You smiled.

“I may need some practice before I start performing shows.” He chuckled.

“Well enjoy,” he left you alone. You sat back down, guitar resting on your lap. It was bittersweet holding this instrument again. You wondered what happened to the one you had back in Ohio or any of your things? Was it confiscated by SHIELD? Or local authorities? Was it donated and now someone else was learning how to play on the very same instrument you used? Sighing, you began to play again.

“So bye, bye Miss. American Pie-”

There was something off about the day. You were just off all day, having no motivation or energy to do anything. So you called it an early night and curled up underneath the covers. A gentle knock followed by the door opening caused you to sit up. It was Carol. “Hi,” she smiled. “Mind if I join you?” You shook your head and lay back down. You heard her walk over to your closet to grab some clothes she left in your room. The bed shifted as Carol climbed in. She was quick to bring you into her arms. Sighing, you felt her lips graze against your skin. Her hands traveled underneath her shirt. Any other night you would welcome her advances and where this was going to lead but you were so tired.

So when Carol turned you over on your back and covered her body with hers, you didn’t fight her. She was your girlfriend and if she was in the mood you should just let her. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Hey, are you okay?” Carol asked, sitting back on her heels.

“Why-why did you stop?” You asked.

“Because I asked you a question and you didn’t answer.” Oh. You must have dissociated. “Do you not want to have sex?” No. That was the word fighting to come out of your mouth but if you said no would she still want to be with you? Would she hit you like the orders and force you anyway?

“It’s fine,” you said, placing your hands on her thighs. “You are in the mood,” you sat up and put your arms around her neck. “So you can use me.” Your girlfriend stared at you as if she was trying to figure out what you said.

“Use you?” She questioned. You nodded. “I’m not going to use you like you’re some object.” You frowned and sat back. Why wasn’t she going to have sex with you? “Baby, if you don’t want to have sex at any time you can say no.” Your eyebrows scrunched together. No? You weren’t allowed to say no.

“But-but if you want to and as your girlfriend I should let you.” Carol sighed and crossed her legs on your bed. Was she upset with you?

“You have ownership of your own body. It doesn’t matter if I want to have sex, you owe me nothing. I should have asked for consent first.”

“Consent?” You said the world slowly as it felt foreign on your tongue.

“Yeah consent,” she said. “So you know how I would ask to hug you when we weren’t officially together,” you nodded. You always wondered why she did that. “I was asking for your consent to touch you. I didn’t want to assume it was okay.”

“But it is. You can touch me.” She smiled.

“Maybe on some days you don’t want me to and you can tell me no and I’ll respect that.”

“Oh,” you whispered. “You must think I’m so stupid.” You looked down at your hands. Gently, she used her pointer finger to lift your head to look at you.

“Never. The Red Room took your and your sister’s autonomy. I will help you get that back. So,” she smiled. “What do you want to do?” You sighed, biting your tongue from telling her you wanted to have sex.

“Can we cuddle? I’m exhausted.” She nodded and climbed off the bed to help you pull back the covers. Once you were under them, she lay down next to you and put her arm around you. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you heard the smile in her voice. “Now sleep.” And you did, safely in her arms.

“Melina-” Natasha heard the strain in your voice as she walked by your room. You were pacing; 5 steps, turn around, and another 5 steps. “I know but if you-” you were cut off again. Natasha couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation but she could tell you weren’t agreeing with whatever was being said. “Yes, mama. I will. Talk to you soon. Bye.” You hung up and stared at your phone.

“You know,” Natasha made her presence known before you threw your phone against the wall. “I don’t think your phone deserves that.” You chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I think Stark could cough over a few bucks to get me another one,” she hummed in agreement and entered your room.

“What’s going on with you and Melina?”

“It’s nothing,” she gave you a pointed look. You sighed. “Sometimes I feel like she doesn’t listen or even try to understand my point of view on something,” you tapped your phone against your thigh. “I was cycled through the Red Room four times before you were born,” you mimicked the older Black Widow accent so well it made Natasha smile. “And I get that it must have been so hard and painful but-”

“It’s not an excuse to invalidate what you went through,” Natasha said, finding the words for you. You looked at her, nodding your head.

“Exactly,” you looked forward again. “When she finished her work with him she got out. Things just got worse,” Natasha knew this conversation was about Melina but there was a part of her that wondered if that was directed at her too.

“It’s common for daughters to fight and not see eye to eye,” Natasha witnessed Laura and Lila go toe to toe.

“Yeah but most mother-daughter relationships weren’t created by a deep undercover Red Room mission to steal information from SHIELD aka HYDRA,” you said, resting your head on her shoulder. “I’m so glad I don’t live with them anymore,” the redhead laughed. “I’m serious. I think I’d kill Alexei by now,” Natasha smiled and took your hand in hers.

“Do you hate them?” She found herself asking. “Like do you wish they were stronger to say no to him.” You were quiet. Natasha could see your eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

“I think that resentment will always be there,” you said. “I was so angry at them when we first arrived at the Red Room.”

“Really? I had no idea,” you acted like their betrayal was something you expected. You chuckled.

“That’s because I hid it from you,” of course you did. Natasha wasn’t surprised by that. “But I thought about getting my revenge on them all the time. I thought I wanted to kill them.” You admitted.

“What changed your mind?” You sighed.

“Because they weren’t the problem. They were just part of the system that was created far before their time.”

“I’m not sick,” you mumbled, fighting a sneeze that was tickling your nose. Yelena and Natasha stared at each other before rolling their eyes. “I’m serious!” You pouted, sniffling slightly.

“Oh yeah?” Natasha questioned. “How come Carol told us you didn’t sleep last night because you were up coughing?”

“Traitor,” you huffed and failed to keep a straight face as one sneeze after another escaped. You groaned, a pressure building behind your eyes.

“It’s probably just a cold,” Yelena said, jumping on the table next to you. “Helen will just give you medicine and you’ll feel better in no time,” that was the problem. You hated taking anything that you were told would ‘help’. “Maybe she’ll give you a lollipop.”

“Yelena-” Before Natasha could finish her thought the door opened but instead of Helen, a man walked in. “Bruce,” your sister said. “I wasn’t aware you were back.” He gave her a small smile.

“I got back late last night. Helen got pulled away in a meeting with Steve and Tony so she asked me to help out,” he turned his attention to you. “You must be Y/n, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Bruce,” he approached you with his hand extended to you but you refused to take it, frozen in your spot. Could they hear your heart beating? “Would you be more comfortable with Dr. Cho?” He asked. His question snapped you out of the trance you were in.

“No,” you said. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“I’ll let you know everything I’m about to do before I do it, okay?” He could sense your hesitation. A small nod was all the consent you could give and the exam began. He listened to your lungs, asking you to breathe in and out, and took your temperature. You tried to get your body to relax but it wouldn’t. It was tense with tension every time Bruce touched you. His touch was gentle, a little hesitant but you were waiting for the shoe to drop. Soon his hands would leave bruises, would grab you, and force you down. “Looks like you have a small upper respiratory infection,” he said. “Which is odd since you were given the serum, right?” You didn’t respond “Are you under more stress or training harder?”

“I don’t think our sister knows how to relax,” Yelena mumbled and glared at her. Bruce smiled.

“Well I recommend some rest and I’ll prescribe you an antibiotic,” he wrote all this down on his tablet. “I don’t want to interfere too much but the medicine should remind the serum to do its job. Take it easy for the next few days.”

“Thanks, Bruce,” Natasha said for you. You forced a smile as the doctor left. “Want to talk about what just happened?” You sighed but a violent coughing attack ripped through you. Natasha grimaced and walked over to you, rubbing your back to soothe the cough.

“I think I’m sick,” you mumbled. Yelena laughed.

“Yeah no shit but listen to what Bruce said and you’ll be better in no time,” So, that was the problem. You refused to take the antibiotics and decided to try to sweat the infection. That was where Bruce found you, holding onto a punching bag as a violent cough left you breathless.

“Your sisters told me I could find you here,” you tensed up at the sound of his voice. Another cough caused you to sway on your feet and Bruce reached out to steady you, this time you didn’t hide your flinch. Immediately, he pulled back his hands. You slumped against the wall, rubbing your chest to ease the pain. It helped. “Do you want me to get Helen or someone you’re comfortable with?” You shook your head.

“I’m fine,” you took a sip from your water bottle. “It’s not you, it’s me.” He stared at you.

“That was the most cliche line you could have said,” he deadpanned but it made you smile. You lowered yourself onto the ground and tried to collect your thoughts. But Bruce was patient and didn’t rush you to speak. Instead, he sat down in front of you with enough space to not make you feel trapped.

“In the Red Room, we were given pills and we were to take them without question mostly by male doctors,” you explained. There was still fear whenever Helen or Melina gave you medication but it helped they were females. “Sometimes it did help, the pain or sickness went away but other times,” you dug your nails into your hand. “Other times we would black out and wake up to a man on top of us.” You swore you saw a flash of green appear on his neck but the doctor covered it up with a cough. “So it’s me, not you.” It was his turn to be quiet and analyze the information you told him.

“Natasha almost broke my arm when I tried to patch her up after a mission,” you chuckled, that sounded about right. “She wouldn’t let Yelena see me alone. I can’t begin to understand what you and your sisters went through,” he sadly said. “But I’m not going to force you to be around me. It’s a trust I’m willing to earn, on your terms, and however long it takes.”

“Thank-thank you, Dr. Banner,” he smiled and stood up.

“I’ll have Helen set up another examination,” he said. “She may prescribe you a different and stronger antibiotic,” you bite back a groan, it was your fault anyway. “Get some rest or I’ll have FRIDAY ban you from the training room. Doctor’s orders.” He joked.

“Aye, aye captain,” you gave him a mock solute. He chuckled and left you alone. With a sigh, you rested your head on the wall. The serum helped you avoid sickness and long-lasting injuries but it was a water-down version unlike what they gave to Steve and the Winter Solider. So some of the bruises and injuries from their hands would last a little longer. It was another way for all the Widows to be under their control. But you were free and safe from them and Helen and Bruce were trying to help. They wouldn’t hurt you. You kept repeating it over and over again until you believed it.

It was a foreign feeling as you sat on a blanket near the pound of the Avenger’s compound. Feet bear and resting on the grass. Your fingers strummed on the guitar and hummed along to the song you were playing. Peace. That was the state of mind you were feeling. It was overwhelming. It was strange. But nice. You heard footsteps approaching, but the sound didn’t stop you from playing. You felt the warm hands of your girlfriend resting on your shoulders. She squeezed them. “How are you, baby?” You smiled, looking over your shoulder.

“Good, I’m happy which is odd.” She chuckled.

“Odd? Why is it odd?” You shrugged.

“Never thought I would be happy,” she kissed the top of your head.

“You deserve all of this and more,” she promised. “Now come on, teach me how to play.” You laughed and handed her the guitar. You stood up on your knees and maneuvered her hands on the guitar. As you were explaining the different notes and chords, she was staring at you instead of the guitar.

“What are you looking at?” You giggled.

“Just the most beautiful person in the entire world,” you rolled your eyes and fought the smile that spread across your face.

“Flattery will get you nowhere Captain. Now focus.”

“Yes ma’am,” she teased and began to listen to what you were teaching her. You smiled as she played the cords with some hesitation. This was your life, your beautiful life.

Also, while writing these stories. I don't think I've written Carol asking the reader to be her girlfriend. May write a quick drabble about that.

#family is more than blood au #black widow sisters #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers x y/n #yelena belova x natasha romanoff x reader #tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #yelena belova x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #bruce banner x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #black widow one shot #black widow imagine #black widow fanfiction

216 notes · View notes

starl3ght · 1 year

Text

//~Alejandro Vargas hcs~//

A/N: Ayy que bendicion😩😩😩✨✨✨🌹🌹🌹 How this man is just something else I love it. Y’all I want him so bad it’s not a fucking joke istg. I’m so down bad I need to be put in a mental facility. Soap hcs and oneshots are next!!

Contains: fluff, Rudy being a good friend, sex, 18+, minor angst but not to much, jealousy

MINORS WATCH YOURSELVES!!!

• Alejandro mi amor

• This man is so passionate about you it’s so hot

• He’s like a taste of forbidden fruit

• He’ll call you his little nicknames.

• Mi amor (my love) Cariño (Darling) Nena(Babe)

• Alejandro isn’t Alejandro without you in his life

• At first when you met he thought you were hot but most importantly, he knew better than to like for your looks

• He reminded himself not to fall in love after what happened with Valeria

• He couldn’t stand another betrayal

•But how could he try to dislike you with that beautiful smile you have that makes his days better even when you don’t talk to each other

• He loves you for you

• Rodolfo respects you a lot and genuinely really likes you (As an amazing friend)

• You’re there for Alejandro when he’s at his lowest and he’s there for you

• Might see you on the verge of breaking.

• Immediately pulls you to his chest with one hand cradling your back and your head with the other

• “Look at me mi amor. You’re ok here with me…no llores por favor cariño”

• When he comes home you run into his arms and he spins you around the room

• Kisses you in the crook of your neck and likes when you giggle

• He FULL ON kisses with passion and tongue

• Jealousy is there a lot. If he sees someone pressuring you or making you uncomfortable that’s when he steps in

• “Back the fuck away cabrón” He has that scary death glare. It’s terrifying

• No one will bother you on his watch. No way

• Puts you before anything else

• When you found out about Valeria you had a panic attack (I’m sorry)

• Either someone tried ruining Alejandro by sending old pictures of them to your home, or Los Vaqueros were being jackasses and talked about her and you happen to hear

• Before you had that panic attack Rodolfo tried assuring you that Alejandro wants nothing to do with her and only has eyes for you

• It wasn’t enough because doubts filled your mind

• So when Alejandro came in the house and found you in the living room with your eyes ruined like you cried, he immediately went to action.

• “Mírame mi amor, nadie me quita de ti. Ella está en el pasado donde pertenece. Solo te necesito a ti” (Look at me my love, no one is taking me away from you. She's in the past where she belongs. I only need you)

• May show you the rest of the night how much he ACTUALLY loves you

• He’s not into being too rough (maybe if you want) The way he loves you is gentle with passion🌸

• Will laugh at you if you have sore legs. Just falling in front of him the night after makes him realize how much of a good job he did.

• Watches tv shows with you. No novelas much. Regular drama shows.

• Will complain about characters

• “Maldita estúpida why did she do that” he complains as you laugh at him

• sleeping in bed with him behind you and his arms wrapped around your torso

• Best nightmare comfort he gives

• He’ll hear your whimpers and fast breathing and he’ll try to talk to you to calm you down.

• You’ll wake up with a shuddering breath and tears filling your eyes as you turn to look for him

• He’s already up with the lamp turned on and pulls you into him when he sits against the headboard

• “Shh duermate mi vida…I’m right here”

• Always caresses your head to his chest and rubs your back

• Doesn’t matter what time it is. Will hum you back to sleep

744 notes · View notes

undertheopensky · 4 months

Text

Memento

Whumptober Day 22: Glass Shard

Characters: Four, Sky, everyone else is there

Trigger warnings: Self-harm, it’s unintentional but it’s there, minor nudity, panic attacks, a special kind of unreliable narrator, many bad decisions are made

Read on Ao3!

-----

The portal looks like any other. It’s only as he steps through that Four registers something – off – as his awareness stretches and spirals and f r a y s

They’re scattered in the void between stars, drowning and endless, flecks of insignificance against a being so much greater that the scale of it is lost to them.

OUTSIDE EQUIPMENT IS FORBIDDEN.

Their body doesn’t exist right now. It’s so easy for the entity to strip them down to their essentials, their skin and their blood and their bones, leaving everything else behind in the void. Peeling away everything that isn’t them, their sword, their tunics, the cord at their throat –

No!

In this moment-between-moments they’re barely a spark of thoughts, a soul in potentia, and every fibre of their being curls tight and defensive against the gentle tug. Over their heart, they wrap threads of lightning and fire around a faint and faded glimmer. They resist.

The entity tugs again.

No no no don’t take it please don’t take it I can’t lose it I can’t lose him I can’t –

The entity… pauses.

They cling tighter. I won’t let you take it.

ALL OUTSIDE EQUIPMENT IS FORBIDDEN.

They keen in soundless protest. Mine-his-only-thing-left-grief-and-horror-and-mourning–

…ALL OUTSIDE EQUIPMENT IS FORBIDDEN. BUT A TRINKET THAT GRANTS NO ADVANTAGE… THAT, I CAN ALLOW.

And they’re flooded with relief a split second before they’re flooded with sound and light and ow.

Everything always tingles for a few seconds, after teleportation. All his pieces realising they’re still alive, registering protests about the sand beneath him, the chill of the air, the ache in his tightly-clenched hand –

“What the fuck –”

“Who took my rings –”

“WHERE IN DIN’S NAME ARE MY PANTS?!”

Everyone else is discovering they’ve been stripped of their equipment and are reacting accordingly. Four sits up slowly, flexes his throbbing fingers just enough to check –

A thin cord tugs at his neck; razor edges bite into his palm. The necklace is safe. He didn’t lose it. It’s safe.

He shudders out a sigh, hot and cold playing over his bare skin. After the panic attack, all of them slammed together in united desperation, everything feels kind of muffled. There, but unimportant. Even everyone’s noisy agitation isn’t worth responding to – no one is missing, no one is hurt, they’re just upset. They don’t need him for that.

“Four – shit, Four, you’re bleeding–!”

He realises what they’re reaching for almost too late. “No!” he yelps. “No don’t touch it it’s mine don’t take it no no no–” The sand is cool and slippery under their feet as they scrabble back. There’s a wall, there’s a corner, there’s nowhere to run so they huddle instead, curled protectively around the hand holding his necklace and keening high and panicked.

“Don’t take it,” he gasps, “please don’t.”

“It’s okay,” someone soothes, “it’s okay. I won’t take it. I’m just worried about your hand. It’s bleeding; are you hurt? I’m not going to take anything from you. I just want to see your hand. Do you think you can do that?”

Panting, Four peeks out of his defensive ball. Sky is there, not too close, crouched far enough away to give him some space. His tentative smile widens when he sees Four looking back at him.

“I promise I won’t take it,” he repeats. “Can you take a deep breath for me? Please?”

Aware he’s being handled and annoyed by it, Four obeys only out of spite. Breathing the full depth of his lungs hurts. It takes a few gasping starts to get all the way down, and by then the green-grey panic has faded from the edges of his vision.

“I hate that this shit works,” he says in a sapphire-tinted growl.

Sky is infuriatingly patient. “If it didn’t work, we wouldn’t ask you to do it. Do you think I’d be able to take a look at your hand now? Please?”

As the adrenaline fades it is starting to hurt. And… it’s Sky. He… they trust Sky.

Mostly, indigo murmurs.

Slowly he uncurls his fingers, wincing crimson as the pain flares. Blood runs down his bare arm. It’s still a struggle to let go enough to switch the blood-streaked pendant to his other hand. His heart drops into freefall for the instant it takes his fingers to close, only steadies when the edges bite just enough to register. Only then does he let Sky take him by the wrist.

Welling up from the ragged cuts, blood drips to the sand; Sky frowns in concern. “Some of these look deep… does anyone have a potion? Bandages, even? I seem to have misplaced my kit…”

“No,” says Wild, grimacing. “It’s… I’ve only ever seen one of these before, but the shrine keeper takes everything as you come in. Weapons, equipment, armour.”

“Fucking clothes,” Legend mutters.

“You don’t even wear pants to start with, Legend,” says Twilight.

“That doesn’t mean I want to go naked!”

“Magic’s probably still on the table, if you have the strength for it.” Wild shoots Hyrule a hopeful look.

Without meaning to Four tenses when Hyrule gets close.

“I’m not going to take it from you,” Hyrule says, repeating Sky’s words from earlier.

Four flushes with dull embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry for scaring you.” Moving more slowly, Hyrule carefully lays his fingertips on Four’s bleeding hand. They start to glow, a gentle spring green, and Four watches the self-inflicted cuts fade away, leaving smears of blood behind.

“Thanks,” he says. Then, to avoid the inevitable questions, he forces himself to stand, looks straight at Wild, and ploughs onwards: “So, how do we get out of here?”

“Well, assuming this is some kind of shrine, it could vary. Sometimes they’re… moving puzzles. Like, you have to move a ball down a path, but there are lasers in the way that will knock you into a pit if you don’t block them somehow. Or you have to reach a high area but there’s no ladder, but there are things that you can pile up into like a really lopsided set of stairs. Other times they’re combat trials – you have to defeat a certain monster, or a group of monsters, to make the final door open.”

Wind makes a noise of understanding. “Oh, so it’s just a dungeon then. Cool.”

Wild frowns. “I… dunno? You guys always made dungeons sound, like, super drawn out. These are like. Two, maybe three tasks, and you’re done. The steals-all-your-shit shrine was the worst for that alone but it was also a combined combat-puzzle thing. I guess you didn’t have to fight the monsters to get the balls, but it was a lot easier carrying them around if you didn’t also have to dodge arrow fire.”

“And you did this without armour or a sword?” says Warriors, somewhere between aghast and impressed.

“I broke a lot of sticks,” Wild agrees. “I would have given so much for even the crappiest sword, but I’ve never been able to get anything past the shrine keeper.”

“Thought you said you’d only seen one of these?” Legend runs his fingers over his knuckles again. It’s an unconscious motion, missing his rings.

“Well I ran the first time, didn’t I?” says Wild reasonably. “Panicked and ran for it. When I got far enough away the monk gave me all my shit back. I tried a couple times to sneak stuff in, throw it from the raft or whatever, but no dice. How’d you do it, Four?”

Four’s hand tightens. Hot blood starts to seep into the spaces between his fingers, something sharp like panic coiling around his heart.

“Steady, Four,” says Sky. “Deep breaths. Shit, you’re bleeding again – Wild!”

“I’m sorry! I was just curious!”

Four wants this over with. Why can’t they just leave them alone, fuck, they’re always asking and poking and so goddamn nosy, they never let things go, he can see their burning curiosity and knows what they want, he can feel it pressing in on his heart –

If he doesn’t think about it too hard, the words can stumble out. “I felt it – and – I fought it.”

Legend frowns. “You fought it for your necklace? Why not your sword – hell, your shirt?”

“How did you even feel it?” Wind demands. “One second we were walking into a portal and the next we’re stripped to our skivvies! There was no time!”

“Time’s more flexible than you think,” they say absently. Their fingers shift, making glass cut twilight-sharp, and their heart steadies.

“When the portal – when we entered the shrine – there was a moment where – Wild called it the shrine keeper – I – felt it. Taking everything away. Bag. Sword. Clothing. But –” his hand twitches again. Sky hisses as more blood hits the sand. “I couldn’t let them take this. It’s the only thing I have of my best friend.”

The words fall from his lips in blood red and bruise purple and he meant to say them but he didn’t and he regrets them but he doesn’t. The pendant is important, they can’t lose it, they need the others to understand that –

Their mind turns inward. What if they hadn’t – convinced them? What if the shrine keeper had taken the fragile shard of glass –

Give it back! It’s like an echo of a memory, too-sharp and too-clear. Please give it back, please!

Their fingers tighten. Pain swells, drowns out the almost-memories, and stays a constant drumming throb even when they relax.

Unease runs viridian.

“–our, I need you to take a breath for me, can you do that? C’mon, head up, you can do it –”

Calm and steady, Sky’s voice draws them from the almost-flashback. It’s harder this time – they hurt, and they’re tired, and the grief isn’t lurking so much as clawing up their spine. The world presses in on them. They hurt, Green-Red-Blue-Vio all caught up in we-miss-him-we-miss-him-we-miss-him. It makes everything harder, when all they want to do is fall deep and curl up in mirror-shard memories that hurt the same way they do. (The pain is comforting.) (They know it shouldn’t be.)

When they’re like this, when they can’t find the balance that lets them be Four instead of four, when they don’t even want to – someone has to take the reins. Someone who’s capable of at least pretending to be a person, for a while – and this time, that’s Red. Red, who feels things so intensely he circles right back around to ‘functional’. Who manages to take a full breath of air even through the tears, making Sky smile encouragement.

“Good! Good job, just keep it up, you’re alright.”

Red wants the smile, wants the comfort just as much as he hates it. It’s wrong. Too big, the wrong shape, smells of feathers and sunlight instead of smoke and steel. Another stuttering breath rips through his chest. He misses them so much – misses them all, even when they’re right there with him because it’s not the same. And there’s nothing he can do about it except breathe, and cry, and wait for the storm to pass.

Hyrule inches closer. “Four, you’re bleeding again. Can I see your hand?”

Red breathes through the avalanche of fear and hurt and no. Checks – the bleeding isn’t bad – before shaking his head. “S’fine.”

“I don’t want to leave you in pain. Please?”

“No.” It comes out harsher than he intends.

“Okay, not right now. Can you let me know when you’re ready?”

Red hums agreement. Presses the hand against his sternum, feels the way it makes glass shift in his fingers.

“Just make sure you get it treated, little one,” Time says from nearby, deep and slow. “That’s your sword hand.” He’s – closer than Red had realised. They all are, actually.

“You gotta look after yourself!” Wild adds.

That is possibly the most hypocritical thing he’s ever heard Wild say, and for a moment he just stares. Then he gets distracted by Wind, bouncing and clearly relieved Four is looking more stable.

“It’s okay, Four! Wild says these don’t take long, so we’ll be out of here and back to normal in no time!” His eyes catch on Four’s hand – still clenched tight, still bleeding – and flicker uncertainly. Then he squeaks and flails in protest as Warriors scrubs a hand through his hair.

“Sailor’s right, it’ll be okay. Maybe talk to your friend next time you’re home? See about getting a spare – or somewhere safer to keep it?”

Twilight makes a noise of agreement. “Your friend must be real important to ya,” he says, “but you haven’t mentioned ‘em before. Can you tell us about them?”

Embers spark.

“He killed himself,” Four says boldly, “to save my life.”

There’s a brief, horrified silence.

Then everyone bursts out talking at once, Twilight’s frantic apologies mixing with Wind telling him off, Hyrule pleading to let him help, Warriors protesting something that gets lost in the commotion. They’re guilty, apologetic, desperately trying to help.

Red doesn’t care.

“I can’t just – get a new one, because it was his, and now he’s gone. He saved me – he saved all of fucking Hyrule – and people call me a hero when I couldn’t – I couldn’t even save him.” Under a layer of numb his skin is burning, with hurt, with anger, with the grief he holds close. He still feels so cold. It isn’t fair.

Time interrupts before he can dig his heels too deep. “How old were you?” His voice is gentle, almost distant.

“We were – we were both thirteen.” His voice cracks and he has to use his free hand to dash away angry tears. This is why he doesn’t talk about it, dammit.

Sky hugs him.

It’s more awkward than usual, without all their layers in the way – why does skin have to be so warm, and slightly sticky, ugh – but Sky is determined, and Four – doesn’t have it in him to protest, right now. Leaning into Sky’s chest, he lets himself relax – lets his fingers loosen, just a little, on the shard of mirror-glass.

They just want this to be over.

-----

When Four doesn’t fight him, just lets himself be held, Sky fixes the rest of the group with a sharp eye. “Wild, how fast can you get us through this?”

Wild’s back goes straight. “Depends on the tasks, usually doesn’t take more than an hour or two.”

“How do we get out afterwards?”

Wild glances around, grimacing. “Well, usually there’s a – a platform that carries you up and down, but I don’t see one here – this looks really different to what I’m used to, but it – it feels the same, I guess?”

Sky stays focused on problem solving. “Any other ways out?”

“The shrine keeper. When you approach them, the shrine keeper teleports you out.”

“Can we bypass the dungeon and go straight for the exit that way?”

“No, they – they’re always blocked off, you have to – the shrine wants you to do something, and you have to figure it out and – and actually do it, before the path opens – sometimes the problem is the path –”

“Okay, so it is like a dungeon,” says Legend. He’s tense, keeps flicking quick looks at Four and the way he’s standing unprotestingly in Sky’s hold. “How fast d’you think we can get through with multiple people helping?”

“Only one way to find out!” says Sky with false cheer.

Quickly they get themselves organised. There’s no equipment to outfit themselves with, no armour to check; all they can do is split into smaller groups to hopefully cover all corners as fast as possible. Legend makes a point of putting Warriors in the only group of three. Warriors complains, but’s mostly a front. He’s never experienced a dungeon before and is rightly wary, so putting him with two other people who have only makes sense.

Sky they leave to babysit Four, whose empty expression and slow reflexes are not convincing anyone that he’s capable of a dungeon run. Some traps have genuinely murderous timing. He’s also still refusing to let go of his necklace, which cuts him deep enough to bleed every time something makes him startle.

Once they’re gone, and the sandy hallway has gone still, Sky gently rocks on his feet, moving Four with him. “Hey, Four? You with me at all?”

Four gives a displeased grunt.

“Yeah, I know.” Sky’s heart hurts. “C’mon, let’s sit down again. The others will come get us later.”

Four goes with him when he tugs, crouching and then tumbling into a clumsy sit. His knees draw close to his face, seemingly without thought, going back to the defensive huddle with his bloodied hand at the centre. Stormy grey is alert, if sullen. Mostly Four just looks tired.

Sky sits beside him, not wanting to overwhelm him further. “It’s okay. They’re a lot sometimes, but they mean well.”

Four’s response is too muffled to translate.

“Sorry, Four, I didn’t catch that.”

“I’m tired of them asking!” he bursts out. “I’m tired of them asking about – about friends, and family, and do you have someone special waiting for you at home, and – it hurts, and I’m tired of it, and they won’t stop!”

And of course that was the danger in Red fronting when they were this emotional – what came out was what they felt, no deflecting or sugar coating, no way to hide after.

“I’m sorry,” Sky says. “I didn’t realise it was bothering you so much. I can talk to the others about it and make sure everyone stops.”

If they haven’t sworn off it already. Blue, sardonic, even through the grey haze cloaking their mind.

I feel bad, Green murmurs, they were just trying to help.

After such an outburst? Doubtless they feel worse than you do, says Vio.

“They should feel guilty,” Red mutters, and it’s shot through with indigo venom. “Maybe now they’ll shut up.”

Sky tightens the arm across his shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”

He feels helpless. Four isn’t usually – vindictive, like this. Nor prone to outbursts and fits of temper. Being stripped mostly naked would knock anyone off-balance, to say nothing of the desperate way Four is protecting his necklace, but – Sky just doesn’t know what to do. Four’s a lot more functional than he would be, after three panic attacks back-to-back, but how much of that is just a mask? How much is he really struggling to hold it together?

(Would Sky even be able to tell, when Four’s been hiding this for so long?)

He runs a hand through his hair, absent-minded, and catches on the lack of catching at his ears. “Aw, man. It even took my earrings. Wild did say it would give them back after, right?”

“…yeah.”

His sigh of relief is only slightly exaggerated. “That’s good. Those weren’t easy to get, you know.”

Four’s tired blink isn’t the most rousing expression of interest, but Sky launches into the story anyway. He has to let go of Four to make the gestures his hands want to, and – it’s fine. Four doesn’t collapse in on himself at the loss of contact. All he does is turn his head to watch Sky talk, eyes still a little too sharp.

Sky hopes the distraction helps. Involving Four hadn’t worked, but something completely outside of himself, something new to hold onto? Maybe it will help him calm down from the edge of panic he’s been riding since they first stumbled out of the portal.

It’s as he’s describing Scrapper and the Mogmas that Wind’s shout draws them both to look up. “Hey, guys! Legend cracked it!” He waves enthusiastically, like maybe they hadn’t yet noticed him standing in his skivvies at the end of the hall. “There’s a big statue but Wild doesn’t wanna mess with it ‘til everyone’s there! C’mon!”

Four refuses Sky’s hand to get up, though he’s a little shaky on his feet. Sky tries not to hover. He knows how annoying it is, having people looming close just waiting for you to fail, and at the same time, he doesn’t want Four to hurt himself if he stumbles and falls.

Wild was right: this isn’t nearly as long and complex as a dungeon. According to Wind, who chatters on as they make their way up the spiralling collection of ramps, they’d had to do a fair bit of work pulling things apart to make it traversable for anyone who wasn’t Wild. “It took him and Twilight and Legend with his power bracelets to move that block,” he waves at the massive piece of stone they’re walking over to the next bridge-like panel. “And then Wild used his slate for these metal pieces, except he kept dropping them, and his aim is shit, so Wars nearly fell in that pool getting out of the way.”

Sky snorts at the mental image.

When they make it to the top, they find the others loosely gathered around some kind of blocky statue. It looks like a cross between an owl, a fox, and a rabbit. What even needs ears that long?

Wild flashes them a strained grin over his shoulder. “So! Usually I find a ten-thousand-year-old Sheikah monk at the end of these things, but it’s got kinda the same feel to it, so we’re gonna try anyway. Just in case, everyone grab hold of me.”

That isn’t easy. Eight different people have to crowd around Wild’s back and sides to make sure everyone has a hand on him. Sky spots Four’s hand in the crush, still streaked with drying blood, and his stomach rolls.

“Okay, everyone ready? Here goes nothing.” Wild reaches out towards the statue.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then the world twists like a Time Gate, several things happening at once. A panel goes red – lights up green – a glimmering box of blue light shatters, flinging threads of glass before they freeze in midair – an angry buzzing noise – chiming fairy bells –

The statue smiles.

WELL DONE.

And as suddenly as it started, it all stops.

Sky fumbles a bit at the added weight, his sailcloth dragging at his shoulders and his earrings suddenly heavy in his ears. Time’s armour makes a crashing noise like it had been dropped from a height; Time grunts.

They’re outside, grass under their feet and a weird teardrop-shaped stone building behind them. Sky doesn’t know where they are – it’s all hills and fields and low-hanging trees – but there’s no monsters in eyeshot so he uses the opportunity to double check all his belongings were returned. Earrings, sailcloth, clothes – check. Bag – check, and it looks like the contents are intact. Master Sword and scabbard, fucking goddessdamned check. He did not appreciate losing her, even for a couple of hours.

Around him the others are doing much the same, adjusting clothes and checking packs. Legend’s running his fingers over his rings like he’s counting them, while Warriors struggles to get his mail to sit right over his bad shoulder.

And Four –

All Sky catches a glimpse of is black and glossy and strangely clean of blood before Four is shoving the pendant down the neck of his tunic, out of sight.

The difference is immense. All the tension drops out of his shoulders, he stops standing hunched in on himself, even his face relaxes from its hard, suspicious lines. There’s still creases around his too-red eyes – he’s still feeling the effects of the panic and stress of the day – but he looks more himself.

He even smiles at Wind’s little dance of happiness at getting his pants back. “Aren’t you the first one to strip every time we find a lake?”

Brightening at the sound of his voice, Wind spins to face him and beams. “Yeah, but that’s different! Lakes are fun! This was just annoying.”

“You shoulda heard him whine when we asked him to scale that rope,” says Legend.

Wind makes an outraged noise. “You try climbing coarse hemp with no pants! I ain’t a fan of splinters in me privates!”

The laughter and bickering is slightly strained. Even as Hyrule creeps up and is finally, finally allowed to heal his torn-up hand and wipe away the blood, everyone’s giving Four his space. Not pushing, not demanding things of him, just letting him exist with them.

Good. Sky will still catch them up individually, make sure everyone knows Four’s had enough of personal questions, but for now at least, everything is okay.

Wild finishes what he was doing – taking photographs of the weird building? – and waves his Slate at everyone. “Definitely my Hyrule! If we head north, we should make it to Castle Town by nightfall.”

“Isn’t your Castle Town still mostly construction site?” Legend says, and Wild shrugs.

“If you wanna spend two days walking to Kakariko, be my guest, but there’s at least a temporary stable and inn at Castle Town.”

“I vote beds,” says Wind immediately.

Sky agrees – from the look of the sun, they’re mid-afternoon, so being just a couple of hours away from safety is very appealing. It only takes a little debate for Legend to give in, since he doesn’t want to sleep on the ground if he doesn’t have to, either. As they set off through the grass, Sky scans the group one last time.

Twilight’s up the front with Wild, Hyrule looking on in fascination as Wild waves at a herd of horses and threatens to catch one. Warriors is close enough to intervene if necessary, while Legend is deliberately ignoring them in favour of studying the landscape – in the opposite direction of Wild’s horses. Wind has dragged Time into a conversation about his armour, with Four – steady and reserved once more – chiming in here and there about plate maintenance.

Sky takes a deep breath, and lets the tension run out of him as he exhales.

For now, everything’s okay.

#whumptober 2023 #linked universe #lu fic #skies writes #lu four #lu sky #lu wind #lu wild #lu twilight #lu legend #lu hyrule #lu warriors #don't @ me if your fave did a dumb #they are all stressed and dumb rn #i debated having this like a ‘you can keep ONE THING’ but decided the incidental nudity would probably not be conducive to good angst #regarding four and who’s speaking at any one time: if it’s not clear it's not meant to be clear #:)#I know there are ways to get equipment onto eventide #but i like imagining the monk sitting there watching link’s attempts to bypass it rolling its eyes and going ‘i can’t let you do that dave'

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blindmagdalena · 6 months

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Eat Your Ego, Honey (Ch7)

homelander x oc 18+ escort services, sex work, voyeurism, stalking, Homelander in general. see ao3 link for detailed tags. chapter index. check out the playlist!

chapter summary: Following Homelander and Layla's disastrous morning after, she bumps into another hero at Vought Tower. Upon seeing the state of her, Starlight offers solace and the opportunity for Layla to put herself back together before she faces the world. Shortly thereafter, Homelander erupts on live television, changing public perception of him forever.

additional tags: unhealthy/codependent dynamics, panic attacks, references to sexual assault, excessive drinking. this is where all major canon deviations begin! 🖤

Halfway down the hall, Layla hears something crash and shatter in the penthouse behind her. She nearly loses her footing, but by some kind of miracle, she maintains her composure through the walk to the elevator.

She swallows back the taste of her own blood, wipes the tears from her cheeks, and viscerally feels the looks she garners from the handful of bewildered Vought employees she passes. The building isn’t nearly as empty as she would have hoped it would be on a Saturday. Such as it is when the heroes all live in-house.

She presses the button and waits, bitterly musing all the while how utterly ridiculous it is to have two elevators for a building with one hundred floors.

It’s been years since Layla has faced a walk of shame like this. She’s been so careful to curate her experiences–her entire life–in order to avoid this dreadful humiliation. She knows the picture she paints: a skewed and wrinkled dress, her jacket draped haphazardly on her shoulders, bruises scattered on her body, mascara tracks down her cheeks. It’s an ugly, empty feeling.

However, it’s easier to focus on that ugliness than it is to process everything that just happened. She isn’t ready to replay the events in her mind just yet, to backtrack the descent from a blissful morning-after to the bloody mess she stumbled out of.

She touches her tongue to the stinging slice on the inside of her mouth, closing her eyes.

You idiot. You stupid, stupid idiot.

Looking up, she sees a mural above the elevator depicting the heroes of the Seven. Never in her life has she wished more for Transluscent’s power of invisibility. She stares at the painting of Homelander. It doesn’t really look like him, the jaw too wide and too square. His hair is too blonde, lacking his darker undercut. It’s like some kind of caricature of him.

Then again, she’s hardly the expert on the man. This morning taught her as much.

Unfortunately, she isn’t invisible. That much is clear when she physically feels someone stop near her, senses the tentativeness in the air as she hears them take a breath before addressing her.

“Uhm, I’m so sorry, excuse me,” comes a gentle, feminine voice. Layla screws her eyes shut, and forces herself to remember how to be a person. “I’m not trying to be rude, but you… Is there anything I can do for you?”

Opening her eyes, Layla prepares her best placating smile, but she comes short of it when she actually looks and sees who’s talking to her.

Starlight is beautiful. Flaxen locks tumble over her shoulders in loose curls, and she stares with such warm, big brown eyes–so overwhelmingly full of empathy and concern–that Layla is temporarily stunned. She’s thoroughly embarrassed to be seen in such a state by someone so lovely, so widely adored, so much younger, that she flushes.

“You’re so sweet, no, I’m okay,” she says, self-consciously adjusting her coat. She lowers her voice when she says, “It’s worse than it looks, I’m…” She hesitates, trailing off. Starlight has taken a small step closer since she started talking.

She looks wholly unconvinced, and if Layla were in her position, she knows she would feel the same. She pushes out a strained smile, and gives a small shrug, fighting desperately against another bout of tears the longer she’s stared at by those mournful, painfully understanding eyes. The connection is so immediate. It’s raw and human in a way Layla realizes she desperately needs.

“Listen, I’m not trying to overstep, it’s just that I’ve been where you are,” she says gently. Layla recalls the Deep, and Starlight’s very public campaign against him. It’s no wonder she’s responding so urgently. “And if you want, you can come to my apartment,” she offers, standing right next to her now, her voice hushed. “You can get cleaned up, get changed. I have lots of clothes. You’re totally safe, okay? I promise. I’ll be there the whole time.”

Layla wants to tell her that it’s a misunderstanding, but the words don’t come to her. She glances at the illuminated dot on the elevator. Still over forty floors down. The thought of withstanding the ride all the way back down, pretending not to notice the way people are staring at her, makes her nauseous. Fearing that if she opens her mouth, she’ll lose her poise completely, she only nods.

“Okay! Okay, come with me,” Starlight says, putting a hand on Layla’s elbow to help guide her. Starlight walks with impressive command, seeming tall despite her relatively diminutive stature. As they walk together, it isn’t Layla that catches their attention. It’s the shining star at her side. She’s grateful for the cover of her glow, feeling less and less like she wants to disappear into herself.

They don’t speak on the way to Starlight’s suite, but her hand does remain on Layla’s arm. She swaps sides with her when they pass a group of employees, offering them a friendly greeting, throwing in a wave. She makes for a radiant distraction, every move purposeful.

It’s the kindest thing Layla can ever remember a near perfect stranger doing for her.

They reach a distinguished door that perfectly suits Starlight’s ensemble, embellished with white paint and accents of gold. She inputs a passcode that she doesn’t seem concerned with obscuring from Layla–0163–and the door automatically swings open. She leads the way inside, and the door closes behind them.

Only then does Starlight leave her side, walking ahead of her. “Let’s grab you some things really quick, you can just pick whatever, I’ve got a ton of promotional stuff if you don’t mind looking like a walking advertisement for Vought, but really, take whatever you want,” she says, gesturing for her to follow.

Starlight’s apartment is stark and modernistic, full of sharp angles and sleek lines. The archway to her living room is made of thick speckled marble, and beyond that, an accent wall of pure gold. It’s intensely opulent, and while it may suit her hero colorscheme, it’s considerably colder than Starlight herself seems to be. It’s not unlike Homelander’s penthouse in that regard: it speaks only of the image Vought wishes to present.

Following along, Layla says, “Thank you, Starlight. I’m Layla, by the way.” That causes Starlight to stop dead in her tracks, turning around. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, right, hi. You don’t have to–you can just call me Annie,” she insists, laughing at herself. “Wow, I am so tunnel visioned sometimes.”

“Annie,” Layla repeats with a smile. The name suits her far more than this apartment does. “Thank you.”

Annie returns a warm smile before resuming the task at hand. Her room is just as luxurious and sleek as the rest of her apartment, but unlike the other rooms, it’s clear she’s made this space more her own. There’s a pinboard hanging above her dresser with over a dozen photos pinned to it. Below that, a framed photo of Annie in her younger years, donning her classic Starlight attire, standing next to a woman Layla assumes might be her mother.

Etched into the frame is: “He determines the number of the stars and calls them each by name.” Psalms‬ ‭147:4

“Okay, so, for real, help yourself to anything,” Annie says, gesturing broadly to the closet. “It’s kind of funny that I even have all of this when they only ever want me in the Starlight get-up.”

Upon closer inspection, sure enough, Annie’s closet is largely of a variety of high-end brands, specifically in crossover with Vought’s brand. Ever prone to opulence herself, Layla can’t help but touch the sleeve of a cardigan that catches her eye. It’s white with a faintly shimmering metallic trim, and slightly bulbous gold buttons. It looks designed very specifically for Starlight, and by a renown French designer no less.

“Go for it,” Annie encourages.

“This is a Balmain,” Layla says, looking at her in earnest astonishment. “This is easily worth thousands of dollars.”

Annie turns a slight shade of pink, looking just as surprised. “Oh, uh… Well, it was–it was a gift, you know. Promotional stuff. A crossover thing, I think, I just… It’s not really me. It’s nice, though! And if you like it, you should take it. I don’t think I’ve ever paid more than fifty dollars for a sweater. I’d just get it dirty,” she says, the words tumbling from her lips like marbles rolling down a flight of stairs. “You seem like you’d make better use of it than me.”

“Have you worn it before?” Layla asks, easing the garment from the velvet hanger that it rests on. Annie shakes her head. “Have you even tried it on?” Another shake of her blonde tresses. Exhaling an amused little breath, she puts the cardigan into her hands. “You should. It was made for you.”

“It was made for Starlight,” she corrects, but there isn’t any trace of disdain in her voice. Instead, Layla recognizes a sense of melancholy in the way Annie stares at the garment.

Starlight–Annie–provides a stark and mystifying contrast to Homelander. There is an aura of disconnect between who she is, who she wants to be, and who the world has made of her. Layla had expected her to be something of a princess: sweet, but aware of her royalty. Not embarrassed by it.

Homelander desperately wants to be the king of his kingdom, but the crown has fallen around his throat, and he chokes violently against it.

“I’m sorry, that sounds ungrateful now that I’ve said it. I just mean that it was made for me to wear, but it wasn’t made for me. It’s–I don’t know, it’s strange being me, but… Not me,” she says, holding the cardigan between her hands, absently moving her thumbs along the smooth, exquisitely soft fabric.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Layla assures her, turning back to the closet. There are more Balmain pieces, as well as a handful of Cucinelli, and even a Burberry gown. There must be hundreds of thousands of dollars hanging in this closet.

“You have a strong sense of yourself. That’s good. This world will eat you alive if you don’t,” she says, combing her fingers through the rows of clothing. Her hand stops on a simple white blouse–still costly, she knows from the feel of it that it’s made of viscose–and plucks it from the rack. She finds a long patterned skirt to match it. “For what it’s worth, I was happy to see this look of yours come back,” she says, gesturing to Starlight’s current ensemble, her signature cape and dress returned to her. The body suit with a plunging neckline and thigh high heels had looked ripped straight out of a playboy magazine, not a superhero lineup. “It suits you,” she continues, finally looking back at Annie, who’s smiling up at her with those big warm, shimmering brown eyes of hers.

Annie nods, idly hugging the cardigan to her middle. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

Layla smiles, folding the clothes she’s selected over her forearm. “That said… it’s okay to enjoy your spoils a little bit,” she says, nodding her head towards the closet. “You’re not any lesser for indulgence. I know, I know–strong women don’t care about pretty clothes, the ones who do are vapid airheads, hell on earth because Eve ate the apple, yada yada. But I’ll tell you a little secret,” she says, leaning in conspiratorially. She whispers, “Sometimes an apple is just an apple, and apples… are delicious.”

They both laugh, the undercurrent of unease that had been lingering since the moment they met finally abating.

“Has anyone ever told you that you're, like, dangerously easy to talk to?” Annie asks, hanging the cardigan back up in the closet. Layla notes that this time, she moves it amidst the clothes she regularly wears.

“Yes, people love to tell me things,” she muses, following when Annie beckons her towards yet another room. She’s made an entire career off of making people feel comfortable enough with her to divulge some of the darkest, most secret aspects of themselves. A little girl talk is a welcome reprieve.

The bathroom is as lavish and impersonal as the rest of her apartment, feeling more like a hotel than a personal residence. There are tiny wrapped soaps and Vought branded bottles on every shelf. There are neatly folded stacks of pristine white towels, all of which are embroidered with a golden S. The level of detail to the place is almost unnerving, especially given how very unlike Annie it all is.

Much like with Homelander’s penthouse, it’s like walking through a meticulously crafted custom enclosure, not a home.

“Again, help yourself to whatever, I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” Annie says from the doorway, offering a little wave.

Layla thanks her, and once the door shuts, she lets out a long, deep breath, her eyes falling shut. Her whole body feels heavy and aching, more exhausted than she can put into words. All she wants to do is lie down and never stand back up, but beneath her dress her skin feels tacky, and her muscles are yearning for the soothing caress of hot water.

She scrounges up the will power to undress and climb into the shower, taking her time to wash away the events of the last 12 hours from her body. The same can’t be said of her mind. Her fingers linger over bruises that have only grown darker, pressing lightly against her tender flesh. Homelander may as well have written his name, these marks ensuring she won’t forget their night any time soon.

It was so very nearly perfect.

She plays it over in her mind again and again, her body on autopilot through washing her hair. His son, the mother of his son, his relationship to them, his relationship to Layla herself, to his own name, it was all… “Complicated” was what he’d called things with his child. That seems to perfectly sum up just about everything in his life. She had tried to spare them the mess of an argument, falling back on familiar coping mechanisms–disconnecting and evacuating to find perspective–but the situation had escalated so rapidly from that point, she can barely track it even in hindsight.

“Please don’t leave me,” he had begged, looking smaller than she'd ever seen him. ”It’s my birthday.”

She doesn’t know how true that is. She’s always assumed the yearly birthday bash Vought celebrates on July 4th was a corporate thing in line with his personification of America, not his actual birthdate. She doesn’t know if this is a further entanglement of John and Homelander, or if there’s something deeper–something more sinister–at play.

Perhaps Starlight can shed some illumination on the matter.

Finishing the shower leaves Layla refreshed, albeit still weary. She draws her hair into a sleek updo and applies her favorite red lipstick as both comfort and armor. She won’t let any more of the world see her in shambles.

Stepping out into the living room, she finds Annie waiting patiently at the circular dining table, pouring over what looks like a script, though she closes the binder when she sees Layla approaching. “Hey!” Annie greets brightly, looking equal parts relieved and delighted. “Hey, wow. You look amazing,” she says, standing.

“I have you to thank for that,” Layla shoots back, reaching to take her hand, which Annie readily offers. “Thank you, Annie. Really. This meant more to me than you’ll ever know,” she says, squeezing her hand between both of hers.

Annie flusters, making a handful of noncommittal, dismissive noises. “No, no, it was the least I could do–and I mean that, okay? Like, the least. I could do more. I’m technically co-captain of the Seven now, and if you… You know, you wanted to–” Layla squeezes her hand again, smiling. “I understand. Thank you, Annie.”

She smiles back, but it doesn’t entirely reach her eyes. Layla can tell that she desperately wants to do more. She’s a hero, after all: she’s looking for a villain to defeat. Unfortunately, there isn’t one in this story. There is no clear cut antagonist for Starlight to conquer.

There are just two people whose jagged edges failed to line up, cutting them both in the process.

“Okay. Okay!” She says, but it’s clear that she’s having trouble dropping it by the way she keeps hold of Layla’s hand. “Okay, but if you change your mind, you can call me. I’m kind of a big deal,” she says playfully, leaning in as if it were a secret. “And I can pretty much guarantee you I can kick their ass. It’s not like it’s Homelander.”

Layla’s expression falters, her smile falling from her lips. Annie recognizes it before she can recover, and the dawning look of horror that comes across her face is one that Layla will never forget.

“Oh my god,” Annie whispers. “It was Homelander? Homelander?”

God damn it.

“Please don’t say it like that,” Layla pleads, expression imploring. “It’s not what you think, it was consensual, it just… It ended poorly, and we fought,” she continues to explain, but Annie only looks more and more bewildered as she goes on. “Please don’t tell anyone. My–our relationship is complicated, and it’s better that no one else knows.”

“Relationship,” she echoes incredulously. “Your… relationship with Homelander,” she says, clearly processing the words as she says them. “Holy shit.”

“Yes, and you’re very sweet to want to help me, and you have, but there’s no villain for you to unmask here,” she says, pulling her hands away.

Annie barks a sharp laugh at that, but catches herself quickly. “Sorry, sorry, that, uhm… Okay. I’m sorry, I just… I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Please,” Layla says again, leveling her with an even stare. “I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone about this. It’s not something I can afford to be embroiled in,” she says, hoping that Annie’s desire to protect her will extend into this plea for secrecy.

Reluctantly, Annie nods. “I get it, I swear, but are you sure you’re safe? I don’t think you understand who he really is,” she says, her shock and incredulousness fading into a very urgent concern that makes something in Layla’s stomach twist up. “He’s not safe, Layla. Like, I mean really, really not safe. He’s freaking unhinged,” she whispers, as if he could be listening right this moment.

It occurs to Layla that he actually could be.

That twist in her gut sharpens, and her brows furrow. Instead of concern, however, she recognizes it as a sharp jut of defensiveness. Her lips part, but she takes a pause. “Is today his birthday?”

Annie’s expression smooths out in a wave of surprise. “What?”

“His birthday,” Layla repeats a touch impatiently. “Is today really his birthday?”

“Oh, uhm,” she frowns, clearly caught off guard by the abrupt switch in gears. “I don’t know. He certainly seems to think so.”

Huh. Does he truly not have anyone?

“I should go,” Layla says, reaching for her jacket where it hangs off of the back of one of the dining chairs.

“Wait, I’m sorry! I’m reacting badly, I know that, I’m just–I’m worried,” she says, an edge of panic audible in her tone.

“I know, I know, it’s okay. I’m not offended. I just have a lot to think about,” she says in turn, offering a slightly strained smile. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I really do, but I need time.”

She finds herself needing a lot of that lately.

Annie looks wounded and young at this, making her difficult to walk away from. After a beat, Layla moves closer and takes her into her arms, closing her eyes as she squeezes her tightly. “You’ve been a friend to me today, Annie. Thank you.”

The embrace is returned by strong arms that remind Layla this is no simple young woman. She has a similar gravity to her grip as Homelander, but her hold lacks his tangible desperation for touch. When they part, Annie doesn’t leave claw marks.

“I can still be your friend,” she says softly, pressing something into Layla’s hand. Opening her palm, Layla finds a folded posted, and unfurling that, a phone number. “The offer stands. If he… if… Just call me, okay?”

“Okay,” Layla relents, doubting she’ll get out of here if she doesn’t. She slips the paper securely into her purse. “I will. I promise.”

There’s a touch of relief in Annie’s expression at last. She manages a weak smile. “Thank you. Will you text me so I know you got home safe?” She asks, sounding every bit like a fretful mother hen.

“Sure, yes, of course,” she assures, mirroring Annie’s smile. The tension in the air is undeniable, an anxious thing that lives and breathes between them, but there is no fix for it. Layla does what she does best, and turns to flee from it, unprepared to face Annie’s ominous warning head on. The split behind her bottom lip stings when she touches her tongue to it.

All the while, Annie watches her go, her perfect brows pulled into a tight pinch. She has the ache in her gaze of someone who desperately wants to do more, but has been left at a loss for how to do it. Layla almost feels guilty for the distress in her eyes, but currently finds herself lacking the emotional bandwidth for it. She’s stretched so thin, she barely finds the strength to pull the door open.

That little piece of paper in her purse feels heavy, but not as heavy as Annie’s desperate words tumbling around in her head like bowling balls.

“He’s not safe… really, really not safe.”

Layla orders herself an Uber, and this time around garners significantly less attention walking the halls of Vought tower, glancing warily over her shoulder. She can’t shake the anxious–or in some small and twisted way, hopeful–feeling that she might see him looking back at her.

However, he remains a phantom possibility in her periphery. She slides into the car that pulls in to pick her up, and somehow manages to keep herself together on the drive back to her apartment.

It’s already 10am by the time she makes it inside, slipping out of her shoes and her jacket, dropping her purse on the floor, leaving them like a trail of breadcrumbs from her front door to her kitchen. Her head is throbbing, so she grabs a Tylenol from the shelf above her microwave and pours herself a modest glass of a rich dark merlot to wash it down. If she had any sense left in her she would serve herself a mimosa to at least pretend to herself she’s drinking responsibly this early in the morning, but the heavy tang of the red on her tongue makes her temples tingle and soothes the fray of her nerves.

Exhaling a rough breath, she pulls a container of semi-questionable leftovers from her fridge and sits down with it at her computer. Her empty stomach leaves her buzzed from the single glass, but she’s determined to put her mind anywhere else. She eats cold pasta with a spoon, and opens several emails with the intention of answering them, though after about an hour all she has is several half-hearted drafts and a perpetually churning stomach.

Certain that she won’t manage anything more productive, she pours herself another glass of wine and plants herself on the couch in front of her TV. Turning it on, she winces at the immediate flash of Homelander’s face, staring proud and determinedly down at her in an advert for his newest film. Quickly, she flips to another channel, letting out a long suffering breath before taking another swig of wine. She puts on something she’s seen before, something easy, and sinks back into the couch, pulling her blanket off of the back of the sofa and into her lap.

She doesn’t watch so much as she dissociates to the sound of her television, nursing the too-full glass she’d poured, taking the occasional sip as her mind circles the drain of the events of the morning over and over and over.

Homelander crashed into her life like a meteor. In such a short burst of time, he blew a hole in her life the size of a continent, and as she sits by herself day drinking to old episodes for comfort, she realizes how achingly empty the thought of his permanent absence leaves her.

By the time she finishes her glass of wine, she’s slumped almost completely horizontally. She sets the glass on the floor and completes the descent, curling up under her blanket. She passes out in the clothes Annie gave her and falls into a deep, troubled sleep.

Hours later, Layla wakes in a fugue state. Her apartment is silent, the television paused on a prompt that wonders if she’s still watching. The way that almost feels like the warmth of concern for her wellbeing is slightly alarming. With a groan, she pushes herself upright and digs both thumbs into her temples, looking around. 5:42pm.

“Fuck,” she sighs, swinging her legs off the couch. She knocks the wine glass she’d left there flying, and gives another emphatic fuck as she gets up to fetch it. She walks it to the sink, but upon seeing the mostly empty bottle of merlot still open on the counter, she decides she may as well finish it off, and pours the rest into her already wine-stained glass. She carries it to her fridge, where she digs around until she manages to assemble a plate of shredded mozzarella, a pepperoni sausage and a jar of pickled mussels.

She brings her assortment back to the couch and settles right back down in front of the television, taking a sip of her wine before she finds something slightly more stimulating to watch while she piles cheese on the end of the pepperoni with each bite.

The process of eating feels entirely mechanical. She’s only half paying attention to anything, but when she hears her phone alarm suddenly going off, she startles. Untangling herself from the blanket, she goes to where she dropped her purse near the front door, and fishes her phone out of it. Her stomach drops. BIRTHDAY BASH her screen reads. She’d promised him that she’d be watching from home. She forgot that she’d set an alarm.

Layla chews her tongue indecisively on the walk back to the couch, settling down with an uneasy sigh. It’s starting now. She taps her nails incessantly on the back of her phone, stomach twisting. The wine glass is empty and there’s a slight spin to her vision. Sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth, she picks up her remote and flips the channel. She’s met with the middle of a performance, a hero she doesn’t recognize singing some kind of boy band pop ballad.

Her stomach flips wildly. There are golden statues of Homelander on either side of the stage, and she finds she can focus on little else. It’s not hard to understand why he thinks himself a god when he is surrounded by golden effigies of himself and feverish, screaming worshippers. The world has created an impossible standard for all that he is. She absently touches her bruised lip, pressing on it until it stings.

The performance ends, and she recognizes the next hero–A-Train–who emerges on stage. He lends credit to Supersonic for his performance, answering her earlier quandary. She’s taken heroes for granted most of her life, considering herself removed from their fame and services. A part of her had even resented them for a long time. If the world was so full of heroism, why hadn’t any of them saved her parents?

Christ, the wine was really getting to her.

She snaps back to attention when A-Train announces the man of the hour, a severe looking portrait of Homelander flashing on the screen behind him. Her mouth feels dry, and she suddenly wishes she had another tall glass of wine in her hand, but she finds she can’t unglue herself from her seat. She sucks in a shallow breath, paying careful attention to his body language as he steps out onto stage.

Despite the celebration centering on Homelander, the camera favors Starlight as the two make their entrances. It’s surreal to remember that just this morning, she had shared space with each of them respectively. That she was wearing bruises from his hands and clothes from her closet. That feels like another lifetime entirely.

Homelander hasn’t stopped nodding since he stepped on stage. His smiles are tense and fleeting, flickering on and off like a sputtering flame fighting the winds around him. Starlight speaks, conducting herself well, but the look on her face when she’d realized who Layla had been with haunts her, coloring her perspective now. Annie looks like an entirely different person on that stage, voice tight and guarded. She’s not sure how much of that is an echo of He’s not safe. Really, really not safe, though.

Regardless, the announcement is going well right up until–

“Hey, Homelander! Your nazi died!”

Layla’s jaw drops. Anxiety hits like a chunk of ice falling into her gut. The camera remains painfully still, focused on Homelander’s frozen expression. His smile is too wide, full of teeth, and his eyes hollow. The silence left in the wake of that man is chilling.

Starlight intervenes, breaking the tension with an attempt at mediation. “Homelander, he’s just–he’s a human!”

“No,” Layla blurts aloud, standing from the couch. She pushes her hands into her hair. “Oh, Annie, no, no, stop.”

“He’s just like the rest of us. And we all make mistakes, right?”

It’s all wrong. She can see it in Homelander’s face, in the rapid way he’s blinking, in every twitch and spasm of his jaw. He looks like he’s about to explode.

To her mortification, he does.

“I’m not ‘just like the rest of you.’ I’m stronger, I’m smarter… I’m better. I am better!”

There’s so much fury and righteous vindication in him, but so too is there pain. His eyes are glassy, and she feels as if she can hear the wardrum pound of his heart even from here, see the vein throbbing in his neck. He looks like a caged animal lashing at the bars, roaring, demanding that the spectators see him for what he really is. See how tired he is of pacing for them, pretending he isn’t a wild creature that could rip them apart if he simply chose to.

Layla’s sick to her stomach. It feels like watching him rip himself apart in real time.

“You people should be thanking Christ that I am who and what I am because you need me!” He looks directly into the camera, and Layla feels it to her core when he says again, “You need me!”

The broadcast cuts abruptly into a glaringly loud ad, and Layla collapses back down onto her couch, breathing as if she’d just delivered the impassioned monologue.

“Oh god…” she exhales, covering her face. She isn’t egotistical enough to think herself the sole cause of such a catastrophic meltdown–it’s clearly been a long time coming–but witnessing it, she can’t help but feel like she may have been one of several straws that broke his back. The desperation in his glassy eyes from this morning haunts her. His image is everything to him.

What happens to a man like that if he loses it? What happens to the world?

Her mind spirals on a series of progressively more dire theoretical scenarios, and whether or not she could have avoided all of this had she just stayed with him. Talked him down. Her lip doesn’t sting anymore, but the repercussions of this will echo a great deal further.

She winds up pacing for nearly an hour, unable to settle her mind. She tries calling Chris, but after two failed attempts, she remembers their conversation about his honeymoon in Italy with Jason, and she curses under her breath. The other bottles in her bar cabinet are looking progressively more tempting when a distinct thump outside catches her attention. It almost sounds like something landed on her balcony. She thinks it must have fallen from an above neighbor, or maybe a bird, until she gets close enough to realize there’s a person out there.

“Oh my god, Homelander,” she rasps, frozen still in her place. He perfectly silhouettes her own reflection, staring at her through the glass, his expression gnarled in terrible anguish. It’s hard to tell in the dim lighting, but he looks as though he’s been crying.

After a beat of hesitation, she walks to the balcony door and twists it open just enough to stand in it, staring at him at a loss. “Can I come in?” He asks, voice reedy and thin. Pleading. It’s a shocking contrast to the anger she witnessed on the broadcast, but hardly surprising. She could see this torment lurking beneath it even then. It breaks her heart nonetheless.

She can already feel her own eyes beginning to prickle hotly in sympathy tears. “I don’t think that’s a good–” “Please,” he interjects, teeth locked in a tight grimace. “Please, Layla, I don’t… I don’t have anyone. Do you understand? I-I fucked up tonight, I fucked up bad, and I have nothing. If any of it was real, if you care just-just one fucking bit about me, then please. Please let me in,” he begs, bringing up his gloved hand to brace above her head on the doorframe, subtly rocking back and forth.

With every breath she takes, Layla feels the jagged edges of her aching heart pierce her lungs. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she takes a tentative step backwards, and then slowly opens her door to him, adrenaline pumping through her veins a mile a minute.

Of course she cares. She cares so much it makes her feel sick.

With a small nod, he steps inside, shaking out his hands. “Did you… Did you…?” He trails off, seemingly unable to bring himself to properly ask, but she knows what he’s trying to say.

“I saw,” she says gently, closing the balcony door.

“It’s over. It’s over, I’m fucking-I’m fucking finished,” he says with a wild gesture, running his hand through his already mussed hair.

She remains in place, keeping a subtle distance between them. “You’ve been under unfathomable stress. You were mocked on live television for something you’re still grieving, something that wasn’t your–” “It doesn’t fucking matter!” He snaps, both hands in the air. “No one cares about that, no one gives a fuck how I feel,” he hisses through his teeth, fresh tears welling in his eyes. He screws them shut, as if willing the tears to disappear. “I’m not their god, I’m not their hero, I’m-I’m nothing,” he says, starting to tug at the collar of his suit as if it’s choking him. He exhales a rough, mirthless laugh that sounds closer to a keen of pain.

He hooks the fingers of both hands in his collar, sucking in a strained breath, and Layla realizes with a start that he looks like he’s having a panic attack. She moves swiftly to him, gingerly taking hold of his wrists. “Shhhh, let go, let go,” she says kindly but firmly, knowing he responds best to a mix of the two. Thankfully, it works, his eyes meeting hers, his breaths a shallow frenzy.

“I can’t breathe,” he tells her, his confusion obvious in his tone and the furrow of his brow. If this has happened to him before, it’s been a long time.

“You’re panicking. Let’s take this off you,” she says, unfastening his suit top. “Listen to me breathe, alright?” She takes a deep breath in, and then on the exhale, counts out, “One, two three…” Another inhale, then, “One two three…”

She’s seen this happen before. Sometimes her sessions get intense. They can unlock memories and triggers her clients didn’t even know they had. This is far from her first time talking someone down from a panic attack.

He still looks confused, but he lets her disrobe him to his undershirt, the padded suit sliding off of his shoulders. They fight with his gloves briefly, slipping those off first, and then the top falls to the ground with a particularly heavy thud. He keeps his focus on her, and after a few rounds, he’s breathing with her, lips very faintly following along to her repetitive countdowns.

“That’s good, you’re doing so well,” she praises, cupping either side of his head. With her thumbs, she massages his temples. “Little longer now, breathe in, one two three four five…” She counts, holding a longer exhale, and then a deeper inhale. He follows her lead, leaning into her touch, and eventually his eyes fall shut, his breathing even.

Relieved, Layla tenderly pets down either side of his face, relaxing the muscles in his face, hoping to ease him back into himself. When he opens her eyes, they’re dreamy and tired. He looks more devastated than she ever could have imagined him. His eyes nearly close as he leans in towards her, but she turns her head away before he can kiss her. He lets out a strained little whimper, forehead coming to rest on her shoulder. He clutches desperately at the fabric of her shirt like he wants to pull her closer, agonizing for the reassurance of touch.

“What am I gonna do?” He asks morosely. She can hear the tightness in his throat like there’s a hand choking him.

“Sleep,” she tells him, taking his hand in hers. “For right now, all you need to do is sleep.”

With that, she guides him to her bedroom. He’s perfectly malleable in this state, moving when and where she leads him without an ounce of resistance. She sits him on her bed and kneels down to unfasten his boots while he watches her, dazed. She never could have imagined their places swapped like this when she first had him before her, fastening the heels he’d bought her.

Tugging his boots off, she sets them aside. His belt comes next, much too clunky to sleep in. He stands back up for this part, helping her, but he pushes his pants off, too. She supposes the padding likely isn’t very comfortable to sleep in, either. She stops him when he moves to push off his undergarments as well, though.

“Leave those,” she says gently.

“I can’t,” he says tightly, paused with his thumbs hooked under his shirt. “I can’t sleep with… I can’t,” he says, struggling to articulate himself. She wonders if it’s a sensory issue.

“Okay, alright. It’s okay,” she says, helping him to take off his shirt, too, followed by his underwear. Giving his hand a squeeze, she uses her opposite hand to pull back the covers, and gestures him into bed. He goes easily, but when she begins to pull the covers up over him, he stills her hand with his own.

“Aren’t you getting in, too?” He asks, brows furrowed over top of large, watery blue eyes.

She hesitates. “Homelander, I–” He flinches so hard that she stops. His gaze drops from hers, shame written clearly in the lines of his face.

“...John?” She attempts, but he shakes his head wordlessly.

He’s in shambles, and despite the little voice of reason demanding that she create distance, she aches too badly for him to leave him like this. Swallowing, she gives him a gentle pat. “Okay, darling. Move, move in. Roll over,” she says, which he does readily, sliding to the center of the bed. She slips in behind him, and after only a brief hesitation, slides her arm around his middle.

He greedily accepts her touch, laying his arm over hers and interlacing their fingers, letting out a shuddering breath that sounds like relief. He squeezes her hand, and she presses her forehead to the nape of his neck.

Their bodies slot together with such ease, it nearly feels like they were made to. Embracing him like this, she finds she better understands the story of Icarus and why he was so compelled to fly to the sun, even as it scorched him.

There is an inexplicable feeling that comes along with holding close something that burns so hot, that feels so much grander than yourself.

They lay like that for hours. Layla’s not sure how much of it he actually spends sleeping. She drifts in and out herself, rousing when his shoulders shake with silent sobs. She soothes him each time, hushing at his ear while she strokes his thumb with her own. He always settles. Eventually, she manages to drift into a deeper sleep, lulled into it by the heat of him in her arms, cradled preciously to her chest.

Unsurprisingly, he fits perfectly into the craterous void he left in her.

Chapter eight.

#homelander x oc #homelander #homelander fanfiction #my writing #eat your ego #AAAAAA my god i FOUGHT with this chapter #but it's here and it's almost 7k lmao #a thousand blessings on everyone who still cares about this fic and has stuck with me

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nori-writes · 1 year

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Late Nights

Yoru x Reader

Summary: Yoru was always there for

Y/N through everything, but tonight it was Y/N’s turn to be there for him.

W/C: 650+

CW: Mentions of panic attacks from nightmares.

A/N: Hey! I am working on requests from you all I do see them and love the ideas! I’m just going down the list in the order they’ve been sent in! I might make a request tracker soon, not sure. Anyway, my A/N isn’t the reason you’re here so enjoy

Yoru was a wonderful boyfriend, as much as he tried to deny it. He was there when you needed someone to hold you, rub your back and let you know things would be okay, if you needed someone to listen, or just be there through silence while you let out your emotions onto his shoulder, he was there, day or night. Though, he could be a little grumpy at night sometimes.

Sometimes Yoru himself would be plagued by nightmares of missions. As much as you wished this wasn’t reality for him, it was and there was no altering that fact. So all you could do was try your best to be there for him in his time of need, tonight was one of those times.

You were awakened from your sleep to the feeling of something rocking the bed. You peeked your head out from under the covers curious as to what the commotion was only to be met with your lover curled up, head in his knees, rocking to try and quietly soothe himself and calm his breathing so as not to wake you.

Unbeknownst to him, you were already awake. You already had an idea as to what happened and you put your hand onto his back slowly rubbing circles into it, trying to calm him down at least a small bit, something was better than nothing here.

As he realised you were awake he looked up, with puffy, tear filled eyes he leaned into your touch, glad for you to be here. You took your hands off his back and opened your arms to him, inviting him in.

He slid his way into your arms, putting his head into your shoulder as you felt his calloused hands hold to you tightly, as if you were going to slip away at any moment and disappear,

“Hey, hey, don’t worry I’m here,” you told him in a whisper, rubbing his back and taking your other hand, running your fingers through the strands of his hair, “Baby will you do me a favour and try to copy my breathing?”

You felt a small nod against his shoulder as you slowly but surely felt his breathing start to calm itself slowly as you took deep breaths slowly for him to try and mimic, “Hey, you’re doing a really good job.” You cooed to him, softly.

After his breathing reached a somewhat normal rhythm, you placed a kiss onto his temple as a gentle reminder that you were still there.

Yoru wasn’t one to talk when he was upset, he wasn't typically too keen on sharing his emotions out loud, he was more of an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of person. He just enjoyed being able to find comfort in another presence, right now, it was yours.

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep-” His soft voice wavered as he took his head off your shoulder, finally looking at you. It was dark in the room, the only light that entered being the moonlight, you could make out the glistening lines on his face, evident that he was crying along with his puffy eyes.

It saddened you, he didn’t deserve this. You wished that he wasn’t plagued by such a thing, that you could make all his worries disappear. You know this wasn’t an option so instead you just brought your hand to his face, wiping his tears away with your thumb, “That’s alright, we’ve slept plenty anyway, how about we watch a movie or something? There’s that new one that just came out that we’ve been talking about.”

He nodded, “That sounds good.”

“Of course,” You smiled at him, placing a kiss onto his lips before trying to find the remote to the TV within the ocean of a bed. Once you found it you turned on said movie.

The last thing you remember was about halfway through the movie, you tried to comment something about one of the characters to your lover. Without a response, you realised that he was finally able to make it back to bed peacefully. Not long after that, you joined him.

Yo! Feel free to send in a request if they’re open! Just be sure to make sure they’re open and read the rules and check what characters I write for aswell!

#valorant #yoru x reader #comfort #light angst #valorant angst #valorant x y/n #valorant fluff #yoru valorant #valorant yoru #valorant x you #valorant imagines #valorant x reader #yoru x you #ryo kiritani #x reader #x y/n #x you

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 months

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TwiFicmas Redux: Shadow To Light

Happy New Year to everyone, and I hope 2024 is a beautiful and positive year for everyone - I think we've all earned it.

As promised, as an auspicious offering, the first 1000 words of the STL Ch 13 draft. Mary-Alice is being profoundly difficult about this chapter, but she's allowed to be a little bit messy.

Here's to a great year with more regular updates and more of my self indulgent nonsense ;)

Fourteen. Starved for so long of beauty

Once upon a time, a lifetime ago, she made a choice. It was an easy choice to make, because it was the right one. Because she didn’t truly know what came next; her certainty in her own visions, her certainty in who she was going to be - who the Major was going to be - had made her confident.

(She doesn’t regret it, she would never wish to go back and make a different decision. She just wishes… she just wishes that she knew better what was to come. What it was like to be stripped right down to the bone, layer by layer, from loneliness and violence and hopelessness. She wishes she’d read the contract she was signing in blood and tears and time, just so she could look fate in dead in the eye and make the same choice without a second thought.)

The Major smells like… he smells like something she doesn’t want to acknowledge.

(He smells like home.)

—

She feels silly after the worst of her panic attack is over, and the Major is there next to her with his arm around her. She feels utterly ridiculous, actually - the stolen t-shirt in her arms, curled against him so tightly… She almost feels ashamed.

(Except… she’s frustrated. She wants to demand answers - when is she allowed to fall down? When is she allowed to break apart and have someone else put together the pieces? In more than eighty years, it’s always been up to her to maintain control, to be the thing that bends but does not break and she’s so tired. But she’s also supposed to be better than this. Isn’t that what the Major always said? Why Peter always resented her? Even Maria noticed. Mary-Alice is sturdy, reliable, consistent. If she falls, she gets back up. It… it would just be nice not to, just once.)

“How are you feeling?”

The Major’s voice is warm and kind and it almost makes her feel less pitiful.

Almost.

“Present.” Her voice is quiet but her tone is clipped and distant, and she regrets it when she feels him withdraw slightly. She’s wrecking this, like she wrecks everything. It’s all she ever does.

(Maybe that’s why she was such a good soldier; she knows exactly how to ruin things.)

But the Major doesn’t leave. He just shifts so he’s not pressed quite so close, his cheek no longer resting against her hair. But his arm is still around her.

“Do you need to hunt?” He asks, and she doesn’t know. Everything feels odd and off balance and maybe she’s not as back as she originally thought.

So she doesn’t answer. She just rests her head back against the wall and closes her eyes.

The Major watches her for a moment before looking away. “When I met the Cullens,” he begins in a gentle voice, “I swear Esme only made Carlisle approach me because I resembled a drowned cat. Hadn’t stopped raining on the East Coast for weeks, and I’d been roaming the woods the entire time. I was disgusting. Maria would have thrown a bucket of water at my head weeks before if we’d been back home.

“And Esme took one look at me and whisper-bullied Carlisle into approaching me, like I couldn’t hear every single word. She kept saying that I looked cold.” The Major chuckles and she’s close enough that she feels the vibrations through his chest and it’s… it’s not unpleasant.

It’s strange being this close to another person and not being on edge. Not waiting for the killing blow, trying to figure out how to get to their throat first. Making sure that she knows exactly where their hands and teeth are, that she’s prepared for their next movement, for the tightening of their muscles before they lunge…

(It’s very strange being this close to someone, at all. She prefers to keep her distance normally. But this… it’s not the bad kind of strange, she doesn’t think. She’s just so intensely aware of him.)

“Just imagine it, will you - Esme wearing a tweed coat and riding boots and a hat to go hunting, and I look like a monster who spent a week sleeping in a swamp,” the Major continued, “And she was worried about me, like I was a soggy kitten.”

She can imagine it, honestly; his hair sticking to his face, and that gaunt, murderous look he got on his face when he was thirsty. Weeks of grime pressed into his clothing, his skin, looking like the monster from an old story or some mythological horror rising from the riverbed. Nothing sympathetic or pitiable about him for most people.

Right now, she feels oddly grateful to Esme for looking past all of that and seeing the Major as he could be.

“And you followed them home?” She tries to make the words sound light-hearted, but they fall flat and ugly, and she wants to take them back.

That makes the Major laugh out loud, a rumble against her side that is startling and she jumps a little.

“No. I told them to fuck off and leave me be; I had to tell them that a few times over the years until I gave in and talked to them. Let Esme convince me that taking a shower and accepting new clothing was a right and not charity. Let Carlisle remind me that I owed them nothing by ‘visiting’ with them. It took a long time for them to lure me over the threshold.” The Major takes her hand in his; his thumb smooths over a patch of scar tissue, a repetitive motion that feels… soft. Nice. “I think in the end, I hinted that I was ready for them to ask me to stay with them. I don’t think I was subtle about it either.”

“They didn’t ask you before then?” Mary-Alice feels the frustration boil for a second. She watched as much as she could bring herself to, for many years, and there are pieces that she’s missing. They just weren’t important enough for her to see, or something changed and recalling what she’d politely dismissed was too difficult.

(She had entrusted the Major to the Cullens. It didn’t matter that they had had no idea, all those years ago, her visions had made the contract. And even now, knowing that it all came together the way it was supposed to, it upsets her that he had to wait for so long to be taken home to his family.)

#alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight fic #jalice #my fic: shadow to light #ficmas23 #ficmas #mary-alice getting frustrated with the cullens for not immediately housing and clothing jasper on the spot #despite the fact that jasper had the house manners of a feral bobcat at the time #esme looking at a half-feral nomad and turning to carlisle - “can i keep him? i'll take good care of him. rose needs a new brother.”#meanwhile carlisle is nervous - does he approach peacefully or flee the state with his family? southern veterans are rare but dangerous #jasper's telling this story and wondering if anyone will notice if he just moves into the closet with mary-alice for the next few days #it's a sacrifice he's willing to make

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doodle-pops · 1 year

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Lords of Gondolin | With A Nervous or Socially Anxious Reader

A/N: Just a little something I had sitting in my folders since last year after I had misread a quest and wrote this instead >.<

Warnings: reader suffering panic attacks and fainting

Galdor

Galdor is one of the softest and most observant elves, so being nervous around him is something he is bound to notice, though he wouldn’t be aware at first until it becomes a habit.

He notices whenever you’re speaking you twiddle your thumbs or avoid looking him and people in the eyes. At times you stutter when you’re placed front and centre.

When he invites you over to meet with his friends and politely declines, he wouldn’t make anything off it, even when you give a plausible excuse.

It’s only when it becomes a regular habit of you refusing to interact with his friends or attend gatherings with him, he confronts you. When you explain to him that socializing makes you nervous and anxious, he’ll apologize to you a hundred times over for not being aware of it at first.

From then, Galdor is going to ensure that you aren’t placed in any uncomfortable situations both in public and privately. Should you decide to ask Galdor for assistance with easing your anxiety, he’s glad to assist.

His approach is going to be gentle. Whenever you are walking through the streets, he lets you hold his hands as tightly as you want to – he can handle pain. If you are talking, he holds you close and lets you lean into him for reassurance.

Like some people who used familiar scents to calm them, he has all your favourite flowers – lavender, and passionflower. He never leaves your side and if he has to, he ensures that you return indoors to keep you relaxed.

Ecthelion

As someone who is very quiet and dislikes loud social events, but still makes the effort to attend, Ecthelion is a perfect partner to share your nervousness with.

He is going to notice before you even do anything, and without questioning, he’s going to change his approach to reduce any stress you might gather from your nervousness.

More dates indoors or in his private gardens where you two can soak in his pool or fountains. There he notices how relaxed and free your mind is as compared to being in public.

Ecthelion isn’t one to openly ask you about your socializing abilities, but should it become alarming, then he’s going to take precautionary measures and talk to you about it.

He wants to learn all that he can to ease your nerves and make interacting with you a lot easier. If you can only be in a room with a smaller crowd at first and then gradually increase, then he’s making it happen.

If you prefer jobs with less interaction to decrease stress, he’s finding a way to make it happen. He'll even teach you a thing or two about how he gets through his day with ease.

During your cuddling, lots of time is going to be spent talking on topics surrounding the causes of your nervousness and how he can reduce your stress.

Glorfindel

Glorfindel isn’t one to notice your nervousness right away whenever you twiddle your thumbs or bite your lips and fumble over your words. He takes it as you simply being nervous about meeting new people.

It isn’t until he begins to invite you to attend parties that you outrightly decline stating that you’re not ready or prepped enough for the event.

“What do you mean you’re not prepped for the event? My love, if you needed an outfit, you should have informed me, I would have gotten one tailored just for you.”

It’s only when you sit him down and talk him through it, “I need time to mentally prep before I leave for an event or to go into public. If I’m told last minute, I tend to panic because I’m not ready to deal with people.”

From there Glorfindel is going to ensure that he is informed of all events at least a month before so he can inform you, that way you would have enough time to mentally prepare yourself for dealing with people.

At times Glorfindel is going to sit and chat with you about ways he can assist with making situations comfortable for you. Sometimes you don’t like the idea of being placed up front and centre or making the first move.

An incredibly gentle and understanding person with the situation and does not hesitate to get all the help from the healers and learn how to care for you. He wants to learn about everything there is to know about you and your reasons, how to assist or how to help you break out of it.

He’s going to do his best to support your anxiety and ensure that others respect your condition and give your space and time.

Egalmoth

Everyone knows that Egalmoth is a social butterfly, so he’s always wanting to drag you off to some new event or festival that’s being held and hates the idea of missing it.

During one of the festivals, it was extremely crowded and many people were talking at the same time, your head began to spin, and your breathing got a lot heavier. You were still standing next to Egalmoth when you began to cold sweat and your grip on his hand loosened.

That’s when he turned around to notice you appearing faint and pale. When he does rush you to the healing wing to be treated, he thought you had eaten something to make you sick.

Sitting him down and explaining to him that large crowds, heavy interactions and loud noises make you anxious and sick to the point of fainting, his face morphed into extreme worry.

Why hadn’t you told him this before? He felt angry with himself and you because had he known, he would have understood and avoided the festival and stayed at home with you.

From then, any festivals or events, Egalmoth excused himself to spend to entire night or time with you at home. There are times when the event is a dinner, you’ll attend because it’s small and the interactions are with people you are familiar with.

Sometimes you tell him that he can go to the events and leave you home, and you don’t mind, but he does. He always returns early to give you the full breakdown of all that happened.

Despite being the social butterfly that he is, Egalmoth understands that at times, socializing can stress a person out to the point of feeling ill, so you don’t have to worry about him being heartbroken about your lack of socializing.

Rog

Rog is a very observant elf, he does craft all the time and has to be aware of any faults in his creations, so he’s going to notice right away.

The moment your eyes widen, your breathing and heart rate increases and your grip tightens, Rog notices and pulls you away from the party. He’ll sit you in an empty room near the window so you can have some fresh air and hold your hands tenderly.

He’ll soften his voice and speak calmly to you, “Y/N, can you hear me? Can you feel me holding your hands? Nod if you can, please sweetheart.”

It would break Rog’s heart to see you so distressed when it comes to interacting and socializing with people. He understands that at times, socializing can be stressful and tiring, but never has he seen the extensive toll it would take on someone, especially you.

Rog doesn’t mind staying in with you indoors, heck, he sometimes prefers to spend most of his time in the forges crafting away, so you are welcome to stay with him in his private forge.

During your time with Rog, he wants to learn all that he can to avoid another episode from happening. Even if it meant him building or evacuating a section of his house to ensure to don’t have an anxiety attack, he was going to do so.

This giant is going to become a gentle giant for you. He’s going to cradle you in his arms and talk to you calmly, wanting you to gather your thoughts and become aware of your surroundings.

Anything you need to aid and ease your anxiety; he’s going to have it ready for you.

Maeglin

Something tells me that Maeglin himself would have experienced severe anxiety attacks when he arrived in Gondolin and was trying to settle in. I mean he lived in solitude with only his parents as his only major company. Shifting to a grand city in a matter of days and having his life turned upside down in hours would give him major anxiety.

When you came along, Maeglin was able to notice your symptoms from the start because he understands what it feels and looks like. So, you’re going to be in safe hands with Maeglin because he knows every trick in the book to ease the pain.

It’s quite a beautiful sight to see Maeglin being extra soft and tender with you, but at the same time, it’s a painful interaction for him. It makes him remember the traumatic experiences that led to him suffering anxiety attacks, so he’s going to take every precautionary measure.

He wants to know if you’ve been abused, traumatized, attacked, or abandoned. Please just tell him so he can lessen the pain. Maeglin himself learned how to slowly overcome his anxiety as he became a lord and prince.

He wants to help you as much as he can because you’ve always been there for him, so let him be there for you.

He understands that you don’t feel comfortable being in large crowds or having to constantly be in charge of communicating with people on a daily basis and he wants to help you slowly overcome the anxiety that is created in those situations.

Maeglin understands how stressful it can be and he hates to see others mock and tease you, which makes him become even ten times overprotective.

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @starborne0661 @floraroselaughter @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese

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famina · 1 year

Text

A trip to the wrong side of town

There has been an alarming lack of Yomi on this blog so I had to do something about that ! For some reason, this hunger fic is much mor wordy then the rest. sorry about that. I hope you will like it and like Yomi too !

WARNING : Hunger kink fic, belly things and growls ahead.

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“This feel nice” you think to yourself. Your body is warmly tucked under your coat and your face is pressed on a cold surface. The gentle trembles rock your body into a sweet slumber and the dim lights you can barely see through your closed eyelids bring you even closer to sleep.

Wait ? Where are you again ? You groan and stand up, shaking off the grogginess. Oh ! That’s right, you’re on the train. To go home ? mmmh...You look out the windows. This seems all very far from your home. How long did you sleep for ? It’s very dark out, there are no houses, no other cars, only…metal and concrete ? Where is this ? Maybe some industrial part of the city ? You didn’t know your train went this far. You start panicking and reach out for your phone. It’s dead… Of course it is. What now ? Maybe you can ask at the station when the damn train finally stops.

After a few minutes of quiet panic, at long last, the train comes to a full stop. Everything is eerily quiet now, the doors open but nothing happens. You were the only one on the train, but now you now think you’ll also be the only one in the whole station. You make your way out before the doors close back on you and are greeted by the most unfriendly train station you’ve ever seen. No front desk, no shops, heck, there isn’t even any benches ! Just where are you ?? You snap out of it ! You need to find someone, fast ! There isn’t anyone here but there MUST be a train conductor !

You’re about to make your way towards the locomotive when something brushes past you in a flash. You turn around to see a little person holding your bag tauntingly. “H-HEY !” You shout and the person scuttles away. You give chase. The thief isn’t too fast so you’re able to keep up. This makes you confident that you will get your bag back. You then turn a corner, and the thief is stuck in a dead end. You think you’ve won, until you notice the thief has a big wide smile on their face.

From above, other littles people jump down, pinning you on the ground as they land. You hit the asphalt hard. It hurts. Your aggressors are laughing. You try to get back up, those holding you down are the size of toddlers so even though they are many, you should be able to overpower them if you just.. BAM ! Something hits you on the back of the head and it all becomes black.

When you come back to reality, you’re all tide up and are being carried away by those weird littles…creatures ! You panic again ! You try to break free but you can barely move. “H-HELP ! SOMEBODY ! I-I’M BEING KIDNAP.” You shout and shout for help but nothing happens. No one is coming for you. No one can help. You start to think…this is it…

And suddenly, your feet start dangling in the air !? What happened to the little dude carrying them ? Oh ! Now you fell you right shoulders losing the support of its carrier. And your left knee, and the right one too ! In an instant you fall to the ground. You make some effort to look at what is going on. You see a young men with tattered clothes and a bandaged eye swinging around a metal pipe like it’s a sword.

The little one who was carrying your head rushes to him with a glass shard but the one eyes man times his swing perfectly to club him while he was jumping. Sending him hit the wall. The other little ones get scared by that attack and scurry off, including the one with your bag.

“Yeah ! You better run !! This’ll teach not to mess with me !!” the man shouts. You look at him in complete astonishment still confused by all that just happened. He looks annoyed.

“What ?! What do you want ??”

“Uhg ! Please ! Untie me !!” You say urgently.

“Han ? why should I?”

“T-they captured me and tied me up…p-please help !!”

“Uuuh…I’ll say it again…Why should I!??”

“Huh ??? w-well..” You don’t really understand what he wants. He looks closely to you with interrogation.

“Waiit….you’re not from here, are ya ?”

“N-No…I came by train..I’m from-“

“W-WOW ! YOU TOOK THE TRAIN ??!”

“Hmmm….yeah ?”

“Wah…” He chuckles, “So they caught an outsider…those lucky bastards…”

“Huuh ??...” You don’t get anything he’s saying.

“Well that changes everything !” He unties you with a big smile on his face. You sigh with relief.

“Hah. Thanks, I really thought-..” He shoves his hand in your face. “Uhh…what ?”

“Payement.”

“What ?”

“PAY-MENT ! I helpt you out, now you gotta pay !”

“W-What ? Well I’m sorry but I got nothing to give.” You say, irritated.

“Oh ! Don’t play dump ! I know you outsiders are literally swimming in cash ! So gimme some !”

“Okay…first, that’s not true…And second, all the cash I had on me was in that bag that little thief stole from me !”

“W-What !!?? So you got NOTHIN ??!! Damn !!! What a waste of time…” He turns around and is about to leave.

“W-Wait ! Can you tell me where the train station is ??”

“I don’t help broke ass tourists !” He continues walking without even bothering to turn around.

“Hey ! I’m not broke ! I’ve got money…just not…here…”

“Yeah well you ARE here so…” He’s about to make his way out of your sight and you’re getting desperate.

“Alright ! how about this !? If you take me to station, tomorrow I come back with the cash to pay you ! Deal ?!”

He stops, and slowly turns to face you. “Are you fucking kidding me !??” He breaks out in laughter “ Oh yeah ! Suuuure ! You’ll be back ! Dang, how dumb do you think I am !!??”

“I’m not a liar ! I WILL come back !!” You are insulted by his claim.

“Yeah yeah ! I’m not falling for that one ! Just be thankful I’m not selling your organs for making me work for free !”

This is bad. From what you’ve seen so far he seemed like your only way out and he’s getting away. What can you do…what can you give him. And then it hits you.

“Hey !” You shout to him. “Are you cold !?”

He turns to you irked “Han ??”

“Your coat ! It’s so old and beat up it’s barely holding together !”

“Y-Yeah !? Who cares !!??” That comment seemed to have angered him mare than he wants to let on.

“You could have mine !” You show off your beautiful almost new, stylish cheap polyester coat.

“F-For real !?...” He seems to want it bad.

“yeah…BUT only if you get me to the station ! Then you get the coat.”

“Ah ! mmmh…ARRGH ! Fiiiiine ! I’ll get you to the stupid station ! but I got places to be so you better walk fast !” You happily trout behind him.

The two of you start walking in what seems to be an industrial labyrinth of concrete walls and metal structures.

“By the way, I’m (Y/N).”

“……..”

“Aaaand you are..?”

“I-I-I’m not giving you my name !!”

“Why not ?”

“W-w-well…..I’m just not…”

“Oookay…”

You figure he’s not one for chitchat. You two walk in silence for a little while when suddenly

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooWWLllls

The sound of a monstrous beast comes out of no where. You start to panic again. “W-What was that !??”

“Oh ! Relax ! That was just me !”

“H-Huh?”

gggggGGGGGRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwlss

The one eyes boy clenches his teeth and clutches his abdomen. He looks in pain but continues to walk normally.

“A-Are you…injured ?”

“What ? ‘course not ! I’m just starving !”

Grrrrrrroooooooooooooooooooaaaannn

“O-Oh….” You start feeling bad for the guy “Should we stop somewhere and grab a bite to eat ?”

“Hhaa ? Fucking where ??!” He gestures up to the big industrial labyrinth your in. You realize you haven’t seen a single store, or house or anything, just what is this place?

“Where…exactly are we ??” You ask.

“………The less you know the better…”

You decide to no ask further.

GGGRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrooooooooooowwwwwlls

“aaah….”

The no-name boy massages his midsection. You wish you could do something to ease his pain. But wait ! You can ! You rummage through your pockets and find it ! You hand it to him.

“Here !”

“Whassat ??”

“A granola bar ! I just remembered I had it on me.”

“Okay….and what do you want me to say ? Congratulations ??”

“No ! I’m giving it to you !”

“W-wha…..” He just freezes. He seems to have never encountered the concept of giving food to others. After a few second he turns all red a backs away from you. “F-F-F-FORGET IT !! I’m not eating your strange pocket food !!”

“Huh ?? What’s the big deal ? You’re hungry, I’m giving you food ! Come on ! Take it !” You hand it too him again.

He backs up to the wall as if you’re pointing a knife to him. “I DON’T WANT IT, I SAID ! Y-y-you can’t just…GIVE food away like that !!”

“Uuuh…Yeah, I can !” You are confused.

“W-well no one does that ! Y-Y-you probably poisoned it or something…”

“…..Why would I do that ?..”

“Tsk ! To knock me out and nab all my stuff !! B-But I’m not fallin’ for it !!” He trembles and points his pipe at you as a weak threat.

You don’t understand his reaction. But what is clear is that he now seems legitimately scared. So you try to reassure him. “…..It’s sealed…how would I have poisoned it ?”

“W-with a syringe !! I-I’ve seen it done !!”

Now he’s just being silly. “Okay…I’m not from here and I didn’t plan to come. Why would I have a sealed poisoned granola bar in my pocket ??”

“……………..” He seems to soften his stance.

“Soooo..” You hand the granola bar to him, again.

Grrrrrroooooooooooan

“!!?” The boy gets surprised by the cries of his own stomach. He looks carefully at the granola bar yearningly. Slowly, he approaches his hand from yours and yanks the treat out of you grasp in a flash and runs a little further to devour it. You think he looks like a little hungry squirl and that makes you smile. He notices it and turns to you with a mouth full.

“Whaff??!”

“Haha. So, is it good ?”

“………………..” He gulps it all down and gets back in front of you. “Let’s get going already !”

You are a bit mad that you didn’t get a ‘Thank you’ but when you glance at the one-eyed boy’s face, you see he seems embarrassed but also just a tiny bit happy.

You continue walking without speaking a word for a little while until you come back to the station. You overjoyed.

“Ah ! Where here ! Thanks so much !” You start removing your coat.

“W-W-What are you doing !!??” His face turns bright red.

“I’m…giving you my coat…as promised.”

He sighs loudly “You’re SUPPOSED to only give it to me when the train comes, dimwit ! Or else I can just…push you on the tracks and run off with it ! Damn…don’t you know anything….”

“O-oh..” You put back your coat quickly. “Well…would you do that ?”

“W-No !!....But…still…you should be more careful…” He looks away, all pouty…

Is he trying to help you out ? That granola bar must’ve really done him some good.

“Well I’ll try to be carefull if you try to take better care of yourself !”

“Han ??! what’s that supposed to mean ??!” He puts his hands on his hips.

“You really sounded in pain earlier. You should really try to eat better.”

“Han ! Yeah ! Like it’s EASY ! Food doesn’t just SRPOUT OUF OF THE GROUND you know !”

You stare at him with a blank look. “Yes…it…does ?..”

“Huh ??!” He looks at you with completely incomprehension.

“Have you never heard of a plant ?? Hahah” You say, jokingly.

“Whassat ?”

“!!?” You can’t believe it. Has he really never seen a plant. You just now notice you haven’t since a single tree, or bush or any green life in this entire place. You start to feel awful about your joke earlier.

“Y-you know…” you begin “…You could come too !”

“Hm???” He looks at you with genuine surprise

“On the train, I mean. I have a few tickets left so-“

“I can’t.”

He’s answer was shapr and cold and took you aback. He also looked honestly disappointed.

“W-well, why n-“

“I…JUST CAN’T !!!.”

“!!??” You decide not to press further “O-okay…”

He realize he’d been shouting and tries to calm down. “A-And..you shouldn’t come back here either…”

“O-oh ! Don’t I have to pay you back ?” You say with a little smile.

He laughs a bit. “Nah ! with the coat and that granola thing, we can say we’re even.”

You wanted to help him more somehow, but he was right. This place was dangerous and you should not come back. “Alright, if you say so.”

At that moment, the train approaches in the distance so you start removing the coat. By the time it’s stops to take its passengers you’ve got your hand stretched out to offer your coat to the no-name boy.

“Thanks for everything. Take care okay.”

“Y-Yeah…I’ll try.” He smiles just a bit and takes the coat.

“Well good bye.” You turn around to board the train.

“W-Wait !” The man takes your hand to stop you.

“!??” You turn to him, unsure.

“I-It’s……Yomi…”

“What ?”

“M-m-my name…you wanted to know so….it’s Yomi…” He looks at his feet all nervous like. This makes you smile.

“I see. Goodbye Yomi !” You smile at him.

“Bye (Y/N_” And he smiles back.

You board the train just as the door closes. You and Yomi look at one another until you are out of each other’s sight. After that you finally get home for a well deserved rest. As promised, you never went back to that weird industrial hell, but you think about it from time to time. You think about Yomi and you hope he’s doing well.

#hunger fic #hunger kink #belly k!nk #oc fanfiction #male stomach growl #hunger growls

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notadryseatinthehouse · 10 months

Text

So we finally got around to watching Lady Chatterley’s Lover on Netflix recently and for a number of reasons I low-key haven’t stopped thinking about it since. I haven’t read the book, although I own it and it’s sitting on my table waiting for me to pick it up.

One of the key scenes that sticks out in my mind is their first sex scene. After reading some reviews of the movie, as well as comments on Reddit and elsewhere about it, I have been made to understand that this is the worst sex scene in the film, and even that I might be a bad person for liking it.

This is not to denigrate the reasons people don’t like it or even find it problematic: she’s just had a panic attack after a deeply uncomfortable dinner party with her husband and his shitty guests, so it could be argued that he is taking advantage of her while she’s in a less-than-ideal mental state. Additionally, the actual act itself is quite…abrupt. There’s no foreplay really, they just kind of start having sex on the floor of his little birding cabin. It’s not the most romantic setting and, of course, female bodies don’t work that way.

But I’d like to speak in defense of this kind of sex: what I like to call “oh, so we’re doing this?” sex.

You’ve been flirting with someone for a while. Maybe it’s very casual flirting, maybe it’s shy on both sides, perhaps you aren’t even sure if the other person is actually flirting with you or if they’re just being polite. Still, every time you see them you get butterflies in your stomach but you also feel like you can be yourself, and they seem to give you a lot of attention and eye contact, so it doesn’t feel like an unrequited crush or anything.

And then, after weeks or months of this, you experience a real moment of real feelings, very big feelings that may have nothing to do with this other person, but they’re there, and they take care of you, they get you someplace warm, and you feel like you should be embarrassed but for some reason you’re not - not even a little. And they are caring for you in a way you’ve never felt cared for in your life, or at least in a very long time. And then all that flirting, those furtive glances, those coy looks, those happy smiles, those secret jokes, suddenly build up like water at a dam, begging to burst through. You know instantly what you want, and you look at them and you know that they want it too, and you know you could get caught at any moment, but then suddenly…

“Oh, so we’re doing this?”

“Yes, let’s do this.”

There’s a romance to this desperation, to this need that arises after a long time of putting your own desires on a shelf for safe-keeping. Isn’t it lovely to be able to take it down and hold it in your hands for a brief, stolen moment, maybe with the “very wrong” (but entirely right) person who will hold it with you and add their own? Would you waste a single moment on foreplay, when you have been ready for this and quietly wishing for this for weeks?

So I guess that’s my defense of the first love scene between Connie and Oliver. The film did a lot to show you how stifled and unfulfilled she had become in her marriage, and how easy and free she felt around Oliver. The scene gives us that release, even if it’s awkward and stunted and brief and uncomfortable to watch. Sometimes that’s what sex is; but between two eager and consenting adults, it can still be really good sex. I personally appreciated it, because all sex can’t be slow, gentle, lying in a meadow sex. (Although that was fun too.)

#lady chatterley's lover #romance #romance books

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sevikasleftpussyflap · 2 years

Note

hi!! i've never sent in a request before even though I absolute adore your imagines and HCs so here I am :)) Maybe you saw in my rb of your recent post but I was at an event and I am absolutely exhausted, soooo I was thinking; what about Sevika with an S/O who gets burnt out in social settings? Like, they play it off and pretend they're fine even though they are absolutely grumpy and tired of people, but Sevika just knows and helps the reader out?

I think it would be sweet, hehe. Anyway once again absolutely love your writing dear author, keep up the amazing work!!

Anon: Thoughts on how Sevika would treat a shy, introverted reader? Like reader usually seems calm and composed, but gets anxious when it comes to social situations and when they go to large events with tons of people, she just kinda trails Sevika around like a lost puppy💔

Anon: Hey! We’ve had a loud annoying reader- how about Sevika with a short shy and anxious reader?

Hold for furious blushing

🤡❤️💕😭

Hello! Thank you so much for the compliments <3 I loved this idea, and it was similar to a couple other requests I got so I decided to combine them. Also, it's implied that the fancy event is in piltover if that's okay (event is unspecified). I hope you like it and congratulations on your ceremony :)

Whenever Sevika’s SO would start to get burned out, she’d catch on pretty quickly and start trying to guide them out the door. She could tell from your posture or even from just the look in your eyes

If it’s a panic attack, then she’d definitely get you out of there. Depending on the severity, if you’re still able to talk and tell her you need to stay, she would not listen to you. Your excuses of being expected to be there will fall on deaf ears

She comes to a dead stop as soon as the two of you are in a secluded hall. Patience is a virtue she’s acquainted with, but seeing you distressed puts her on edge like nothing else. Despite this, her tone remains firm but gentle and she drops your hand to lay a grounding grip on your shoulders.

“Tell me, who’s going to say something to you?”

No one in their right mind with her around, you think and tell her as such.

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about. I’ll handle it if you do.”

If you absolutely had to be there I think she’d take over conversations for you. Which would immediately deter anyone from trying to interact with you or her because she’s not as kind as you. One word answers, curt responses to pleasantries, and sarcastic quips are at the ready. Her arm may also ‘malfunction’ and shoot out her blade in the middle of a conversation. “Whoops” “Odd”

She’d offer you a smoke, even if you don’t smoke. She isn’t used to comforting people so she goes with what works for her (drugs and alcohol). If there’s an outside area, then she’ll tell you to come along while she grabs one herself. For your benefit, she’d say, “I don’t wanna go by myself” “It’s dangerous for a lone girl out there” “Don’t want anyone getting any funny ideas” Knowing damn well she’s the one people have to watch out for. The only ‘danger’ present to her is the danger of some asshole trying to start a conversation with her and she can’t kill them because she promised to behave tonight

She definitely tried lighting up a fat blunt inside to make people uncomfortable but after your anxious scolding, she put it away. I could see her rolling a joint on a nearby fancy table lol

If you had an anxious skin picking/biting/fidgeting habit, she’d hold your hand whenever she caught you doing it. Or she’d give you something else to hold, either by snatching a drink off a nearby tray or going up to someone who took the last one

“You drinkin’ that? Thanks”

She’ll take your hand in hers if you start to fidget, running her thumb over the back of it to give you a grounding sensation or squeezing it if it’s a little shaky. Also, the feeling of you shaking makes her so protective it’s insane. She hates how nervous people make you. You’re more important than any of them and they are so far beneath you their opinion shouldn’t even matter. Sevika understands that you can’t help it, but it definitely makes her more hostile towards anyone who gets too close. If she feels they’re invading your personal space she’s gonna have to break the promise of behaving to tell them to back the fuck up

Whatever fancy outfit she’s wearing has a cape to cover her metal arm so if she needed to distract you, she’d pull your hand under it to feel her abs

A sharp pain stems from the exposed nail bed of your thumb. Before you can subtly hide it behind your back from Sevika, she irritably grabs it and follows with an examination. If your eyes left the mass of people, you’d see her shaking her head at you while grumbling something about lost progress.

“You haven’t messed with ‘em in a week-”

Gods, have more people come in? You could barely spot the exits. The body heat made your head swim and the only reprieve you had was the slight bit of space Sevika’s presence commanded. Did you look normal? How long has that woman been staring at you-

Soft skin-covered muscle pressed against your fingertips and you gasped. In your anxious musings, Sevika had taken your hand under her cape and shirt to press against her rock hard abdomen.

“Sevika!” Your scandalized tone has her rolling her eyes.

“No one can see.” Then she’s leaning in to brush her lips against your ear, offering a new distracting sensation. “Feel how hard that is, baby? Think about how it’ll feel when you ride it tonight.”

Sevika would make fun of people to try to make you laugh, especially if it’s a preppy event

Would absolutely sneer at and insult people if she noticed they happened to drain your social battery quicker

And would try to involve you in a bet somehow involving said people (god forbid this woman go a night without gambling)

You find it funny how she has a little (and I mean a little) more tolerance for the people of the Undercity. Or maybe it’s just because these ones are causing your distress. She’ll be verbally abusing the inhabitants of the event on their hair, outfits, makeup, etc. Gods help them if they’re not perfect because then she’s saying “All that money and they still look like that-”

You’ll tease her, falling into her trap of getting you to relax, “You’re saying you look better?”

“Damn right I do.” Punctuated with a swig of her drink

She’ll let you hide in her cape if you need a second to recuperate, literally no one has the balls to say anything about it

Will eye those that stare at you too long like a damn vulture

She likes to be of service so she’ll fetch you drinks, snacks, you’re not passing out on her watch

If Sevika goes as your date do not expect her to behave. She doesn’t have great social skills and loathes small talk

Someone would be complimenting her dress (thinking of that one fanart of her in a dressnjngjn) and she gives the driest responses

“That’s a beautiful dress!”

“Yeah”/“Wish I could say the same”

She would mean mug them bc people from the Undercity only compliment if they want something

Gods forbid anyone compliment you

As a bonus, imagine helping Sevika dress up for a grand occasion. If she’s in a dress, she’ll ask your drooling self ogling her figure in the doorway to help her with the straps or help zip it up

If it’s a tie, she would genuinely need help tying it. Any kind of dress shirt would be too tight in the biceps and chest area. The tie would be used to cover up the gap between the buttons straining across her breasts

Shy and anxious reader

When the two of you met, she’d find it amusing and cute how all it took was a stare, a flex of her muscles, or the low, seductive tone of her voice to get you a flustered mess. She’d pull out your chair for you just to see you stutter out a thank you. On your first date, she’d gently remove your hand from the wine bottle to instead pour it for you and watch your face turn red at the contact

Sevika liked seeing you flustered, but only when it was her that was causing it. Will not tolerate anyone teasing you or intentionally making you anxious

Sevika would always protect you, no matter the circumstance. If you’re ever overwhelmed and need an out, she’s making one for you. That being said, she’s also a hardass and wants the best for you, even if it requires forcing you out of your shell. She’d never spring something on you or force you when you’re clearly panicking, but before you leave the apartment for the day she’s telling you she wants you to order the drinks, or the food

“Want some drinks?” You ask innocently, hoping the inquiry will spark Sevika’s thirst and get her up and moving towards the bar.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Actually, I’m good-” A stern glare settles on you before she sighs and rolls her eyes. Those dangerously sharp claws lift in the air, catching the attention of a passing waiter. The only danger you register is one of potential social interaction and you shrink down slightly. Dead silence lasts a few beats too long and you chance a glance up, meeting Sevika’s expecting gaze.

“Oh, uh- Another round, please?” You sag in relief as he leaves the two of you alone, and you all but hiss at Sevika like a scorned cat.

“Look at that. Not so bad, was it?”

There would be moments where she’s a pushover and all it takes is puppy dog eyes for her to cave and take over the task she assigned you

She’d never let you go anywhere alone. This is fine by you because her intimidating presence keeps eyes off of you. As much as she wants you to be more independent and able to socialize on your own, she knows you’re a complete pushover and will let people walk all over you given the chance. Vendors down at the market will try to charge you more, and to avoid haggling you’ll just pay the full price. Unless Sevika is there, putting a hand over the one about to grab your coin pouch and glaring at the merchant until they start rattling off lower prices

#sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader #sevika imagine

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sarahrogersevans · 1 year

Note

hi bubba. this with your comfort character? maybe reader needs someone and goes to who comforts her which happens to be someone who isn’t real?

maybe when she really needs him.. he somehow becomes real? part 2 for that? if this makes sense?

I Need You Parts 1 & 2 Loki xreader fan fic request

I Need You Part 1- I’m Not Real Loki xreader fan fic request

Summary: Loki is reader’s comfort person and reader has been having a really rough time with life and listens to a Loki ambience video on YouTube and lays down and transports herself to Loki in her mind but Loki reminds reader he isn’t real but that things will be ok and reader tries to let go

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, mentions of struggling mentally, comfort fluff, angst, soft Loki, let me know if I miss anything

Everyone copes from anxiety differently, wether it be music, movies, tv shows, a walk etc. my coping mechanism though is Loki my comfort person he is always right there to pick me up when I’m struggling which I know is crazy but I love him and he’s so gentle and sweet with me. After a really hard day at work and a bad panic attack I got to my bedroom feeling drained and ready to lay down and ready to see Loki. I did my daily evening routine, changed into some comfortable clothes and turned off all the lights and put on a Loki ambience video on YouTube and laid down in bed and closed my eyes listening to the Loki ambience and before I knew it I was home again.

I woke up in a different bed which I realized was Loki’s chambers & I was laying in Loki’s arms and he smiled at me and said “another rough day dove?” I felt shy and nodded and said “I feel better though being here with you.” Loki kissed the top of my head and sighed saying “Y/N darling you know I love you and I want the absolute best for you but I’m not real no matter how real I may seem right now.” I sat up and said “I know Loki.. I just, I need you and without you I’m not sure how I’ll be able to keep going.” Loki took my hands in his and brought them to his heart and said “Y/N please listen to me ok? I will always be with you in here you are never alone I promise you that. Please take care of yourself for me and for you alright? I love you and you will be ok I promise, I love you always and forever darling.” I got up out of the bed feeling scared and said “no no Loki please don’t let me go.. I love you and I wanna stay here please.” Loki got up and walked over to me and said “Y/N darling shhhh hey don’t be afraid remember you have your friends and your family and remember I’m in your heart darling you carry me with you, you’re strong and will get through this I promise you dove.” Loki kisses my cheek and disappears.

I woke up always surprised at how real everything from a dream feels and I paused the Loki ambience video feeling a bit sad but I smiled knowing what he said and that he’d want me to be happy and I would try my best for him and for me because I’m worth it and I’ll be happy again one day at a time, I don’t want anxiety controlling my life and I’m stronger than I know though I’m gonna miss Loki but maybe I’ll dream of him again who knows. I always wonder if Asgard is real and maybe that Loki is watching over me. As long as I have my YouTube ambience videos I’d always have that to help me when I need it, it’s not easy to let go of something or someone that isn’t real but I need to remember that I have a full life ahead of me and things will get better one day at a time.

——————————————————————

I Need You Part 2- I’m Real- Loki xreader fan fic request

Summary: a month later, reader has a severe panic attack and really needs comfort and sits in her room talking ti her Loki poster telling Loki she wishes he was real while crying and Loki comes alive to comfort her and stays by her side

Warnings: angst, mentions of a panic attack, fluff, comfort fluff, soft Loki, mentions of struggling mentally, let me know if I miss anything

I swear sometimes life becomes a bit too much, things were going really well for a while until a big fight with my family changed everything. Sometimes when you have so much going on one person can only handle so much. I got home from my parents’ house and I felt very overwhelmed and having flashbacks of all the yelling and I cried. I got to my bedroom and sat against the wall and tried to my breathing exercises. I looked up my Loki poster and whispered “gosh.. I wish you were real Loki, I need you so much.” I felt like my heart started beating fast and I cried again hard saying “I can’t do this..” a few minutes later I felt a hand on top of mine and a thumb rubbing my hand slowly and a familiar voice said “darling breathe for me slowly ok? It’s a panic attack not life threatening dove.” I nodded and closed my eyes and did a few slow breaths and then opened my eyes and saw him smiling at me.

I was shocked and said “Loki?.. how? How are you here?” Loki put his hand on my cheek and said “I heard you needed me Y/N, come on darling let’s get you some water.” I smiled shyly and he helped me stand up and we walked into the kitchen and Loki grabbed a cup and got some water into it and handed it to me and I said “thank you.” I took a few sips of the water and smiled at the cold feeling of the water and I felt relaxed and sat down in a chair that was in the kitchen. Loki kneeled by me and said “that better my love?” I smiled and said “a little, how are you real? Am I asleep?..” Loki got up to sit next to me and gave me a hug and said “no darling you’re not asleep I’m right here I’m real, you can hug me it’s ok.”

I was nervous I was asleep but I put my arms around Loki and I felt instant relief that he was real and I held on to him for dear life and said “oh thank goodness, I love you loki don’t let me go.” Loki held on to me tighter and said “don’t worry darling I’m right here I love you too and I’m not gonna leave you again I promise you.” I felt so much better knowing I had my comfort person here with me and I knew everything would be ok finally. Loki sat with me on the couch and we cuddled and Loki rubbed my back and said “how are you feeling now Y/N? Any better?” I started feeling sleepy while laying on his chest and said “I’m good feeling relaxed and cozy right here.” Loki smiled and kissed my forehead and said “rest now dove I’m here and I’m not going anywhere I’m real.”

I loved this request 😊💜💜 hope you enjoy xx I did my best

Taglist:

@lokiandbuckysdoll @jessybarnes

@chrisevansdaughter

@writersblog20

@delicatecoffeepeanut

@vrittivsanghavi

@marvelstarker-mha98

@nana1000night

@fluffycutecevans

If I forget to tag anyone let me know

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fictional-mind21 · 1 year

Text

Drowning in thought

Bucky x female reader

Synopsis: It feels as if your anxiety has been consuming you. Although you think you’ve hidden well, Bucky can sense something is wrong.

Warnings: ANGST?, panic attack, the bold letters are readers thoughts (LET ME KNOW IT I MISSED ANYTHING)

PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS MAY TRIGGER YOU

Word Count: 1,474

a/n: I don’t know what this is but I really needed it. Wrote it yesterday just finished it. Anxiety isn’t easy or pretty. It can devour you from the inside. Everyone experiences these things differently and maybe this will help someone out there. If you need some to talk to I’ll be here.

p.s: This is my first official post for Bucky. Please be gentle. Also I might write more but this is a test. Also, the Gifs aren’t mine.

It had been some time since you felt like the weight of the world was crushing you. Somehow this week had passed by so quickly you didn’t remember anything that happened but at the same time so slowly you felt like you were falling into an abyss. Normally you had trouble falling asleep but this week was one of the worst. Most of the time you could handle the voices in your head but not today. You didn’t know what was worse when the voices were so low it let your mind wander into possibilities or when it felt like the voices in your head were on speakers and your head pounded.

The first time it got really bad that week you grabbed your car keys and went for a midnight drive hoping to clear your head with no success. The second time you were sitting on the roof reading when you suddenly looked at the edge and thought

What if I just jumped?

You got up startled and ran back to your room and your mind is raced

What the hell was that? What’s wrong with you?! You have a great life! Geez why are you being so ungrateful! What’s wrong with you?! Stop being so weak!

After a while you calmed down and tried to go back to reading. You were holding a book in your hands but your thoughts were still racing when Bucky walked in.

“Hey“

“Hey“ you say sounding dazed

“Just got back from the mission. You ready for movie night?“ he says wiggling his eyebrows

You force a smile on your face

“Actually I think i’m just gonna catch up on reading and knock out. Tell the team I’ll see them tomorrow“

Stop making a big deal out of it! He doesn’t care. Don’t burden him with your problems. He does care! Are you sure? What if you’re wrong?

“Okay“ he furrows his eyebrows looking concerned

“Love you“ you say as he’s walking out

“Love you too doll“

When the door shuts you drop the smile.

Slowly you distance yourself from the team but you made sure to plaster a smile on your face if they thought something was wrong and made sure to come out of your room if they got worried. It’s been 2 months and everyone was buying the act. Until recently one person felt like something was off. One person.

Bucky

You were in bed trying to work while listening to music. But everything just felt like too much work. Even breathing felt like a chore. Suddenly you felt someone gently pull out your earphones. When you look up you see Bucky, sitting on the bed near your legs

“Your gonna burst your eardrums doll” he says so softly like he’s afraid to startle you

The music was blasting so loud through the earbuds.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was that loud“

Placing the laptop closed on the desk and sitting back down he says

“I can tell, you’ve been doing a lot of zoning out recently.“

You stay silent hoping that if you say nothing he’ll change the subject.

“What’s going on in that brilliant little mind of yours?“

Brilliant? Yeah right

“Nothing“ you shake your head, feeling a knot form in your throat

“You know, you can talk to me right?“

You nod, feeling the pressure of tears threatening to come out

“So talk to me doll, What’s wrong?“

You look down squeezing your eyes shut trying not to cry

Weak

“Nothings wrong buck I’m okay” You whisper, tears spilling out

“You say that, but your crying doll“

“I’m okay“

He lifts your chin up “You keep saying that but your shaking y/n“

Suddenly that’s it, he’s holding you and your crying

“I can’t bucky I- I feel like i’m floating in the ocean with a straight jacket on, staring into darkness“

“How long has this been going on?“

“2 months?“ you say unsure

“Why didn’t you say anything?“

Burden

“I didn’t want to bother you“

“You could never bother me doll“ he says wiping the tears streaming down your face, away

“I feel so helpless Buck“

“Talk to me“

“I never know when the wave is gonna hit and how long the flood of emotions will last. Most of the time I’m just numb. Usually I’m just going through the motions. I’m genuinely happy when I’m with you or the rest of the team but even then sometimes I just can’t. Sometimes my thoughts tune everything out and sometimes I can’t handle it. I hate that I overthink so much, that my mind is a mess but I can’t stop it or control it.”

He walks over to the opposite side of the bed and lays down, patting the spot next to him “Over here, lay down next to me“

You snuggle next to him, your head under his chin and your arm around his waist. He pulls a blanket over you both and holds you tight.

”I always feel like I’m never good enough. I know you think I have so much confidence but there’s always this voice in the back of my head telling me I’m not good enough and that no one really cares.”

“Y/N, we all care. If the whole team is too many people to keep track of and it starts to cast doubt into your head, just know I know I care“

He kisses your forehead and you snuggle closer to him.

“No more talking please?”

Sensing you must be worn out from all the emotions he replies “Okay, need anything else?“

“Just hold me?“

“Anything for you doll“

You slowly drift to sleep as the flood of emotions wipes you out but it doesn’t last. You dream of nothing and wake up too soon making you feel like you never feel asleep in the first place. You open your eyes and notice Bucky is sound asleep next to you.

How is it possible to love someone so much?

Every time you see him your heart does somersaults and backflips.

I love you. What if I’m not good enough for you?

Quietly getting up from the bed you tiptoe to the restroom that’s joined to your room and splash water on your face. You look in the mirror and suddenly you start shaking. You hold onto the sink for balance and try to relax with no success. Your breathing becomes heavy and your eyes tear up making your vision blurry

“Can’t you just leave me alone?!” you say looking up talking to an invisible force

Not shortly after, you hear the restroom door open and Bucky walks up to you. He was getting up to look for you but he heard labored breathing and short sobs coming out of the restroom. He wants to hold you and tell you everything will be okay but he needs to calm you down first.

“Hey, doll look at me“

“Bucky?“ You whisper looking up

Shit! I woke him up.

“Hey“

“I’m sorry“ you say, your voice cracking

“Nothing to be sorry ‘bout doll“

“Wo-ke you up“ you say trying to catch your breath

“Like I said doll you have nothing to be sorry for. Try and match my breathing or do the 444 method“

“God I’m so weak, Bucky. I can’t even handle my thoughts. I complain about how I’m feeling but I’ve got a great life.”

“Just breathe for me doll“

You try to slowly exhale all of your air out. It comes out shaky, but bucky is there to help and you try again.

When you eventually get your breathing back to normal, Bucky hugs you and says “Y/N, I want you to know you’re not complaining, It’s how you feel. Like you said, you can’t control how you feel“

“I hate feeling like this“

“It’ll be okay, i got you” he says placing your hair behind your ear

“It might never be okay“ you whisper

“Maybe but I’ll be here though it all doll. I promise you don't have to worry 'bout me leaving. If it ever feels like your being crushed and you need help carrying the weight you got me by your side. Don't let it break you down“

“Thanks“

You guys walk back to the bedroom

“I love you and I’ll always be here, no matter what”

“Love you too”

“I'm with you for it all, the laughing, the crying, everything. Even the banter the team thinks is cute and makes me seem soft.”

“You forgot the messing with Sam“ You say letting out a little laugh

“There she is“

“Your are such a dork“

“You love me anyway“

“That’ll never gonna change“

“Neither will my love for you“

“How much love?“

“Loads. More than you’ll ever know”

“You trying to start a war that you can’t win, Barnes?“

#bucky x y/n #bucky x f!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n anxiety #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #angst #anxeity #fictional-mind21

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