#but i still havent gotten back into echoes & i barely got to see much of python or forsyth whoops

[astranite]

WIP Honestly-Ive-Lost-Track-of-the-passage-of-linear-time Day

I havent done one of these for a while!! Or finished many or any writing things though ive been making progress on and started many. But have some Scott and John, and John and Virgil!

---

Then there was Scott, rapping on the door to make sure John hadn't fallen over and cracked his skull open. Or in thoughts rather kinder to them both, bringing him his toothbrush and checking he was okay. Big brother smotherhen. An echo of fondness washed over John.

They brushed their teeth together; Scott’s brush was blue and John’s fluorescent orange because that was the system. Scott danced from foot to foot, unable to stay still, and John discovered Scott hadn't grown out of stopping every five seconds to say something through a mouthful of bubbles. He changed topics mid-sentence and jumped between ideas happily. It was good to see Scott being, well Scott. John listened, occasionally answering back with a remark or other as he sat on the edge of the bath, an arm wrapped around a grab bar to keep himself steady.

That part was remarkably similar to being up on Five, though the need to hold on was from too much gravity rather than the lack thereof. And except in space he’d calibrated himself by experience until the lightest touch would suffice. A death grip on the bars was the giveaway of new, barely qualified astronauts. He shook himself, to change the track of his thoughts to not rip up the piece of comfort he could find in the familiar patterns.

Up there, he’d gaze at the stars outside and carry on a conversation with Eos. He half laughed at the memory of the first time she’d seen him cleaning his teeth and demanded to inspect his mouth technically-not-bones-but-John-why-aren’t-they-bones out of curiosity. He relayed it to Scott and got to watch sensible commander big brother try not to snort toothpaste out of his nose. 

---

"You think you're hiding it, but I can see that limp from space."

Virgil leaned closer to his comm, giving John a prime view of dark, angular done-with-this-shit eyebrows.

John definitely didn’t panic. He just didn’t want the totally needless scrutiny of a medic brother all up in his business. Or asking questions like, ‘What did you do to yourself this time?’

“What limp?” He replied. He could play it off as obtuse and then no one had to ever to find out. 

Virgil gave a Scott-worthy facepalm. “Do I have to worry about a concussion too?”

Okay maybe that was too obtuse. But he was running on few hours of sleep, back to back rescues and no bloody breakfast so who could blame him. 

“I’m fine, Virgil.” John rolled his eyes. 

Virgil didn’t dignify that with a response. 

Well then, John could prove it. Ignoring the ache in his left foot and that the last time he tried this was probably what had gotten Virgil’s suspicions on him in the first place, he twisted through the central hub of Five to the entry to the gravity ring. 

Lowering himself carefully in what was usually a thoughtlessly graceful manoeuvre, he landed on his feet in the grav ring, a triumphant, “See, I’m perfectly fine,” already on his lips. Except as soon as his left foot touched the ground with his weight on it, a sharp stab shot through it.

He couldn’t hold back the painfully obvious wince. Or the sudden gasp. 

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

If requests are still open, May i request a Drabble to where Forsyth is having too much at it with the food in Alms convoy. (Especially during battle) That he soon ends up to a point where he can no longer support his terms of moving and having python sticking around to just rather tease and help him out. Thanks! ^^

War and everything that came with it was difficult enough, but with the Rigelians having collected so much of the Zofian people’s hard earned food for themselves, and the decline of the Kingdom’s lands on account of losing Mila’s protection, it was made even worse by the Deliverance’s lack of rations. It was rare that they didn’t have to limit what people took from the convoy, and more often than not, someone was set up to guard what little they had -- just in case.

Forsyth had served plenty of hours as a guard for the convoy; not just to safeguard their food, but their weapons and armor as well. If they didn’t protect their supplies, and one of their clashes with the Empire destroyed or otherwise lost them, the Deliverance would be dealt a final death blow. It was a job that he took seriously, even if he would have preferred to be on the field of battle with Sir Clive and Alm. There wasn’t much notoriety to be won from staying towards the rear to guard the supplies, but there was still a knightly honor to protecting the continued survival of his comrades in this way.

Python, of course, didn’t share the same views. Whenever it was his turn to play guard, Forsyth often caught him napping or simply not staying vigilant. And, when confronted about his lack of enthusiasm for the work, would blithely state that they had never had their supplies targeted -- and why would they, when they had so little?

It was aggravating, but it wasn’t really anything new. Forsyth was happy to jump to Clive’s or Alm’s orders, and Python was...less so. It hardly mattered, if it came down to him covering for his old friend’s shifts on guard, he would do so for the good of the Deliverance!

It was easy enough at first. Forsyth was determined to show his strengths -- be it in battle, or elsewhere. He patrolled and frequently double checked their supplies, he even maintained the weaponry and armor that they had in reserves when he had the time. It kept him busy and on task for quite a while, but, eventually, the boredom started to get to him. And, what made the boredom worse, was the gnawing hunger that came with being stuck with an unreliable food source and being forced to remain by that food but unable to have any of it. It took a great deal of his willpower to keep himself on task.

However, one day, Forsyth caved -- much to his great shame.

It hadn’t been much, truthfully. Just a bit of dry bread to fill his achingly empty stomach. It had felt good in the moment -- it had been tough to swallow down on its own, just a step above stale, but a drizzling of honey had made it easier to wolf down. Despite it only being a mouthful or two, it felt like the bread took up so much space in his belly -- of course, some of this was due to a lack of regular eating, but also the building guilt of taking something that had not been rationed out to him. It didn’t take long, Forsyth stewing in his guilt for several hours as he stood guard, for him to think of a way to replace what he had taken. A hunter he was not, but he’d read in a book somewhere about trapping techniques, and vowed to teach himself this skill in order to pay back what he had unrightfully taken.

It took him over a week, but he managed to catch himself a rabbit to add to the stock of food they had. It had been scrawny, but it was something all the same. He hadn’t really thought of keeping up the habit of trapping; it was hard to set up and check them when they were on the move, and with the odd changes in the land, there weren’t as many animals around to easily hunt. But, it seemed that someone else had taken notice of what he had done, as when he went to tally up everything one evening, there were some additions. A couple of fruit, a few small birds. It was small things, things found as they marched on from place to place. Still, it was odd, but Forsyth kept it to himself in case him bringing it up to anyone else might scare the mysterious procurer off.

It was more important that they have more supplies than it was to go off trumpeting about this anyway.

And if he swiped one of the fruits, popping it into his mouth easily, it was also not spoken of.

Things went on as such. Every week or so, Forsyth would find more and more getting added to their stores of food -- most notably when he was scheduled to be on guard duty. Whoever was behind this had an obvious motive of getting his attention. Upon first realizing this, he stubbornly avoided any of the food. But, it was hard to avoid the temptation forever when it was right there, begging to be taken and practically gift wrapped just for him. He fought off the urge to sneak food for as long as he could, but once again, the bite of hunger had him nicking some of the smaller morsels that he could quickly and cleanly gobble down without much fear of their disappearance being noticed.

This was, of course, a slippery slope. One or two small things turned into half of something a bit bigger, and then all of that slightly bigger thing, which evolved into him simply taking whatever additional and non-reported food items suddenly appeared when he checked.

It was a guilty pleasure in every sense of the phrase. Guilt for taking more than his fair share, but pleasure from how the food tasted and filled up his growling stomach. And it didn���t take long for that temporary full stomach to start developing into something more…

While Forsyth had never been incredibly muscular, he also hadn’t been scrawny either. However, this very middle of the road physique made it very obvious that all the extra food he was getting into wasn’t being worked off.

His face had filled out a little bit, the hint of a double chin coming in. His shoulders had rounded with soft pudge that lead into pillowy arms, the soft flesh of his upper arms squishing out of his short-sleeved tunic like overstuffed sausages from their stressed casings. His chest had softened and plumped up significantly, giving Forsyth embarrassingly hand-overfilling moobs that would peak out the edges of his breastplate -- at least, back when he could still get his fitted armor on. While he wasn’t as heavily armored as some, his climbing weight made it near impossible to wear most of it regardless. 

Even without his growing chest taking up space, Forsyth’s belly had gone from lean to something quite tremendous. The more food he snuck away into his stomach, the more fat accumulated on his middle and the hungrier he got; an endless cycle of stuffing himself with the growing amount of extra food in their supplies. This only caused his stomach to balloon further out as the days wore on. Where it had first started off as just a slight pooch to his middle, it quickly grew large enough to make it impossible to wear his breastplate and severely stressed his clothes, and it only kept growing from there. His gut was marred with angry red marks from his burgeoning growth, his belly button deep enough to sink your fingers in to the knuckle; its sheer mass swayed in a chaotic rhythm whenever he lumbered about, meaty slaps sounding from his underbelly as it smacked against his thighs.

The one thing he could be somewhat thankful for was that his lower half hadn’t been hit too hard by his gorging. While his ass had certainly bumped up in size, it wasn’t anywhere near as noticeable as his middle or even his tits. His thighs were chunky and they brushed up against each other whenever he moved, but their malleable bulk didn’t get too much in the way.

Really, the big problem was simply how heavy he was, and how utterly out of shape he’d managed to become. It was a complete shame, and Forsyth couldn’t even be bothered to hide his embarrassment as he’d practically eaten himself clear out of his dream to become a knight on the same level as Sir Clive. He still did what he could to aid the Deliverance on the battlefield, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He’d huff and puff at the back of their forces, rarely if ever managing to take out any of the enemy, but still plodding along as best he could for what little was left of his honor and pride.

Honestly, the worst of trying to fight at his size came when he simply hit his limit of endurance, his weight dragging him down to the dusty earth with a gasp and a wheeze. Coming to his aid had been none other than Python, his aim true as ever as he shot the Empire soldier who had been looking to capitalize on Forsyth’s collapse.

“Hey there, big fella, need some cover?” Python drawled as he idly checked to make sure the soldier was down for good, tacking on a slightly snide, “A whole lotta cover, nowadays, huh?”

Forsyth would have argued with him, but he was out of breath and awfully hungry; they’d been marching for some time before this skirmish even broke out, and he’d not had time to fill up on his usual breakfast staples. “Spare me your attitude, Python,” he huffed out, leaning back in order to suck in larger breaths and not feel like his gut was crushing his lungs as he did so.

Python merely gave him a smarmy sort of look, posture lazy as he surveyed the battle pushing on without them.

“Y’know, they probably wouldn’t even notice if the two of us went back to camp. I’ve done...most of my share of the work out here, and you sure seem like you need to sit your fluffy self down and have a rest,” the bowman continued, already sauntering around his porcine friend’s side to shove at his -- soft, plush, squishy -- back like he was some sort of farm animal in need of a little motivation to get up and moving.

Forsyth was beside himself with how that fact wasn’t too far off now.

“We cannot just leave our comrades on their own--” he began to chide irately, grunting and making all sorts of ungodly sounds as he struggled his way back to his aching feet with Python’s less than helpful help. Forsyth was sure the man had prompted all this just in order to watch him flounder about like a ridiculously fat fish out of water.

“Ah, don’t worry about them. They’re totally fine without us,” Python hummed, rummaging around for a quick moment in order to produce something he’d been saving for just the right moment -- which this seemed to be. A sweet, sugar dusted berry tart that he’d haggled for in the last town over. He carefully waved the treat in Forsyth’s face, watching amusement as the green clad man almost started to drool at the mere sight of the little sweetie.

Check and mate. He could spend the rest of the time watching Forsyth stuff his chubby face and not do a lick of work back at base camp while the others cleaned up on the battlefield.

A real win-win in Python’s opinion.

[shinsukesgf]

BAD IDEA.

issei gives you a punishment for being a brat— one that you weren’t so familiar with.

↳ includes : mean dom!issei to soft dom!issei, daddy kink, sorta bratty reader, heavy degradation, humiliation, face slapping, slight choking, breeding, squirting, use of the word cunny

a/n : this umm kinda bad imo bcs i havent written smut in ages so pls bare with me !!! T_T

You made the horrible mistake of being a brat, to try to get under Issei’s skin and on his nerves just for the sake of it. You knew how he was when he gets riled up, fingers twitching, teeth grinding & a cold smile pulled on his lips. Admittedly, you realised that this little plan of yours was very risky however the thought of seeing Issei in that state made all of your concerns float away.

Maybe it was the way you were just so touchy and feeling up Oikawa like that during the group’s gathering tonight. Or maybe it was the way you clearly let Hanamaki look at your body with a lust filled gaze, practically eye fucking you. Perhaps it was you complimenting Iwaizumi, going on about how muscular he’s gotten & how he’s just oh so strong. well it was one of these reasons— maybe even all of them— that led Issei reach his tipping point.

“Get up, you brat. We’re fucking leaving,” he spat out, bruising your wrist as he dragged you out and to the car. The voices of his friends go unlistened, them telling him to calm down & to stay for just a little longer. He could give two shits about what they think, after all they contributed to this little problem at hand. He’s gonna take you back home and teach you how to be a good girl like he always does, end of discussion.

“You think that was funny? Messing around with my friends right in front of my face, huh— being a fucking brat,” He spoke once you two were finally in the privacy of your home. That tone, he was using that tone of voice he only uses when you seriously fucked up and when he reached his limit, which was not often. You’d be a liar if you said you weren’t afraid of him but you couldn’t help getting aroused & pressing your legs together at the sight of Issei like this.

“I asked you a fucking quesion, whore.” The sound of his large hands hitting against your face echoed around the room. Naturally, tears filled your eyes as your face continued to sting from his slap. “No, daddy. I’m sorry for being a brat. I'll be better next time, I promise. Please forgive me,” It was purely embarrassing how quick you were to fall into submission for Issei but nonetheless, you always did.

“Ngaw come on, don’t tell me you’ve given up that easily. Where’s that confidence of yours you had back then? You were brave enough to piss me off, now you aren’t brave enough to even look me, doll” His laughter could be heard from above you, your teary eyes fixed on the ground— too afraid of looking him in the eye. “I- I’ll be good for you now, daddy. Please just forgive me.” You could hear how pathetic you sounded like in your own ears, Issei must’ve thought the same.

You felt his fingers on your chin as he lifted your face to get a good look at you— tears damping your warm cheeks and lips shaking & quivering as you looked into his dark and intimidating gaze. A smile stretched on his lips while he was enjoying the sight before him. You were always so pliant and innocent— so easy to get you on your knees for him. “I’ll only forgive you if you take your punishment well, how ‘bout that hm?” He wasn’t asking, it was more of a statement.

Your eyes followed Issei’s figure as he took a seat at the study desk in your shared room with all the composure in the world. He flipped a notebook open until he found a blank page and got ready a pen, as if he was ready to study and wasn’t calling you whore mere moments ago. “My lap. Now,” You quickly scurried to him, still afraid to disobey him. He had you face the desk while your back was flush against his strong chest, your waist held tight by his arms as well.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, You’re gonna write down for me I’ll never be a brat ever again while I fuck your cunt and you’ll only stop when I cum. If you stop writing without my permission, I’ll stop as well. Got it?” You dumbly nodded your head as a response. “Good girl,” Your heart fluttered in your chest even from the simplest praise from Issei.

Issei freed his hard and leaking cock from his pants and pulled your soaked panties off. Moans erupted from you as he sank you down on his cock, stretching that cunny of yours open. No matter how many times Issei fucked you, his cock was always a struggle to take in. Your cunny burned as Issei pushed more of his cock into you, stuffing you to the brim as he finally bottoms out. You held onto the desire to immediately start bouncing up and down on his cock, already wanting him to ruin your insides.

And in that split second, Issei let go of everything he was holding back on and let loose. He instantly started fucking you with much vigor, wanting to release all his pent up frustration from the day. Your fingers were turning white from how tightly you were holding onto the pen— trying to stay focused and write down the lines Issei told you to. Oh but the way his cock was filling you up, hitting all your sweet spots with every thrust was too addictive— you were moaning like a bitch in heat.

“Write down those fucking lines, slut,” His hand striked against your face to get your attention. You really wanted to but you couldn’t function with the way your cunny was getting abused by Issei. You barely managed to write down the first line, hardly intelligible with your messy handwriting. Grunts and soft moans could be heard coming from Issei as he humps your cunny— practically using you like a sex doll to satisfy his needs and only his. But you loved it, you loved every single second of this. That's when you feel Issei's thrust come to a halt, completely stopping.

“Stupid bitch. I told you I'd stop if you stopped writing. It looks like you’re not even trying, whore,” He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled on it, arching your back. You mutter out apologies and began writing again, just desperate for him to start moving again— cunny clenching and fluttering around him.

“Dumb brat. You only think with this cunt of yours, don’t you? Whoring yourself out to my friends like that. You don’t even deserve my cock in you,” His cock was splitting you open once again— the tip hitting your cervix with each thrust.

“Say it, say you’re nothing but a cockhungry brat,” Issei’s hand snaked to your throat, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m nothing but a cockhungry brat, daddy!” You used whatever energy you had left to obey his request. That familiar coil in your stomach was growing, you were close to cumming, oh so close. Issei's thighs burned as you digged your fingernails into them, leaving crescent shaped marks on them.

“Close to cumming already huh? Such an easy bitch. Beg for it,”

“Pleasepleaseplease I needa cum d-daddy. Need it so bad p-please let me,”

“Go ahead, baby. I want you to make a mess on me,”

And with that you fall over the edge and gushed all over his lap, embarrassingly soaking him with your cum. Trembling and shaking, you stayed there on Issei's lap— chest heaving up and down as you gasp for air to steady yourself. His fingers comb through your hair, lips leaving small & soft kisses on your neck & collarbones. “Always such a good girl for me,” He muses, you could hear the smile in his voice.

His kisses on your neck become more harsh and passionate— desperate for something more. “You gonna let me fill you up real nice with my cum, yeah?” Meekly nodding, you gave Issei the green light to continue.

He started humping your tight cunt again, this time with more affection and feeling. He loved hearing you squeal and tremble as he fucked you— you always made the prettiest noises.

“Daddy’s gonna fill this cunny of yours with my cum. I’m gonna breed you and stuff my cum deep inside of you,” He moaned out against your skin as he got closer and closer to his release.

“Please daddy, breed me. Want your cum in me, please,”

Issei grunts and curses as he shoots his load into you, his warm cum filling your cunt up. Shivers run down as he feels your tight cunny clenching and squeezing around him. He pulled you closer to him— chin on your shoulder and arms wrapped securely around your waist.

“I wasn't too harsh on you, was I?” He mutters out, almost breathlessly.

“Not at all, Issei. It was perfect, really,”

“Hmm I’m glad then,”

“Sorry for acting up. You know I love you only, right?”

“I love you too, princess,”

[janekfan]

hi mom. sorry i havent talked with you much recently but ive definitely been following ur stuff (which youve probably noticed). ive been extremely busy with much longer work hours, sometimes needing to find a place to hide so i can plop down and pass out for a few minutes. if you wanna write something regarding that, however you want to, it would bring me a lot of comfort ♡

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26659246

For @flame-cat my child! I’m so very proud of you! I hope this fits :) I can always try again <3 <3 <3

Jon lifted his head, groggy and sore, from the surface of his messy desk, a spare post it stuck to his cheek. He blinked hard, rubbing the sleep from his stinging, burning eyes and peeled away the paper to slip it back into the folder. Ever since his promotion he’d been burning the candle at both ends in an attempt to balance all of the new responsibilities despite not having any of the relevant experience. Sasha would have been a much better choice and for the life of him, Jon couldn’t figure out Elias’ game. How did having a bumbling, idiot Archivist benefit him in any way?

He rubbed his temples, cursing the persistent ache. Barely getting through a statement a week already felt like running a marathon every time, leaving him exhausted and irritable and the worst part about it all was not being able to ask for help. He’d thought. Well. He’d though having Tim and Sasha accompany him would make the whole thing a little more bearable. They were friends. Friends took care of each other and they understood it wasn’t his decision, right? That he’d tried to argue his way out of it, tried to explain that he wasn’t the person for this job.

He was probably being sensitive. They had responsibilities. They were busy.

It’s not all about you, Jon.

But he was so lonely.

Tired.

And it only became worse as the weeks went on though he didn’t know how bad it had gotten until one of the library staff poked him awake at the end of one of the “K” shelves. He’d only sat down for a moment on the bottom rung of a rolling ladder.

“Mr. Sims?”

“Wah--?” So eloquent when the library assistant shook him by the shoulder out of concern.

“Can I help you find something?” They smiled. “Like the door? So that you might go home and get some rest?”

“No, no, I’m alright.” He plucked a book at random. “I was just looking for this.” They didn’t seem convinced and smiled indulgently.

“A book on kinephantoms?” And Jon drew himself up to his full, diminutive height.

“Wha--yes. Yes, or course.” Clearing his throat he turned on his heel and stalked back into the archives.

“Hello? Tim? Um.”

“What can I do you for, boss?” Jon was exceptionally nervous and he didn’t know why but as Tim whirled around in his chair, pen flipping over his fingers, it spiked in his gut, made him sick.

“Ah yes, the, the research I asked for, l’last week.” Deep breath, be the boss, delegate and follow up. “How is it coming along?”

“Oh, yeah! The research. It’s ‘coming along.’ Should have it ready in a few days. How’s after the weekend sound?” Horrible.

If he was being honest.

“Yes, of course.” But he wasn’t. “That would be just fine, thank you, Tim.” He tucked the folder he had brought for him behind his back and left the way he came.

“Jon?”

“Sasha?” He looked up from his reading to find her in his doorway and a cup of cold tea on the corner of his desk. When had that--? “How can I help you?”

“I just had some questions regarding what you needed for that last statement.” Disappointment flooded his tongue with salt. His instructions must have been lacking. He’d have to try better this second time.

It took the rest of the afternoon and Jon, having already worked through lunch, was feeling light headed from lack of sleep and food by the time Sasha was ready to start her research. She. She couldn’t, wouldn’t? Pretend? Not to know would she? All her questions, she was more suited to this job than he was.

No. He was being paranoid. He was just tired.

Disorienting pain lanced through his chin, echoing through his jaw and into his skull and he groaned. He’d fallen asleep propped up on his arm and paid the price for it with a bruised and throbbing face.

“Jon?”

Go’way.

“Jon?”

Lemme sleep.

“Jon?”

“Mmartin?” With difficulty, he was able to pry his eyes open, blinking away the cobwebs, the dust clinging to his lashes.

“What are you doing down here?” Martin was pulling him to his feet and Jon wanted nothing more than to curl back up and drift away.

“Was looking for--oh?” It was in his hand and he lifted it as evidence. “This?”

“You look exhausted.” Automatically Jon was denying it despite knowing the shadows beneath his eyes were like bruises, shaking his head and backing away without even enough stale air in his body to say the right words until he left Martin behind.

It was just a stupid, silly mistake. Nothing tragic or irreversible or cataclysmic, he just dropped a box of organized and neatly filed statements. Just dropped a box representing hours and hours of time and research and missed meals and lost sleep and proof of his incompetence and before he knew it he was on his knees amidst the papers and ink and photos and notes and it was all. Too. Much.

He didn’t even notice the tears at first, not until they hit his hands and he cried more of them in his frustration, wiping them angrily away and only ending up with his face buried in his folded knees because he was just. So. Tired. Jon didn’t know how long he sat there in the hallway, arms tucked around himself and holding all his pieces together, but it was long enough that someone came upon him and he hurried about tidying the pages and stuffing them back into envelopes.

“Boss?” Jon scrubbed his face, turning around with his most dictatorial expression. It wouldn’t do for him to see out how terrible he was at this. How awful.

“Ah, just dropped some files. I’ve got it.”

“Have you been--?”

“No! No.” He began to gather the mess faster, jamming statements into folders, into files, all out of order because if he stayed here any longer under his scrutiny he would end up sobbing.

“Do you need some help?”

“No.” Biting and cold. Drive him away.

“Jon.”

“No, I. I just can’t, I’ll get the hang of it. I just need to work harder.”

“Hey.”

“I’m just. I’m. I’m tired...that’s all.” It didn’t sound convincing to him, let alone to his subordinate. Not to Tim who’d known him before this whole fiasco. He stood, box in hand and staggered into the wall when the hallway tilted sideways, caught by Tim before he could go down again. Defeated, he let him take the statements. Let him leave it on the floor and lead him away.

“Oi, boss. When’s the last time you ate anything?” His hands were trembling in Tim’s and when he went to pull them away, the man held fast, drew him into an awkward hug.

“Oh...uh. I, I can’t, I suppose I can’t remember.” Caught, exposed, Jon let his face fall into Tim’s chest.

“Okay, okay, let’s get you taken care of.”

Suffering Martin’s fussing and fretting, while he didn’t understand it, wasn’t as intolerable as usual. He’d taken one look at Jon and wrapped him up in his well-worn cardigan and sat him at the rickety table with a cup of tea and orders to drink it. With his second mug he handed Jon a packet of biscuits and, not able to escape while sandwiched annoyingly (comfortingly) between Tim and Sasha, he had no choice but to nibble on them. After his third, Sasha tapped his shoulder to get his attention.

“I want to apologize, Jon. I wasn’t doing anything to make this any easier on you.”

“No, you’ve. You’ve been helpful and--” He was horrified that she would think his own shortcomings were any fault of her own.

“Not as helpful as we could have been, boss.” Jon looked between them so quickly it set his head to spinning. “We’re much better at research than we’ve led you to believe.”

“It was frustrating.”

“I’m s’sorry.”

“Not because of you.” He allowed Sasha to tug his head down to her shoulder. “We should have noticed you were running yourself ragged cleaning up after us.” Delightfully cozy and warm, Jon was dozing off and she chuckled. “Okay, okay, let’s get you tucked in. We can make it up to you after your nap.” Jon tried to resist, tried to rattle off all the work he still had left to do but all that came out of his fickle mouth were mumbling, sleepy, embarrassing noises. They set him up on the ratty break room couch and it was the most comfortable he’d been in ages. If he could just manage a coherent sentence…but the pillow was so soft beneath his aching head, the blanket Martin was settling over his shoulders just heavy enough and he tried one more time to say anything at all when Martin lifted the glasses off his face and folded them aside.

“Mhm, of course, yes, boss, whatever you say boss.” Sasha’s fingers running through his hair were his final undoing and between one gentle touch and the next, he let himself go.

[bannerswife]

Nightmares - Bruce Banner x Reader

Title: Nightmares

Pairing: Bruce Banner x Reader 

Word Count: 2139

Warnings: None

Summary: After Bruce has a horrible nightmare, you try your best to calm him down before he hulks out.

Authors Note: This is one of my older works, so im so sorry at how bad it is eek. also i havent been posting that frequently ik im a horrible person whoops

You awoke to the heart wrenching screams of your boyfriend. Quickly you scrambled to the lamp switch, turning it on giving the room some sort of light. You jumped to Bruce’s side of the king bed and went to hold him in your arms. From what you could tell Bruce was having another nightmare, it wasn't anything new to you, it happened nearly every week, but recently it became a nightly routine. Not that you cared, you would never sleep if that meant you could hold Bruce in your arms to calm him back to restful sleep.

It always happened at around 2:30am, every single night (well morning), and that was when you started your day. You could never ever go back to sleep after witnessing Bruce’s meltdown, it hurt you so much it normally would cause yourself nightmares of something to do with Bruce, normally of him running away because he couldn’t bare the pain of losing you if he lost control.

You were never ever scared of the Other Guy, he was apart of Bruce and you loved every single part of him, even if half of him consisted of a huge green rage monster. You didn't care one single bit, you loved him unconditionally just for who he was. Green and all.

After the Chitauri attack on New York, Bruce’s nightmares were so much worse, and from the little information you got from Bruce when he briefly tells you about them they’re becoming a lot more vivid.

You didn't know how exactly to help the poor physicist. You couldn't really do a lot but calm him as best as you could and tell him that you love him and that you’re there for him. Thankfully it never ended with him going to the Safe Room because he never got too far to the point of changing.

But out of all of his daily nightmares this was much worse. You could tell already.

Bruce was flinging his arms about, a pool of sweat all over him, his head, neck, chest, everywhere. You wrapped your arms tightly around Bruce’s arm, squeezing it, and softly but loud enough you told him what you would always tell him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, shhh, you’re okay, i’m here, you’re alright. No one’s going to hurt you here Bruce,”

That was what you normally told him every night but you weren't even halfway through your sentence before Bruce shot upwards his eyes a bright rich green. Frantically he looked around the room, expecting some sort of danger that came from his dream. Though there wasn't anything and so his breathing slowed a little bit and his shoulders becoming less tense. Until it didn't. He looked over to you where your faced with worry, his heart becoming even more heavy (if it was even possible for him) as he was of course the cause of your stress and worry.

“Oh my god, y/n. I-i’m so sorry. Oh my fucking god, i could’ve- i could’ve-” He rambled, hardy able to form a structured sentence. His breathing quickened once again and his eyes widened as he looked upon you.

“No, no, no, Bruce i’m fine. Don’t worry about me, i’m fine, babe, please listen to me,” But you knew Bruce was only spiralling even more from here. His mind was already worked up from his dream and now he’s only digging himself a bigger hole.

“I can’t be here- i dont know if i can control it any longer, please. I need to- i need to go to the safe room,” He choked, trying his best to hold back the tears as he pulled tightly into himself. The previous events of his dream playing in his mind and what could’ve happened if he lost control with you so close.

It wasn’t unusual for Bruce to have his panic attacks, you always could calm him down, as well as his nightmares, but combining the two together would be a piece of work. You didn't know if you could.

“JARVIS, alert someone that Bruce is having a panic attack. I might need some help on this to calm him down. I’m just taking him to the Safe Room now,” You anxiously asked, as you slowly crawled over to Bruce who was currently hugging himself.

“Of course, y/n, right away” The smooth programs voice replied, alerting the fellow avengers for help.

“Okay, i’m going to help you up, yeah? Get you to your other room,” You got up and gingerly went to Bruce’s aid to help him onto his feet, he was wobbly at first but held himself up without your help.

In a second Bruce sped out of the room, one hand held on his head and the other helping him hold up right, you could barely keep up with the man as he sped to the elevator. Honestly you didn't know what you could do to help your boyfriend.

As the two of you made it down to the floor of the Safe Room, all of the avengers were sleepily (except Natasha who seemed to already be awake) waiting for the presence of the two of you.

“Hey big guy, is every-” The engineer asked groggily, sleep still sounding evident in his voice as he went to rest his hand on his friends shoulder, but before he could finish his sentence Bruce snapped, his brown eyes long lost to his alter ego’s green eyes.

“Stay back!” He yelled pushing Tony off of him, thankfully not too forcefully otherwise he would have flown straight through the glass window.

Bruce’s eyes softened and quickly returned back to his normal coloured chocolate eyes and his eyes welled with tears again, his hands returning to his head.

“I-I’m so sorry, but please- please just stay back, i don't want to hurt any of you,” he softly said, as he made his way to the room. The avengers keeping a good distance from the man hoping to not distress him.

You slowly walked alongside bruce, you too keeping somewhat a good distance, though as soon as you reached the room bruce instantly slammed the door in front of you. It hurt him to ever do that to you, knowing all that you were trying to do was help him, but he couldn't at all risk your safety.

He looked at you through the glass window of his room, your eyes glistening with tears. God you hated seeing him there, he wasn’t just some animal that had to be caged. It was ridiculous.

Bruce slowly took himself to the corner of the room and slid down the wall. He hugged his knees and rested his head upon them, and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

You could tell he was shaking, and mumbling things to himself to try and keep his temper down but it didn’t seem to be doing anything helpful anyway.

You held your hand up to the glass, a tear slipping from your eyes as you watched your boyfriend.

“Y/n, I think you should get some rest-“ Steve started as he spoke from behind.

“I’m not leaving him, I’m staying here until he comes out,” you muttered, keeping your eyes on Bruce.

“Cmon, I’m sure Bruce wouldn’t want you staying up all night just for him-“ Tony said, holding your shoulders to guide you back to your empty room - - without Bruce.

Bruce from inside the cage couldn’t hear anything but with his mind currently filled up with rage and anger he wasn’t exactly thinking straight but he could tell that you were distressed and Steve and Tony weren’t exactly helping you.

“NO! For fucks sake I’m not leaving him! Just piss off and leave us alone, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have bothered you all!” You pushed at Steve and Tony chests to get them both away and towards the exit.

And Bruce was up on his feet in a second, the other guy almost ripping through to try and protect you from any threat. In the back of his mind (that was all too blurry to even comprehend for Bruce) he knew that his friends were only just trying to help, most likely get you back to your room for some sleep. But The Other Guy didn’t see it that way, all that Bruce could grasp at the moment was that you were being hurt by these men and Bruce needed to help. The Hulk needed to smash.

Bruce walked up to the glass, swearing at the current men in front of you, which none of you could hear as the glass was so thick it was soundproof.

With a sudden touch of Steve when he went to try and calm you down, as tears poured down your face, the hulk was released. Bruce held tightly at his head, pulling at his hair, but it was all too much. The hulk was too strong at this moment and he couldn't stop him. And so you, Tony and Steve were stopped mid sentence when you could easily hear the deafening roar of the monster.

“Bruce,” You murmured, as you looked upon the beast.

You walked slowly to the glass and held your hand up to it, the hulk tilting his head confused, seconds ago he could of sworn you were in danger and now what was happening? You seemed pretty okay, aside from the little tears he could just see in your eyes. You then walked to the door of the safe room where you went to open it.

“Do you think that is such a wise move, Lady y/n?” You heard the voice of the god of thunder echo through the room.

You only smiled before looking up, noticing that everyone still had stayed in the room for Bruce, and nodded your head.

“He would never hurt me, he loves me, the only reason he transformed was because he thought i was getting hurt when Steve and Tony were trying to take me out, So i just need him to know i’m alright,” And with that you walked calmly into the big room.

You smiled at the beast among you, he looked down at you intently checking for any signs of injury, but thankfully he found none.

“Why y/n sad?” Hulk finally said as he took a seat in front of you, crossing his legs together. As if a child sitting in front of their teacher, waiting to be told a story.

You chuckled softly wiping the tears away and sat in front of hulk.

“I was worried about Bruce, he had a nightmare and wasn’t coping too well,” You simply explained to the big goliath in front of you.

Silence washed over the two of you and it was nice. Even Hulk could have agreed, he had never gotten the chance to just sit calmly and not have to worry about anything in the world.

“Hulk? Can you promise me something?” You interrupted the silence, hulk grunted and softly nodded his head in response.

“Will you look after Bruce for me? I’m not as special or strong as you are, i try my best to but with your help we can keep Bruce safe. Do you think you can do that, Big Guy? For me?” You leaned out and held the Hulk’s giant size hand in yours and looked into his bright green eyes.

Again the Hulk nodded in response, understanding fully what he had been requested to do.

You got up and wrapped your arms around the large beast and rested your head against his warm chest. Hulk not really knowing what to do with this small human on him just softly put his hand on your back and held you close.

Before you knew it the man in your arms was shrinking back to normal size and you couldn’t help but softly smile.

“Y/n? W-what are you doing?”

“Shh, Bruce i was enjoying the moment. Really you’re a good hugger-- and warm,” You giggled digging more into Bruce’s bare chest.

“Please don’t tell me you came in here and hugged the other guy?”

“That Bruce, is exactly what I did. Plus we spoke about… things,” you smiled.

Bruce sighed pushing you softly from his chest holding your arms.

“You do realise I could’ve killed you? If that happened I-“

“Bruce, I know you’re worried about hurting me but trust me when I say, I can handle myself. The Hulk is honestly the last person that would hurt me,” you replied hoping to finally get that through to him.

Bruce didn’t say anything else but just looked deeply into your e/c eyes, trying to search for something, you wouldn’t know. He softly hummed, a small smile setting on his face before enveloping you in his warm arms once again.