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phlve · 1 year

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EN(F) — Extraverted Intution supported by Feeling

Alert to all the possibilities, operates by creative impulse and chaotic energy. Hates routine and develops insights amounting to wisdom and the power to inspire others. Worry and happiness, sharp swings of mood, reacts to life more boisterously than others. Delight from joy, despair from sorrow, "from passionate cries of joy - to extreme anguish". Subtle altruistic motivations. Attachment to family, friends, joy for them. Sudden enthusiastic urges. Love of nature, art, music, interest in sports. Spiritual experiences, the search for a worldview, extreme impressionability and suggestibility. Pity, compassion for unfortunate people and for sick animals. Artistic nature: artists. poets. pride and courage not without exaggeration. Representatives of this type are usually the most lively and individualistic people of all. Their way of thinking is non-trivial and unusual, "alien". Representatives of this type typically seem charming, warm, and considerate. They are friends with different kinds of people, and their friends like them for their insightful understanding of people's problems and peculiarities. If you have come across a person capable of keeping in good relations with their former wives. husbands, and colleagues, it is mostly likely to be this type. The drawback is their inability to do any tasks or work that requires attention to detail, meticulousness, accurate planning and scheduling, and any type of "sedentary" work. Representatives of this type may not turn in their graduation papers, quarterly accounting reports, and other important documentation for a long time. This is the type of person most prone to accept multiple projects and new initiatives, accepting so much tasks that they end up having too many things to do - and then they can't do a single project they envisioned. His openness and friendliness can sometimes play bad tricks on them. Though, sometimes he can show indomitable will and determination to reach goals, later he may regret the harsh words he has said and the actions he committed and seek reconciliation. Polite, cheery, sensible, emotive, friendly, innocent, "childlike". Feeling of harmony and integrity of the world prevails here. A wide variety of events may be perceived as normal: even very tough life's circumstances could be perceived as some kind of working environment, he takes it easy, does not panic. The principle of existence: "The world around me is in harmony. therefore I exist.". Might get compulsively intrigued and interested, "lovesick", towards things that attracted his imagination; hyperactive, ignores space and falls in love with an idea, he seeks to idealize and perceive the external reality with rose-colored glasses. Harmony and peace of mind, meaningful existence. Easily distracted by alternatives.

The integrity of the internal situation is the most rigidly ignored value. This means that this type has no such thing as an "inner core", ideology, character. He does not know how to dive into himself. meditate. find inner peace on their own. He will often idealize the existing world all the people in it - always "good". This is what it replaces finding inner harmony. He ignores his inner world, it is an unknown territory for him. This type is likely to imitate states and feelings that should be there as far as he knows; he will make attempts to analyze his state and mood. If he cannot manage his mood, he puts up with it as with an inevitable evil which cannot be fought. "I hate the negative feelings and I want to escape any sadness", "I will make the whole world happy and I will invade everyone with positive emotions, I just want to inspire!". Defensively take refuge in na excessively upbeat belief of optimism, an expansive happy mood that hides uncomfortable sentiments. When they feel pain, and deeply, when they can't avoid the negative, some manifestations may have a masochistic urge to indulge into the sentimentality When unhappy, he can be childish and not let others be happy. Passive-aggressive. Tsunderes; they won't talk about their issues, in order to keep the harmony, but they won't be anymore fun. Quickly gets up in spirits, even if it may not be genuine. Selfish. Bright and talkative. Always relying upon his talent for immediate improvisation instead of preparing the work in advance. He loves situations when new and exciting undertakings come u. when it is bossible to demonstrate his own and others' talents: when one can still expect the most unusual development of events. His speech is often romantic, his smiles are enticing, but very often that's as far as it goes. His motto is 'emotional power over all and sexual freedom from all'. "Modest". As a rule, he is not ambitious, because he can enjoy the circle of his friends and the anticipation of something interesting. His mood determines everything: plans for the future, self-estimation, and ideas about the world. Ambitious plans can change to disappointment and sadness: but interesting news, praise, or an unexpected interesting opportunity immediately lifts his spirits. Boredom can even make him ill. The greatest pleasure for him is to find a way out from the situation that others consider hopeless. He is capable of demonstrating friendliness and benevolence to all.

"If I feel like it - then I will fall in love. if I don't feel like it - then I will fall out of love. and later I will love some more." His feelings of love are never sure and stable. Today he loves you; tomorrow will speak for itself. People of this type have no idea about commitment as far as their feelings and emotions are concerned, they sway in their emotions between love and hate, they see a wide spectrum of shades in-between. At the same time if they hate you it is not final, as it is with some other types who make up their mind once and for good. "Nothing is eternal under the moon: today I love, leave tomorrow for tomorrow". "Hey, man, are you stupid or what!" he says by the way. He is joking, teasing. External relations for them - something not very much and not always associated with internal. For example, being married, often can easily meet someone else, not seeing it as something bad. barely appearing in some companies may begin to pretend to be treated the same as all the rest of its members. Often this behavior may irritate people. In certain situations, it is still in compliance with any rules of external relations, but all of these cases - rare and strictly prescribed. For example - a funeral is not fun, it may be in relation to the employer must be some scope permitted behavior, or it may even be similar cases it was his understanding of these standards. In all other cases it is simply grossly ignored. If all go on holiday to have fun - you can create a scandal, and when all upset - you can start to behave provocatively. These people look good on a stage playing a guitar or something like that. As a rule, they live to become their ideal. They simplify the logic of the real world and idealize it. Quite often they expect their partners to comply with their abstract ideal. Has a hard time finding a partner because real partners do not meet their ideal standards. The person close by cannot be ideal by definition. He is always on the quest for his ideal object of love, unless he chooses to idealize an existing person. Always ready to argue, asserting his ideals, his worldview until they prove to everyone that they are right. These people often adhere to a school or a doctrine. Having accepted a picture of the world, they advocate and actively popularize the adopted doctrine. People of this type try to structure and line up the information of the objective world as much as possible. That is an attempt to build an ideal description of the world, which does not leave any place for transcendental notions, i.e. something inexpressible in terms of their worldview. They allow for the unknown, but the unsearchable has no right to exist. Struggles with figuring out who they really are. Reactive, most decisions are based on other people. Prone to mysticism, false memories and fantastic, "religious" voices.

This type usually has the fear of a complete form, fear of an action. A fence he is building has been under construction for ten years, but the last nail may never be hammered in; he has been writing his thesis for fifteen years, but it is still unfinished because it is 'imperfect' - still more studying needs to be done, some cross-checking is needed... etc. He frequently lives in the world of the unfinished forms, imperfect objects; and he is constantly struggling with this imperfection. To get a result from him it is necessary to put strict deadline. Otherwise the work will be procrastinated indefinitely, he will continue to alter, add, and improve things... But there is no limit to perfection! This trait should be taken into account in a working environment. Knowing this trait, he often seeks a job where work deadlines are stipulated 'by default'. This could be, for example, teaching. "A good place is the place where I have good sensations, where I feel good.". A pat on the shoulder, a good meal - and he is all yours, this is his idea of a perfect world, he feels great where these conditions are met, he is in trance. Give him some more of the same treatment - and he falls asleep, goes into a deeper trance. People of this type are especially suggestible through sensations. It is enough to say a word about somebody's health, and he gets self-conscious, thinking about his health he may get carried away. They tend to apply everything they hear to themselves, information may not even be related to them but they immediately think about their own center of the universe. People of this type are rather hypochondriac. He wishes to adjust the environment to make himself as comfortable as he can, squeezing all the available comfort out of a space. Expects someone to maximize comfort and health. Always moving in the direction of places where there is physical comfort, exquisite sensory pleasure and are not able to deny yourself this. Where it is physically comfortable there and well, even if it is very expensive. Love gourmet food, massage, stroking. Finding one place where they feel comfortable, for example, restaurant some - can go there for dinner across town. Avoid places where there is all of necessary physical facilities. Gourmets around, slaves to their preferences and habits. If you like sweet, then will eat it pounds. Often determine the state of health from the words of others, because it is very suggestible on it. Sometimes it may be trying to recreate elements of the home where they feel as comfortable as physically. Quickly get used "to the good" and this becomes their weakness in the future, without it they can not. Suggestibility authorities with respect to health issues, if to tell him that he has something to be treated, it is easy to believe it can. In this context, it can become easy prey for "paid doctors." They may forget to eat on time, take medications to sleep, so it is in need of a caring parent, friend or special one.

#personality theory #personality types #typology #cognitive functions #jung #jungian typology #en #ne #en(f)#enfp

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gravesitegarl · 2 years

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Mega headcanons about your selfships from medias I have never actually seen time!

Nancy Wheeler:

- You and Nancy have gotten very good at studying together, you know what works well for you.

- Nancy absolutely melts and goes completely 🥹🥰🥺 when you get her a gift for any occasion.

Eugene Ottinger:

- You two like to listen to music together and probably have similar taste!

- Passing notes….. love letters, maybe?

Xavier Thorpe:

- When you get the chance, you and Xavier like to try out new hobbies/activities together.

- You and Xavier are good at nonverbal communication; you can tell how he’s feeling just by looking at him.

Billy Hargrove:

- You tease each other a lot.

- Billy can be closed off emotionally, but you’re someone who can (sometimes) get him to say how he really feels.

Glen & Glenda Tilly:

- Both of them like to make bets on things, and they like it when you join in!

- You can rely on each other when it counts, there’s a lot of trust (even if it had to be built over time.)

Oooh! There’s a fuckin bunch of em! I’ll categorize them how you did to keep ‘em straight!

Nancy Wheeler:

-Headcanon 1: Super accurate! Though, our studying mostly consists of me lazing around and her actually studying lol

-Headcanon 2: Super accurate! She loves getting doted on just as much as any girl does, craving attention that usually goes to her younger siblings. Gifts and attention make her so happy and giddy.

Eugene Ottinger:

-Headcanon 1: Really accurate! We do listen to music together but our tastes are pretty different—I prefer soft indie music and love songs and he prefers more upbeat music and soft rock.

-Headcanon 2: Not Quite accurate! He gets too nervous and is way too goody to pass notes in class. I might, but he wouldn’t. His obedience is kinda cute.

Xavier Thorpe:

-Headcanon 1: Really accurate! I love dragging him out of his art shed to do things so that he doesn’t mess up his back(he has terrible posture). We’re actually in archery club together because of it! He doesn’t always love what I pick but you win some, you lose some.

-Headcanon 2: Super accurate! Both of us have times where we’re nonverbal. Mine can be at any time, but his are usually when he’s upset, tired, or hungry. He has beautiful eyes, they talk louder than he could ever verbally. I love taking care of him, a look is all it takes for me to give him all the love he needs.

Billy Hargrove:

-Headcanon 1: Super accurate! We tease each other constantly. Mainly over dumb habits and things. Though, sometimes it’s the only way to get him to talk about things. Also…he’s really cute when he smiles.

-Headcanon 2: Super accurate! He’s extremely closed off emotionally. Due to his childhood, his internal motto is Emotions mean weakness and Weakness means pain. To say his childhood sucked would be a major understatement. I can get him to talk sometimes, but when he lets emotions out it mostly consists of me sitting in his lap as he cries…He cries a lot when we’re alone.

Glen & Glenda Tilly:

-Headcanon 1: Not Quite accurate! They don’t make bets but they like to see who’s right on the randomest shit ever—usually something inane like ice cream flavors or murder tactics. It’s hilarious to see them compete or butt heads over dumb shit.

-Headcanon 2: Super accurate! When they trust someone, that trust is sacred. It had to be built over several years, but eventually they allowed themselves to relax and trust me. I trust them with my life, and I’m sure they feel the same. ——————

For someone who isn’t familiar with the media my F/Os are from, you’re sure good at this! -🐺

#🐺 answers #🐺’s selfship posts #self ship ask game #🐺

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keiksy-cake · 2 years

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After a long time of procrastinating via Minecraft and sobbing heavily internally while translating, I've finally finished Holy Rome's page! :'D

The panel text was taken from previous chapters btw

Revisions: "younger brother/Germany (many others)" to "brothers/saxony, bavaria, many others, (self-proclaimed number one) big brother/prussia"

"He just wanted to make that happen, but that desire never reached anyone." to "He just wanted to make that happen..."

"Rome" to "Roman empire" x2

all collezione pages

[Please note, I’m actually an amateur in Japanese and have to use various resources and translation machines to help me. If you notice a possible mistake or want clarification, please bring it up to me *politely* and not aggressively or hostile.]

#hetalia #hetalia collezione #aph hre #aph holy rome #aph holy roman empire #aph chibitalia #my friend asked me to translate this a while ago but i forgot then got readdicted to minecraft sorry #genuinely almost cried fr goodness I'm such a lost cause #but mostly just cried internally this was extremely painful #also thank you hima for the amazing redraws!!#also also this reminded me a lot of that one prussia doujin impermanence which also added to my pain #another also but a more literal translation could be bloodline to germania and germany but don't take my word for it!!

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saintlike78 · 3 years

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Hey! I love your work!!

I was wondering if I could request a poly!maurauders oneshot (or whatever!) where reader manages to hurt herself somehow while having sex (something bent or popped the wrong way etc.) with the boys and she cries out and uses her safe word but it takes her a second to be able to explain what happened and the boys all fret over her? Thanks!!

‘Pop’ [Poly Marauders]

A/N: I loved this request because I 100% could see this happening to me, my joints are just creaky. I hope you enjoy <3

Pairings: Poly! Marauders x Fem!Reader

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: NSFW 16+, tail end of smut, vaginal sex, mention of handjob, reader being slightly injured, knee injury, crying, polyamorous relationship. As always lmk if I missed anything.

Smut just below the cut!

Your legs were bent with Remus’ arms under the bend of your knees as he held you in his strong grip, his pace quick as he fucked up into you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, rather the contrary, and therefore nothing had given away the slight lock your knees made. Noises of pleasure echoed from your mouth and around the room, your balmy skin connected with Remus’, your hands behind his head grasping at the brown locks as you tried to ground yourself.

James and Sirius laid on the bed, working on each other’s cocks, lips connected in a heated lip lock; their focus was often broken away from one another as their line of vision would fall back on you, taking in your sweaty figure, your tired body grasping for more pleasure, even after having been going at it for longer than you normally would, but you couldn’t get enough.

“Moony, it’s my turn,” Sirius whined, rising from his position to be on his knees sticking his arms out to grab you, but not before earning a whine of disappointment from James.

Remus rolled his eyes but slowly pulled out of you to hand you over to the raven-haired boy on the bed, his face sporting a mischievous smile of satisfaction of having gotten his way. You whined at the empty feeling but reached forward to grasp and hug Sirius close to you, as he hooked his arms under the bend of your knees, just as Remus had done, therefore never straightening your legs out to unlock your knees.

With you in his grasp, Sirius moved on his knees to find a place on the bed to place you down upon and have his own way with you.

Your back hit the plush mattress, Sirius, right on top of you, your fingers in his hair, and your legs bent by his sides as he slowly sank into you, his face finding a place in the crook of your neck, sucking marks into the smooth flesh.

You breathed out a moan as he started moving, your walls fluttering around him as he hit the spot inside you that made you see stars and have your entire body shivering and twitching out in pleasure.

The pleasure caused your toes to curl, and your legs went to straighten out – but that was a mistake. As your legs stretched you felt an unfamiliar, but extremely painful, ‘pop’; your eyes were wide as you let out a pained wail, “RED! FUU-ckkk.”

Sirius was quick to pull out, panic clear in his eyes as he searched your distressed face, trying to decipher where it went wrong – rather what he did wrong.

Remus was quick by your side, helping you into a seated position as he looked between Sirius and James, trying to think of what to do to help you as tears of pain leaked down your face as you sobbed loudly, your body shaking, mostly from the fright you received from the sudden pain you had felt.

“Bunny, what happened?” Remus tried, his body holding you up as James scurried around the room to find you and them something suitable to wear.

You were stuttering on sobs as you tried to explain to them that they did nothing wrong, but the words were caught in your throat only small cries leaving your mouth, causing the boys to internally panic, fearing the absolute worst.

Sirius leaned down to be closer to you, gently grabbing your face, wiping the tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Please, pup, we want to help you,” he was gentle, afraid that he had done this to you and that you would hate him for it.

You kept trying, but the only thing to escape through the sobs were broken words, all blubbering together in a mashup of cries and tears.

The pain had somewhat subsided, the only thing left was the dull ache letting you know that something had happened, but the distress was still present, yet you tried to control your breathing trying to get the tears to stop.

Instead of trying to voice your troubles, you tried gesturing to your knee, pointing to it.

“What’s happened, does it hurt?” James quickly asked as he came to your side on the bed, holding a pile of clothes in his grasp, but those were quickly tossed on the bed as he crawled to your side.

You didn’t get to nod or try explaining anything before the panic had set into all three boys, their voices bouncing back and forth between each other as they tried to think of something.

“Do you know where that muggle kit thing is? The one you brought, Moony,” James asked, referring to the first aid kit Remus had brought with him this school term just in case anything were to happen.

“I think It’s in the bathroom… or I don’t know… maybe it’s in my trunk, I don’t remember,” Remus was wrecking his brain trying to think of where he had placed the strange red box, though with no luck.

“We should take her to the hospital wing, it might be broken!” Sirius’ overdramatic guess pulled a laugh from you, the tears wet on your cheeks, but a smile lighting up your face.

All three boys’ heads snapped to look at you, shock and panic evident on their faces.

Your breathing had calmed enough for you to finally speak, “It’s not brok-en,” your voice was hoarse, and small dry sobs interrupted your speech pattern.

“Oh, thank gods,” Sirius breathed out in relief, his lips quickly pecking yours before he leaned back to give you space to explain.

“I think my knee lo-cked into place and it was rea-lly painful when I stretched it.”

All three of them listened intently, Sirius felt a huge wave of relief wash over him, knowing he didn’t hurt you.

“Can you stand, bunny?” Remus asked, helping you lift your body, while James took over to help you off the bed, not letting you put any weight on your legs, his arms carrying you above the ground.

“You can put me down now, Jamie,” you giggled.

James smiled, his usual goofy smile, before he set you down on the floor, still holding you up with his strong arms, making sure you wouldn’t fall and making sure that if you were still in pain, he could alleviate it as quickly as possible.

You limped slightly as you tried to move your legs, a mix between the ‘pop’ and the fact that you hadn’t stood or walked in a while.

“Hmm, I think we should go to the hospital wing, just to be sure it’s nothing,” Remus’ logical voice cut through as he stood from the bed, quickly getting dressed before helping you get dressed.

Sirius and James followed promptly, throwing on the clothes James had fetched for them.

You were about to start walking towards the door of the dorm room, but Sirius was quick to pick you up, a small yelp of surprise tearing through your throat as you wrapped your limbs around him. He cradled you close to him as he walked down the many steps and corridors to reach the hospital wing, your face buried in his shoulder enjoying the closeness of it.

Tags: @dracosafety, @justadreamyhufflepuff, @teenwolfbitches28, @emma67, @trouble-in-space, @sciapod, @kermiemoon, @autumnandwinteraesthetics, @roonilwazlibswhore, @White_castles, @lexi_shoto, @sprucewoodlover, @blackandlupinsslut, @emmaev, @cedricisnotdead, @Sirius-sugarmomma, @i-love-scott-mccall, @pretty-pop-princess-hs, @pottahishotasf, @mjoubertt-1,

If crossed out it means I couldn’t tag you!

#poly marauders #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #marauders smut #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter

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drapopia · 3 years

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random assorted la squadra headcanons

contains mostly nice stuff, but some get a little angsty. only sad stuff is about tidbits of their pasts, mostly ambiguous

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risotto

- he has back acne, and has to use a specific ointment for it daily because his harness rests on it, and causes him pain.

- his favorite candies are gummy candies, and he enjoys gummy bears the most. he likes the way the gelatin feels on his teeth when he bites down.

- SPEAKING OF TEETH i definitely believe he had braces for a short time when he was younger

- watches cheesy italian soap operas with the group in passing. the group will be watching it together, he will wander in to watch it but he won’t sit down. he will spend 30 minutes just standing there watching the show and then wander out

- likes stationery, but it has to match a certain aesthetic

- has an especially hard time with holidays, but internalizes it strongly. he needs to be a strong leader and will not allow a holiday as simple as christmas to get in the way of the future of his team.

prosciutto

- he enjoys wine and cheese, and especially garlic, but his breath STINKS

- orders his shoes specially tailored with arch support since he has a highly arched foot

- smiles and waves at babies he sees in public that smile at him. pesci is the only person to see this and has kept very quiet about it, lest pesci get slapped

- his favorite chores to do are vacuuming and dusting. he thinks it is very satisfying to actually see things get clean.

- often wonders about what his life could have been like if he had taken the life of a mafioso. it haunts him more than he would like to admit.

- envies others who can actually let themselves smile naturally. although he’s gotten better about it as he’s gotten older, he instinctively covers his overbite with his top lip when he smiles. PLEASE PROSCIUTTO YOU LOOK ABSOLUTELY DARLING

pesci

- talks shit on others to himself internally. prosciutto will say something foul to him and inside, pesci is just LOSING it on him. but he has manners, so he obeys and smiles at him instead

- wears a light bit of makeup every day. just a light lip tint and mascara but he enjoys it thoroughly

- he and sorbet get along quite well. sorbet and him often end up in the kitchen together in the mornings by coincidence, and talk about their weeks

- pesci was quite studious in school, and before dropping out of school (my headcanon) was on the honor roll

- he is very scared of birds ever since illuso showed him a finch on a balcony and it bit him :(

- pesci is very buff actually !! in terms of physical strength, he is second to risotto, and formaggio is just below him

- loves taking showers. he seems like someone who just enjoys getting clean at the end of the day

illuso

- wants to start a podcast with the others in la squadra just to start drama

- enjoys vegetables and fruits, enjoys having a healthy diet and trying new foods. he enjoys mediterranean food the most

- has a fear of the dead. he doesn’t know much about the afterlife and is scared to even think of it. it’s a constant in his life, although he refuses to admit it to himself. he’s only spoken to melone about it briefly and melone has thankfully never brought it up again for illuso’s sake

- collects old jewelry and sells it at pawn shops when he’s strapped for cash. he stole some of it from his grandmother when he was still a teenager. half of him regrets it, half of him laughs about it

- formaggio tried to teach him how to skateboard and he broke his pinky finger when he fell. they never tried it again

formaggio

- does not brush his teeth and just rubs his shirt on his teeth when he wakes up

- own a few candles but they’re nauseatingly sweet. every time he lights one, melone wails about how it hurts his head, so he doesn’t light them much

- when he was a little bitty kid, a cat scratched him on the ear and he cried so hard he vomited on his mothers parlor couch.

- asks people where his hug is at

- one time when ghiaccio was extremely upset, formaggio cuddled him to sleep on the base couch. formaggio made sure nobody saw, and doesn’t bring it up to ghiaccio or even mention it. he understands him.

- formaggio often feels that he helps others, but no one gives back the same energy. he often lays awake at night thinking about what would the others do if he cried to them. he tries to push these thoughts away

- he loves making homemade pasta sauce with prosciutto on occasions

melone

- melone paints his nails a light silvery pink and loves it !! his nails are naturally thin, so he cuts them often so they don’t break off

- always has a stick of gum on him, or a hair tie

- he often watches pbs to make sure “children are watching suitable content these days”. he just enjoys sesame street (formaggio joins in often)

- he wants to own a large garden on his own one day. he wants to be able to sit somewhere pretty that is entirely his own, and lose a little bit of his stress. you can often see him wandering in community gardens on holidays.

- he misses his mom. he would never say anything like that except late at night, spoken softly to himself, but his yearns for his mother to hold him and let him cry. he doesn’t want to be here, and he knows she wouldn’t him there either.

- hates nickelback and throws a tantrum whenever he hears it

ghiaccio

- when he was a child, he was the type to say “guess what ?? chicken butt !!”

- is a giggly drunk, so he doesn’t drink at all. he prefers to just watch the others, or just avoid situations where people drink

- loves cereal. any kind of cereal makes him go crazy. loves frosted flakes and the colder the cereal, the better !!

- sleeps with an insane amount of pillows. like it’s actually heinous, it’s like a mountain yet he still has more in wishlists on amazon.

- he takes car rides to cool his head. the music helps quite a bit, and the wind in his eyes is numbing. he will go in circles just to feel the problems slip far away into his mind. he gets tired of yelling, just as much as the others get annoyed by it.

- dislikes woodwork. he tried doing it in high school, got a huge splinter, and changed his class the next day to a film studies class

sorbet and gelato

- they have one day a week where they spend time by themselves, and then meet up the next day and cuddle and all is well again. they don’t want to overcrowd each other (that is not a word in their dictionary, however)

- sorbet is good at cooking, and gelato is NOT. they had to remove their fire alarms because gelato set them off so often.

- gelato has a kinship with ostriches and every time they go to the zoo, gelato always circles back to them by the end

- sorbet has a fear of small dogs because of an incident in a grocery store with a small dog in a purse. gelato is fhe only person who knows

- gelato has a birthmark shaped like a lopsided heart on his hand, and sorbet rubs his thumb over it when he’s stressed

- they quite enjoy trying interesting foreign candies. they enjoy breath mints as well

- they are littered with scars, most are a mystery to anyone other than themselves.

#la sqaudra #jojo part five #jojos bizarre adventure #pesci jjba #risotto nero #prosciutto #illuso #formaggio #melone #ghiaccio #gelato and sorbet #sorbet jjba #gelato jjba #la squadra di esecuzione #golden wind #la squadra headcanons #jjba part 5 #vento aureo

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hoewkeye · 3 years

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Sun & Moon: Chapter One

“I just find my way back in”

Summary: It has been four months since yours and Sang-woo’s paths crossed, and you’re deeply in love with him-- unfortunately, he won’t let you in. But you can’t give up on him. Not yet.

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo/Reader

Word Count: 3,035

Tags: There’s a slight mention of suicide -- but it’s nothing, actually, just dark thoughts --, age gap, hints at codependency but it’s nothing, fluff, mention of latin accent - parts will be tagged individually.

Chapter’s Song: Cinnamon Roll by Lana Del Rey

A/N: Oh, hey! I actually posted it when I said I would, what a lovely surprise - that’s me talking to myself. Thank you all for the support, seriously. I’m so happy. This is the fluff-ish beginning of a kind-of-love-story so I hope you enjoy it. Also a little “spoiler” because I can’t keep it in my pants: next chapter’s song is False God by Taylor Swift. Don’t forget feedbacks are appreciated.

Prologue | Sun & Moon Masterlist | Next Chapter

———

It was hard not to want Sang-woo every time you saw him walking across the corridor, a good few feet away from you. It was hard not to want him close -- closer -- and it was hard fighting against yourself to resist the urge to kiss him madly, deeply.

But it was even harder having him this close, only inches away, because that’s when you’d realize that even being so close you couldn’t kiss him.

His eyes kept scanning you as you cleaned his wounds, an internal debate inside his own mind, his glasses long forgotten on the table. Sometimes his eyes would twitch, a trace of his pain, and you’d apologize softly even though you found it extremely amusing to see his countless attempts to hide his pain.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, plain uncertainty in his tone.

You frowned, “Because you’re hurt, I suppose.”

You had just left your room to do the laundry when you saw Sang-woo trying to open his door with shaky hands, a trail of blood coming from the start of the corridor until the spot he was. After seeing his swollen eye and blood dripping face, you just grabbed his arm and dragged him to your room, where you started taking care of his bruises without really thinking twice.

“There’s no need to.”

You bit your lower lip softly, feeling some frustration grow inside of you. You knew you didn’t need to and, hell, you probably shouldn’t. But what would you do? For a month and a half, Sang-woo was everything you knew. He was always there; every morning when you left to go to SNU, every night when you came back. Sometimes you’d just say ‘hi’, but mostly you’d talk for hours - mostly your voice being heard, feeling comfortable with his presence and smart remarks from time to time.

“I know I don’t need to”, you whispered, avoiding his gaze. After that first month, you did make new friends, but Sang-woo still was the most important person you had in ROK*, for some reason. “But I care about you”, you spoke so low you couldn’t be sure he even listened, but you soon added: “Also, you were there for me when I needed you”, and it was true.

It happened a month ago. After two weeks working on the biggest essay, staying up all night, watching documentaries, reading books and searching for a whole lot of references, your work got roasted and your professor told you had to re-do everything. You should've just accepted the criticism and done as he said, but you were just so tired-- the tears came quickly, and you collapsed in the bathroom.

And the only thing you could think about was going home. Enjoy Sang-woo’s silence, see him adjusting his glasses when uncomfortable or while searching for words to say. You wanted to go home, and he was the closest thing you had to a home.

So you called him, still crying, and asked him to pick you up. He did-- showed up in his nice car and took you home.

In your room, you wrapped your arms around him and cried on his shoulder. At some point, he hugged you back, trying to comfort you even though he couldn’t find the right thing to say. He stayed and you appreciated it so much, knowing how hard it was for him to actually demonstrate something.

And now you were trying to take care of him. Just a little bit. Just for a little while.

You wanted to know what had happened, why did he end up like that. You wanted to know why it was so strange to him to have someone caring about him. You wanted to know about him, because he knew too much about you and how could you fall so deeply with someone you knew so little about?

“Thank you”, he finally said, in a raspy voice you could barely understand. The way his eyes were locked up on your face, burning your skin, made you low your own gaze.

“It’s fine”, you tried to smile, shivers going up and down your spine. Can’t you see what you’re doing to me, Sang-woo? Are you really that naïve? “Though I really wanna know why it bothers you so much, you know, me helping you.”

“It doesn’t. As I said, there’s just no need to.”

“Well, sure looks like it. Lift your head a bit”, he did as you told and you pressed the cotton wool on the corner of his still bleeding lip. “What happened, by the way?”

“Nothing. A bar fight. I tried to help.”

Liar.

“Sure.”

And once again the silence fell over you as you cleaned the mess that was his — somewhat, still beautiful — face. You wondered when it all started; his closeness, coldness. What made him the person he now was, what could’ve gone wrong. Why sometimes it felt like he was hopeless, on the verge of a cliff, about to fall.

About to jump.

“Done. All patched up and clean”, you offered him a smile when you finished. “You’re good to go” and I know you’re dying to do so, you’re dying to run away from me. As if I’m poison.

“Thank you”, he said again, not so soft this time, and stood up. “I guess I’ll just… go to my room”, he tried to offer you a smile before turning his back on you and walking steadily to the door. His hands were still shaking, you noticed.

Only if you could say to him all the things you’ve been meaning to say...

“Sang-woo”, you called before you could even think twice about it. He turned back at you again, and if you weren’t so lost in your own feelings you’d have seen the glimpse of relief in his eyes. Relief, but also anguish.

What should’ve you said?

I appreciate your company more than I should. I appreciate your attentive eyes, your posture, even your silence, and I love the sound of your voice every time you dare yourself to talk. You’re the first person I’ve grown fond of here. You were the first person I cared about and made me feel like home. I just wish you wouldn’t keep me locked out, I wish I knew more about you. I wish I knew more because I always feel like I’m insane for falling without knowing.

You couldn’t. You couldn’t say that.

“I just hope you know you can trust me. And if you need any help, I’ll do my best to help you.”

He nodded, looking at you for a few seconds longer before lowering his head. You’ve had enough conversations with him to know that he wouldn’t say a thing, he’d just leave you behind with your messy thoughts and feelings. Another night awake, thinking about getting over him without really doing it.

“Sang-woo,” you called once again, your voice sounding choked as you tried to contain all that you were feeling in that moment. That single moment, standing up from the bed and walking towards him. It was bigger than you, those feelings. Bigger than anything you had ever felt before. So you touched his bruised cheek and looked him in the eyes, whispering: “Sang-woo, kiss me.”

It took the weight off your chest when you noticed he was already looking at your lips, one of his hands locking up on your waist way faster than you’d ever expect. He wants this too, was the last thing you thought before he finally sealed your lips together.

And it felt like heaven. Having his body so close to yours, towering over you as he was so tall and big, making you feel safe, warm. His other hand, on the back of your neck, held you so firmly but yet so gently you couldn’t help but moan softly as you kissed.

“Y/N…” he sighed, his lips not quite away from yours, “You’re being naïve… stupid.” Now both of his hands were on your cheeks, as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to push you away or hold you still.

“I’m not”, you replied softly, panting a little. You kissed him again, and then the corner of his lips, and then kissed him once more. How could you say to him that he was the first man who ever made you feel safe? “Sang-woo…”

He breathed your name, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re too young, too…”

“Don’t say stupid again. I want this”, you pleaded. I want you.

“You don’t know what you’re saying”, he stated and, making up his mind, let go of your face and took a step back. “I need to go”, he couldn’t even look at you. You felt all that famous butterfly in your stomach dropping dead as a suddenly cold, sad feeling took over you. “I’m sorry.”

And just like that, he left.

———

As if he wanted to make things worse, Sang-woo started to avoid you.

For four days in a row, you hadn’t seen him. And you could try and lie to yourself by saying it was fine, but the truth was that you kind of missed him. You missed him a lot, and not seeing him every day gave you the feeling that your days were incomplete, as if you changed your whole routine after months being comfortable with it.

It was Friday night when you saw him again, leaving his room as you were about to enter on your own, a bag with wine and the complete season of a sitcom in your hand. “Hey,” you said, your voice low. He just waved his hand and walked right past you, which made you sigh in frustration. “Why are you avoiding me?”, you blurted out.

He turned around, clearly uncomfortable, “I’m not-”

“Don’t lie to me”, you pleaded. “It’s the least you can do.”

He sighed, putting his hands inside his pockets, and looked down. He seemed like a kid, and again you wondered about all the things you didn’t know about him or his life.

“I just shouldn’t be around you. I don’t know how to explain, but I can’t…” he adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath. “I won’t bring any good to you, believe me.”

“You already do.”

“Those are your feelings speaking. It’s a rush, it will pass soon enough.”

“A rush?”, you scoffed. “Stop trying to push me away. Why won’t you let yourself feel this?”

His eyes twitched, the same sign of pain you had seen earlier that week, and he blurted: “Because there’s nothing to feel.”

Ouch. If your heart were made of glass, it would’ve shattered then. All the things you wanted to say got stuck in your mouth, the air leaving your lungs so quickly you could only mumble: “Got it. I’m sorry. You seem to be in a rush anyways so… enjoy your night, Sang-woo.”

You went inside your room so fast you couldn’t even look at him one last time.

———

That week passed by painfully.

Cho Sang-woo was a cold man, loveless, too smart to think about caring. He was too rotten, too broken to love someone else. He was lonely. And now, more than ever, he was alone. He was alone because for months he had been graced with some human form of sunshine. You were always smiling, always talking, and would bring a comfort that had been long forgotten by him.

He knew he could trust you, put his heart -- if he had any by now -- in your hands and he would be okay. But he also knew he would break you, he would be okay while you wouldn’t, because his life was a mess and soon you would get involved. You could take good care of him, but he couldn’t ever do the same for you.

You were too good to be true. And spending the week knowing he had lost it, that little glimpse of happiness and hope you had brought him, had made him sadder than ever. As if he wasn’t depressed enough.

He thought about how long you stayed. For how long you had accepted his half-words and half-smiles. And he hated himself, and then hated you a little. He hated himself because he’d destroy everything good he ever touched. He hated you because you, amongst everyone else, made him care about destroying things. Or even touching things.

That night, his mom called him. They talked for a bit and soon he was annoyed, feeling like he was about to explode for a million reasons. For lying, for not being what everyone expected him to be, for not being able to say “I love you” back at her. Because in another life that would be a nice call, he could’ve even said that he had met someone, that he was planning on asking you on a date, and maybe say “I love you” back to his own mother, but instead he wanted to blow his brains out. And he rushed to turn off the call after a quick “I need to go”.

———

Next Friday night, Cho Sang-woo was at your door.

You had decided to make his life easier. You didn’t appear on his apartment door, and didn’t even bother avoiding him since he was already doing it. You sucked it up and decided to ignore all that had happened and continue to live your life like a normal PhD foreign student, hanging out with people from your classes and not thinking about the man next door, even though you thought about him all the time.

“Hey”, you said hesitantly as you opened the door and saw him standing there. “Do you need anything?”

“I want to apologize for the way I spoke to you last week”, he said it quickly, as if ripping a band-aid off. “I was stupid and didn’t mean what I said.”

“Yes, you did. But it’s okay, seriously, don’t you worry. I am a nosy and pushy person, I get it”, you tried to offer a smile. Just once more. But you couldn’t.

“You are not”, he affirmed and then paused, correcting it: “You are, a little bit, but there’s nothing wrong with it”, and just like that you couldn’t hold back the ghost of a smile that appeared in your face.

And he smiled.

A sad smile, but still a smile.

“Sang-woo…”, he was starting to get used to hearing his name like this, in your lips, in your latin accent. And again, you wanted to tell him all the things you’ve been feeling from the start. There were things you wanted to talk about, like… “Do you wanna come inside so we can talk?”, you interrupted your own line of thoughts. It was still too painful to think about how quickly you feel for him and how he didn’t reciprocate those feelings.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

He followed you inside and you bit your lower lip to contain another shy smile. “There’s things… I’ve been meaning to say”, you said as both of you sat on the couch, side by side, and you looked at your hands, gathering courage to say what you needed to.

“I fancy you”, he blurted and you blinked, caught completely off guard.

You suddenly gazed at him, searching for something that would say that he was kidding or messing with you. There was nothing.

And it felt like someone had just taken the weight of the world away from your shoulders. A wave of relief washed over you, but at the same time your heart started beating so fast you got afraid you might have a panic attack. Why did he get so under my skin?

“You ‘fancy’ me?” you asked with a smirk, though, when you realized his choice of words, your voice sounding cracked. And suddenly it felt like everything was okay. “This sounds a lot like that kind of movie where the protagonist is promised to a man she doesn’t love and he’s all polite and stuff.”

“That’s all you have to say?”, he nervously inquired.

“For now, yeah.”

He nodded. He kind of deserved that, he knew, but still- he didn’t want to stay quiet around you. He wanted to be loud, he wanted you to be loud, so maybe he could make the right choice -- or would it be the wrong choice, to let his feelings towards you speak louder than his sanity?

“What kind of movies are you watching?” he asked, avoiding his own thoughts.

“What kind of movies are you watching?” you were so enjoying yourself, he could see. You seemed happy.

“I don’t watch movies.”

“Jesus”, her hand was now on her chest while her face seemed truly shocked. Sang-woo found it extremely funny, “And what do you do for fun?”

“Fun?” he closed his eyes, trying to think. I talk to you for fun, sometimes you almost crack me up, so I hope that counts, but it’s all. “What do people my age do for fun, anyways?” and you laughed out loud.

Only to stop on your tracks when you realized it was the perfect timing to ask the question that was bothering you for the past week: “How old are you, by the way?”

“Forty-six”, he didn’t even blink.

“Oh.”

“Oh”, he mimicked.

You laughed, his suddenly childish attitude amusing you. You felt the urge to tell him, “you’re the first man who actually ‘fancies’ me, you know”, but you’d probably scare him away. How could you? How could you tell him no other man has ever taken care of you, loved you or even kissed you gently? Only casual flings, never something you’d look forward to. It always left a void inside of you.

But Sang-woo, Sang-woo and his moody humor, his quiet personality, the way he’d look at you or smile with his eyes instead of actually talking about stuff, Sang-woo made you feel alive. Whole.

There was something about him, as if God had made him for you.

“Sang-woo”, you called once again. His eyes darted back at you, a glow of hope shining there, “Kiss me.”

And he did.

———

* Republic of Korea

———

SUN & MOON TAGLIST @beckybadlucky @chiarabettany @l-u-n-a-m @sangwoosimpp @noodle-rabbit @witchpart-hall @nymphstories @kittyreads4u @bethane-simps @caffess @milfodyssey @swagmaster749 @tttaxicab @jeonselca @tsvcandfandom @takemetoneverland420 @the-broken-hearts-queen

SANG-WOO TAGLIST @riddlexonia

#blue writes #sun and moon #sun & moon #cho sang-woo #cho sangwoo #cho sang woo #cho sang-woo x reader #cho sangwoo x reader #cho sang woo x reader #squid game #park hae soo #218 x reader

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cooloddball · 3 years

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Someone submitted something in my inbox and they wanted to remain anonymous. Since this is an extremely long essay, I will put it under the cut. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

xxx submitted: hey, i was the one who ask what do you think of Misha and Jensen's current relationship First off all thank you for your answear it means much to me cause im easy to be convice and this person who keep telling me that they are no longer friends can be so convicing, so I'm actully trying to forget what she said 😅 so I'm just writing a few. she said that since they no longer work together, they will forget about each other, and do their common things like the gay jokes, face touches ect. With other people, and neglect each other, don't talk to each other, and then meet new people who will replace the other. And and she talked about the gish thing, she said she sure they didn't talk since the end of the series, because Jensen didn't know where Misha was and Misha didn't know about the Radio Company vol 2 (but i saw people say that, they were just pretending, because Misha liked something about Radio Company Vol 2, before the gish live, so in theory he already knew then or something like that) and She said Misha wrote a poem about Darius not Jensen and now I will write down what she sent me : I saw a post about Jensen's current activities on social media, and I've come to the conclusion the only person he doesn't interact with is mish. Sadly this makes my break up theory even stronger. I feel like this is a goodbye to one of the biggest parts of my life. They've moved on from "uk what I haven't told you today? That i love u"+ from "miss my only jensen" from "i love u misha i mean it from the bottom of my heart" from "jensen has no flaws" from "misha is the funniest thing ever happened to me" from all that love and affection from everything they developed together and now they're apart leaving their lives like nothing happened and call me a dramatic but they both have the same energy now as someone has after a big break up. and Jensen comments on almost every of his friend’s post except Misha’s"+ Jenmish is genuinely the best thing that has ever happened in my entire life. I owe them literally everything. They're the reason i hold on. Unfortunately on this essay i have to start using past tense verbs for them, and i have to continue on that. I don't know for how long y'all been in spn fandom. But even if u joined one year before the show ended you'd know how close and intimate jensen and misha were. Everything about them was unmatched.+ The chemistry and how they just fit eachother. They had always been all over eachother. Like they were holding on eachother for dear life. They completed eachother and were like world's most powerful thing. They were the definition of soulmatism. No matter where, they ALWAYS kept interacting with eachother. Each possible tweet or insta post. On cons that the other wasn't there, the other one would bring up the othere's name for no absolute reason. +The looks and repeated love confessions. How invested they were both into eachother. The family they had built together cuz we know how close dee and mish are (look all the charity work they've been doing together recently). There are youtube videos to proof everything I've said so far.When i say break up, my real intention is that they've grown apart. Everything started in the the third or forth month of pandemic. Before than jensen used to interact +(comment mostly) on almost all of misha's posts. But after a while everything just stopped. At first personally didn't care that much. Bcuz I believed too much in them that I thought not even the gods above could separate them. I told myself maybe they spend long hours chatting or video calling and that's why online public interactions are gone. But as it passed it almost diminished to zero. Except some likes from jackles and eventual ones from misha there weren't anything else.+ We got absolutely no content and the show went off too. We were helpless and were sticking to everything we had Dee had a big social media shot down, so as jensen. Misha was busy with the election. We got some interviews for it with all of them. But we didn't get much.except remember both of them pulling a bff

move. and texted eachother during an online con where everyone else were dead-serious about politics? That flickered something in me. That showed me that+ they can't ever possibly let eachother go. And the times everyone else were talking and these too would just talk random things together (the one jackels had a white hat on with stacy abraham).And then Misha posted that for jensen's bday We really overlooked it. That shit was too intimate. To close. Fav march baby? U just don't go around and called ur bestie baby and when u mean it deeply. Especially not when ur friend is jensen ackles the "I suffered form internalized homophobia my whole life+ but fuck my wife's an angel and i have an angel bf too and another angel which is his wife but I'd rather die than come out cuz my asshole dad pulled a John winchester on me". It doesn't work like that. But uk how mish is. Carefree and open. I believe they got into a fight bcuz of this. He didn't even like the post. AND that was when the tiny bit of interactions we had was gone too. For a while jensen didn't even liked his posts. After a month it started again.What made me finally believe in that they had grown too+ far: I still remember the night misha posted that he and jensen were going to have a con for gish together. I remember how hard I cried. Lile the whole world was given to me. But deep down in my heart I knew that something would definitely happen. It didn't sit right with me and unfortunately my senses never lie to me. Jensen showed up at the wrong time bcuz of misunderstanding the time zones (this was HILARIOUS). That's not even my point.+ I've seen that interview 3 times so far. It always reminds me of when i saw my ex at a party and we were both so thrilled to see eachother and we still loved the other dearly, but we just couldn't work it out. Jensen and Misha's expressions were EXACTLY the same. The genuine smiles and longs pauses were they just stared at eachother. I'm so happy that it was online cuz if they actually gave that looks to eachother standing right next to the other one I would've collapsed. Misha didn't know that jensen's album+ was out. And he got so embarrassed when he found it out. He didn't know that jensen was on set and hadn't been home for 8weeks. Jensen had no idea where misha was. And this means that they hadn't talked in a long long time.When you're that close with someone for more than a decade, i mean THAT close, even if u're separated from eachother you'd at least check on the once a week, or at least once in two weeks. But it was vividly clear that they hadn't. I hate how this world works. They would always be in my heart.+ I would be thankful from them for everything. It hurts, and it won't stop and im so sure I'd be carrying this pain for a long time. They mean too much to a lot of us. Sometimes I think to myself that god i love them so much. Remember in 2019 when we used to get SO many jenmishdee interactions? That was LIT. It was THEE year for us. I hope they're doing good. I really do. I hope we don't get more proofs and I won't have to update this thread. Cuz my heart won't be taking it very+ well.Something i gotta add U may say that Jensen's busy and that's why he doesn't comment. But he comments on a lot of jared and his new costar's posts. So that's no excuse. So yeah that's it. I don't know what am I supposed to think. english isn't my native language, so sorry for the mistakes

Here is my response:

I don't know who this person who has been talking to is but I have to say they seem to be project their previous relationship experience on cockles.

I believe Jensen and Misha are okay and are together. Social media likes and comments don't mean anything. I mean it's not like Jensen or Misha used to comment on each other's posts before. Jensen didn't even wish Dee Happy Mother's Day this year, does that mean they are not together anymore? Nope. He has other best friends he has known for over 20 years like Jason Manns, Steve Carlson etc that he doesn't wish happy birthday, does that mean they are not friends anymore.

Please let's not put value on social media likes. I don't even follow my own family on sm and I don't always like or comment on my bf's or bff's posts on sm. So it doesn't mean anything.

As for the Gish Panel, I have talked about it before, the time Jensen was slotted to attend the panel, he was meant to answer fan questions. I honestly believe they decided to not do it at that time because they knew the questions would be about Destiel and not their new projects. If you watched that panel, Misha knew that Jensen's album was out as I pointed out. He was just trying to promote the album and soldier boy. He knew Jensen had also buffed out. It was all to promote Jensen. Anything else you hear is trolls and antis just being loud. Also don't forget Jensen called him "babe".

If Jensen and Misha weren't okay, he wouldn't have attended or participated all those panels Misha organized especially for Gish. Danneel also posts a lot about RA and likes Misha's posts. I am 100% Misha visited the Ackles when he went to Colorado last month.

Stop listening to trolls and/or antis or just people who are projecting and look at facts.

#submissions #cockles

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kayxleeee · 3 years

Text

Bucky Barnes: Anywhere (Bucky x Reader )

Bucky Barnes: Anywhere

Warning: Kinda sad, but not really. You can handle it lol. Slight Mental Health nod. Overall just sweet reader caring for Bucky’s wellbeing

A/N: HAPPY FRIDAY !If you are reading this and supporting me I really love you🥺. Loosely edited.

Summary: Like usual, Bucky can’t sleep after a mission. You have a discussion with him about a place Steve told you about. This place has all of the advances that may help Bucky free himself from the emotional prison that is his mind.

Word Count: 1k+

*NOT MY GIF* Don’t copy my work !

After what felt like the long night would be internal, it felt incredible to finally wake up laying in a cozy bed. With the covers warm, the birds chirping, and a little bit of the early morning su rays beaming on your face, it felt like a good morning. But even better than that, was knowing the man you loved was laying right beside you, safe and finally at home; Except for the fact that he was not laying in bed beside you. His absents caused you to remember the events of last night, the struggles he had with possibly trying to fall asleep. You let out a heavy sigh feeling the empty space next to you. As excited as you were yesterday to finally be reunited with him, you knew things were complicated for him, and the night was not as amazing as you hoped. In fact as much as you wanted your homecoming to be perfect everything seemed different, his cries out for help seemed more urgent.

Only a year and a few months ago did you and Steve find Bucky, which led to the breaking free from the reigns, being a wanted man, and coming to terms with the damages with Hydra’s brainwashing. It was all a lot, and he had still been adjusting, even when you two began to get close. And as much as he’d like you to believe he was okay, you knew he was still adjusting months later. Adjusting to what exactly? You could only assume it was everything, but you mostly knew it was the task of being able to think for himself, being stuck in his own head.

With his thinking, came one track obsessions. Bucky had this overwhelming, and I mean OVERWHELMING, infatuation with taking down hydra and getting justice for what they did to him. You and Steve had many conversations about how unhealthy it had to be for him to constantly be face to face with the people who caused him so much pain. These long missions he’d gone on, probably involved him sitting and waiting to do unimaginable things. This wasn’t the best for him at his fragile state and you all had to remember that; Otherwise you wouldn't be on your toes constantly worried about him and his mental states .

Prior to waking up to an empty bed, you had spent almost two months without him. Fast forward to last night when he came home, he was extremely tired coming in, but could never fall asleep. It killed you that his first night back in his own home, safe, in his own bed, with you in his arms, was still not as peaceful for him. It was hard to sit with the thoughts of these bounty hunts, only being that, and not being beneficial for him, whatsoever. It had always been hard to get him to open up about the “missions.”, or what he has done or even seen, for that matter. In fact it was damn near impossible, he was so stubborn. His brain was running 24/7, thinking of ways he could feel better about himself, thinking of ways he could redeem himself. And that is what you hated the most, the times where he was stuck in his own head, overthinking, driving himself insane, trying to find a reason to the madness. This hurt you tremendously , because you really hoped it would all eventually be better for him, that this last “mission” would be the problem solver, you prayed it would be, but it just seemed to never get better, there was always another goon who needed to pay him repercussions.

You stretch your arms above your head letting out a sleepy yawn as you throw back the duvet, preparing to find the dark haired man in your cozy Brooklyn apartment. You grab the throw blanket at the end of your bed wrapping it around your shoulders, heading out of the bedroom. Right as you exit out of the door, you see a glimpse of him on the brown couch in your living room. He’s laying on his back staring up at the ceiling. Silence and isolation were never his friends and, all you could do was just hope he was not laying there beating himself up over something that he either had no control of or something he could not change.

“Good morning.” You say softly walking to the end of the couch closest to you, where his feet were. “Missed you in there. Everything alright?”

He looks over at you and smiles slightly. He looked exhausted, which led you to believe he definitely did not fall asleep.

“Sorry, yeah, everything is okay.” His voice sounded tired and raspy. “I guess it wasn’t a good night.”

He wasn’t always restless, battered, and bruised, and your relationship was not always based on saving him from himself, but it was always hard knowing what you were doing for him wasn’t enough. That the simple kisses you shared on days were he was upset, or on the long nights where you’d rub his back reassuring him that he was so much more than this unspoken pain, weren’t enough.

“Can I do anything to help?” You ask, coming closer to his spot on the couch.

“No,” He pauses for a second reaching out for your hand. “I’d like you to just come cuddle with me though.” He says opening his arms. You smile and walk over to where he was on the couch.

“I don’t mind keeping you company.” You say with a smile as you climb on top of him, settling in and getting comfortable.

He immediately wraps his arms around you pulling you into a warm embrace. Your head is tucked underneath his chin, his slow breaths matching your own. The two of you have your fingers intertwined as his metal hand rests on the small of your back over the blanket you had brought with you. You lay there in silence, just feeling the rises and falls of each others chest. But then the silence worried you since that meant his mind could possibly be somewhere else.

“Bucky?”

“Mmh?”

“If you could be anywhere in the world, where would you be?” You ask randomly, wanting to fill the silence with anything.

“Right here.” He says softly rubbing your back. “Right here with you.”

You smile at his sweet words, but just couldn’t believe them, not because he has ever lied to you, but simply because there was always a hunt, there was always a mission, there was always a reason to be anywhere, but at home...

“Out of all the places you could be, just here would be okay?”

He pauses for a minute then nods. “Not just here, anywhere with you is alright with me. I’d always choose that over anything in the whole world.”

“If I asked you to leave with me tonight would you go?” “Yes.”

“Even to get away, —stop doing these hunts…”

He doesn’t say anything, so you continue.

“To get away from whatever it is that’s hurting you.”

“Yes of course, in a heart beat.” He finally says, kissing the top of your head.

Silence falls over both of you as you cuddle on the couch in your small apartment. You think for a second remembering a conversation that you had with Steve a few days ago.

“Then let’s go somewhere, just you and me.” You speak again, testing the theory. “Steve said he knew a safe place, a place called Wakanda.” You begin to play with his fleshed fingers.

“Wakanda?” He repeated back.

“Yes, a place where you can just step away from all the madness of bringing down Hydra, just for a little bit, to get your headspace together.”

You begin to explain how you hated to see him in these different states every time he came home from a mission and how it’s is all consuming in both of your lives. He nods at your words and sighs.

“Like I said, I’d go anywhere… as long as you’re there too.” He lets out a yawn and you nod in contentment.

Those words now put you at ease. You bring his hand to your mouth giving it a kiss, before saying, “Alright then Buck, it’s time for you to finally get some rest.” You encourage beginning to get up.

“Can we just lay here until I do?” He asked as he realized you were about to leave him, his grip tightened softly around you.

“Of course.” You say settling back into his arms.

“I know it hasn’t been easy, but I am trying, and I am willing to try anything.” He says softly.

Moments later you could hear his soft snores pick up as he finally drifted off to sleep. You hoped it was peaceful as you began drifting off too, imagining what Wakanda was like and how life changing it could possibly be for him.

Comments, Questions, Opinions :)

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boredoverlord · 3 years

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Bucky X Reader - Hold the Line

I came in here to show you a good time, so here's my personal work and my very first fanfiction of all time. And because I'm a thirsty bitch, of course it's smut.

Summary : As a young and talented psychologist specializing in difficult people in prison, you believed in a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to work with the SHIELD. Turned out you were tricked to work for HYDRA.

For three years they made you do horrors in the name of an ideology you despised, but you may have found the occasion to finally make a change for the good, when they introduced you to your new patient.

The Winter Soldier.

Rating : Explicit, please kids, look away ( of course you won't because you're cute little rebels, but please do it)

Word count : 6.4k (chapter 1)

TW: Light BDSM (for now) Because Bucky is a massive Sub and it seems nobody agrees with me, so I have to do the lord's work here.

Foul language, mention of violence and murder, Masturbation, male orgasm and a tiiiny bit of choking. I started lightly

Please consider reading this on Archive of our own or read it below the cut. Lemme know what you think !

Chapter 1: A Story of Almost Everything

You never were the type to brag. But one thing you know is : you’re damn good at your job. Years and years of psychology studies, you barely got to parties, you hardly made any friends, and your sleeping schedule is still a nightmare. Those were sacrifices you did for one sole purpose : helping others. To be the last resort for people who have lost everything. You always firmly believed that you could make a change in the world, even the slightest, even for just one person. That would have been enough to make your lifetime worthy. What's more noble than just a genuine try to make it better, after all ? So you wasted your youth on studies, without a damn blink. And never one ounce of regret. You did it because it felt right. You’re not very brave, but you decided to face your fear a couple of times. You even were an intern in a high security prison, talking to broken men and women who hated your guts. Trying to lead them to another path of life. You heard stories that could break any mind. Only time could tell if you actually helped them. But that’s part of the job. Hope. And hard work.

That’s why when you started to have a growing reputation, at 26 after five years of studies and several years working in prison and rehabilitation, you were ecstatic when S.H.I.E.L.D contacted you. You quit everything, starting with your homeland in Europe, to fly to Washington DC, to visit the headquarters. The new building, the thrill of novelty, the clean rooms, the medical wing, and Alexander Pierce himself coming to shake your hand and telling you personally the wonders they have in mind for the psychology field. You could prepare people to save the world, you could have all the resources to make research, and fix minds that were supposed to be beyond repair. It was supposed to be just a quick trip, but the visit wasn’t even done when you looked at your guide with enthusiasm : you weren’t going home. Just cancel the fly. You’re taking the job immediately. It was three years ago.

Enough to understand how fucked you are.

You didn’t save anyone, you didn’t even work to make the world a better place. Oh but you did work to make a change. A change for HYDRA. They tortured you to make you swallow their ideology, but even if your body surrendered, your mind didn’t, even if it was still a perpetual work on yourself. You never believed in this masquerade, but you know it doesn’t matter. Because HYDRA knows how good you are at your job, and you’re a precious asset. So precious that they pushed all your buttons to make you obey. You tried to act and escape. Their last resort is the Damocles sword they put over your family’s head. Next act of rebellion, heads will roll. And it won’t be yours : no, no. HYDRA won’t give you this relief. It will be your loved ones. So you’re doing what you have to do. It’s the most cowardly choice, you know it. And you’re ashamed. But you’re too terrorised to make it otherwise. So you’re here to twist people's minds to swallow whatever Hydra wants. You make them understand the importance of the organization, when they can’t take it anymore, you make them understand that not only they can, but they must . You saw vulnerable people giving their life to this awful cause, and you are the person to make them understand it was the right thing to do. They gave you kind people with dreams, morals and passion, and you turn this into anger, hate and war, worshipping a crazy doctrine that spoils everything you believed and fought for. You have blood on your hands. You’re THAT good at your job.

So when they called you for a highly secret mission, you weren’t exactly surprised. Just disgusted by them, and mostly yourself. In the guts of what was called the Ideal Federal Saving Bank, you’re obediently following the chef himself : Alexander Pierce, to your next place of action. “I believe you have read your mission’s order, Y/N ?” “Yes Sir.” You said. “It did mention I will have the whole file today, though. I need to take a look at my patient so I can work in proper condition.” “Whatever you call it.” He said, opening the door of the clandestine laboratory in the now abandoned bank. If not for the machinery, we could still believe that those art deco walls filled with safes would still contain treasures of a lifetime for some people. Now there is nothing of value in here, not even the very skin of every PoS present. And you were including yourself. Making your way in the middle of the heavy set up, you slowly reach the pod in the middle, chewing secretly the interior of your cheeks. You know what’s inside, and it makes you want to puke. Mr Pierce continued “Doctor, as your mission was presented to you, your one on only assignment will be the physical and mostly the psychological perfect condition of the Winter Soldier, for the entire length of this mission on american soil.” Basically, be sure his brain is a fucking slushy. You reluctantly nodded and drew closer. “What’s his condition ?” At the top of your height, barely 5’3, you tiptoed to actually look at him by the window of the cryostasis chamber, since you never got this close of a look, not without the file and basically crumbs of info that were thrown at your face. They expected you to keep a dog on a leash, not making actual work on him, and it shows. White man, late 20s to early 30s, approx 5”7, long dark messy hair, not shaved, geez, it seemed like the poor guy was barely cleaned up before being pushed here. Good physical condition, breathing was steady. You could see the steam of his breath on the glass. He may be clinically asleep, but she highly doubted he would be in his best shape. He looked uncomfortable, and tired. It wasn’t a restorative sleep. It was a prison. You couldn’t help but notice his prosthetic arm, even if that was the only thing you knew about him. It’s a fascinating work of science, that’s for sure. And even if transhumanism and biomechanical wasn’t your forte, you wanted to have a closer look, to satisfy your curiosity. One of the scientists watching his screen responded : “He’s gently defrozing, should be half conscious in 5 minutes. You may want to take a step down.” You ignore that, and lean your hand to your superior. “May I finally have what I have been asking for ?” With the most irritating smile, he gave you the Winter Soldier’s File and you quickly opened it to have a first look at all the fuss. Basic physical information, previous missions report, date of entering and ending of cryostasis, bare minimal medical record, notes by her predecessor, fucking trigger words to make him kneel like a 12 years old in front of any boysband... nothing about his previous life, his antics, his name, actual disorders, no name, nor adresses… You glaced a bit at Pierce and threw a polite smile. He knows what he’s doing, and he knows you know. You’re extremely good with very violent patients. You have endured rapists and murderers spiting in your face and swearing to bite your head off and fucking your skull. You were traumatized and you cried yourself to sleep, but the following day you did your job again. You’re just here to handle the worst of the worst. And you’re going to do it.

Or he’s going to break your neck and fuck your skull. You’re fine with that.

“Thank you it’s going to be very helpful.” As helpful as a band-aid on a wooden leg. “What’s this device ?” You point your chin to another machine not far away from it. One of the two men finishing installing it, raised his head to look at you. “A memory suppressing machine. Usually he doesn’t need it as much as he used to, but it’s mainly for safety. He must be prepared.” “He’s in a state where he willingly takes it. So don’t hesitate if he’s starting to be annoying, or excited. That can happen. But that mean you would probably have to work more with him to make him fully ready for his mission,” “Understood, thank you for clarification gentlemen.” You smiled and they smiled back. You’re a woman, so you’re used to it. Basically this shit was supposed to hack his brain, and it must be painful. “I would strongly recommend not using it at such a time. From what I quickly read he needs stability and time. Wiping everything out will more likely create more confusion.” You took a look at the file again and took it upon yourself to not have your eyes double in size and screaming at this bunch of idiots. “... and it does seem he’s using it a lot.”

“We want the asset to be as focused as possible.”

“I understand that, but that's a temporary solution at best. He’s got a brain, not a harddrive. We still don’t know how it can store information, and if it can…” “The last time we used him was five years ago…” Started Pierce, with diplomaty, but also with a tone that wasn’t allowing any more debate on the matter. “And this mission is an absolute priority. The asset is strictly under cryostasis procedure as soon as he’s not needed anymore. The machine will be used if needed.” “I understand your point.” You absolute psychopath. “Then my request is simply to be here if it happens, and to be able to control the shocks. Also, I insist that he must be in perfect condition when you launch the procedure, I’ll personally make it happen and give you a green light.” “Thank you for your hard work.” He said, raising his hand, that you promptly and politely shook. You could feel the angry grasp. “I know you’re the perfect woman for this hard job. Your work is an inspiration for us all.” You wish you could end your life right here right now, instead of being told such atrocities. But you think about your mom and dad. At this time of year they start to prepare the pool for the summer, for the future neighborhood barbecues where they will brag to everyone about their incredible psychiatrist daughter who is doing secret stuff over sea to help save the world. You have to be strong. At least for them. At least for now.

“Hail Hydra.”

“Hail Hydra.” You responded, while your tongue feels like sandpaper.

“Ok he’s starting to wake up…” Someone warns, as Pierce leaves the room, unbothered. The pod opens before your eyes, as the asset -you hate this term- is being roughly handled and carried away by two dudes to his seat. The one dangerously close to the memory suppressing machine. You squatted in front of him, the time for him to blink several times and look around him. Confused, but it’s not exactly his first rodeo either. His eyes are quickly focused on the first thing in front of him : you. He looked like he was trying to remember who you are, but quickly realized he didn’t know you. Two blue spears digging right into your soul. That’s making you a bit uncomfortable. The same weird feeling of unease you have when a cat is watching you taking a shower. “Hi.” You started, in english, even if he could be from italy you had no freaking clue. You guessed that he was probably slavic. But the file says he’s speaking more than ten languages. And it wasn’t specified when and how the hell did he learn that. “Can you hear me?” He took a few more seconds to look at you, probably the time to finish reading every embarrassing moment of your life, right into your eyes, like your drunk 18th birthday when you finished in your panties swimming in a city fountain, but he nodded eventually. You actually know this look. But it’s the first time you have a super soldier in front of you so it’s of a rare intensity. He’s dissecting you. Gathering information. His eyes moved slightly down : a recent scar on your neck. Right : an ex piercing on the top of your ear, now unusable. Down left : he just realized you’re slightly unbalanced so he knows you have a hip issue. And down right : he’s looking at your hand, you don’t really know what he saw here, maybe calculating how to break them ? You were literally a foot in a viper’s nest. Were you terrified ? Absolutely. Will that forbid you to do your job ? Nope. “Can you follow the light ?” You asked, moving slowly your phone’s lamp from left to right in front of his eyes. He did it without questioning. “Ok good.” You tried a smile, not really knowing why. If he was at least a tenth as clever as the file said he was, he perfectly know that you’re here to fuck him up. But you couldn’t help it. Poor dude. He was visibly more or less your age. He could have been a prince, or thief, a womanizer, or a priest, whatever, HYDRA took everything from him. From his free will, of his right to grow old, to his sleep. “Can you tell me your name ?” He frowned, perplexed. “Winter Soldier.” Shitty answer but at least he was fully aware, and his tongue was working properly. “Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Y/N. We’re here to work together in preparation of your next assignment. Do you understand ?” He nodded, unimpressed. “Good, can you get up ?” He did, so you did it too. And he realized that you were… very short. His eyes literally went up and slooowly down. That was a bit mean, actually. You carefully took a glance behind you, and your eyeroll could probably trigger an earthquake. “Can you all nice gentlemen let down a bit of their weapon ?” You said at the 6 dudes with rifles literally fixed on him, ready to shoot at the wrong twitch of muscle. No wonder he wasn’t talkative. “You won’t say that when he will break your neck with two fingers, ‘mam.”

“He’s pretty stable for now. Plus he’s not fully awake, let’s give him time before threatening him, shall we ?”

Nobody moved for ten seconds before one of them complied, since you didn’t move. The rest of the bunch reluctantly followed . You looked at your patient, hoping that that would have made him a bit more relaxed. Nope, he didn’t give a shit. He wasn't even looking at them. He was looking at you. You’re the mystery of this room to him. But you didn’t need extra vision to understand that Docs treated him like a guinea pig, so he was very understandably extra careful with you. Standing on his feet, all his muscles ready for action, that’s the exact moment you realized how close you two were. Indeed, if he decided to, your jaw would fly across the room in a single move. You never had such a display of sheer raw strength, and you could feel the heat of his body radiate.

“He needs a shower, and clothings.” You said, having a look at his 5 years old combat suit still reeking the smell of his sweat. It was intoxicating. They didn’t even allow him to clean himself. Poor dude was frozen in his own filth for the last five years. And you didn’t know why you took an even deeper breath. “And I’m talking about comfy workout clothes, no combat suit. Please escort him and handle him with care, before bringing him to my office.” You actually decided to be sure he wouldn’t be mistreated, by waiting outside the man’s bathrooms. You weren’t certain of how he could react, and you didn’t trust anyone here. If one of them decided to do a piss contest with your patient, it could end badly. So you put your hands in your pockets, looking at the two armed men waiting for the most dangerous assassin in the world to finish scrubbing himself with soap. The atmosphere was heavy and the silence was loud in itself. Even the sound of the shower was stressful and menacing.

When the Soldier was escorted to your improvised office into the archive, directly linked to a storage room that will be your bedroom for the next weeks, you let him take a seat and promptly blocked the access to the room of the two escort members. “Thank you sirs, that will be all. Please wait here.” They look at you like you just told them you were dating their daughters. “Sorry Miss, but we can’t…” “Sorry Doctor , and I can’t work properly with weapons in my office.” You raised your hand, showing your device on your wrist. Something that would not only call for aid by a simple pressure, but could stun an opponent. Neither them nor you were stupid : it wouldn’t stop The Winter Soldier, maybe he would blink a second at most. But you really wanted to be alone with him. Was he dangerous ? Yes. Were you absolutely certain that you would leave this room alive if you closed this door to their face ? No. But it’s been three years since your priority wasn’t your survival anymore. So you forced a smile and slapped the door. They needed you more than you needed them, so they will obey.

“Douchebags.” You muttered to yourself while coming back to your desk. Your patient didn’t even move a muscle at your little argument. He wasn’t totally inexpressive actually, mostly terribly broody. His hair was still wet from the shower he took, wearing cargo pants, heavy boots and hoodies, generic clothes by HYDRA. You got those too, since you’re not allowed to carry anything personal for mission to mission. You had a tablet for books, music and movies, but that was it. You haven’t opened your shelves yet, but you know it’s full of ugly clothes and generic black panties of doom.

You took a large inspiration, sat on your desk in front of him, and started : “Ok ‘Winter Soldier’... how are you doing ?” He didn’t even flinch. He was staring into your soul with his eyes lost into dark circles. Depriving someone of proper sleep is a basic rule for brainwash. “You enjoyed the shower ?” Nothing. You waited for a bit to see if he would finally respond. Ten seconds. Twenty. fourty. a minute. When he gathered that you were actually looking for an answer, visibly a first one for him, he finally gave you the courtesy of one. “Yes.” “Perfect.” You didn’t hide your slight smile and tiled your head. “I’ll be sure you’re in your best condition for your next mission. If something’s on your mind, I need to know about it. Nothing will get out of this room. Both of our priorities are your goal, and your condition is the key to success. Which makes you , my high top priority. Do you understand me ?” “Yes.”

“Ok so let’s get going.” You took another file, and took a picture out, ready to handle it to him. “Is the name : Nicholas Fury, ringing some bells to you?” “Yes.” He took it inside his titanium fingers and finally moved his piercing blue eyes away from you to look at the picture. “In two weeks, you’ll be in Washington DC. An entire squad will be deployed to assassinate him. Fury is the leader of the S.H.I.E.L.D, not a mere target. He will break free and fight back. That will be when you’ll show up.” He wasn’t looking at the picture anymore. One thing for sure : at least he was paying attention to you, and what you were saying. And that made you actually kind of proud of yourself. “That was part one. I’ll personally supervise your training with the VR machine and your physical health and condition. I really need you to communicate with me all the time about anything that could be in your mind. The more focused you are, the more Hydra’s plan will succeed.” And what’s that plan ? You have not a single clue. You were a cog in the machine, disposable. Not much more than him. “Do you understand ?” “I understand.” Oh shit, two words this time!

“Good.” You smiled. He didn’t. You move your hands closer to him, to take a grip on the picture. He opened his prosthetic hand, leaving you to take it back. Nothing in his gesture seems dangerous. Just normal, somehow cordial. “I must ask : are you in any pain right now ?” His eyes significantly get from right to left. He must probably wonder why you are asking him that. Did nobody ever ask him such basic questions like : ‘are you in pain?’ This man's sole purpose was to fight, that made no damn sense for you.

“Sir ?” You insisted for an answer, even if the ‘sir’ sounded absolutely ridiculous to your ears. You didn’t know his name, and you don’t feel comfortable calling him “Winter Soldier” , “Soldier”, “Sir De Winter”, “Hey you,he soviet assassin” so it will be “Sir” for now. “Sir are you in pain right now ?” “I’m not in pain.” A complete sentence, that’s progress. You breathed a bit better “Ok good.” You got up from your desk, which was honestly barely taller that him remaining on his chair. He didn’t let go of your eyes and you decided to make a bold move. For now, he was always being responsive so you slowly moved your hands toward him. To his prosthetic hand. “May I take a look, please ?” You glanced at each other, nobody made the first move. In complete silence, if it wasn’t for both of your breaths. You’re almost sure that it has been at least 5 minutes since you decided to speak again. Slowly, and gently, with no signs of confrontation in your body language or speech. “I will not do it until you comply. And you can refuse the contact.” He didn’t answer right away but he finally nodded.

Slowly, you took his hand into yours, lifting it from his thigh where it was resting. At the beginning it was just taking a look. But he wasn’t making any moves, so you decided to take your observation a little further. You used your other hands to start to move each finger separately, taking a step closer to him. Finally, you made one of your hands slowly sliding into the hoodie, to feel the muscles, the nerves, how it feels like a real arm. It was cold, but you felt it shudder to your touch. That was the line you decided to not take it further.

“Thank you, Soldier.” You said with a smile, taking away your hands from him. You moved behind your desk, opening your notepad to take a bunch of notes, breaking the contact with him. Just a second. But when you raised your eyes again, The Winter Soldier wasn’t in sight.

You shuddered and didn’t make a single move. If it wasn’t for your fingers grasping your desk. You did your best to have a steady respiration and not start to panic. Your throat dried up immediately. You took a deep breath and say : “Please, get back to your seat.” You slowly moved your head to look right back at him. He was standing. His eyes were black, taking loud deep breaths, fixing your behind your shoulder. Tall. Dangerous. You were terrorised. And he could smell it. He didn’t move so you stood up as well, and slowly faced him. You try to remain in total control of your body and not start to fidget. You could scream for help, but for whatever reason, you still had the feeling you could handle the situation. Trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t the first time a patient was disobedient. The only difference was that this one could crush your skull in a bat of an eye,

“Get back.” You said once again, bearing his piercing eyes, but he didn’t budge. So you took out your hand and put it on his chest. You felt like an ant against a mountain, but you pushed him a bit. “We will go nowhere this way.” You resumed trying to get a step closer, even if it will be creating a proximity that could be even more lethal to you. “So please, get back to…”

Something happened. It was obvious, and clear as day : you felt the bulge between his legs. Right above your navel. Hardening even more now that he could feel your body. You decided immediately to repress the shameful feeling of your very inside warming up and tickling you. “Winter Soldier.” You growled, angry but trying your best to remain as professional as you could. Of course, of fucking course. This guy was gorged on serum and hormones, quick, violent actions, and adrenaline. Pumping in his veins, burning 24/7. His body was on the edge all the time, and he just awoke from a dreamless slumber. He was a human, whatever all these idiots were thinking, not a freakin’ cyborg. When was the last time he saw a woman that he didn’t smash the head on a wall ? You even suspected that Pierce was counting on it. Nonetheless, you were alone in an office, literally glued with the world's most dangerous assassin, who was having a massive hard-on. Throbbing against you. You had your share of very awkward situations in your short life time. But nothing, nothing prepared you for this. And you had even less of an idea of what to do because he was doing nothing . He was feeling uncomfortable, that you could say, but he wasn’t really doing any moves to attack you, or even take you. He was standing here, with heavy breathing, his eyes still piercing you. And you slowly slided your gaze to his lips, finding the vision of his hard laboured breath strangely mesmerizing.

Short of ideas, your reflexes took the best (or the worst) of you, and without you realizing it, your hand was around his neck. Your palm pressured on his glottis, and you clearly felt him swallow. As clearly as you felt him becoming even harder. Your breath was starting to shake, as you felt a not-so subtle chill coursing your spin. You drew his face and your face closer, as you finally moved forward, forcing him to move as well. Forcing was a strong word : the last time you hit a punching bag, you hurt yourself and sobbed for an hour. But for whatever reason, he did whatever you wanted. As if he was testing your resolve to make him obey. But there was nothing on his file about this behaviour. He tried to attack, kill and escape. Nothing about testing the limits of anyone.

“You. Will. Sit. Down!” you spat, through your teeth, forcing even more your grip around his neck, as your other hand was reaching for his hair. You pulled it, not too harshly, but you could definitely smell the musk, and the wetness of what stayed of his shower.

You did it. He was sitting down again. And your bodies departed for one another. For once he tried to escape your gaze, which was a strangely human reaction. You both managed to get your breath back, before you decided to call the guard to adjourn your observation.

As soon as the door closed behind them, you felt your legs giving up and you sat on the ground, back against your desk, a small wimp leaving your throat. You felt your eyes starting to wet, and your teeth rattled a bit so you tried to cuddle yourself to try to retake control on your body. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably as his intoxicating smell was still all around you. It was by far one of the most terrifying experiences you ever felt, and it was all clouded by the phantom feeling of his body against yours. You could still feel his gaze, his heat, his… well, his cock against your belly. You were still chilling, trying to repress whatever you were feeling at this instant. Because it wasn’t right, for you. Nor him. Everyone in this godforsaken organisation was treating him like a dog, just here to attack and do tricks, but you swore to yourself not to do the same. You will succeed at your mission, but you’ll do it from the crumbs of humanity and morality that HYDRA left you. You will do anything possible that the mission will be complete, the most painless possible for this broken man you just saw. Wait a second.

Painless .

You jumped on your feet, ignoring the numbness of your legs caused by the shock, and you ran at the door, screaming at the three men at the end of the corridor. “HEY !” The guards startled a bit and looked at you “I changed my mind. Bring the Winter Soldier back to my office.” They briefly exchange what seems to be a bunch of insults about you, but they comply to bring the Soldier back. Him ? He seemed absolutely unbothered.

You closed the door behind the both of you, to the face of the guards yet again. He was standing here, showing his back as you slowly got back in front of him. Hands in your pocket, not really sure of what to do nor how to do it. He was looking at you, this same feeling of unease than before. And for reasons : a small glance confirmed that he was still rock hard. You didn’t make any move for a long time, until you finally put your hand on his chest. You felt his breathing becoming slightly quicker. “You’re not in pain.” You whispered, and he shook his head, negatively. “That was the wrong question. I’m sorry... “ Without you noticing, you had the palm of your hand on his cheek, scrubing lightly his stubble with your thumb as an apology. You breathed in, just couldn’t believe what you were about to say. “Do you need help ?” His expression didn’t change, but his eyes ? They became a bit brighter, you could even see a bit of relief when you saw him nod.

You swiftly move your other index on his pillowy lips as you still lower your voice. “They cannot hear us.” He nodded again as the only feeling of your finger as close to his mouth made him shiver with anticipation. He was literally dying of anything that could relieve him. And for what you understood, as your conversation continued, he trusted you with his body, to provide him with the sweet touch he has been totally deprived of. You slowly push away your index to gently slide your thumb between his lips, and he sighed with pleasure as he took it with an eagerness you would never have believed possible. The most deadly assassin in the world, the legendary Winter Soldier that everyone wishes he wasn’t real, was purring while sucking your finger. If you weren’t the shrink, you’ll be needing one immediately. You gently moved him to make him sit in his chair, he was way too tall for you to handle this with ease. “What about the showers?” You asked him, as you removed your thumb to make it gently slide on his lips, your other hand crawling across his chest to his pants. He swallowed before whispering. “I could but... “ his well built square jaws started to tense, with a visible revulsion. “... They can watch.” Disgusting. He couldn’t even close the damn door of the shower. “You’re safe here.” You said as your hand was finally reaching the bulge behind his Hydra cargo pants. You didn’t know what you expected but… it was way beyond that. He hissed a bit at the feeling of your hand as you started to touch it gently over the fabric.

Now he was panting, looking at you as you were a single oasis after years of thirst in the desert. “Please…” You heard, barely audible when he was starting to lose it. “I got you, but you have to promise me to be good.” “Anything. Please…”

And at your very surprise, you obliged him. Using your hand to plunge into his pants, while the other fast pressed into his mouth, muffing the immediate deep moan that escaped at the very second you touched his pulsing penis. He started panting even more, as he used his flesh arm to drive you onto him. His forehead against yours. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer and closer. Actually you let go of his -massive- erection a second to just drop out his pants, and his breach. You stopped a second, only to watch him begging you with his eyes, as you could feel his saliva at the palm of your hand while you muzzled him. It was it. You realized what kind of power you have over this man. He has been used and abused in every single way, but for once : someone’s finally doing what he wanted. You had his pleasure in your very hands, and for once in years, you could finally help someone. So you’re gonna do it, you’re going to make him feel good. Very good. “Good boy.” You muttered, without knowing where the hell that could come from, and you reached him again. Stroking your hands up and down his shaft, nourishing yourself over the vibration of his muffled moans against your hand. His eyes weren't leaving yours, if it wasn’t for when they seemed to roll to the sky. His vision periodically blackened by the waves of forbidden pleasure he was feeling over his body, who was barely him anymore. Your eyes were gorging on the vision of his handsome muscular man, surrendering himself to your touch, sweating, trembling and panting for you. You were saluted by an utterly satisfied noise the moment you decided to lean over his manhood to drip a large amount of your own saliva moist what was already on the edge of ruin. You rolled your thumb against his tip, massage his veins with just one finger… anything to make him feel something. Anything that wasn’t pure anger, hatred or apathy. You were inclined to believe the file saying that he was nothing but a perfectly built weapon for HYDRA to command. But now, when you tickled, teased and made him shiver, and you felt all his sincere gratitude, you were certain : There is a man in here. And he was finally feeling good .

But soon, it wasn’t enough anymore. Seeing his bare thighs, powerful, thicken by years of training and super soldier serum, tensed by all the nerves and muscles deliciously answering to your call, made your inside warmed up. Your core was aching, screaming for proximity and intimacy, and before you understood what happened, you sat astride on his left thigh. The soft flesh between your legs immediately responded with delight, making you shiver. Almost instantly, you felt his grip on your hip, of the cold metal digging into your flesh with despair. It was a super soldier, with the stamina of several dozen men, but it’s been so long, and you were touching him with perfection. You felt his head on your shoulder, and slowly you started licking his temple, tasting the very fruit of your hard work : his sweat.

Galvanized by his intoxicating smell, and the thrusting he started giving to your hand, you started to move like a snake, rocking against his skin, looking for some pressure despite the fabric of your pants, mercilessly acting like a barrier of your own pleasure. You could get it off, but it was a limit that you forbid yourself to cross. But it’s true, as you were working him, you couldn’t stop yourself to think of how this would feel. Sliding inside you. You were so very short and fragile, and compared to your hand, his phallus was gigantic. He could ruin you, split you in half, using his bare hands and make you do anything. But the only person in control here, were you. And only you. You never felt anything like this before. And it’s highly probable than neither did he. You tried to vanish the thought, but the more you could feel his thigh between yours, the more you became obsessed.

The more he was approaching, the more eager the soldier became. Both of his hands firmly gripped on your behind, almost certain that it will leave bruises, but you didn’t care at this very moment. His grunts against your hands became more and more intense, and you started to feel he was about to give in. In between your fingers, small drips of salivas were started to escape. You couldn’t give up your grip now, so you made it even more tight, drawing your lips closer to your hands, you whispered as your sore wrist fastened its path “I’m here for you. Give everything to me.”

His panting became incontrolable, his eyes rolled out, his head dropped back, before he finally reached his peak. You felt the deep vibration of his ultimate cry on your hand, as your other hand was dripping of hot seed. You slowly removed your other hand from his face, and could contemplate your masterpiece : the Soldier absolutely looked like a mess, with his red face, his eyes blinking furiously, covered with his own saliva. You left his leg, both your hands dripping of his bodily fluids. You used the one that was on his lips to pick his head and forced him to look at you. You ravished your vision of this man who absolutely surrendered to your good care, deeply satisfied with your attention. You cradled his face, and you took a large lick of his spit from his chin to his mouth. Where he leaned for a wet and warm kiss. You took a good taste of him, intoxicated by whatever pheromones he could diffuse around you.

You look at him another few seconds, before recluandly moving away, to the bathroom where you not only washed your hands, but came back with a wet towel. You first cleaned with infinite care his face, and then his genitals, making sure he wouldn’t have any kind of unpleasant sensation as he had a big day ahead of him. You were his doctor and caretaker, and he had a mission to prepare. He seemed to respond well to the cleaning, not really expressive, but he made no sudden move. You could see him sighing with ease, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek in your palm again, when you were caressing him with the wet towel. You could still hear a loud satisfying purr. If you didn’t specifically ask him to kill someone less that an hour ago, you would actually find this absolutely adorable.

You breathed in and out, making sure he was okay. “Are you feeling better ?...” He nodded, visibly relaxed, as he was closing his pants but not much more expressive than before. He stood up, in front of you, like nothing happened. “Yes.” But to your surprise he added a second later. “Thank you, doctor.” You smiled at him as you couldn’t keep yourself from making your knuckles caressing his cheek, and finally tracking the shape of his jaws. “Good boy.” You heard yourself say, wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.He didn’t react. All the shivers, purring, sighing, and moans disappeared as soon as his pants closed. It was for the best, and you quickly took your hand back, clearing your throat. You call the guards. The Winter Soldier was fully ready for his mission preparation, and you asked them to give him some time to recover from… his cryostatic, before you would start the procedure.

In the meantime, you need a shower. A long, hot, steamy, shower.

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

It had been a trip to Metropolis. Why would Francois-Dupoint go to Gotham, a crime-ridden city crawling with danger and supervillains, vigilantes that toed the line of being bad influences, and a really high chance of lawsuit, when they could go to the city of Superman himself?

Exactly. No good reason.

At least, that was what they all thought. Marinette’s parents even volunteered to chaperone, deciding that they could survive shutting the bakery down for one week. Marinette had helped raise enough money for the trip that the school could compensate them a bit for their time, and their food, hotel, and plane were all paid for. It was supposed to be a great trip. One to remember. And yeah, Marinette would never forget that vacation.

Because she stood with the rest of her class, watching smoke and dust rise off of the pile of rubble that just dropped on top of her parents. The fight was over. Marinette couldn’t even remember who it was. But even with his son by his side, Superman and Superboy couldn’t save everyone. Nobody could. It was asking too much, to expect any one or two heroes to save everyone when an entire city was being attacked and buildings reduced to rubble.

But that wouldn’t soothe the sight of blood creeping out of the rocks.

That wouldn’t soothe the scrapes on Marinette’s knees when she dropped to the ground.

It wouldn’t smother the sound of her agonized cries.

It wouldn’t heal the burns and scrapes and bruises, the chipped fingernails and bleeding fingertips that Marinette gave herself as she tried desperately, sight blurry through tears, to lift each and every piece of still-hot concrete off, shove it to the side, in an attempt to unearth them. They could still be alive, right? Right?

The fact that she was shoveling what amounted to pebbles off of a hill of rubble argued with her. No. No, they weren’t.

It wasn’t until gentle, but unyieldingly strong hands clasped hers, making them still.

“You’re hurting yourself,” that soft, deep voice came from whoever owned the foreign hands, but she didn’t have the mental strength to look up and identify them. Instead, she resorted to kicking rubble away. The voice sighed. “Back up. I can help. Okay? Will you let me help?”

It had been so long, Marinette furrowed her eyebrows. When was the last time someone had actually asked her that question? When was the last time someone ever offered her help? Legitimate help, not just something superficial.

She couldn’t remember. How should she respond?

Marinette’s tongue darted out, wetting her dusty lips. Her deep breath came in with a disconcerting rattle. Somehow, she managed to nod. The foreign hands loosened slightly.

“Okay. Good—“

“I can’t stop,” Marinette finally managed to choke out. “I can’t— I need to—“

“I know,” the voice said again, endlessly patient. Endlessly understanding. “But you’re hurting yourself, so put these on first. Then you can keep digging.”

With his help—yes, him. She vaguely managed to pin down that the voice was male— she was able to slip on thick gloves. They were several sizes too big, probably belonged to one of the firefighters nearby, her mind numbly supplied. She didn’t care. As soon as they were on, she dropped down and began to dig again. The man who had offered to help did just that, moving just a foot or two away and lifting up impossibly large chunks of concrete before placing them down gently in an open area.

With his help, they were uncovered. They were carried away, under blankets, as best as they could be. Marinette saw none of it. Hands covered her eyes, younger than the voice-man’s hands but almost as strong. The only thing she saw was whatever was left once most of them was taken away. Later, she would thank him. But in the moment she was furious.

“I’m not a baby!” She growled at him, her voice lower and scratchier than usual because of all the smoke and dust clogging her throat. “I need to look at them! I need to remember!”

“Not like this,” the new voice said. When he removed his hands, Marinette saw Superboy. He was probably just about her age, but that offered little comfort for her. At least his eyes were understanding, calm, and empathetic. “You don’t need to see them like this. Remember them like they were, not how they ended,” the young hero advised gently, keeping a respectable distance between them now that he was no longer covering her eyes. He wasn’t even floating, staying on solid ground to stay closer to her eye level. “Today will be hard enough on your mind as it is. You don’t need to make this more painful than it is.”

Marinette could only bite her lip at that, her shoulders trembling. Is this what it took to have someone worry about her? To have people realize that she wasn’t superhuman, that she wasn’t infallible or mentally indestructible? Is this what it took, to finally have people try to help and care for her?

Because if it was, she would gladly deal with Lila Rossi and be held to far too high a standard for the rest of her life. She would rather suffer quietly for decades with that much more gentle pain than deal with this agony right now.

She finally let the tears fall, but they were mostly silent. Only hiccups and gasps for air added sound to her sobs. Superboy gently removed her hands from her arms before she could draw blood on herself, and when she lunged into the touch he drew her into the hug she clearly needed. When she pretty much collapsed into his hold, getting snot and tears over the symbol on his chest, he said nothing. He just held her and shared a glance over her shoulder with his father.

—*—*—*—*—*

Lois Lane was an investigative reporter. And when her husband and son asked her to make sure the girl they had sat with for hours after the latest attack on their city would be taken care of, she did not cut corners in her research. What she came up with was less than reassuring.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. With her parents gone, she didn’t have much in the way of possible guardians. Her paternal grandfather was dead, just a few months earlier of old age. Her paternal grandmother Gina was consumed with wanderlust, not very responsible and not likely to be able to win custody. Even if she did, Lois doubted Marinette would do well in such an unstable, constantly moving lifestyle. Some people would, but Marinette was much like her son from what she gathered from her investigation. She would need stability before anything else. There was her Uncle from her mom’s side of the family, but he only spoke Mandarin so the language barrier was not promising either. The last thing Marinette needed was pressure to learn a new language. If she hyper focused on anything to deal with her grief, it should at least be something she chose on her own. Lastly there was her maternal grandmother, but she had gotten in an accident and passed away almost two years prior.

Luckily, Lois Lane was also a woman of extreme, if mostly secret, political power. She knew several billionaires with political sway, international superheroes, and politicians. Also, not that she would ever tell her husband, but she might have squared away some blackmail and favors that she might cash in with some folks in the legal system if it decided to fight her on her new personal mission.

Nobody got in the way of Lois Lane and lasted long.

But first, she ran her idea past her family. It wouldn’t do any good if they didn’t agree with her, after all. Luckily enough, her offer seemed to be exactly what they had hoped for. Apparently Marinette was the type that was easy to get attached to.

And that was how, after twelve hours of intense phone-call sessions and very, very many in depth discussions, arguments, debates, bargains, and subtle manipulation, Marinette Dupain-Cheng ended up in the temporary custody of the Kent family.

The process itself was extremely complicated and in normal circumstances would have taken anywhere from days to months to complete, but as mentioned before Lois Lane is a secret political superpower in and of herself.

Officially, Marinette’s grandmother Gina assumed custody. Unofficially, her grandmother had plans to enroll her in school abroad in, you guessed it, Metropolis, so that she wouldn’t have to deal with the melancholy memories that Paris would supply her. In doing so, she contacted the Kent’s who were apparently old family friends and asked them to take her granddaughter in for the time being. She was oh so busy traveling the world, after all. And that’s no life for a teenager recovering from grief.

After two weeks to allow Marinette to go back to Paris for the funeral, pack up her things and say goodbye to her friends, she ended up on the Kents’ doorstep with her grandmother by her side. Any attempts to get more information out of the old woman were futile, she refused to say a word on why nobody had mentioned these “family friends” before.

(Lois figured out fairly quickly that Gina Dupain was not somebody to take lightly. The fact that Gina answered the phone thinking that Red Hood was calling was a giant tip off. Lois was pretty sure that Gina knew damn well who her son and husband were, but wasn’t saying anything about it. It really was a shame that she wasn’t exactly prime parenting material at the moment.)

Lois and Clark opened the door together, having been double and triple checking that everything was set up and ready for their new addition. Sure, Marinette wasn’t being adopted or even officially fostered by them, but they would still treat her like a Kent.

“Marinette, hi,” Clark greeted, smiling warmly down at the short girl. “I’m Clark, and this is my wife Lois. If you need absolutely anything, don’t be afraid to ask. Okay?”

The small girl nodded, her hair flopping behind her a bit. Normally she would have it held back in pigtails, but she just didn’t have the energy for that anymore. Maybe she would regain it one day. With that, Gina and Marinette said their goodbyes and she started her life with the Kents.

—*—*—*—*—*

It took a while. Luckily the trip to metropolis had already been in the early summer, so Marinette could be excused for the last few weeks of the school term and relax over summer before being forced back into society. Her grades at Francois-Dupoint were finalized, Marinette doing all the extra work during her two weeks in France for the funeral. She had been told it wasn’t necessary and that she could take her time with it but, as the Kents soon learned, Marinette hated being idle.

But even though Marinette was nowhere near healed, it only took a week for her to warm up to the youngest Kent. Jon was a very much welcome presence in her new life. Just about her age, he was always patient with her and never pried for information or asked about why she occasionally couldn’t bring herself to talk. Words just failed her sometimes, she couldn’t get her throat to work. Something would remind her of her parents, or that day, and she would just feel the dust in her throat again and the blisters on her palms and she just couldn’t say a word.

All three of the Kents helped her through these episodes as best as they could, but Jon always stayed close by so she could tug him into a hug when she was ready. As a very tactile person, she really appreciated that.

And somehow he and Clark, despite being very awkward and physically unsure of themselves on the surface, gave the best hugs.

But, even though Jon and Clark had resigned themselves to being slightly more on-guard about their identities than they usually would be at home, they hadn’t quite anticipated just how hard it would be to keep a secret identity. Not necessarily from Marinette, since the girl spent most of her time out in their backyard or in her room, or occasionally going out for short visits to the city with Jon. No, it was the other way around.

Because of course Marinette couldn’t just give up being Ladybug and the Grand Guardian. Fu wasn’t there to take over for her anymore, so she took it upon herself to watch over Paris twice as vigorously. Mostly through keeping an eye on news channels and texts with her friends, general media stuff. She didn’t want to tire Kaalki out.

And this was how, two months after Marinette started living with the Kents, she walked through a portal into her room and was met with Clark and Jon staring right at her. The elder Kent had his arms crossed, posture oddly confident for the man she had come to know, and one eyebrow raised. Jon looked like his smile was about to rip his face in half, and he was bouncing a bit on his heels. Even then, though, Marinette could pick out the slight worry in his blue eyes. In both of theirs.

She immediately jumped backwards and closed the portal. Trapping herself back in Paris.

And instantly crumpling down to moan in despair on top of a random Parisian rooftop.

She was sitting on the very top of the Eiffel Tower when Superman and Superboy found her, and it didn’t take much for her to guess that they had flown straight over from metropolis. Stupid super-speed flight. She drew her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees as they floated to her side of her patiently. She had long since separated Kaalki, and sat in just her Ladybug costume.

“I knew Lois could contact you guys, but this is a bit too quick even for you don’t you think?” Ladybug drawled monotonously, looking over at both of the heroes dryly. Now that she was mostly of sound mind and not in the middle of a traumatic situation, she was able to make connections she couldn’t before. She was able to actually observe their faces, whereas before she hadn’t really been in the right mind frame to really commit anything about them to memory. But now?

Ohhh, she knew those faces.

Marinette’s eyebrow twitched as she did a double-take, followed closely by a deep breath. Maybe the glasses and, for Jon, baseball cap, would be a good enough disguise for most people. Especially when combined with the frankly impressive body acting they both pulled off on an apparently daily basis, they felt like totally different people in and out of the suits even if they looked the same.

But Marinette was not a normal person. She was a designer, she had a very critical eye, and she had just spent the better part of the last two months living in the same house as these two. And now she realized that they severely toned down the body acting and general “disguise” of their civilian selves when they were at home rather than outside. She had shrugged it off as them simply relaxing at home and, while she was right, it wasn’t until this moment that she put everything together.

“No masks, seriously? Some day, someone with eyes as good as mine is gonna figure you guys out,” she told them blandly, earning shocked blinks followed quickly by soft grins.

“I would normally sit down next to you at this point, but you haven’t exactly left us any space,” Superman— Clark, Marinette reminded herself— joked lightly. Marinette looked down to the small tip of the Eiffel Tower and back up to him, pointedly raising both eyebrows. Jon giggled.

Rolling her eyes and fighting a smile, Ladybug stood up without any apparently care about her footing. Somehow, balance seemed to just come naturally to her. It was so different from the usual Marinette that Clark and Jon had seen literally walk into a wall on multiple occasions that they had to grin. Seems like she fit right in on their acts-clumsy-and-awkward-but-isn’t trope.

(No, they later realized, that was completely Marinette. Ladybug just brought out a different side of her, but the awkwardness was still there. Just better hidden.)

“I was kinda trying to stay somewhere that nobody else could join me on purpose. You know, I was a little busy catastrophizing about you guys wanting to get rid of me now.”

“What?!” Jon asked, horrified. “No way! Even if we were normal, we wouldn’t just toss you away because we found out you’re a hero. That just— do you honestly think we would do that?”

“No,” she admitted softly, crossing her arms and sighing as she looked down over Paris. Over her city. It was a bittersweet view nowadays. “No, but I always freak out over things like that pretty easily. I’ve had people leave me over less. Sometimes it’s hard to convince myself that anyone else will be different.”

“Marinette—“

“Ladybug, actually,” she corrected with a small smile. “Don’t wanna slip up here. You never know who’s listening.”

Clark blinked, needing a moment to let that sink in before forcing himself to continue. “Ladybug, then,” he paused to gently lay a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to meet his gaze. As always it was soft. Patient. Just like his voice had been that fateful day. And, oh, there were the memories. They had both been there, helped her, and they stuck with her. Even though it hadn’t been their fault, even though they could have easily stepped back and let her deal with own problems and who had her custody on her own, they didn’t. She would have blamed them if they did, who was she to expect heroes to care about her like she was their child? That would be horrendously selfish of her. They saved hundreds of people every week.

And yet here they were, treating her like family.

And there was the phantom dust, clogging her throat. Strangling her words. She opened and closed her mouth, but nothing came out. Clark understood, he always understood, and his grip just tightened slightly. It tethered her.

“Ladybug,” he repeated even more softly. “We are not going to toss you out. Not for something like this, not for anything. You’re family now. You might not have the Kent name, you might not be kryptonian, but you’re one of us. Lois understands. Heaven knows she’s put up with both of us long enough, one more hero in the family is probably not that surprising. I just hope that… that you knowing doesn’t—“

“I don’t blame you,” there we go, her voice finally decided to work again. It came out a little hoarse, so she cleared her throat and started again. “I don’t blame you. I never did. It’s stupid, blaming a hero for things that never would have happened if the villain hadn’t attacked in the first place,” she told them, ripping her gaze away from his to trace over Paris again. “Maybe it’s because I understand that not everyone can be saved. I get it. But I never blamed you. I was actually grateful from the very beginning. You helped me dig them out even though you very well could have just carried me to the sidelines and stopped me from digging at all. And you, Jon, you didn’t complain once when I pretty much tackled you in a hug. You both sat with me as the paramedics looked me over. You didn’t leave until you were sure I was back in my hotel and in good hands. You never got impatient with me. That’s more than I could have asked for,” suddenly her mask was wet, and she roughly swiped away the tears that had leaked from her eyes. “You guys being Superman and Superboy isn’t going to make me treat you differently. It’s… actually nice. Not having to hide anymore, I mean.”

Jon grinned and flew over, enveloping her in a tight hug. Ladybug only chuckled and returned it, never once faltering in her balance. “I know exactly what you mean!” He said happily, making Ladybug laugh even more. It quickly devolved into Jon having to compensate for Ladybug’s balance, since she was suddenly leaning all her weight on him as she laughed her little heart out and no longer seemed to care about her balance at all. Not that it mattered much, Jon was more than capable of keeping her safe at close range like this, but it was cute to see. And for Clark? It was really relieving to see the girl he had come to think of as a daughter laughing so genuinely for the first time. Not a chuckle, or a soft huff of amusement, a full blown belly laugh.

It was amazing.

“Come on. I think you have some explaining to do, if you are comfortable with it anyway. Do you want to fly back, or portal back?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. He wouldn’t force Marinette to use her powers, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about them. Marinette straightened up, easily regaining her balance on the pointed tip of the tower beneath her, and slipping on a pair of glasses that she pulled… out of her yo-yo?

Wait, why was a yo-yo on her hip her only weapon? Maybe Clark should look into the Paris situation a bit more in-depth. He was clearly missing a lot, and none of what he was seeing was necessarily filling him with joy and confidence. Maybe Marinette could help soothe his worries later, if she decided to explain her abilities to them.

One transformation and a portal later, and all three of them stepped back into Marinette’s room. And when the portal closed and Marinette let down all her transformations, she took a deep breath and looked around. At both men in the room with her. At her bed and all her belongings. At the way this space has become her own. It felt nice. Warm. Welcoming, familiar.

Home.

It felt like home.

And Marinette’s smile hadn’t been quite so wide since before that infamous Metropolis trip.

Part 2

Yes, Lois kept her last name when she married Clark. I just like alliteration, okay? Besides, my story my rules lol :P

#maribat #mlb x dc #ml x dc #platonic jonette #jon kent and marinette #Marinette joins the Kent family #Marinette Kent

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avengerscompound · 4 years

Text

The Surrogate - Chapter 7

The Surrogate: A Clintasha Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count: 1910

Rating: E

Warnings: Pregnancy, Smut (MFF, bisexual threesome, oral sex, tribbing, vaginal fingering)

Synopsis: A freak end of the world incident leads to meeting your two best friends, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff. While your friendship with the two Avengers is anything but conventional, they are your all-time favorite people. When you find out that Clint and Natasha want to start a family but have exhausted all their options, you realize your powerset might allow you to give them what they want. Having your best friends’ baby might seem like a good idea on paper, but when you are as close as you, Clint, and Natasha are, will doing something so intimate mean feelings get a little mixed up?

Chapter 7

To say the hormone medication you and Natasha were taking messed with your moods was putting it mildly. Interestingly, they did affect each of you differently. Natasha was mostly just really tired while she was on them. It was weird seeing her like that, and much to her displeasure, Steve stopped sending her on missions because she was having trouble focusing. She had started napping in the middle of the day, and Clint had an almost ongoing supply of heat pads that went from the microwave to Natasha and back.

You, on the other hand, were going through wild mood swings. You weren’t easily annoyed exactly, but you would go from being extremely excitable to crying at the drop of a hat.

Clint, to his credit, was doing his best to be a supportive and caring boyfriend and friend. He gave all the injections. He tried not to be annoying. He was organizing meals for both of you, even if most of the time, that meant take-out from one of three places in the nearby town. He didn't quite know what to do when you randomly started crying, but he tried to soothe you as best he could.

Halfway through the first month and you had terrible stomach pain and decided that you were staying in bed. Pain was usually fleeting for you, and the cramps you were suffering from just felt like more than you could handle if you also had to participate in society.

You texted Clint and Natasha to tell them how you were feeling and that you weren't coming around today, and they showed up an hour later with heat packs and a stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

“Me too,” Natasha said in lieu of a greeting, crawling into bed with you and pulling the covers over herself.

“Here you go,” Clint said, handing you the plate of pancakes. “I’ll go warm up some heat packs for you both.”

“The chocolate helps,” Natasha said, picking one out of the pancakes and eating it.

“Probably the eggs are doing things, right? Feels like I've been stabbed in the ovaries,” you complained as you poked your pancakes with a fork.

“Yeah, probably,” she agreed. “Those are safe to eat, you know? Bucky made them.”

“He did? That's so nice of him,” you said, tearing up. “I should do something to thank him.”

“Oh god, Nat,” Clint said, bringing in the heat packs. “I was only gone for a minute, and you managed to make her cry.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “It was happy tears.”

Clint climbed into the bed on your other side and gave each of you heat packs.

“You both just gonna spend the day in bed with me?” You asked.

“Sure,” Clint said. “Thought we could watch movies and eat comfort food.”

You started crying again, and Natasha laughed softly and rubbed your back. “Now you made her cry too,” she teased.

“Aww, babe,” Clint soothed, putting his arm around your shoulders. “We don’t have to stay. We thought you might like someone taking care of you.”

“I do,” you sobbed. “You’re such good friends.”

“What?” Clint teased. “You’re the one that’s going to be carrying and then giving birth to a baby for us. We’re just taking care of you while you’re not feeling well because of something you’re doing for us.”

You hid your face in his side, and Natasha rubbed your back. “You broke her,” teased and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“Stop being mean to me,” you whined, and they both started laughing as they rubbed your back soothingly.

“What nice thing can we do to make you not cry?” Clint asked as Natasha nuzzled into your back.

You made a choked moan sound into Clint’s chest. “Oh,” Natasha said with a playful purr in her voice. She took the pancakes off your lap and put them on the bedside table. “I think she wants some endorphins.”

“They said no sex,” you whined. “Stop teasing me.”

“No, they didn’t,” Natasha said.

“Nope, they just said you can’t get jizzed in,” Clint agreed.

You started silently laughing as Natasha broke down into laughter too. “Such an idiot, yastrebok,” Natasha teased as she ran her fingers down your neck and kissed just under your ear.

“Hey!” Clint argued. “That’s what she said.”

“Mmm… I guess she did,” Natasha said. “Is that what you want?”

“Don’t know,” you whined, wriggling a bit where you sat. There were a lot of things you were feeling, pain for sure, and while that didn’t make you feel super sexy, your libido had been annoyingly high over the past few days. If you were in a typical monogamous relationship right now, you'd be conflicted about what you wanted because you did feel bloated and in pain, but you also felt horny, and sometimes sex did help with that kind of cramping abdominal pain. But you weren't, and you'd been trying to keep Natasha and Clint away from the romantic relationship part of your head, and every time you got physical with them, it nudged them that little bit closer to it.

“Aren't you tired and sore too?” You asked, attempting to deflect the question.

“I am,” she said, rubbing her fingers over your hips. “But those endorphins help a lot. Also, I end up sleeping better too.”

“Yeah, basically for a week, it's been sex and sleep and not much else with Nat,” Clint agreed.

“So if you like,” Natasha said, nosing at your neck. “We can take care of you too. We've never had a threesome before, and you know you enjoy it with us.”

You whined again and shook your legs out.

“Don't sound too excited,” Clint laughed. “Babe, you don't have to. It’s an offer. Not a demand.”

“I want to,” you admitted. “I just hurt.”

“I can start, and if you don't like it, we can stop, and you can finish your pancakes while we marathon Brooklyn 99,” Natasha said. “We just want you to be as relaxed and comfortable as you can be.”

You chewed your bottom lip and nodded. You weren’t sure if this was a good idea, but you had started not to care at all.

“Come here,” Clint said, pulling you so that you were sitting between his legs with your back pressed against his chest. He ran his hands up under your sleep shirt and began to massage your breasts slowly. His calloused hands kneaded your soft flesh, sending a dull ache out through you. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back on Clint’s shoulder as Natasha moved between your legs.

She spread them and pulled your pajama pants down and off. Clint hooked his legs under yours, holding them apart and lifted your sleep shirt off over your head. She slowly teased her way up the insides of your thighs, kissing your soft skin as she moved her way up. You almost vibrated in anticipation. Your cunt dripped, and your skin buzzed.

Clint kissed your neck and massaged your breasts. His scruff tickled your skin, and you could feel the start of his erection press against your back. Natasha’s tongue ran up your cunt, spreading your lips as she lapped wide from your entrance to your clit.

“Fuck…” you sighed, lifting your hips a little. Natasha hummed and pushed two fingers inside you. You moaned loudly and bucked your hips, rocking them against Natasha’s face.

“She’s good with her hands, isn’t she?” Clint purred against your ear.

“Mmm…” you moaned as Natasha curled her fingers inside you, dragging them over your internal walls. “Yes, she is.”

“I like to thank her when she takes care of me,” Clint whispered against your ear. The mixture of the hot breath on your neck and the words he was speaking sent a shiver through you and made your legs start to tremble. “Maybe you should too.”

Natasha’s fingers touched down on that special spot inside you, and you bucked up suddenly and cried out as a jolt of pleasure surged through you. “Fuck!” You gasped. “Fuck, thank you, Nat.”

She hummed and started sucking on your clit. Her fingers worked inside you, pressing and dragging over your g-spot again and again. Clint continued to massage your breasts, and a hot current swirled through you. It met in your core and pressed down inside you. You began to rock your cunt against Natasha’s face. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Nat…” you babbled, as your orgasm built and teetered right on the bring.

Natasha sucked your clit into her mouth and pressed her lips down on it as she twisted her wrist. Her knuckles dug into your g-spot, and you came, crying out and arching away from Clint as it coursed through you.

Natasha sat back and grabbed your legs, pulling you down onto the mattress. She began to undress as Clint got to his knees and pulled out his cock. You grabbed his hips, pulling him close and licking up the underside of his cock, collecting up the precum that had leaked down his shaft. Natasha tangled her legs with yours, bringing her cunt up and pressing it against yours, and began to grind them together. You were both so wet they slid easily against each other. Clint gently rolled his hips, so that as you sucked on his cock, he every so slightly fucked your mouth. He reached down between your legs, and as you and Natasha ground your cunts together, he began to play with your clits. Rubbing them. Pinching them. Circling his fingers in tighter and tighter circles.

The room began to fill with the sounds of your combined moans and panting and whimpers. Your whole body buzzed, and a sheen of sweat clung to your skin as you rapidly rolled your hips and bobbed your head up and down on Clint’s cock. Natasha’s muscles flexed and tightened as her moans got louder. You felt another orgasm building, and you could tell Natasha was close too. Her hips moved more erratically, and her legs shook. Clint focused his fingers on her clit, rubbing it hard, and with a loud moan, she threw her head back and came.

Clint’s fingers moved to you, and he rapidly fingers your clit, trying to bring you along with her, and as the last of her orgasm shuddered through her, yours hit. You let go of Clint’s cock and cried out your head falling back. Clint pumped his cock, and even as you were still quaking from your own orgasm, he came, releasing in thick ropes on your chest.

“How’s that? Feel any better?” Natasha asked as she grabbed a tissue and began to clean you up.

“Mmm…” you hummed as you lay back on the pillow. The cramping had eased off, and you had that warm, post-orgasm afterglow. “Much better. Sleepy.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said, tossing the tissues in the trash and curling up next to you.

“If you both go to sleep, I’m gonna watch Die Hard and eat these pancakes,” Clint said.

“Can you get Bucky to make me fresh ones when I wake up?” You asked as you pulled the covers over you and Natasha.

Clint laughed. “I guess I can ask.”

“Okay, you eat ‘em,” you said and closed your eyes.

Clint laughed and turned on the TV, and the opening sequence of Die Hard was playing as you drifted off to sleep in Natasha’s arms.

// NEXT

#clint barton #natasha romanoff #clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #clint barton x natasha romanoff #clintasha #clintasha x reader #hawkeye #black widow #hawkeye fanfic #black widow fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #the surrogate

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join-the-joywrite · 4 years

Text

Vera & Hamish soulmate au headcannons

Combination of a prompt from @bakulka and @gingersimasnapsandvermishthings where upon making contact with your soulmate, you relive moments of their past

Who's ready for some angst????

Let's get some background on exactly what past angstiness is all about

Síma is, and I say this with all the love in the world, an actual demon mainly because of the suggestion that Hamish was an unwanted child. GIRL, I-- so yes, we will be running with that :)

So there's going to be some instances where Hamish's mother was an outright bitch to her son and straight up tells him that she never wanted it (gosh why am I always jumping down his mother's throat???? It's because she's a rich bitch, isn't it???)

Don't worry, I'll try to think up some painful memories about his father.

On Vera's side, there is the very obvious death of her daughter, but I'm gonna take it up a notch for this au and call attention to how everyone around her responded to the entire thing. Losing your own child is bad enough, imagine being 16 and having to face a close-minded community after that? I mean,,, does my girl even get any sympathy or is it gonna be all about how she was asking for it and she should have known better??? I mean COME ON you can't look at Vera and tell me she's this hardened on the outside only due to her daughter's death.

In any event, let's move on.

My babies grow up lonely. They leave home as early as they can and say a big fat fuck you goodbye to their families.

I say this with all the seriousness I can: I'm 100% sure both of these idiots have the ability to consciously halt their thought process.

So their moment of first contact occurs outside the den, fighting Kepler & Co. but due to their extreme focus on protecting the den, both of them actively ignore the onslaught of past memories.

And it just never comes up?? They just never bring it up with each other?

Then there's the whole pulveris memoria business and Hamish has no clue about any of it so he's genuinely not suppressing anything at all -- but Vera's got lonely moments where she sits with nothing but her own thoughts.

And there's her old memories that she tried to bury deep down but there's something else? A different kind of pain that she can't identify? Now and then, without warning, she's struck by the sudden fear that she doesn't belong, that she has no right to be where she is, that she was unwanted as a child and she is unwanted now.

Side note, how do you think Hamish felt when Cassie told him that Tundra CHOSE him?? Like,, Tundra WANTED him for his champion?? Do you think he cried? Being wanted for the first time in his life? Do you think he and Cassie sat for hours together, talking about it?

Speaking of Cassie, whenever Vera thinks about her daughter and allows herself to mourn a little, she's got this underlying sense of grief that makes her want to blame herself. But she doesn't know how to deal with it. She's processed her daughter's death by now. She knows better. She doesn't blame herself the way she used to. So why is there this lingering urge to berate and blame herself for a death?

Then Alyssa gives the Knights their memories back. Then Hamish starts to feel it too. One day he sees a little girl running to greet her older sibling on the campus and for some reason, the sight of her with her glitter skirt and bouncy pigtails tugs achingly at his heart. Or during his monthly call from his dear old mother, he manages to overlook the unwanted feelings -- he has a new family now -- but there's this new feeling abandonment? He doesn't get it, because he's long since written his mom off. She's not family to him anymore. If anything, by now, HE'S abandoned HER. He feels cast out despite that never being his childhood.

It goes on like this until Lilith brews the potion for them. While Vera is just confused about these strange new feelings (obviously tied to Hamish's memories) Hamish has just been slapped with an onslaught of memories, breaking through every barrier he'd ever created and every memory he ever buried beneath lies of being okay. It's his horrible childhood, losing Cassie, falling for Vera, all at once. But then the new and confusing feeling click into place as a barrage of new memories hit him. Vera losing her daughter, being treated like an outcast, having to fend for herself, slowly losing trust in the individual person . . . all at once.

And it almost breaks him.

He's softer with Vera, now. Almost apologetic for her deeds. Jack doesn't get it when Hamish says he understands Vera a little bit. Jack's hung up on being betrayed by his soulmate.

But Randall gets it. Lilith gets it. They've both known Hamish long enough to know what he says isn't always what he means. But Lilith isn't that great with soft reassurances. She's who Hamish goes to when he needs tough love. So its Randall who talks to Hamish and figures the whole thing out.

Hamish wants to come clean to Vera, but he knows her now. He can calculate the way her mind works. And he knows that she is cut from the same cloth as him. She's buried her own and his memories behind a wall even she can't break.

He has this ongoing internal debate right until the Prometheans and every painful memory in Vera's life springs forward. But so do all the memories she got from Hamish.

(Am I breaking canon? Possibly, it's been a while)

When they next meet, it's quiet. Hamish can tell Vera has something on her mind.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to break your already fragile walls."

"Hm."

And they don't sit close. And they don't hold each other. Not for a while, anyway.

Which is fine because they're both afraid of new memories resurfacing that neither of them want to deal with.

Until the urge to be close is greater than the fear of facing each other's past.

It's a hesitant touch, but with it comes forth happy memories, which is a pleasant surprise.

The day Vera's daughter was born and she fell in love for the first time. The moment Hamish realised that Tundra had really CHOSEN him and he was worth something. The day Vera was made Temple Magus and she was just so happy to be respected and to have a place where she belonged. The days Hamish met Cassie, Randall, Lilith and Jack and anyone else in between and realised he has a family who loves him with or without any special abilities and just because he was Hamish.

And it's so so so refreshing from the horrible and painful memories that they share that for a moment, they just sit together, explaining the memories and just . . . slowly falling deeper in love with each other without even noticing.

And each time they make contact after, it's a short blur of a few memories. Happy memories, sad memories, joyful memories, angry memories. It all depends on their moods when it happens. Luckily for them, it's mostly memories of being loved and accepted and wanted.

When Alyssa and Vera say that Hamish is leaving and he grabs her hand, Vera's struck with memories of blame and grief at losing Cassie because he wasn't there. She has to squeeze his hand remind him that she's not Cassie and he's not the young kid he was when Cassie died. She'll be okay.

And at the end, when she grabs his hand to tell him to stay, they share the same memory.

The day they fell in love.

No I'm not back on Vermish bullshit haha wdym

#the order #the order netflix #vermish #hamish duke #vera stone #the knights of st christopher #the hermetic order of the blue rose #the knights of the blue rose #blue rose knights #vera x hamish #hamish x vera

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pa-panda-heroes · 4 years

Note

LOV with reader who cries easily? Like, not when it comes to murder, but she’ll be reading a book or watching a movie and burst into tears when a character is sad. Or she’ll see someone else sad and join them?

Ooooo sure thing, dearie! :> also it’s okay I love that you’re spamming me! ^^

~🐼

LoV with reader who cries easily!

Tomura:

This poor boy won’t know what to do!

Obviously he’s seen people cry before, but he’s not the type to really know what to do when someone cries. Same, shiggy So he won’t really do anything to comfort you.

Maybe he’ll just give you the side-eye the first time he’s around when it happens, wondering “what the hell, y/n?” because you’re obviously not in danger or anything. And when he realizes what you’re crying about, he’s really confused. How could something that’s not real like a movie make you cry?

He’s not gonna coddle you, but he’s not against letting you cry into his shirt or hold onto him. He might not reciprocate, he might. Depends on what kind of day he’s had and whether or not he’s feeling cuddly.

He thinks it’s cute that you’re so empathetic, maybe even admires it, and so he’ll secretly enjoy seeing it. Not that he likes seeing you sad or upset! It’s nice for him to have someone around who knows a thing or two about empathy or sympathy. It makes him feel a little normal.

Naturally, he’s going to be a little wary. Oftentimes he’s going to feel like it’s pity rather than empathy or sympathy if it’s directed at him. He wants someone to understand and love him, not pity and feel sorry for him! Even if that’s not the case, he’ll still often read it that way.

Most importantly, since you’re part of the League, he can’t let it get the better of you, so he’ll be really picky what kinds of missions he sends you on.

Obviously he’s not going to join you in your waterwork antics, but he’s not going to stop you either. So long as you’re quiet. He can’t have you wailing in the middle of something important...

Mr. Compress:

It’s going to catch him off guard, but not in the same way as Tomura.

As someone who’s keen in the entertainment department, he’s going to internally wonder if it’s an act at first. Perhaps you cry so that the League will underestimate you and not be hostile towards you. Perhaps you cry so they think you’re a sobbing fool but are actually stronger than all of them. He doesn’t know.

But when he realizes that’s how you are, it’s surprising for him to see raw emotion (or emotion regarded as weak or vulnerable) like that amongst someone in the League. It doesn’t bother him at all, and he’ll at least try to cheer you up.

100% will pull a water bottle out of nowhere to give you because “honey, you’re going to dehydrate yourself at this rate!” And he can’t let that happen.

This man won’t hesitate to pull out tricks and jokes that’ll get you crying from laughter instead of sadness.

If that fails, he’ll probably rub your back and let you ride through it, nodding and humming in acknowledgement if you tell him about what made you cry.

Mr. will make sure you’re okay before leaving or splitting off from you if you’re on a mission, but if time is of the essence, he won’t try very long to cheer you up. You matter to him, but he’s still serious about being in the League.

He’ll think it’s sweet you have such a big heart, and unlike Tomura, he’ll outright tell you, maybe patting your head or taking his mask off to smile at you.

Twice:

You can be damn sure this man is going to cry with you. We all know he has a lot of heart, and no matter how badly his trauma starts up, he’s going to be spilling waterworks alongside you. That’s inherently who he is.

He’s very similar in respect to seeing someone else cry and crying at them, so most of his crying with you is his crying for you, in a way. If he sees you cry, he’ll instantly cry!

Most of the time Twice is going to be too busy shedding tears with you to really comfort you, although he’ll offer some words of encouragement and try to.

If it’s not affecting him as much as it is affecting you, he’ll run for water to give you and possibly a little trinket that’ll lift your mood. Maybe he’ll grab a sugary treat, if it’s included in your normal diet and appreciated by your palate, but he’ll find something else that’s not sugary if you’re diabetic or whatnot.

Suuuper relieved there’s another crier in the League. If something gets him going, he’ll show it to you and you can cry together! I can also see Twice as a happy crier, so he’ll show you whatever made him happy whether or not you happy cry, too. But it’ll make him really happy if you enjoy it with him!

He actually doesn’t like seeing you sad. It’s kind of painful for him to watch, so he looks forward to happy crying with you the most.

If you’re still crying by the time he’s moved on, he’ll sit with you and help you ride out your tears, but I think it’ll be hard for him to think of what to say, so he’ll mostly make cheesy or bad jokes to try.

If you cry more often than usual in a day, he’ll take the reigns and steer you away from anything potentially tear-inducing because he’ll get worried about you. Is there something in particular that’s made you more sensitive? Are you overloaded and stressed from being in the League? Are you okay? He’ll be almost frantic if you cry too much.

Himiko:

Himiko will find it adorable and enjoy seeing you cry way too much. If she feels like it, she’ll show you something to make you cry!

She relishes in your crying face, grinning like a cheshire cat with flushed cheeks as her eyes dance across the tear stains on your cheeks and the reddening sclera of your eyes.

She might mock-cry with you - not to mock you but so that you don’t feel alone in your salty antics. You’re important to her and she’s going so show it in ways like that, to show you she’s right there with you. Even if it’s odd for her to do so.

This girl wouldn’t dare make fun of you for being a “softie” or so open to vulnerability and hell hath no fury like Himiko if someone else does. She won’t hesitate to cut a bitch for making fun of you!

Even if you’re in public and someone glares at you or looks at you funnily, it’ll rile her up and she’ll send a terrifying glare their way.

Her use of pet names will increase tenfold while you’re crying, almost like a loving partner trying to console you - but she’s not. She loves seeing you like that, so she wants to coddle you.

She’ll likely latch onto in any way possible when you start up and cling onto you.

Himiko won’t encourage hydration, but if you ask for it almost every time you cry, she’ll put two and two together and start carrying water with her to give you. Hey, that blood-sucking contraption is good for something!

Dabi:

He’s not going to be so nice. He can be a teasing bastard - rather, he is one.

He won’t coddle you and he’ll tease the hell out of you. “Aw, y/n. What could possibly have you cryin’ now? I thought you quit for the fifth time just a few minutes ago!” Sometimes he’ll come off as downright mean, but he doesn’t mean it that way.

He does think it’s cute, though. To see someone become so vulnerable so easily reminds him how much you stand out from the League. It seems innocent to him.

Don’t expect him to get cuddly while you cry like Tomura or Himiko, he won’t have any of it. He’ll tolerate your crying, obviously, because he cares about you. And unless you’re extremely upset and alone with him, he won’t try to comfort you and build a damn for those waterworks of yours.

He certainly won’t join you, either. He literally can’t even if he wanted to, and it’s just not easy to make him cry.

If your eyes get dry and irritated from crying, you can bet he’ll pass eye drops to you. His tear ducts are burnt, he’s going to have some sort of drops or eye lubricant on him pretty much at all times.

He wouldn’t offer water; instead, I think he’d hand you liquor to get you to calm down and relax if it was on-hand. Does drowning your sorrows in alcohol solve the problem? No. Is it unhealthy? Yes. Does Dabi know all this? Yes!

In all, he’s not gonna downright complain about it, but he’s not really going to do much to stop it. Unless someone made you cry. In which case, he’ll cremate them on the spot.

Spinner:

Already he’s going to want to protect you to prove himself, but if you cry that easily he’ll become really protective!

Ain’t nobody gonna make his s/o cry on purpose. Spinner may not have a destructive quirk like Tomura’s or Dabi’s, but he can hold his own in a fight, and he’s going to prove it if someone upsets you intentionally.

But if he sees you crying at a movie or book, he’ll think it’s precious and he’s 100% gonna flip a switch and be there to comfort you. But that doesn’t mean he’s good at it!

He’ll be flustered because he doesn’t entirely know what to do. He can offer sweet words and gentle pats and rubs, but what else? He’ll up and run for anything you ask for, no matter the time. Tissues? Got it. Water? Okay. A stuffed animal? Here- why didn’t you say so earlier?!

Spinner will probably coddle up to you first, instead of the other way around. He doesn’t want to see you sad and bummed out, so he gets the urge to hold you.

But if you manage to catch him off guard and latch on first, it’ll fluster him and he’ll be a stuttering mess.

It’s not easy for him to be sweet and caring in front of the League because he’s afraid they won’t take him seriously, so when you’re crying in front of them, he’ll try to usher you to the sidelines and calm you down quietly.

He’s happy that his s/o is so empathetic. It gives him a sense of normalcy within the League, and he’s not complaining.

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