#comfort

[n0ctuafan]

@rye-in-a-coat

@ratlover256

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDS React to a Reader with a Skin Condition

Request: Anon- Would you be comfortable writing headcanons about how the boys would react to you having skin problems? Like acne and eczema. I get really self conscious about my skin and I just feel like they’d know just what to say.Whether or not you choose to write this thank you for taking the time to read this. I really appreciate all you do, you’re an incredibly talented writer and you’re such a wonderful part of this community. 💕

AN: Hi anon, thanks for requesting! As someone with psoriasis this is close to home. I hope you like this >< evil laughter because I changed the OG reaction order

Pairing: LaDS boys x fem reader

Ingredients: 90% comfort, 10% sulking

My Fav: None. I felt writer's block writing this :(

Caleb:

He’d seen you grow up with psoriasis.

He remembers the way you never let go of your long sleeves. The way your friends’ eyes lingered in the summer, glancing at your covered arms with quiet curiosity. The way your smile would dim when someone’s gaze lingered too long.

Hell, he was the one who held you when you sobbed, terrified before every new school year. The one who sat with you in silence while you rubbed at your sleeves until the fabric thinned.

But he had also seen you change. Watched as long sleeves were traded for shorter ones. Saw how you learned to love your skin through the endless cycle of steroids, topicals, and shots.

Flare-up or not, you were strong. You became more than the spots on your skin. And he was proud.

The person he once comforted no longer needed saving. You had learned to love yourself.

But even now, if you stumbled, if you slipped, he’d still be there. Not because you needed him. But because he never stopped wanting to stand beside you.

And when you catch him watching you, when you raise an eyebrow and say “What?” he just smiles.

"Nothing." He wraps his arms around you, his hands mapping your arms with utmost focus. He watches the way you don’t flinch anymore. The way you let him touch you without hesitation.

"You’re just beautiful."

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush. He sees the quiet pleasure in the smile on your lips.

"I mean it." His pulls you closer, against his chest, burying his face in your shoulder.

Zayne:

He held your hands, applying the topical carefully. His fingers moved slowly, brushing over the irritated skin with quiet precision. Your fingers twitched in his grasp, skin red and peeling. It looked painful.

Just a night out had done this. The restaurant soap had reacted poorly.

And now here you both were.

"I'm sorry, Zayne. I was stupid." You whisper, trying to pull your hands back. "I ruined our plans."

His grip tightens slightly, keeping you from slipping away. His breath steadies as he rests his forehead against yours. Warm. Soft. Familiar.

"You have nothing to apologize for." His arms circle around you, pulling you carefully into his lap. His hand slides to your wrist, thumb brushing over the curve of your pulse.

He blows gently over the drying cream on your skin. His breath ghosts over your fingers, the warmth easing the sting.

"I prefer this." His lips brush your temple. "How else do I get to hold you like this?"

Your breath hitches. His mouth curves faintly against your cheek.

"And kiss you however much I want?"

You laugh weakly. "You’re ridiculous."

"Probably." His lips trail down the side of your face, soft and deliberate. His touch light and careful as he smooths over the cream.

"But you think too much." His forehead presses against yours. "You didn’t ruin anything."

"Zayne, it was your time off in so long, and we-"

His fingers lace between yours. His thumb strokes along your palm, calm, steady. "I’d rather be here with you, holding you, than anywhere else."

You close your eyes, breath slowing beneath the weight of him.

"So stop apologizing." His voice drops to a whisper. His mouth hovers over yours. "You’re already giving me exactly what I want."

Rafayel:

He finds you crouched in the closet. Crying. Clothes scattered around you in every direction.

"I look awful." You look at him tearfully. "Everything looks terrible with the breakout. I can't go to your exhibition, Rafayel."

Your face crumples, eyes red and swollen. Your period isn’t helping, it makes you even more susceptible to unwarranted emotional breakdowns every passing hour. You bury your face in a dress and sob like a kicked puppy.

Rafayel stands there for a second, his brow furrowing. Then he sighs and sinks down beside you, his knees brushing against yours.

His hands rise to your face, caressing your cheek with care. "My bodyguard always looks the most beautiful." He tilts your chin to kiss the tears away.

"Don't kiss me, I feel gross." You try to pull away. "And look at all this acne. How can you even...?"

"I'm not kissing the acne." Rafayel smiles faintly. His eyes soften as he takes in the sight in front of him. "I'm kissing you, you dummy."

"And right now?" His grin sharpens as he leans back slightly. "You look adorable."

"I can’t go to the exhibit, Rafayel." You whine annoyed by the sound of your own voice as overstimulation crowed your senses.

"Good." His voice is lazy, his arms sliding beneath your legs. Without warning, he lifts you effortlessly, adjusting you against his chest like you weigh nothing.

"Rafayel this is ridiculous." You bury your face in his chest.

"Shhh." He silences your protests with a peck to your lips. His arms tighten around you, carrying you toward the bed.

"You know how much I hate those things." His tone is light, but his hand slips beneath the curve of your knee, holding you securely. His mouth skims the side of your temple. "Honestly, you just gave me the best excuse to skip."

"But..."

"Nope." He sets you down on the bed, brushing your hair back from your face. "We’re staying in."

He slides in beside you, one arm looping beneath your shoulders. His hand splays low across your back, pulling you closer.

"If you feel awful, the least you can do is suffer with me." His mouth tilts against your temple. "And if you think this breakout makes you less beautiful, I guess I’m going to have to kiss you until you figure out how wrong you are."

"Starting now." He pulls you into an onslaught of kisses.

Sylus:

You drag another air purifier into the room, sneezing hard enough to make your head spin.

"God, this sucks." You flop onto the floor between the circle of purifiers, rubbing at the irritated skin of your neck. "How did natural selection fail this badly?"

Your breath hitches, throat burning. You close your eyes. Maybe if you just stay here, the purifiers will summon clean air or a new respiratory system.

That’s when you feel him.

"Did I interrupt your ritual, darling?"

You crack an eye open. Sylus stands above you, arms crossed, looking thoroughly amused.

"This is serious." You sniff, voice wrecked.

"Sure it is." He crouches down, invading your circle of air purifiers. "Should I sacrifice a goat or something?"

"You could bring me a tissue."

Sylus grins. "Or…" His hands slip beneath your arms, lifting you effortlessly. "I could just kidnap you and nurse you back to health myself."

"Sylus, what are you...?"

Without a word, he drops you onto the couch, pressing his hand against your forehead. His eyes narrow. "Hm. You might not survive the night."

"Stop it,"

"I’ll have to keep you in bed." His mouth curves wickedly. "For observation."

"Sylus!" You protest, trying to get up.

"No talking. Doctor’s orders."

His lips press against your burning cheek. His hand slides through your hair, nuzzling into you. His smile softens at the sound of your stuffy breath.

"Just relax." His voice lowers. "I’ve got you."

Xavier:

"You don’t have to stay." You reason trying to get your boyfriend out of your misery cave. "You’re tired. You’ve been running around all day."

"So?" His voice is quiet.

You glance at him through swollen eyes. Your skin is blotchy from the allergic reaction, red patches climbing up your neck and across your cheeks. You feel gross.

"So you don’t have to deal with this."

Xavier sinks down onto the floor beside you, resting his head on the bed where you lay draped. His gaze drops to the irritated skin on your throat.

"I’m not here because I have to." His hand lifts, hesitates, then curls gently around your hand. His thumb traces the tender skin of your palm.

"You look uncomfortable." You wince, voice thin.

"Yeah. I am." His smile is faint, almost fragile. "Because I hate seeing you like this."

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off.

"Not because of how you look." His hand rises to your neck, cupping it carefully. His thumb brushes over a reddened patch of skin. His eyes darken. "Because I hate not knowing how to make it better."

"It’s just allergies."

"I know." His breath steadies. His eyes soften. "But I still wish I could fix it."

"You’re not going to scare me off." His voice drops lower. "You don’t have to look perfect for me to stay."

"But I feel—"

"I know." His thumb brushes your cheekbone. His breath catches as your gaze meets his. "Stay with me anyway."

[brattyspence]

Would you maybe write something for depressed reader and spencer taking care of her? Maybe some unhealthy coping mechanisms on readers part? 🥹

I've been going through a bit of a rough patch and can really relate to reader and would love to imagine spencer taking care of me.

If you're not comfortable with it, I understand, but I wanted to ask.

Love your work btw!❤️ - 🦋

a/n: thank u for requesting!!!!! hi butterfly anon

tags: fluff/comfort, depression, reader uses sleeping/avoidance as a coping mechanism, rlly fluffy sticky sweet.

<600 words

-

“We could take the train out and go to the new exhibit you wanted to see?”

“Mh,” you mumble. It's less than half-hearted, muffled by the pillow smashed against your cheek. Lying on your side with your back to him, you can't see his expression, but you still know it's hopeful. It only adds to the guilt you already felt.

“Or… we could just go to the farmer’s market. Get more of the tea you like.”

You feel bad. You really do. Spencer is more patient with you than you are with yourself, and you know he's been growing restless being stuck in the apartment over every recent weekend. Still, it's like your limbs are weighted and your thoughts are elsewhere; the idea of doing things is more unappealing than anything.

“Don’t want to.”

“What do you want to do?”

You close your phone, leaving behind the morning of doom scrolling. You rub your eyes, trying to stop the growing strain with cold fingertips.

“Go back to sleep.”

The room grows silent again, save for the soft sound of steady breathing. You know Spencer well enough to understand that he's scheming something.

“You can't sleep all day,” he says, voice somehow managing to become softer than it already was.

“Why?”

The question drags a sigh from his lips, and you feel the bed shift.

You've always been thankful for the many ways Spencer is good at reading you. Now, though, it feels more like a drain on energy, and you feel bad for thinking that.

Warm fingertips find your side, guiding you onto your back. You can't even manage to roll your eyes the way you intended to before his hands make their way towards your face, coaxing loose strands of hair off your forehead in a way that's so tender you could cry right then and there.

“Why can't you sleep all day?”

“Mhm.”

“Because you need to do something,” he says, looking down at you. “Eat something. Shower. Move.”

“But-”

“No ‘but,’” he says. “I'm not letting you spend a third day like this.”

This time, when you huff in response you find the covers being pulled away from you.

“Ten more minutes?”

You track him with your eyes, watching him get up and make his way around the bed. He stops next to your side, offering his hand to you.

“Angel. You wanted ‘ten more minutes’ on Friday. It's Sunday.”

You can't argue with him on this. Instead, you take his hand and let him pull you up to sitting, legs dancing off the edge of the bed as you look up at him. Your eyes flutter shut as he tucks your hair behind your ears once again. It's not out of necessity, but love. When his warm hands cup your jaw next, you know he's waiting for your attention.

“I don't want to leave the apartment,” you mumble.

“We don't have to,” he replies, shaking his head. “You can go shower, I'll find something for you to eat, and we can do something at home–that's not sleeping.”

“Cuddle?”

“I mean, the point is you need to be up and moving,” he says. “But I don't think I can deny you anything.”

When you finally crack a smile, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

[aventurineswife]

How about Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Sunday and Blade who find out their partner has sleep apnea? They have a heart attack for a hot minute when you stop breathing and then your breathing again and now they can’t sleep lol

The Fear of Losing You

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Blade x Reader, Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Health Scare, Relationship Dynamics, Sleep Apnea, Protective Partner, Emotional Turmoil, Recovery.

Warnings: Contains mentions of sleep apnea, Mild panic/anxiety, Partner health concerns, and Emotional reactions to a health scare.

A/N: I would've had a heart attack too in this case, tbh 😭🙏

It was a peaceful night, the kind Aventurine rarely allowed himself to enjoy. He lounged next to you, his eyes occasionally flicking to your relaxed figure as you slept. A subtle, comfortable silence hung between the two of you—until it wasn’t.

The absence of your breath hit him like a stone to the chest. His heart froze. For a split second, time seemed to slow as he watched, terrified that he would lose you. His sharp mind immediately began calculating the worst-case scenarios, his fingers twitching to shake you awake. But nothing—no sound, no movement.

His hands hovered over you before finally shaking you gently, his voice quivering for the first time in what seemed forever. "Hey, hey... breathe, breathe!"

When you gasped awake, he exhaled in a rush, his breath shaky. His heart thudded violently in his chest as relief washed over him. You were alive. You were fine.

But he couldn’t shake the dread that had lodged itself deep in his ribs. Despite the calm look on his face, his mind couldn’t stop racing. He stared at you for the remainder of the night, watching you sleep in that peaceful, unaware state. As dawn began to break, he found himself unable to sleep—not because he feared losing you, but because he couldn't unsee the terror that had coursed through him when you stopped breathing.

He would never admit it, but the incident made him rethink everything, even the reckless games he played. The only certainty now? His inability to rest until he knew you were safe again.

It was late when Ratio sat by your side, having just returned from a long meeting with the Intelligentsia Guild. His hair brushed against his face as he settled in, gazing at you with a slight frown as you slept. For someone so intellectual and confident, he didn’t understand the complexity of your fragile sleep. Perhaps, it was a flaw in his vast intellect—he had never expected something so mundane as sleep to become a battleground.

Then, in the dead of night, a horrible silence gripped the room. Ratio froze, his sharp eyes narrowing as he observed the stillness, his pulse quickening. His breath caught in his throat when you stopped breathing. His mind immediately began to calculate the problem. Could he revive you manually? Was there something he missed in his extensive research on physiology?

In a panic, he rushed to your side, shaking you firmly. "I—I don’t understand this. You—"

A gasp escaped your lips as you jerked awake, eyes wide with confusion. Relief flooded him instantly, but he couldn’t help the flurry of thoughts that began to invade his mind. He was too intelligent for this. He had to solve this. Immediately. No amount of books or academic achievement had prepared him for this.

You, still groggy, noticed the frantic look in his eyes. "What’s wrong?"

His lips parted to explain, but nothing coherent came out. He had no words. Just the tight grip on your hand, the fierce need to ensure your breathing never stopped again. The remainder of the night was spent beside you, his mind whirring with logical explanations, though no solution seemed quite right. As dawn came, he found himself unable to sleep. How could he, when his brilliant mind was no longer sure of something as simple as human breathing?

The quiet hum of the night was soothing, and Sunday had allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation as he rested next to you. The celestial aura that surrounded him flickered softly in the moonlight, but as he watched you sleep, a feeling of unease began to coil in his chest. His wings twitched gently as the stillness of the room settled in.

Then it happened. The unnerving silence.

For a moment, it felt as if the entire universe had held its breath. His eyes shot open, golden irises wide as he searched your form for any sign of life. His own breath caught in his throat when he realized you had stopped breathing entirely. His wings fluttered in an anxious rhythm, and a rush of panic rose up his spine.

"Please," he whispered, voice shaky, as he gently reached out to shake you awake. "Breathe, please breathe."

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze dazed and confused, but the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over Sunday was palpable. His wings, trembling slightly, folded tighter around his body as he took a deep breath of his own.

"I… I didn’t realize," he muttered softly, his voice holding an unusual weight of vulnerability. The weight of the fear he’d just felt. For the first time in a long time, he felt deeply human.

Sunday couldn’t fall back asleep. His mind was too restless, haunted by the thought that he might have lost you, even though he had no true explanation for why you’d stopped breathing. The thought of being powerless over something so fragile made his celestial demeanor falter, leaving him restless and wide-eyed as the night passed by.

Blade’s eyes were narrowed as he lay on the bed next to you, watching over you with a detached sense of vigilance. Though his existence had long been consumed by revenge and a cold desire for his own demise, there was something about you that remained a quiet sanctuary, something he didn’t fully understand but couldn’t ignore.

But as the night deepened, a sudden, terrifying silence cut through the air like a blade. His eyes flashed open in an instant, his entire body frozen in place. His heart slammed against his ribcage as he watched you, utterly still. Too still.

His mind raced. No… He could feel it. You’re not breathing.

Without thinking, he was by your side, shaking you violently, desperate for any sign of life. His hand trembled, the broken sword beside him forgotten in his panic.

Then, you gasped, eyes flying open as you caught your breath. The world shifted back into place, but for a moment, Blade’s soul felt like it had been ripped open. The terror in his chest was inexplicable, something he couldn’t fight or shove away.

"Don’t ever do that again," he growled, his voice rough, but the sheer desperation in his tone betrayed him.

You looked at him, confused but still dazed from sleep. He was already pulling back, his eyes dark with something unspoken—something almost resembling fear. Blade, the immortal, the weapon, the destroyer—was afraid. And for the rest of the night, he lay awake, staring at you with unsettling intensity, unable to unsee the brief glimpse of what losing you would truly feel like.

As the night dragged on, Blade couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes, too haunted by the prospect of loss. And so, he remained wide awake, the quiet terror of that moment embedded in his bones.

[sauntering-busara]

Came across this and made me sigh for the 20th time - I mean the pajamas are fantastic - but just had to share hoping to reach more of you with this artist's love this fine morning. ❤️

[randomreasonstolive]

Reason to Live #12146

    Warm blankets. – Guest Submission

(Please don't add negative comments to these posts.)

[just-writing-a-bit]

Who says I don't care?

Natasha Romanoff x female reader

Summary: Y/n is part of the Avengers for a while, but no one really paid attention to her. She feels like she's alone in all of her training and with her thoughts. One night, she goes out on a run, getting lost and returning home later than planned and injured. Natasha noticed her staying away for too long and takes care of her, despite Y/n trying to brush it off at first. Word count: 3.047

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Pov y/n

Natasha has never paid much attention to me. So, I'm surprised when she looks up now as I walk past the kitchen. There is no one else around, the others somewhere scattered around the compound.

"Going for a nightly run, huh?" Nat asks, her eyes darting over my workout clothes, settling on the headlamp I wear. "Or trying to rob someone?"

I don't know what it is about her, why she doesn't care at all. I don't expect to become besties with her but I thought she might be nice and happy to have another woman on the team. But apparently, she couldn't care less. I've tried to be nice and become her friend but her constant remarks and sarcastic comments eventually made me give up. I simply roll my eyes at her. She chuckles amused at my reaction, not taking me very serious. So much about making friends when joining the Avengers.

When I joined them half a year ago, I thought it would be nice, we'd be a team and save the world together. Instead, Natasha hates me and Steve drags me to training every morning. His training plan is hard and leaves me exhausted on the regular. On days where we don't train together, he gave me the homework to go running to keep my stamina up. I skipped that once and the next time had to listen to him lecturing me, so I won't be risking that again.

Today has been really busy though and I've been sitting at my desk most of the time, writing reports, sorting files and digitalizing other files. This part of being an Avenger truly doesn't make me feel like a hero, more like someone at an office job. I hoped for this to be cool but it's a bit of a let down so far. Nonetheless, I hope to help people one day and give them hope when they see me, so I keep pushing myself.

Natasha glances toward the window in the kitchen, darkness mirroring her face back at her. It may be late and I am a bit tired but I will pull through and go to bed right after. Whatever Natasha thinks, she keeps it to herself and I keep walking, heading out of the compound. Going running in the dark isn't my favorite but running track in the gym drives me insane. The same circle over and over again. Makes me feel like a hamster in a wheel.

The air is cold as I step out, but I know it won't bother me once I start running and warm up. I already did my stretching, so I'm ready to go. My steps are soft against the gravel path leading me away from the compound, my headlight the only source of light despite the moon and a few starts. The air smells fresh, the rain from earlier today still hanging in the air. The smell is nice, calming.

I run for quite a while, getting lost in my thoughts and when I slow to a stop to orientate myself, I find myself lost. My breath is still fast from running as I spin around, trying to figure out where I am. There are trees lining the path to my right and an open field to my left. Definitely no place I feel very safe.

I keep moving, even if it's just slow steps, my eyes darting around along with the ball of light coming from my headlamp. The longer I look around, the more panic unfurls inside me. Shit! I really got too lost in my thoughts to keep track of the path. That only happened once before but it was in daylight, so I could easily make my way back but now I can't look far enough to see anything familiar.

I take deep breaths, trying to stay calm but the nerves in my body are raging, every possible bad scenario playing out in my mind. Even a shake of my head doesn't help and I ball my hands into fists.

How could I be so mindless?

The smartest thing to do is probably turn around and take the way back. It has been straight for a while now, so I can't get lost that way. I turn around, my eyes still darting around, trying to assess my surroundings. My heart beats fast but more from fear than exercising. Being lost in the dark is one of my few fears. So much could be happening without my knowledge and I can only react to the things right in front of me. Like a branch reaching onto the path. I bend it away with one hand, glancing around.

The sudden crack in the tree line to my left makes my heart jump, startling me. I jump into action, getting into the stance Steve reminds me of each training session. The branch snaps back into its original position striking me sharply across the face and I wince at the sudden pain. I'm really not in my best condition today. But jumping into the stance was an instinct, one that made me forget about the branch.

I wince again, my face heating as pain pulses through my face. I bite my lip to keep myself from making further noise, not wanting to sound like prey. Instead, I sidestep the branch and keep running again. My mind is overwhelmed with so much happening at once, so many feelings. But I can't break down now. Not here.

For what feels like eternity, I wander around, trying to figure out where to go while keeping my emotions at bay. My face stings and hurts, it still feels like the branch is pushing against my face, even if it's not. Goosebumps have erupted on my arms, but not from the cold. Not just, at least. I hate myself for not taking my phone with me. Usually, it bothers me and I don't listen to music anyway. I want to hear the steady sound of my steps and nature and running is the best moment to clear my head and think. Now, I would be grateful for a phone though. 

Eventually, I spot the compound again, letting out a relieved breath and speeding up, wanting to be inside and safe again. By now, my face is throbbing and I am not sure I want to see what the branch did. It certainly isn't pretty.

Exhausted physically and mentally, I enter the compound and head for the living quarters. Once I'm in my room, I can rest and cry.

I pass by the living room area, noticing the light on. Out of curiosity, I slow my step and glance inside. When I see red hair, I roll my eyes, no one helpful. Not that the others are necessarily warm towards me but at least they acknowledge me.

Natasha turns in the armchair. "That was a long run," she comments as she turns around, her eyes fixing on mine. For a second and probably the first time since I met her, her face drops with some kind of emotion. Something else than distance and smugness.

"What happened?" She asks instead of making a comment like I expected. I wave it of, too exhausted to explain and not in the mood for her sarcasm. I turn on my heal, walking down the hallway, yearning for my bed.

"That looks bad. Did someone attack you?" Natasha asks, her voice softer than I'm used too. Just hearing her talk again is a surprise but together with this slight hint of worry, it's weird.

"No," I answer shortly, not in the mood to relive the moment. Steps follow me and I wonder why she is so persistent all of the sudden. It's not like she cares. "What happened then?" she continues asking. I'm not sure if I'm annoyed by it or feel a little touched.

But then, she never really paid attention to me before, so this feels like a game. I simply shrug, dismissing her question while fighting my own uprising feelings. A soft hand around my wrist holds me back and Nat steps into my vision again. Her expression is surprisingly soft, something I've never seen before.

"Hey, what happened? That looks bad," she eyes my face, her fingers still curled around my wrist. They are warm and almost comforting. Her touch confuses my already messy mind. For a second I consider giving into the comfort, accepting it. But then I remember she probably doesn't really care and pull my hand out of hers.

"Happened during my run," is all I tell her, heading further to my room, fighting the uprising tears. All of this is too much. The fear of being alone in the dark, the feeling of being lost, the throbbing of my face and the exhaustion in my body.

"One doesn't get a red stripe like that on a normal run," Natasha points out, her steps following me. Why is she so persistent? I ignore her, not sure if my voice will stay steady if I talk.

"And you usually don't run for that long. Something must have happened." My irritation at her constant words snap and I spin around, tears pricking in my eyes.

"Why do you care, Romanoff? You don't care about me at all! Why now?" For a second she looks taken aback but then her features soften and she takes a step closer to me.

"Who says I don't care?" She asks and I huff, allowing the first tear to fall. It stings when reaching the spot where I was hit by the branch but I ignore that.

"You show it in the way you act. Message received. Now, just go..." My voice gets weaker as my emotions get stronger, threatening to spill over with force.

Natasha keeps watching me, worry showing on her face. I can't look at her any longer, so I turn away, hiding my tears.

"I do care," she almost whispers. I shake my head, at the verge of a breakdown. She doesn't, she never has and never will.

"I do," she insists and a warm hand is placed on my back.

As if that was all it takes, my composure breaks and I start crying, every emotion pulsing through me in strong waves. All the fear, the pain, the loneliness, the confusion, the exhaustion.

Natasha is very quick to wrap her arms around me, holding me as my knees give up. Her embrace is warm but I barely register that and for a moment I don't care who she is and just bury my face in her shoulder, shaking while I cry.

Her hand soothingly rubs up and down my back while the other cradles the back of my head. I cry into her shirt, feeling the stinging of the stripe on my face increasing, adding to everything.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here," she whispers as if this was normal for us. As if she hasn't ignored me for the most part of half a year. My legs grow weak but she catches me without a problem. "Shhh, it's okay, you're okay. We'll get you to your room and take care of that injury, okay?"

All I manage is to nod and then follow her slow steps, guiding me backwards through the hallway. I continue crying, my emotions flowing out of me, her arms strong and securely around me. They bring a comfort I didn't expect at all. We reach my room and Natasha carefully settles me on my bed. My tears have stopped and I only feel exhausted and vulnerable now.

"Let's get you cleaned up, so nothing gets infected." She smiles softly at me, a sight I never saw before. All I can do is nod though, too exhausted to do anything else or to protest. For a moment, she disappears into my attached bathroom and comes back with a wet cloth.

"It may sting at first but I promise, it'll be better soon," she says gently, sitting down next to me.

With her free hand, she gently takes my chin, tilting my head into her direction. Our eyes meet. Hers are soft, almost warm. I've never seen them like this and that's confusing me a lot. I want to know what she thinks, why she is helping me. But I don't have the mental or emotional capacity to have that kind of talk now. With the cloth, she begins to dab at my wound. I bite my lip, the slight stinging not pleasant.

"How did this happen? One doesn't get a stripe like this just from being outside." She pulls the cloth away to look at me, concern on her face and a dab of blood on the cloth.

"I was running and got lost..." I trail off, shivering at the memory. "There was a low hanging branch and it snapped into my face when I didn't pay attention." Natasha hums, pressing the cooling cloth back on my face. I'm surprised she doesn't laugh because that's not very hero like and sounds so stupid.

"The blood should dry soon and with a bit of cooling, the swelling will go back too," she tells me, her fingers still holding my chin, the small bit of comfort I get from it soothing my emotions a little. Even if I can't comprehend this whole situation, I allow myself to feel this way because if I don't, I might just break down again.

Comfort is all I've been seeking for since I started this program. It's hard and I fell in bed with an aching body for almost the entirety of the first month. There was so much frustration as well and small injuries. All I wanted was to be hugged by someone, to just get the smallest hint of comfort.

But that doesn't seem like something the Avengers do. Steve always told me to brush it off and Tony merely rolled his eyes when I was complaining. Empathy isn't their strong suit really. Natasha never showed any emotion either and I started to feel alone. The goal of helping people still in my mind, so I bit through it. Finally getting a sense of comfort is what my body has been craving and I don't care about who it's from anymore. Even if it's just for tonight and a one-time-thing, it's still better than nothing at all.

"You shouldn't run alone in the dark anymore," she says softly, so very different from the lectures I usually get from Steve. I'm not used to soft and gentle anymore, but it feels really good. I look into her eyes that assess my face as she continues cooling it. "But I have to keep exercising."

Natasha just hums and locks eyes with me. "Okay. The next time you go out for a run in the dark, you let me know and I'll join you."

The protectiveness in her voice catches me off-guard. "What?"

"I don't like you getting hurt or the thought of you getting lost in the dark. It's not a peaceful place out there. So, the next time you go on a run at night, you let me know and I come with you, making sure you return home safely." Warmth spreads in my chest at her words, the sense of comfort growing. Running with her could be nice, if she stays like this. If she goes back to her cold and distant demeanor, I am not so sure about it. But not having to worry about getting lost sounds nice and for the first time in half a year, I don't feel alone anymore.

"I will," I reply silently. She nods with a soft expression and pulls the cloth again, studying my face.

"The swelling isn't quite gone but is better now. With some rest, you will feel better tomorrow. Besides, you look exhausted." She reaches out and gently tugs a strain of hair behind my ear, the action so surprisingly gently, that I don't know how to react. Natasha gets up and brings the cloth into the bathroom before returning.

"If you need me, you know where my room is. Right?" I hesitate. Of course, I know where her room is. All our rooms have our names on the door. But just the thought of lying in the dark by myself sends cold shivers down my spine. Being alone in the darkness is the last thing I want. I'm aware that I am in no position to make this request but now seems the best moment.

"Stay with me?" I ask silently, feeling incredibly vulnerable. Natasha takes a moment to reply and I expect her to deny and leave but then she nods. "Okay, I can stay with you if that'll make you feel better?"

I nod, relieved I don't have to be alone for the night. I get off the bed and gesture for her to get comfortable before quickly changing in my bathroom. When I get back out, Natasha is in my bed, watching me. It's strange to see the big bed not empty. But also nice, knowing I don't have to be alone with my emotions for once. I slip in on my side and snuggle into the blanket, the comfort of her sheer presence soothing my earlier worry.

"Thank you," I say, looking at her. She gives me another one of her soft and rare smiles.

"You're welcome. Now rest, you deserve it and I will handle Steve tomorrow morning. After tonight, you deserve the training pushed back." My heart feels soft at her words, her looking out for me like no one else did so far.

The protectiveness in her voice isn't lost on me either and I wonder what that's about. But I don't ask, not wanting to ruin the moment. Instead, I smile at her before closing my eyes. She shuffles in bed next to me, switches off the light and then gets comfortable. I feel something against my knee, something of her but I can't tell what. It brings me comfort nonetheless though and I slip into sleep, feeling a lot better than I did when returning to the compound.

A/n: This is my first post here, so hi? I hope you liked this one shot, it seemed like a good one to start with :D

[roseandxanderfics]

“Stay With Me” — Tim Bradford x Single Mom Reader

Summary: A routine call turns personal when Tim responds to a terrified 4-year-old reporting their mom collapsed. He finds you barely conscious—and realizes you’ve been fighting alone far too long.

————————

The 911 call came in just after seven. Late enough that most emergencies were winding down, but not so late that anyone relaxed. Tim Bradford had been running paperwork, thinking about grabbing dinner, when the dispatcher’s voice clipped through the radio.

“Child caller. Four years old. Mother unresponsive. Possible medical.”

That was all it took. One word—“four”—and Tim’s blood turned cold. He barely heard the rest before snatching up his radio.

“1-Adam-07, patch me through. I’m on it.”

⸻

The kid’s voice was barely a whisper when it crackled through.

“H-hello?”

Tim inhaled sharply. “Hey, buddy… This is Officer Tim. Can you hear me?”

“Uh-huh.”

That tiny sound hit him harder than it should’ve. “Good job, Eli. I’m coming to help you and your mom right now, okay? Real fast. Can you tell me… is she breathing?”

“I dunno… I scared.”

Tim forced his voice steady. “It’s okay to be scared, kid. You’re really brave. Can you touch her? Tell me if she feels warm or cold?”

Rustling. Sniffles. Then a small, broken sound. “Cold… Tim, s’cold.”

Tim’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as he flipped the sirens on. God, please…

“I’m almost there, Eli. Can you unlock the door for me?”

“I try.”

⸻

By the time he screeched to the curb, his heart was hammering. The neighborhood was quiet—too quiet. Dim porch lights. Empty driveways.

The front door creaked open a sliver. A tiny face peeked out—tears streaked, cheeks blotchy.

“There you are, buddy,” Tim murmured, crouching low. “You did so good. Where’s Mom?”

Eli didn’t answer. Just… pointed.

Tim pushed the door wide and stepped inside—one hand instinctively hovering over his holster, the other reaching back for the kid. “Stay close, okay?”

The house was small. Lived-in. Crayon drawings taped to the fridge, a stuffed bunny abandoned on the couch. And there—on the kitchen tile—was you.

You were pale. Too still.

“Shit,” Tim breathed, rushing forward. He pressed two fingers to your neck, searching—there—a faint, thready pulse.

He grabbed his radio. “Dispatch, I’ve got the subject. Female, early thirties. Pulse is weak. Roll EMS, now.”

“Copy, 1-Adam-07. EMS en route.”

Eli whimpered behind him. “Mommy?”

Tim glanced back, softening. “Hey, buddy. She’s okay. She’s breathing. I need you to be my big helper now, alright?”

The kid nodded, lip trembling.

“Can you grab me that blanket?” Tim pointed. Eli scrambled, dragging it over with tiny hands. Tim tucked it around you, jaw tight.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmured—half to you, half to the kid. “Just stay with me.”

⸻

Minutes felt like hours. Tim didn’t leave your side, one hand checking your pulse over and over, the other resting protectively over Eli’s shoulder.

EMS burst through the door—young, efficient. They worked fast, lifting you onto the stretcher. Tim stayed kneeling until they moved past.

Eli’s eyes filled again. “I come?”

Tim didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah, kid. You’re with me.”

⸻

The ride to the hospital was quiet. Eli sat curled in Tim’s lap, face buried in his chest, fists gripping the dark fabric of his uniform.

“She okay?” the little voice finally asked.

Tim swallowed hard. “She’s gonna be. You did good, Eli. You saved your mom.”

⸻

The ER was bright. Too bright. Tim hated hospitals. Hated the smell, the noise. But he stayed. Watched as nurses buzzed around you, checked monitors, whispered words like “dehydration” and “exhaustion” like they were medical diagnoses and not just proof that life had beaten you down.

⸻

You woke slowly. Blinking against the light, brow furrowing.

“Easy,” a deep voice murmured. “You’re okay.”

You turned your head—and saw him.

The cop. Tall. Broad. Blue eyes way too gentle for a man who probably carried a gun for a living.

“Your son’s right here,” he added, voice soft. “He’s… he’s been really brave.”

Eli popped his head up, face blotchy. “Mommy!”

Your eyes welled instantly. “Eli… oh god…”

Tim helped him onto the bed, watching as tiny arms wrapped around your neck.

“I… I’m sorry,” you rasped. “I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Tim cut in. “You’ve been running on empty. Doc says exhaustion, dehydration… You’ve been doing too much on your own.”

You blinked at him. “I don’t… even know your name.”

“Tim.” He smiled faintly. “Tim Bradford.”

A beat of silence.

“You stayed.”

“Yeah,” he exhaled. “Didn’t feel right to leave.”

⸻

They discharged you hours later. Tim was still there—Eli wouldn’t let go of him.

“I’ll drive you,” he said gruffly, like it wasn’t a question. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

⸻

Your house felt colder when you returned. Tim helped you in, set Eli on the couch, and knelt in front of you one last time.

“I meant what I said. You’ve been doing too much alone.”

You stared at him, exhausted tears threatening. “That’s… just how it is.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” he muttered. “I’ll… check in tomorrow. Groceries. Whatever you need.”

You tried to argue—but Eli’s head flopped onto Tim’s shoulder mid-yawn.

Tim smiled, slow and soft. “You good if I hang around until he’s out?”

You nodded, too tired to fight it.

⸻

And just like that… Tim Bradford became the first safe thing you’d known in a long, long time

[catsithkelpie]

Hey um tumblr...?

Why is this blowing up again? What happened? Should I be worried?

And do I need to supply sweets, plushies, and warm blankets to all of tumblr?

Did the whole "Don't hate what you don’t understand" lesson we were taught a million times over in children's movies go over people's heads?

This is how we should be acting

Oh, you're Muslim?

That's awesome, I'm always so inspired by your creativity in fashion!

You're pagan, and worship several pantheons at once?

That must be a lot of work! That's impressive!

You're a girl but you use he/him pronouns?

Alright, it doesn't inconvenience me at all to respect that, and it's interesting.

You're cupiromantic, so you don’t feel romantic attraction, but you still want to do romantic things?

I don't see how that's any different than an ace person who enjoys sex, or even an allo person using a dating sim game, so go right ahead!

You're a therian that physically identifies as your theriotype?

That's fascinating, how does that work?

You identify as robotkin?

That's sick as hell, tell me more!

None of these things affect me personally, and none of them inherently harm anyone. Can we please treat things with curiosity instead of anger?

[maevedoodle]

Rain and Thunder

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1226

Summary: Gloomy days have never been your thing..but you have Bucky!

(My first fic here😔)

The first crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched before you could stop yourself. The rain lashed against the glass in sheets, the wind howling through the city streets below.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to focus on the warmth of the blanket wrapped around you, the dim glow of the bedside lamp. It was just a storm. It would pass.

Another rumble shook the sky, and your breath hitched. You curled your fingers into the fabric of Bucky’s shirt, his shirt, the one you’d stolen from his drawer hours ago.

“Y/n? Angel?”

His voice was soft, groggy from sleep. You turned slightly, catching sight of him sitting up on his elbows, hair mussed, eyes heavy with exhaustion. He squinted at you through the dim light, but the second another clap of thunder rolled through, he was awake fully awake.

Bucky didn’t say anything at first. He just watched you, his gaze dipping to the way your fingers twisted in the hem of his shirt, the way your shoulders curled inward like you were trying to make yourself smaller.

“You’re scared,” he murmured. Not a question..just fact. You exhaled sharply, turning your head toward the window. “It’s just a storm.”

Bucky sat up, the bed dipping under his weight. “That’s not what I asked.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You hated this. Hated how storms made you feel like a kid again, like you were powerless. It was embarrassing.

“You don’t have to hide it from me,” Bucky said softly. The mattress shifted, and then he was there, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you into him.

You resisted at first, stiff in his hold, but when the next burst of thunder echoed through the room, you gave in. You pressed your face into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him metal, pine, something uniquely Bucky.

“I hate storms,” you admitted, voice muffled against his skin. “I know.” His fingers brushed up and down your spine, slow and steady, grounding. “I’ve noticed.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. “You have?”

Bucky gave you a small, lopsided smile. “’Course I have. You get quiet when it rains. Stiff when it thunders. And you always..” he gently tugged at the fabric of his shirt still clutched in your hand “grab onto something. Usually me.”

Your face warmed. “I didn’t think you’d noticed.” Bucky huffed a quiet laugh. “Doll, I notice everything about you.”

Another rumble vibrated through the room, and instinctively, you clung to him again. He didn’t tease you for it, didn’t make you feel weak. He just held you tighter, his flesh hand sliding under the hem of his shirt to rest against the bare skin of your back, his touch warm and soothing.

“You’re safe,” he murmured against your hair. “It’s just noise. Just a storm. I won’t let it touch you.”

You exhaled slowly, focusing on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his heartbeat under your ear.

With Bucky holding you like this, whispering soft reassurances against your temple, the storm didn’t seem so scary anymore.

Bucky’s fingers traced slow, absentminded patterns against your back, the warmth of his palm keeping you grounded.

The thunder had eased for now, rumbling somewhere in the distance, but the rain still fell steadily against the windows. You could hear it dripping off the balcony outside, a steady rhythm that matched the quiet rise and fall of Bucky’s breathing.

“You’re still tense,” he murmured. You sighed. “I’m trying.” Bucky kisses your forehead gently. “I know.” His voice was low, gentle. “Just relax, angel. I’ve got you.”

You buried your face deeper into his chest, focusing on the feeling of him the steady beat of his heart, the way he smelled like cedarwood and something inherently Bucky.

His vibranium fingers slid up, tangling loosely in your hair, massaging lightly at your scalp. The tension in your shoulders started to melt, little by little.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just listened to the storm together, wrapped up in each other. Then, softly, Bucky broke the silence.

“What was the worst storm you ever got stuck in?” You huffed a quiet laugh against his chest. “You really wanna talk about storms right now?”

“Figured maybe if we talk about it, it won’t seem so bad,” he said, fingers still toying with strands of your hair. “So?”

You thought about it, lips pressing together. “I was twelve. Visiting my aunt in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. There was this huge storm power went out, trees fell, roads flooded. I swear, I thought I was gonna die.” Bucky let out a low chuckle. “Twelve year old you was probably being dramatic.” Bucky said obviously being sarcastic.

“I was not! It was terrifying,” you insisted. “I had to sleep with a flashlight under my pillow for weeks after that.” His chest rumbled with laughter. “That’s cute.”

You smacked his arm lightly, tilting your head up to glare at him. “I was scared half to death.” Bucky smirked. “but the way you handle things..it’s one of the many things I love about you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, lips pressing into a thin line. “I will literally get up and leave.”

Bucky tightened his grip around you instantly, pulling you closer. “No, you won’t,” he said smoothly, his breath warm against your temple. “You like me too much.”

You scoffed. “Debatable.”

“Liar.” His fingers danced idly across your back again, slow and soothing, and you felt yourself relax even more. His touch always had a way of grounding you, whether you liked to admit it or not.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The storm outside had settled into a steady rhythm, a quiet hum that felt less terrifying when you were curled up against him.

Then, he murmured, “You know, I kinda like storms.” You pulled back just enough to look at him like he’d lost his mind. “Of course, you do.”

Maybe the thunder was less scary with him aren’t so bad after all.

[komfortabull]

Goedemorgen everyone! ♡

[goldenempyrean]

Bump In The Night

〚 Notes - surprise shawtys! 〛

〚 Pairing - Supercorp 〛

〚 Summary - Kara hears a noise in the night and goes to investigate 〛

〚 Wordcount - 930 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

Kara mumbled sleepily as she slowly roused from her slumber. It was late – she didn’t usually wake up during the night. Rolling over, she stretched a little, hoping to cuddle up next to the furnace that usually sleeps beside her and hogs the sheets.

But the blonde knew something was wrong from the moment she felt the contact of cool, empty sheets against her skin. Something was missing. Lena?

Lena had been fighting a cold for the past few days, and, well… she was definitely on the losing side of it. Kara had made her go to bed early after the Luthor had snuck her laptop out to the living room under the pretence of “watching movies” when in reality she had actually been answering work emails when she was supposed to be resting. 

The blonde sat up and rubbed her eyes as she glanced over to her bedside, stifling a groan as she stared at the blank alarm clock. There had been one hell of a storm a few days ago, and the city hadn’t quite gotten round to fixing everyone's power. Instead, she stretched to grab her phone, mildly blinding herself for a second at the sudden flash of glaring white light. 03.02AM 

The night was calm, even with her superhearing. The air was settled, people snoring and mumbling as the city slept. But a sudden loud thudding sound caught her attention – it was close. Kara looked back to the empty spot in her bed; Lena had been gone way too long to be put down to a simple bathroom trip. The noise came again, a crease forming at the centre of Kara’s brow. The only thing she could compare it to was the clatter of books as somebody clumsily pulled things from a shelf with no regard for creating a mess. What on earth was she doing? 

The apartment was dark, the hallway barely lit by the moonlight filtering through the blinds. A small yawn escaped her as she shuffled towards the sound, leading the blonde to the small study that had been converted to be an office space for Lena – well, at least she’d been right about the source of the noise.

“Lena?” Kara’s voice was rough and thick with sleep; clearing her throat, she tried again, a little louder this time, “Honey?”

As her eyes began to adjust to the darkness in the room, she could just about make out Lena’s silhouette, barely. She seemed to be focused on one of the shelves lining the room, picking up an object just to then put it down a few seconds later.

Getting closer, Kara could see how her dark hair was stuck to her forehead, the skin visibly clammy as she breathed heavily, swaying uneasily – she was half sure that if the Luthor hadn’t been gripping onto the wooden shelf for support, she would’ve ended up losing her balance completely. 

The other woman sniffled, swiping at her nose with the sleeve of a “borrowed” sweatshirt—the one she’d stolen from Kara’s wardrobe days ago. It hung loosely on her frame, making her look even smaller than she already was.

Before she could stop herself, a sigh left Kara’s lips as she padded closer, resting a hand gently on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, what are you doing up?” 

Lena flinched slightly at the contact, as if she hadn’t even noticed her come in. Slowly, she turned to look at her briefly, and it took everything in her for Kara not to wince at how miserable she looked.

 “I was… was looking for…for.” The feverish girl stammered, woozily reaching up to hold her head with her hand, almost as if she had forgotten entirely why she was there, “I… needed something?”

It was more like a question than any sort of statement. She looked up at Kara, her eyes glassy and confused. She was so out of it. It took everything the blonde had not to scoop her up in that moment; instead, she leaned toward to press a soft kiss to her forehead, lips lingering just long enough to register the warmth her feverish skin was radiating. 

“You need to go back to bed; come on.” Kara encouraged her gently, knowing it was doing her no good to be standing there any longer.

Despite how clearly awful she felt, the Luthor pouted, and for a moment, Kara could see the stubbornness brewing behind her tired eyes. But then, as if all the fight had drained from her at once, she let out a small sigh and leaned forward, pressing her forehead against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“I'm so tired.” If it wasn't for her superhearing, then she would've probably missed her quiet mumble altogether.

Kara nodded sympathetically, your hand coming to rub her back softly, “I know, baby, I know.” She kept it there as she guided her back to the bedroom, taking small, slow steps as they navigated through the dim halls.

Getting her back into bed was easy; Lena practically fell into the sheets at the first chance she got, immediately curling up and stealing the majority of the duvet – not that Kara cared, of course. She grabbed the grey throw blanket that was mainly used just for show and settled down in the spot beside her girlfriend – she’d already fallen asleep, of course, her breaths coming in small, raspy snores. 

Nobody would ever believe that a Luthor would snore. Hell, nobody would ever believe that a Luthor could get sick. But Lena was human, just human – and sometimes that human side of her really was adorable.

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗 @natashamaximoff69 @lovelyy-moonlight @santana1437 @kljhsong @inluvwithfictionalwomen @shamelessbearunknows @kathleenmikaelson @bloomingflowersthings @observeowl @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @somber-sapphic  @poison-blackheart @lexasaurs634 @moonysreid @nayarianna1302 @villaneve4life @demonicbaby666 @wandanats-goodgirl @nuianced-tck-enby @maomaoincomming @anne-lister @inluvwithfandom @godhatesgoodgirls 

[brigitoshaughnessy]

Have we talked about the fact that she never asks him for this? It’s like she knows it’s difficult for him, and she refuses to take anything he can’t give her.

I could go on (and have) about this subject for a while because thinking about the inner battle he has with himself about her needing comfort and still not being able to be close to her is brutal.

Also… when physical touch is your love language, and you engage in it instead of denying it, a bond is formed. While typically a good thing, when you’re fighting that intimacy, every touch costs something.

Thank you, sir.

For what?

For being here for me.

Always.

[darkccfinds]

⸸ Salon deJardin Marina by Maman Gâteau at Chocosims ⸸

Ⓜ️Mirror Link

chocosims.jimdofree.com

[majulians-groupie]

"Where true home is"

Summary:After returning from a long visit to your parents from across the world,you're more confused than ever about your relationship with them.It is not long before your mind spirals, but thankfully,your sweet boyfriend is always there to tether you back to the ground.

Words:2.4k+

Warnings:strained relationship with parents,verbal and physical abuse mentioned,FEELINGS TALK,aangst,Tooth rotting fluff!🥺,mild alcohol consumption,established relationship,reader is purposely not given a name but no use of y/n,a bit of crying

🪷Writer's P.S. (skip this if you want to go directly to the story by spotting the lilypad emojiss down below)🪷

Y'all HIIII!🌸✨️

I am returning from a damn big depressive episode which also caused me a huge writer's block :(

This is also my first Bucky fic ever so I am bit nervous🥺🥺.I'm so damn sorry I'm so late to answer your Arcana fandom asks,but I promise I will!

This may fic may slightly be a bit personal.I actually did not intend to post it .I started writing this to cope with some personal stuff,but I ended up really liking the way it turned.If you're facing similar struggles about the relationship with your family,hang in there,know you're not alone.I know things may seem so messed up,but it's going to be okay.Hope you all enjoy this!

🪷TO THE FIC:🪷

It's a calm,Sunday evening at the compound's kitchen.Almost as if the weather owed Bucky a favor,there wasnt a single cloud in the sky.The room was filled with the last rays the sun had to offer for the day,showering it with an ethereal yet warm auburn glow.

-Perks of a certain billionaire hiring the best architects in the country to build this place.-

Bucky was bursting with excitement.He wanted everything to be perfect.He was cooking your favorite meal,had purchased your favorite wine and had bought a bouquet of forget-me-nots,your favorite flower,to decorate the table.

The rest of the team had offered to take a night out,to give you some privacy for the cosy cute welcome back date Bucky had planned.As much as they wanted to see you,they thought that you deserved some space for just the two of you .After all,it was the first the time you were physically apart for this long ever since you became a couple.

Bucky didn't get the chance to pick you up from the airport.He himself had also returned from a long mission-one he picked happily to cope with the absence of his doll- a few hours ago,giving him very little time to shower and prepare everything for your return.Fortunately,Happy was more than happy to help,bringing you back to the compound late by taking the long drive home,giving Bucky time to fix everything.

He had just turned off the oven when he heard the ding of the elevator,which made him drop the spatula he was holding.When he turned around,he was met with your grinning face from across the hall.You dropped your suitcases in front of the elevator and quickly rushed to your boyfriend's embrace giggling.

-"I missed you so much!"

His grip on you was bone crushing,but you didn't care the slightest.You nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck,relishing in his scent for a few seconds,before peppering him with small kisses on his face.

He responded by kissing you softly between words.

-"I missed you too doll...so..*kiss*..so..*kiss*..much!

You stayed in his embrace for a few seconds before you took a look at his face..taking it in the palms of your hands

-I almost forgot how handsome you are from upclose...

-"Ahh..doll...that would be a scandal now wouldnt it?"he chuckles.

You take a look behind him and notice the beautifully set table with the bouquet of flowers in the middle.

-"So this is why Happy did not come upstairs with me huh?I thought he just had a date night with Peter's aunt."

-"I dont know about him but this compound is taken for another date night",he said smiling.

He kisses you again,his kiss a bit more intense than before,relished in the feeling of you in his arms.

-"Baby..you didn't have to do this..you just got home from the mission didn'-?"

He tossed the butterflies in his stomach from you calling him baby aside and sushed you with another passionate kiss.

-"I missed you so much..haven't seen you in almost a month..you deserved a nice welcome home."

-"What did I even do to deserve you?"

He just silenced you with another kiss,as he always does when your usual self-depreciating rambling starts.

"You will forgive me for not having the salad ready won't you?Happy said he will bring you back at least before 18:30"he said frowning at the clock on the wall.

You fake sigh

-"If I have to..."

You roll your eyes before you start chuckling and hug him tight.Despite his insistence on the matter,you really couldn't fathom what you did to deserve such a perfect man.

Your date went along perfectly.Bucky hadn't let you lift a finger.He jokingly served you dinner pretending he was the waiter of a very fancy restaurant,filling your glasses with sparkly water and wine and always asking you if everything was okay mid conversation,earning your giggles and sarcasm in return.

"The chef would kindly like to get your feedback regarding the meal",he asked mid filling your third glass.

-Please tell him that he is a five course meal himself,so he won't have to worry about me skipping this dinner.You give him an exaggerated wink.

Bucky almost broke out of character.

"Miss as much as delighted he will be to hear your honest compliments,I am afraid this is a serious restaurant"

You started giggling again before he took you hand in his and started kissing it softly.He wanted to know everything about your trip back home.He let you yap for hours about how nice it was to see your friends,your little excursions and get togethers,how exciting it was that you were all back in Athens after so many years of the friendgroup being spread in literally all five continents.At first,you even seemed to be  happy about your stay at your family's.

-"I mean...I was kinda nervous of how it would go but..it was nice to see them.You remember how they were insisting...I didn't have the guts to tell them that the idea of staying with them after all these years freaked me out so..I couldn't skip.But it wasn't half bad.We had our nice moments.They actually seemed to miss me a lot you know?

-"I'm very happy to hear that doll."He kept your hand in his,interwining your fingers.He knew that when it came to your parents,things were always complex and complicated.Things weren't black and white.They weren't always directly horrible to you,but they weren't exactly a model for parenting either.They had their own set of issues which made them do stuff that would occassionally make Bucky flinch,not just at the actions,but also for how you often seem to have them normalized.It wasn't a rare occurrence,you narrating Bucky a story about your childhood,where you casually mentioned that they had neglected you or insulted you in some way,always berating yourself about the fact that it still bothered you.These moments Bucky had to actually sit you down and remind you that this was wrong,that despite their defensiveness you had every right to be upset about it and that it was unfair that you had to go through something like that.That despite all the years that had passed,it was normal and okay to be bitter,and it didn't mean you were "oversensitive"

Of course you weren't stupid.You knew that real life people weren't disney villains.They had multiple sides and layers.You knew that abuse can also be verbal,that a slap in the face is indeed violence,as much as it considered a normal way to reprimand kids in your family.After multiple therapy sessions,you recognised how these stuff shaped you as a person.Hell,only you knew how much work it took to deal with the damage these stuff had inflicted upon your personality.How as a young adult, you had to learn from the start,as if you were re-growing up,how to stand up  for yourself,to stand your ground,to not be afraid to take space,to be confident in your skin and unapologetic in the things that made you yourself.It was shocking to see how many people in your life subconsciously took advantage of your low self confidence,even sometimes without even realizing.It often made yoy wondering if you being more confident had saved you off some pretty bad relationships and friendships...

Long story short,you had made the choice to not completely cut your parents from your life,but  keep a safe-for your own fucking wellbeing- distance.

-"I mean..crazy right?..and..their excitement for me being back after all these months..it even made them easy to live with..at least for the first five days,you said almost as if it was the most normal thing in the world,before you took a bite of your plate.

Bucky frowned,instantly knowing where this conversation would lead.

-"What do you mean doll?"

-"Well..I had almost forgotten how hard they are to live with,"you said half chuckling.

"Kind of ironic if you ask me.You know,back when I was still living with them,my therapist would tell me that when I move away,our relationship will be easier to handle and time may mend some things,making it easier to forgive and forget.I wouldn't believe her back then...I thought it was impossible.I thought it meant that I would have to pretend nothing ever happened and everything was perfect so we could have a somewhat normal relationship."But,..."

You make a long pause,to think.

"I think it came naturally you know?I guess it is easy to ignore something if you're not constantly affected by it.It just feels kinda wrong.And I guess unfair to my younger self.I feel as If I can't stick with a narrative inside my mind."

Bucky looks you deep in the eyes.

-"Baby your emotions are much more complex than a "narrative".You're allowed to have mixed feelings about a situation.You're allowed to feel as if a matter has multiple layers.And most importantly,if your mind naturally wants to leave a few things behind and make you be the bigger person for the shake of healing,you are fucking allowed to let it do it.It doesn't make your experience any less important and you're not betraying yourself.

He takes a long sigh before speaking

"Thing is doll,you're not in that enviroment anymore.You don't have to prove a thing to anybody.You don't have to stand your ground to validate your experience in them,or in anyone's eyes.Right now,you know and you have accepted that some things were wrong.And you were rightfully hurt.But you're ready to start healing and moving on.Back then,you used to cling to every thing that was proof of your struggle.You had to,because you were constantly gaslighted into thinking that their behavior was somehow your fault,or even that there was nothing wrong with it.You used to clung to the anger and the pain,because they were constantly telling you that you had no right to have them.And it was suffocating,because others can't dictate what you feel and don't feel."

-"So they would do stuff that would hurt me,yet they wouldn't allow me to feel the emotions that come with processing what they did.Because then they would have to admit that they indeed did something wrong."

-"Exactly..."

You sigh.

-"I never get bored with them don't I?You give a bitter laugh before looking outside the window,trying to ease the tension that threatened to make your vision cloudy with tears.You didn't want to cry.Not now.This was supposed to be a romantic dinner.The sweet and adorable surprise Bucky had put so much effort into to welcome you back home.It was supposed to go perfectly...you were pretty damn sure he was stressed about it..you know him too well.But your sweet boyfirend couldn't give a damn about the dinner at the moment.

-"Doll..."Bucky touched your cheeck tenderly,trying to make you look at him

"I know these things are not easy...but you are so strong" he whispers..So fucking strong..and I'm so proud of you..you know that?How you have the courage to face these things head on instead of avoiding them.How you work with them.I know first hand that bad things don't make you stronger on their own..you have to work for it.And I see you working so hard sweetheart.Everyday.Without giving up...Do you know how much I admire that in you?"

He smiles softly,his ocean blue eyes holding looking at you with so much affection.

"How you look up to the future with a heart full of kindness and hope despite everything.To me it feels...as if you literally choose to carry light baby..and that's..that's what made me fell in love with you.When you started sharing some of this light with me..and after a long long time..you actually made me see a future..a good one.Something I had not been able to in a while"

You couldn't hold your tears any longer.Not when Bucky wears his heart on his sleeve for you.Not when he showers you with such a huge amount of honest love.Not when he mentions his own struggles and you can hear the slightest bit of tremble in his voice,which tries to conceal for your shake.

-"I'm so sorry".It's your voice thay trembles now.You sloppily move from your chair to his lap and hug him tightly,letting out a few small sobs.You don't even know what you're even apologizing for at this point..but it felt that you had to..just to be safe.Bucky seemed to be reading your mind.

-"None of that baby".He wraps his arms around you tightly and kisses your forehead."None of that" he whispers into your hair.He starts rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"It's okay,it's alright.I got you.Let it out sweetheart.You can do it"

The final phrase seemed to open the dam.You desperately tried to calm yourself down,but the more you tried to control your breathing,the worse it would become.

"Focus on my voice sweetheart.Im here.I got you.Im not leaving.It's just us now"

He kept on murmuring praises and reassurances while holding you tight in his embrace.His voice,his touch,started anchoring you back to the ground.After a bit of time on his arms,your breath evened out.Your thoughts stopped sprinting and your voice became steady.

-"I would say I'm sorry,but you will get mad,so I will just say thank you."

He chuckles."You're right doll.You have no reason to apologize.And you don't have to thank me either."

You cut him

-"Buck.."

-"Ah ah ah.Baby,listen to me.I love you.So.damn.much.I will be here for you anytime you need.Anytime you WANT."..Also,it is not like you're not doing the same for me each time my own issues come to the surface..so stop acting like I'm some kind of saint here doll."

You can't help but giggle.The darkest parts of your mind hated the fact that Bucky dared to put the hell he has been through in the same discussion with your issues.That man has been through more trauma in single days than regular people see in a lifetime.You were admiring him more than anything in the world.You couldn't believe how after everything,he still was Bucky.Your Bucky,your sweet,too good for this world boyfriend with a heart of gold,that held space for anyone that saw beyond his past and wanted to reach him.Your Bucky,who would hold you at night when stress made you unable to sleep,whispering into your hair,dissolving the darkness that once threatened to consume him as well away.

But he never made you feel as if your struggles didn't matter.He never believed that pain is something to be compared or compassion a right to be earned.He was simply,always,there for you.

🪷PHEW...THATS WAS EMOTIONAL HEHE.

I hope you enjoyed it.Every feedback is appreciated,I love hearing your opinion!🪷