i-am-steve-rogerss - Tumblr blog

i-am-steve-rogerss · 2 years

Text

I'm Sick And Tired Of It All

🌧 -Both Fluff & Angst

Word Count: 1524

Warnings: Language, Talk About Depression And Anxiety, Intrusive Thoughts

I honestly do NOT care if this is good or bad, I just needed to make this and kinda spread light on how it can be when you're the "therapist friend" or the friend that always has the answer to your problems

And I know no one I know will see this (and if they do they won't know it's me) so I know that I don't have to worry about anyone thinking something about me

So yeah, here is my rant fic

(And here is the rant the fic is based off of)

i’m so sick and tired of being the friend who’s always there to give advice for a relationship when it’s needed

like i love my friend to death, but i can’t fucking help really everything i say i come up with based on what they’ve said and i’m getting so fucking tired of it

and i don’t want to tell them cause i don’t want to hurt them because i have no clue if they talk to anybody else and i don’t wanna leave them stranded without anyone to help them and i’m scared that i may cause my friend to break up with the person their with and idk what to do

i just…idk, i love helping people but i’m sick and tired of always having to help them and whenever i need help and i say i need to talk to someone no one fucking helps besides my mom

and yeah, i love my mom but i hate always having to go to her

i’m sick and tired of saying “i’m okay” when i’m not

when all i want to do is go under the covers and never come out because the second i fucking do something happens and it’s my fault

Taglist

@bonkynsteeb @undeadvamp @fangirlfree @marilynmonroefanfics @leniram1890 @talksoprettyjjx @veronicapaula @drpepperobsessed @quezzzzz16 @marvel-baby @southernraven @sohosteve @mysticunicorn7 @rottenstyx @jellyb34n @gorbnasta @magneatoooo @g4yw3nch @greengarsstuff @denkisimpbutmakeit-gay @brooke-supernatural16 @b0xedjuiice @dindjarinsspouse @apobrien @justreadingficsdontmindme @seaweedthewhale @crazymushroom22 @caswinchester2000 @badasspolygenderfriend @urmainho3 @tenaciousstrawberryrebel @sagesexts111 @emeraldrhee-grimes @eden-but-less-important @mon9han @skoen-stodis @izzythatdumbfawk @zombiedixon89 @emmsamultifan06 @darlingangel-17 @danaace18 @ramslam @itsbilesbilinski @glitch-bitch777 @ramslam @katilinapetrova1492 @arina-black @furyfoxwowzers @kingsmanperfecthartwin @rebeccabrns @rocketxgirl @chipslover3734 @deadpoolaep @darlingangel-17 @itsmethecrazynarvrlfangirl58 @mizzg-lo @fvckingeetar @smart-hulks-blog @urmainho3 @vanessalenrie @alexxavicry @noodlecation @urgrunkle4life @blankspaceblankday

MCU

@bi-lmg @laic2299

Peter Parker Taglist

@potters-heart @rosyredapples @marajillana

Requests are CLOSED

Main Masterlist

MCU Masterlist

Y/N sat on her bed. Legs pulled up to her chest. Lights off. Phone illuminating her face. It had to be about 2 in the morning by now. On and off for the past few hours she was giving her friend advice on what to do in his relationship. She hated this as she was just making it all up as she went along. She had no idea what he was dealing with. She had never really even been in a relationship. She had no idea what he should do about his girlfriends grandmother being so strict. She didn't know what to do after his girlfriend gaslighted him.

She had no clue what was even happening.

Fuck, just last week she was telling her friend to take a break from everything. Focus on the now. Tell people that she needs a break. That she needs time to focus and regroup with herself.

That was what she should be doing. Telling her friends she needs a break. That she needs everyone to just listen to her.

She never understood why whenever she tried to talk about her issues, everyone just would say 'lol same' or 'okay, and?' No one actually helping her.

She did everything she could from making sure they didn't go off the deep end, so why couldn't she stop herself?

The depression had been getting worse that she was struggling to even get out of bed. To be social. To not blow up at everyone because she was tired. But she faked it. Acted like she was okay when she was dying inside. And--

She was knocked out of her thoughts when there was a knocking at her window. She looked over and saw Peter standing in it. His mask was pulled off. She already saw the cuts on his face. She sighed and got up to open the window for him. As he slipped in, she turned on her bedroom light.

When she turned back she let out a sigh. "Go ahead and sit on the bed, I'll get the first-aid."

She heard him give a thanks as she walked out and into her kitchen. Luckily for the both of them, her parents and siblings were all out. Whether they were out of town or at work, it didn't matter as no one was supposed to come home for a few hours.

When she came back to her room, he was only in his boxers. By now she was used to it. Used to Peter showing up in her room at night after he's patrolled the city. She was unfazed by now. She sat down in front of him and started to clean the smaller cuts on him as they would take almost no time.

And she was right. After less than 30 minutes she was done with them. It was when she got to the large cut on his chest. It wasn't deep. And it was as if he was reading her thoughts he spoke, "Came from a knife. I was jumping out of the way when it hit me. I don't think it's that deep really."

"Yeah. It isn't."

As she spoke, she didn't realize just how monotone she sounded. Peter gave her a look that she ignored. She kept her face blank hiding her annoyance the best she could. She didn't want to do this, but she wasn't gonna tell him. She knew he had no one else. Gwen was out of town so it was only her. She hadn't realized how hard she was rubbing the cut until he grabbed her hand and moved it away.

"Alright Y/N/N. I think it's clean."

She looked at him and his face was one of concern. Was that annoyance she saw behind it? Fuck, he knew. He knew she wasn't happy. He knew what she was thinking. Fuck fuck fuck. She felt the cloth fall out of her hand has her breathing quickened. Fuck fuck fuck. He knew. They all knew. They all knew what she thought. Oh gods. They hate her. They're mad. Oh gods. Oh fuck. Oh shit.

Peter grabbed her hands that had been gripping her hair. He pulled them down and tried to pull her in, but she pushed him away screaming, "No! Get away! Get away from me!" Once his grip was no longer on her she stumbled off of her bed and curled into a corner. Rocking back and forth.

She was hyperventilating and she knew it. He kept trying to get close to her but she kept screaming at him. What she was screaming? Who knew. All that he knew was that something set her off. That everything had gotten bad again.

Peter was the only person she trusted. The only person, besides her mother, that she spoke too. However, only once had she gotten mad at him. He wasn't mad at her and knew he deserved it. He had been telling her that she needed to do something and he knew that she knew.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

"I-I can't. Peter. E-everything. It's all coming down."

He inched closer, "What is?"

"Everything! I-I-I can't k-k-keep doing it! I can't help everyone! I don't fucking want to! I'm sick and tired of everyone coming to me for help but when I need it, no one helps! I'm sick and tired of being the therapist friend who's always there and when they need someone no one is there! I'm sick of saying "I'm fine" when I'm not! I'm not okay Peter! I never will be! It's so difficult to even get out of bed in the morning! I'm tired of it all!"

"Y/N, what happened?"

She pushed his chest, "Nothing fucking happened! Stop always thinking something happened! You don't fucking care! You're just like everyone else! Why do I even try?! I don't care anymore! I don't want to be hated! If I tell the truth everyone will hate me!"

He shook his head, "No they won't."

"Yes they will! If I tell them I don't have an answer or that I can't help them, they'll hate me! I know it! Everyone will hate me if they find out I can't help them!"

His voice was soft, "Who will? Because I can bet they won't."

"Everyone. If I tell them the truth, they'll hate me."

"Well, I won't hate you."

She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "I can't do this anymore Peter. The depression. The anxiety. Everything. I feel like I'm just a shell of a person. That I'm not really me. Like I do what everyone else wants, but not what I want."

He nodded, "Okay. Fine. What do you want to do?"

"I-I don't know."

"Alright. Do you want me to stay?" She nodded silently. "Okay. Do you want to go to your bed?" She nodded again and shakily got up before she walked over and collapsed on her bed. He knew that she didn't want anything on top of her. "I'm gonna get myself something to drink. Do you want anything?" She shook her head no and he nodded, "Okay. I'll be right back."

As Peter left the room, she curled into herself. She had done it. She had pissed him off and now he hated her. She knew it. He was just pretending to care. He didn't. She knew that he didn't. Who would like her? She was annoying and clingy. Going into conversations and saying things she shouldn't. Speaking before she fully thought.

Everyone hated her.

She kept repeating it.

Everyone hated her.

She even hated herself.

Why did people stick around? All she did was push people away and piss them off. She never could do anything right. Everything bad that happens is her fault. She was a fuckup. She should have never been born. All that she does is manipulate people into caring about her. No one really does.

"You have manipulated no one into liking you. You are not a fuckup. You did nothing bad. Who said that everything is your fault?"

She turned and looked at Peter. "No one. But it's true. I know it."

He shook his head, "I firmly believe that if no one said it then it just isn't true. Even if you said it. Especially something like that."

"I'm doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Manipulating myself. I'm making myself feel bad about having feelings. About letting it get worse again."

"You've been better, yes. But it's okay. It doesn't mean anything bad. You may be more in-tune to your emotions, but so what? I think it's good that you are. Because that means that you are true in what you do. Your emotions make you, you and there is nothing wrong with that."

"Really?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

She sniffed and wiped away her tears, "I'm sorry for yelling and hitting you."

He shrugged, "It's okay." He grabbed her hand, "Just please talk to me next time it gets bad. Okay?"

"I'll try."

He kissed her knuckles, "That's all I ask."

"Peter?" He hummed in response, "Can you stay?"

He smiled, "Of course."

235 notes · View notes

i-am-steve-rogerss · 2 years

Text

BLUE — PETER PARKER

pairing: peter parker x fem! reader

summary: where her days get replaced with heartfelt moments and soft kisses.

warning: angst, fluffy, soft! peter.

word count: 1,1k | ( gif not mine! )

main masterlist!

[Y/N] BROUGHT A TREMBLING HAND OVER HER FACE, wiping a few remaining tears as soft hiccups erupted from her lips. Opening the door of her apartment, she let out a gloomy sigh as she took off her jacket alongside her shoes before heading over to the living room. A dark cloud engulfed inside of her, squeezing her chest making her almost choke on air. She looked around the room, her teary eyes searching for a sense of comfort but she found none. She sniffled, hiding her hands inside of Sam’s hoodie, the warmth and his cologne ceasing her melancholy just for a moment before another wave of emotion hit her like a tidal wave.

Tears welled up in her eyes, causing her throat to burn as she swallowed the lump. To say she was having a hard time was an understatement. After the Blip, [Y/N] suffered the most out of her friends. Not only did she lose Natasha, but she also lost Tony who was considered a father figure and someone she admired and loved. And now with Steve being gone and Wanda missing in action, she felt alone. The loneliness prickled inside her heart, creating a vacant hole that increased with every day that went by. She had a hard time wrapping her head around it, almost like she was in denial and she wasn’t fond of digging into her unresolved feelings either. It left her with a heavy heart and a corrupted mind.

A thud from her room made her snap out of her thoughts. She froze. A downwards pout formed her lips along with a frown. Her heart pounded loudly against her chest, the sudden noise making her feel self-conscious. She looked around her surroundings, her narrowed eyes dashing over across the room before she sauntered towards her bedroom. Goosebumps prickled her skin, the sudden rush of cold engulfing her body as she neared her safe space.

Stopping by the door, she put both of her hands on the door, inching her ear closer to listen to any sound. Hearing a shuffle, she scowled and brought her hand on the door handle before opening the door.

[Y/N] almost jumped out of her skin, watching Peter’s body laying on her bed whilst he mindlessly read his homework. She knitted her eyebrows, a look of confusion plastered onto her face before closing the door. Peter’s head whirled around, his wide eyes searching for any threat, but relaxed once he realized it was her. He gave her a soft smile but faltered once he noticed her tear-stained face.

Worry prickled inside Peter’s chest, making him frown as he stood up from her bed. “You alright, love?” he said in a small voice, making her bit her lip to prevent herself from breaking down. She gave him a small nod, giving him a tip-lipped smile before she headed down to her closet.

Peter’s lips formed into a pout as he watched her fiddling with her hoodie, her eyes gazing down the bottom shelf. She hummed, finding her favorite shirt, and held it with trembling hands, which went unnoticed by the boy. He hesitated with his steps, debating if he should say something or give her a hug. Ignoring his thoughts he walked slowly towards her but paused when she let out a whimper, the sound making his heart clench.

[Y/N] could feel her body betraying because the next thing she did was burst into tears, the shirt she clutched tightly fell from her grip. Gut-wrenching sobs emitted from her throat as she brought both of her hands to her face. Peter didn’t hesitate this time and dashed over to her, placing his hands on her arms, “Hey, hey, what’s wrong, baby?” he worried, his eyes clouding with concern.

She felt his warm touch and soothing voice, making her cry even more. She fell into his arms and wrapped her arms around his torso, pouring her heart out. The feelings she bottled up and hid came bubbling into the surface, breaking her walls. Peter placed a hand over her head, caressing her hair as he mumbled sweet nothings into her ears. He rocked her back and forth, planting soft kisses on her head.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. I got you,” he whispered, making her squeeze him harder afraid if he suddenly disappeared. They stayed like this for a while until she had no tears left. She sniffled, slowly pulling away from his warmth, her flustered eyes gazing down at his chest, not daring to look into his eyes because she know she would break.

Peter brushed a few hair strands away from her face, his hand finding its way to her cheeks. He gave her a sad smile, “Wanna tell me what’s bothering you?” he asked, his loving gaze piercing through her body, lifting the dark cloud inside her chest.

Her lip trembled and she swallowed another lump forming into her throat, “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Peter.” she admitted, her voice cracking at the end. She bit her lip, the tears stinging her eyes. She blinked and brought a hand over her mouth, her eyes anywhere but him.

Peter’s eyes softened, a knowing look etched onto his feature as he contemplated his answer. His mouth opened, but closed, leaving him pondering with her reply. His stomach churned along with his heart that was soaring inside his chest. He let out a sigh, looking at her with a smile. Bringing his hand out once again, he pulled her into his chest.

“Join the club, baby. I don’t what I’m doing either if I’m honest,” he reassured, letting out a small chuckle. She felt the weight on her shoulder cease, his answer bringing her comfort and a reminder that she’s not alone.

[Y/N] fiddled with the ends of his sweater as he listened to his ranting. Her lips curved upwards, feeling her body relax at his touch. She closed her eyes, hiding her face in his chest. Peter looked down, his grin widening at her peaceful state. He kissed her forehead and brought her over to her bed. He laid down first and looked at her, a smile forming into to his face and opening his arms.

“Come here.” She crawled to his embrace, feeling his warmth engulfing her body. She rested her head on his chest with both of her arms hugging his stomach. He put his hands on her back, pulling her body closer to his.

“Thank you for always being there for me,” [Y/N]’s muffled into his chest, making him hum. He kissed her cheek and her nose, giving her a smile.

“Always.”

561 notes · View notes

i-am-steve-rogerss · 2 years

Text

BURY ME ALL OVER

Peter Parker x Reader

word count: 1.4K

genres: angst, dash of fluff

warning: brief mention of blood, anxiety

summary: In a moment of high emotions, Peter makes an effort to bring you back down.

author’s note: This has nothing to do with the recent film. I wrote this on a whim because I felt like I needed to get it out of my system. This was not planned in any way. I just wrote and stopped when I wanted to.

“Peter, I can’t breathe,” you hesitantly murmured in a low-lit room. The edge of the bed felt like the frigid dull blade of a dagger as you sat teetering off of the end like it was an abandoned cliff. You were bleeding all over the metal, but you did not have the vigor to move.

“What does it all feel like?” he carefully posed the question as he slowly approached you from behind. He had immediately stopped staring at his phone in the bathroom as a nightly ritual to climb onto the bed to massage your shoulders. You lacked the ability to see him, but you could not mistake how the air willingly shifted when he was closer.

“Like I’m being pressed all over,” you admitted through vibrating supple lips. “Like someone’s burying me.”

He took his arms and gingerly wrapped them around your waist as burning, bitter tears made brackish lakes on your thighs. He was always careful with his strength, yet today you were wishing for him to hug you tighter than he ever had to knock the wind out of your body. To snap you back to earth.

Peter rested his head on your rigid shoulder, looking ahead just as you were. His round cheeks grazed your jaw as his loose curls tickled your cheekbones. If he was not to be the calm one among the two of you at that moment, then who would that responsibility go to?

It was becoming easier for you to rise from bed with a sudden and unclear sense of dread and suffocation.

It was snowing outside, but the inside of your room was icier than anything that a vengeful seasonal god could bring down from the sky, and that was the most petrifying realization. Your insides felt significantly colder than a heavy block of ice and the wallpaper of your body was frozen paper sheets.

“You’re breathing too fast,” he told you in your ear. It did not even feel like you were breathing at all.

His lips were much warmer than the chill of your body, but they did little to properly distract you from the quicksand in the bed.

“Y/N,” he said once. Your name tapped your ear lobes like his strawberry lips.

When did your back get so stiff? Was it always this way? Or was your rebellious body just frozen in place and unwilling to move until the devilish monster under your brain had made an unplanned exit.

“Y/N.”

Your evolutionary response was being carelessly activated without your command and now you had gone from shaking like a stiff leaf attached to a dead tree to entirely motionless. The snow had finally frozen you in your spot, forcing you to watch the wall like the bumps on it were constellations.

The sudden urge to pace the room was present, but simultaneously not. To possess enough feeling of walking dead to outrun your mortality was not the way to go, but here you were itching to flee from warms arms for a habit that refused to die like your sanity.

“Hey—”

“Peter, please!” your shrill voice broke. “Ju-just stop talking for a moment. Please,” Your genuine request progressed into a quiet.

You did not need to be brought back to life to realize how much those words could have hurt him. “I’m sorry,” you whispered with shaking hands wishing to immediately take it back. “I got ahead of myself. I’m sorry.” You wiped your nose with your sleeve.

It was much too shameful to look at him in the state that you were in. Your cheeks were crisp, but the tip of your nose was hot and irritated.

Peter left his position behind you to sit on the same blade that you had not moved from. You kept your fragile attention fixated on the wall in front of you as the ceiling of your room opened up to usher in the snow outside to come and bury the heat of your curved spine.

Your body language had gone back to the basics as a response and now you regressed to the same position you took when you first came into the world.

“F-fuck,” you stuttered.

Your hands were itching to grab onto something and just grasped Peter’s soft hand in hopes that your anchor would keep you from falling many stories into the shark-infested waters of your carpet.

Peter did not say anything at first. He just walked into silence. He was waiting for a moment to go knocking again as you had a fist in his throat with a grip on his breath as it tried to return back to his lungs.

Time was a mess while only moving in a circle. You would go from an unnerving quiet right down the hill until the song would repeat and you would be forced to reach the top of the pendulum again. The cycle would have repeated if Peter’s stubbornness did not put a stop to the notes.

“If you can hear me, can you match my breathing?” he whispered just loud enough to hear his voice above the swirling fan above you.

You shook for a little more and closed your eyes to the feeling of your teeth shattering. Why was it so cold and hot? And you wondered why were your fingers were moving like there was a piano on your lap.

If only you knew it was because you could have played the song with your eyes closed.

“Can you hear me?” he echoed his previous question.

Your stupid head was your greatest obstacle.

“Yeah,” you confessed as the tears ran out of your eyes in a line of tulle ribbons that made watercolors in your pajama pants.

“Hey, look at me,” he said.

How could you look at the man you loved in his eyes and admit that you weren’t getting better? You were not. Whatever better was supposed to look like.

You held onto your chest, let your nails dig into your flesh, and slowly turned your head to your right to where he sat. You witnessed how stunned his expression became even when he strived to conceal it. It was not how you looked, but rather the gaping hole in your pupils like you had been shot with two separate bullets in each eye. You looked utterly miserable.

This was more horrifying than any villain he faced.

“Can you match my breath?” he offered.

You did not know when he took both of your hands in between his, but when he started stroking them, you were suddenly shot through thousands of dimensions and brought back to reality. This occurred all while you concentrated on his eyes. His brown eyes were so beautiful.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” you told him. The words seeped out of your mouth like drool.

He laughed to himself and said, “Thank you.” Then Peter reached out to fondly caress your cheeks, and you felt the electricity in your visage jump various junctions to give Peter that spark that you just felt. “Your eyes are pretty too but,” he came closer and placed his forehead onto yours, “you need to breathe.”

He desperately wanted for you to let yourself exhale, so he did it first and you followed suit.

Something so simple should not have been the ticket to the first steps of mending a shattered vase.

“In,” he whispered, and you followed. Peter released your hands from one of his to bring it to the back of your head as he pushed you more into him. “Out.”

It went like that over and over again as the snow in the room melted and the ceiling closed. The draft in your lungs was no longer bold enough to overstay its welcome, and you had felt fatigued. Weary enough to close your eyes from emotional exhaustion.

Peter kissed your cheek while you were not looking, and you would have opened your eyes in astonishment if he did not immediately pull you into his chest after. You could not see him anymore, but you could feel him. You could even hear him. The firmness of his body and the smooth rhythm of his heart.

“You’re okay,” he sang as he leisurely stroked your hair.

You could have disintegrated by his touch and been carried away by the wind that the fan above provided.

“And now you can sleep.”

Reblogging with or without comments would be appreciated :). Feedback motivates writers.

my masterlist

279 notes · View notes

i-am-steve-rogerss · 2 years

Note

Hello☺️ can you write something with prompt 17 25 and 27 please? With Tom Holland

Not Alone (T.H)

A/N: Thank you for the request darling. I incorporated two of the prompts in this blurb but sadly, I couldn't add the third one. This is an ask from the prompt list that I have uploaded on my account and I hope you all enjoy it. My requests are currently open for this list and I would love to write about them. They can be about Harry Styles, Chris Evans and Tom Holland. Love you guys!!

Prompt 17: “You’re hurt. Let me take care of you.”

Prompt 27: “Stop cryin’, baby, it’ll be alright.”

Prompt List

My Main Masterlist is here.

Tom Holland Masterlist is here.

Summary: You try to take care of the twins alone as Tom is busy with his movie. However, you get hurt by accident and your husband is there to take care of you.

Warnings: a little bit of angst as well as fluff.

._._._._.

Running after two hyper active three year olds is no fun and is definitely very tiring. Tom has been busy with his work for a couple of days now because of his upcoming movie. He tried to help out as much as he could but you knew that he was exhausted from the day so you didn’t bother him much. Aiden and Ethan were your two little munchkins but they were too damn energetic.

Your husband had come home at eight after doing multiple interviews and immediately tried to help you with dinner. However, you didn’t let him anywhere near the kitchen and told him to get some sleep. More like threatened him, ‘If y’don’t get your arse out of here, you’re gonna sleep on the couch.’ Both the kids were taking a nap because they were knackered out from their day out in the park. You wanted to make something that wasn’t too much of a hassle so you decided on spaghetti and was done with in the hour.

“Mummy!” Just as you were about to sit down on the couch, a little squeak made your head turn towards the staircase. There stood Aiden with his ruffled brunette hair and puffy eyes still filled with sleep. He was clutching onto his unicorn stuffie that Paddy had gifted him on his third birthday. Aiden was your little boy who loved you more than anything and was very possessive of you. Tom couldn’t even kiss you when he was nearby. He was just the sweetest little thing.

“Hey bubba. Slept well?” You spoke in a low tone because your kids were always a little sensitive to noises when they woke up.

“No!”

“Aw, why?”

He slowly prodded towards you and gestured for you to pick him up. “Ethan kicked me off the bed, mummy.”

“You hurt, bubba?” Carefully checking him for any injuries, you were relieved to find none.

“No. Cuddles, mummy.”

“Of course.” You quietly put on some random Disney movie and laid down with your little boy snuggled up right into you. Time passed by just like that and before you knew it, your other monster was also awake. You had decided that you would feed the boys first and then have a peaceful dinner with your husband. You deserved some alone time with your husband as well. This night was going to be amazing, you just knew it.

Turning the stove on, you placed the marinara sauce up there and tried to place the boys in their respective high chairs. But they just gave each other a mischievous look and ran in opposite directions. You knew they just wanted to play so you tried to entertain them even though you were really not in the mood. As you were chasing them, you realised that Ethan was going towards the kitchen.

“Ethan, stop!”

“Catch me, mummy!”

Ethan just squealed and ran even faster. The boy thought you were just playfully yelling but he didn’t know that you were actually worried. The sauce was boiling hot and it was overflowing a bit. Ethan was about to collide in the stove but before you could reach it, you pushed the hot pan towards the wall.

Screaming, you clutched your throbbing hand and slid down on the wall. Both the boys got really scared and started crying but you were in too much pain to look after them. A disheveled Tom appeared on the doorway and when he saw what was going on, he reacted instantly.

“Take the boys to the lounge first.”

“But (Y/N)-”

“Tommy, please.”

“Okay but let’s get y’up first.” He settled you on the bar stool and then took both the kids to the couch. You could hear him as he calmed down both the kids and then turned up the volume for the tv so they couldn’t hear the both of you.

He made his way back towards the kitchen and carefully took your injured hand. There were red hot marks forming on your hand while the skin was becoming somewhat irritated. “You’re hurt, darling. Let me take care of you.”

“Thank you.”

“N’need to thank me, love.” He got the first aid kit out from under the sink and started to look for the ointment. Meanwhile, you told him what happened with little hiccups interrupting your short monologue. “Could’ve just woken m’up. They’re m’responsibilities as well, darlin’.”

Even though he was softly blowing on the wound, it still hurt like hell. You didn’t realise there were a few tears escaping your eyes until Tom gently wiped them away. Your automatic response was a quick ‘sorry’ and you didn’t even know why. Maybe it was because you knew it really pained him to see cry. He cried straight for two hours when you were in labour and only stopped when you threatened to throw him out of the delivery room.

“Stop cryin’ baby.” Tom’s voice cracked a little in the end but he continued, “It’s going t’be alright.”

When your hand was all bandaged up, he lightly kissed your hand and told you to stay put. The rest of the night was spent with Tom taking care of you and your babies. He didn’t complain one time, even when Aiden rubbed his messy hands on the counter and he had to clean it up or when Ethan refused to wear his pjs. When you finally laid down with him in your bed, you realised that you were lucky to have him and you wouldn’t let go of him, ever.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

Like, comment and reblog.

504 notes · View notes