#I know how to suture wounds | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littledovesnow · 5 months

Text

a growing family | part 3

a/n: i told y’all not to worry with the dramatics at the end of part 2!

word count: 2.85k

warnings: canon-level violence, pregnancy, minor medical inaccuracies, stitches.

read part one here and part two here

-----

"Love," Coriolanus sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as he ran his eyes over your body. "Love, you're bleeding."

You looked at your right arm, frowning when you saw the distinct red color dripping from the cut. “Oh.”

Coriolanus darted over to your side, removing the coat you wore to reveal the flesh wound. He placed his arm on your back and directed you to one of the few pieces of furniture in the bunker, having you sit.

“What happened?” You asked, trying to piece together what had happened outside.

One Peacekeeper stepped forward with a first-aid kit, and Coriolanus allowed him to examine your arm in more detail. He simply moved to your other side, letting you keep one of his hands in your own.

The mayor and Commanding Peacekeeper were in a whispered conversation, and from what you could determine it wasn’t going well.

“Hey!” Coriolanus spoke up, anger flashing in his eyes. “What the fuck happened out there? I thought you had the area off-limits.”

“We- we did. The rebels must have had inside information.” The mayor stammered, looking weary as he watched the Peacekeeper stitch your arm. “I do apologize, Mrs. Snow, it was-”

“Don’t talk to her. Talk to me. Tell me how you managed to let some- some shitheads into the square without a proper pat down or looking in their bags.” Coriolanus was furious at this point, not only was his beloved getting sewn together, this had derailed his entire tour to gain trust from the districts.

The mayor wasn’t keen on answering, and the Commanding Peacekeeper looked like he was about to burst into tears, leaving one of the smaller, probably new Peacekeepers spoke up.

“I saw who I think placed the bomb. Looked like one of your assistants.” The man nodded to the mayor, who felt all the color drain from his face.

Coriolanus’ gaze shot to the mayor. “How convenient. Your assistant would know just when and where my wife and I would be.”

You winced as the Peacekeeper stitching you up pulled on the final suture, covering the short line in some gauze.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The man apologized softly, tossing the used supplies into a small orange bin in the corner of the bunker.

“It’s alright. Thank you for the help.” You smiled, letting a sigh of relief when you felt a distinct kick in your rib. “The babies thank you, as well.”

Coriolanus swiftly turned around and took your hand, helping you up. “We’ll be leaving shortly, love.”

You didn’t give a glance in the direction of the mayor, who was now in the grasp of two Peacekeepers, tears streaming down his face as he knew what fate awaited him.

“I hope Clementine is okay,” you frowned, hoping all the children from the school were safe with their parents.

“I’m sure she is.” Coriolanus made a mental note to send a personal thank-you to the family of the young girl, with a promise to help them whenever needed.

-----

Back on the train, you watched as your OB/GYN wiped the ultrasound gel off of the wand and your bump, wanting to give you a quick examination following the day’s events.

“Are they all good?” You asked, thanking your husband as he passed you another towel.

Nodding, the OB/GYN placed the wand back in the holster on the side of the machine. “Both fetuses are doing splendid. Though, I do hope you keep the stressful situations to a minimum from now on. We want to minimize risks, as this is a rather high-risk pregnancy.”

You nodded, wanting nothing but the best outcome for you and your budding family.

Coriolanus thanked her, watching her disappear into another car.

Once you two were alone, he rose from his position next to you. “I don’t think you should continue on the tour with me. Too many risks.”

Rolling your eyes, you heaved yourself off of the couch to follow him, much to his disdain. “Coryo, I’m not made of glass. I could just as easily slip back at the apartment. I think I’m safest when I’m with you.”

Coriolanus couldn’t argue with that, and as much as he preferred you safe back in the Capitol with your friends and his cousin, he knew you would be happier with him. “Just, please try and keep yourself away from any danger. I’m increasing Peacekeepers in the rest of the Districts, and they’ll do a personal sweep of the squares before we get there.”

You hummed, soft smile coming to your face as you and Coriolanus looked out along the plains as they sped by, setting sun casting a beautiful golden light on everything. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

You took Coriolanus’ hands and moved them to your lower back, thumbs just over your hip bones. “Can you massage my back?”

Laughing, Coriolanus began to knead the ever-present knots near your kidneys, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “You only keep me around for my hands, I swear.”

“Well, they are pretty useful.”

-----

The following handful of districts were rather uneventful, the only real issues were women who wanted to give you unsolicited advice on pregnancy and motherhood.

Coriolanus had to bite his tongue each time someone said what an honor it was to be pregnant, how horrible childbirth felt, or the post-partum depression and how to avoid it.

They were all topics you two had discussed at length, having plans and even back-up plans for various outcomes. You two were well-prepared for how young you two were.

Currently, you were looking at your reflection in the mirror, silk robe covering your undergarments and most of your bump. You looked at the two dresses behind you through the mirror’s reflection, unsure of what one to wear.

The dress you were leaning towards was a beautiful dark brown, to pay homage to the forestry the district was known for. The only downside was you were unsure if you could fit into it, bump seeming to have doubled in size over the last few days.

“Oh, I can’t wait to be able to fit into my old clothing. You two are causing havoc with my wardrobe.” You whispered, not wanting to wake your husband, who was catching up on some much-needed rest.

As quietly as you could manage, you left the private car you and Coriolanus had been sleeping in, moving to a more communal car, one with phones.

You sat yourself down, dialing Tigris’ number and watching the trees grow nearer.

“Hello?” Tigris’ voice sounded muffled, and you cursed under your breath.

“Tigris, I’m so sorry. I forgot about the time difference!”

“Don’t worry, I was just about to get up anyway!” Tigris replied, a lie, but she knew better than to cause you more worry. “How is the tour? Coriolanus lock you in the train yet?”

Laughing, you twirled a piece of your hair as you spoke to her. “No, no, but I’m sure he wants to. I just think I’d go stir-crazy faster than anything if he did that. I was actually calling to see if you can help me plan something for our return to the Capitol, since it will be close to Coryo’s birthday.”

“I don’t think he’s going to want to do anything other than make sure you’re okay. Isn’t your due date not too long after coming back?”

Sighing, you jumped slightly when you felt a hand on your back, looking up and smiling when you saw the sleep still present in Coriolanus’ eyes. “Yes, but we can still do something. Listen, Ti, I gotta go. I promise I’ll call you in a few days!”

Tigris bid goodbye to you, and you placed the phone back on the receiver and watched Coriolanus pour himself a mug of coffee.

“I can’t wait to drink coffee again.” You yearned for the caffeinated beverage, mouth watering as the aroma reached your nose.

Coriolanus chuckled, taking a seat next to you. “I’ll make a buffet for you full of the foods you can’t have now. What shall we put on it, hm?”

You snorted, leaning your head on Coriolanus’ shoulder. “I’ll make a list.”

Your husband hummed in response, moving to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you into his side. “What are you thinking about? I can smell the smoke coming out of your ears.”

Smacking his chest, you looked at the rising sun. “Do you think we’ll be able to finish the tour before I go into labor? A lot of mothers of multiples don’t make it to full-term.”

Coriolanus was silent, the thought had been bouncing around in his mind since you two found out the tour had to be delayed until now. He wanted nothing more than to be back in the Capitol by the time his children wanted to make their debut, having completed the tour to its entirety, but he also knew the odds of not finishing the tour before you became parents.

“I think we’ll get as far as we can. I can always return once you’re discharged and home happy and healthy.”

You sighed, looking up at him. “Are you scared to become a father?”

Coriolanus looked down, meeting your gaze. “I think deep down, I’m always going to be scared of the unknown. But I also know that we’ve watched your sister’s children dozens of times growing up, and they’re still here. I think we’ll both be at wit’s end, but it’ll all be worth it.”

Somehow, he always knew what to say to calm your nerves, even if he didn’t realize it.

-----

You were more than ready to have your body back as your own, as the unusual sweltering heat in last few districts you and Coriolanus were going to visit was getting the best of you. You were all in District Nine for a few days, letting some weather pass before moving on to the next district.

Coriolanus had been keeping an eye on you like a hawk ever since you had experienced false labor pains the other day. He nearly blew a blood vessel when you froze mid-walk in the peaceful fields outside of train station.

It was as if he knew you were thinking of him, Coriolanus walked into the car with a worried look your way. “How are you feeling, love?”

“Tired. Swollen. The usual.” You mumbled, leaning back when Coriolanus began massaging your shoulders. “What time are we supposed to head to the mayor’s place?”

“Well, I’m going to be meeting him in about an hour. You, however, should rest. I can see the bags under your eyes, dove, you can’t keep pushing yourself. It’s not healthy.”

Shaking your head, you craned your neck to peer up at Coriolanus, who was looking out the train’s window. “Coryo, I could sleep for an eternity right now and still be tired. I’ll be fine, if I need to sit or leave, I will. I know my limits.”

Frowning, Coriolanus turned his head to look down at you, sigh escaping his lips. “I just,” he moved to sit next to you, hand going to your bump. “I worry about you, you know. I don’t want anything to happen.”

You could see the turmoil going on in his head, thinking of his late mother and sister. You knew he wanted to avoid history repeating itself as much as he could, wanting to make sure his children saw the light of day.

“How about this, we tour the District’s town square together, and then while you make your speech and all that, I’ll have a couple Peacekeepers escort me to the train.”

Coriolanus mused over the idea for a few moments, hand absentmindedly rubbing circles as he felt a few kicks from one of the twins. “Fine.”

-----

You walked alongside Coriolanus, looking at the buildings as the mayor talked about how he wants to update some of the more important ones. “The schools, the hospital. Our supplies, buildings, they’re in need of some updates. We hope, once you’re elected, you’ll be able to help us with increasing our profits with grain, so we can work on updating the most-needed areas.”

Coriolanus squinted his eyes as he looked at the decrepit-looking hospital, thankful you wouldn’t have to give birth in one of the districts, but back in the Capitol with proper medical equipment and medications.

Thinking the same, you instinctively wrapped a protective hand around your belly, wanting to protect the babies from whatever you could.

“Now, it’s not something we had planned, but would you two like to tour the hospital? I know it’s probably not what you see in the Captiol, but we do need some updates inside.”

Shaking his head, Coriolanus moved to wrap an arm around you. “We don’t have the time for it.”

“Oh, well, perhaps another time, then.” The mayor mumbled, finishing the tour near where Coriolanus would be making his speech.

Thanking your earlier self, you looked up at Coriolanus with tired eyes, letting out a small yawn. “I’ll see you back on the train, Coryo.”

Frown deepening, the mayor looked between the two of you. “Won’t you be staying to hear your husband’s speech, Mrs. Snow?”

“No, unfortunately.”

Coriolanus pressed a quick kiss to your lips and then one to your forehead, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Knock ‘em dead.” You smiled, following the Peacekeepers back to the train station.

-----

“Alright, Mrs. Snow. Are you ready for your last examination on a train?”

You laughed at the comment, and your OB/GYN squirted the ultrasound gel onto what felt like Panem’s next district. “So ready, I can’t wait to be back in the Capitol.”

Coriolanus watched in wonder as the screen lit up with the ultrasound, still in awe over the fact that he was so close to becoming a father. “Are you sure she’ll be back in the Capitol before she goes into labor?”

The doctor fiddled with the wand for a moment before looking at the man. “I can’t say with certainty, but your wife still does have four weeks before most twins are born. You’re due back in the Capitol in eight days, plenty of time.”

You watched as her facial expression grew more serious, causing your heart rate to speed. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, it looks like the fetuses are getting into position for birth, but Fetus A isn’t allowing their sibling to get proper position.”

“What does that mean?” Coriolanus asked, squeezing your hand.

Looking at you and Coriolanus, the doctor took a few measurements before wiping the gel. “They’re in a breech position. Now, they can move back into a normal birthing position before you’re due, but if they don’t, we will need to go a C-section.”

Frowning, you pulled the shirt you were wearing over your stomach, sitting up with Coriolanus’ help. “Is it safe for them to be that way?”

Nodding, the OB/GYN turned off the computer. “For a little while longer, it’s fine. I want you to call me if anything feels different or if there’s less movement than normal. Now, you’ll start to feel dizzy more frequently, so you need to be sure to hydrate plenty and rest.”

She sent a look towards Coriolanus. “I wish you the best of luck with the rest of the tour, you have my vote, Coriolanus.”

Thanking her, Coriolanus chewed on his lip as he helped you off the makeshift exam table and out of the medical car, back to your private one.

“I really don’t want to have surgery, Coryo.” You mumbled, tears welling in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Coriolanus wrapped his arms around you, calming you. “You heard her, there’s still time for them to move back into the right position. I’m sure they will, they want to give their mother a good birth experience.”

You let out a watery chuckle, pressing your cheek into Coriolanus’ chest. “Are you nervous to be heading back to 12?”

Knowing the change of subject was more to calm your nerves than anything, Coriolanus didn’t reprimand you for bringing up the subject.

You had only asked about his time as a Peacekeeper a few times since that summer, and once was to ask why Sejanus hadn’t come back on the train with him. You still had no idea about the cabin, the lake, his last moments with Lucy Gray before returning to the Captiol, to you.

Shaking his head, Coriolanus was brought back to the present when he felt a sharp kick to his side. “That was a strong one, huh?”

You snorted, but looked at him, waiting for an answer.

“I’m not nervous, no. It’s been years since I was there, I’m sure most of the guys there don’t even remember someone who was with them for only a few months.”

Letting the half-answer slide, you and Coriolanus swayed softly as the train moved from District Nine to Ten, both soaking up the silence and peace as your last weeks as a family of two.

-----

a/n: i'm thinking there will be one more part, posted either later this week/early next week.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @aoi-targaryen

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #hunger games imagine #hunger games tbosas #hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow

1K notes · View notes

forcemeanakin · 9 months

Text

Make you feel better.

•WARNINGS: SMUT. Vaginal sex (female top), unprotected sex, blowjob, handjob, degradation kink, spanking, dirty talk. Explicit mentions of injuries.

Pairing: TCW!Anakin Skywalker x female reader.

Summary: You are a nurse in the 501st squad and General Skywalker needs some assistance. Only you could help him feel better.

Word count: 4.8K. This started as a blurb, but I’m incapable of shutting up. I haven’t stood up from my chair since 10am, so enjoy.

A/N: I’m so so so so in love with this man, it’s sickening. Scenario inspired by Ahsoka ep.5!. NOT PROOFREAD!!, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao

Also first one shot since like forever????

____________________________________________

As a war nurse, you are used to treating the nastiest of wounds, the bloodiest of cuts, the vilest of injuries.

You have chosen your profession out of love and vocation. As cliche as it might be, the true desire of your heart was to help people feel better: The plan was to specialize as a pediatric nurse, even becoming a doctor one day. Working at a hospital, maybe have a private practice with that medic husband of yours you often dreamed about.

All of that was erased the moment war erupted.

Fresh out of nursing school, every single one of your classmates, including yourself, were drafted to report to duty as nurses on the frontlines. The assignment of troops was random, but as if fate had decided, you were put at the service of the 501st. Little did you know, the job was harder than you had ever imagined it would be; and the constant bombing and deceased people you had to observe had nothing to do with it.

It was the general of the squad that made your job more complicated than it had to be.

General Skywalker.

Well, it wasn’t exactly him, but the persistent crush you had on him.

Needless to say, it was extremely unprofessional to be daydreaming of the person who was technically your boss. Even more unethical to be full-on fantasizing about his dick size when you were supposed to be suturing injured clones. But dammit, was it hard. So hard to be so close to his pulling presence and yet so far from achieving anything real with the man. Not that you had tried. Public rejection would be even more embarrassing than crushing on him.

Anakin Skywalker hardly recognized your existence. Between his duty as leader on the field, his responsibilities as Jedi off-hours and the reduced sleep time he could squeeze in between battles, he didn’t have time to remember the name of one of the nurses of his legion. Especially when he never went to the tents himself; the god of a man was indestructible.

Fuck, was he hot.

Just watching him scream: “Forward!” every day, as he ran directly to conflict with bravery was enough to have you dripping. His whole General image was your own personal definition of lust; his armor, the tone in which he would deliver orders, the frown he would wear until he had defeated each and every single one of his enemies. The smile he would flash whenever they won over a battle. Luckily, it was often.

But you had this idea that, out all of the medical staff, you were his least favorite. Maybe it had something to do with how social you were: always distracting his soldiers with jokes as you cleaned their cuts so they wouldn’t think of the sting. Or maybe it had something to do with how emotional you could get during your shifts: always fighting with your colleagues so they would treat the troopers as people, not numbers. Even if he had created a culture of trust among his peers, you weren’t sure if he appreciated that you caused so much trouble within the medical wing.

You had endured a year of stolen glances, salivating at the sight of him from afar and lonely nights with just your hand. Cheeks would blush so fast whenever he would catch you checking him out, and maybe you were drunk on the smell of medical alcohol, but you swore that you caught him checking you out too once.

But that was long forgotten the next day, when he came back to being his same old cold persona. You forgave that aspect of him: the atrocities he had committed in the name of the Republic weighed heavy on his shoulders, slouching his proud figure whenever he had to face the reality of his situation.

The same you had to face everyday.

“Who’s available?!” Yelling was the official way of communicating over here. You were finishing up a bandage on a trooper that had lost his left leg, meaning that you had to answer the call of duty.

The Ryloth takeover was more hectic than the squad had ever anticipated. Soldiers falling left and right, some didn’t even make it to the medical bay, just straight to the pseudo-morgue that was built to then give them a final resting place.

“I’m almost ready to take the next one!” You screamed over the noise from the ships flying over.

“Ms. Dana.” Someone called you by your last name from outside the medical tent. “General Skywalker’s tent in 5.”

That made you drop the jar of gauze.

No one has ever been there, you thought.

Outside of his skippy padawan and uptight master, Anakin’s tent had always been off limits to the public. His sacred place to unwind in peace. The ways he must unwind after a long day of battle…

“Ms. Dana!” That woke you up from a very explicit image of Anakin jerking off the stress away.

“C-coming!” You choked. Grabbing your personal kit, you ran to the destination that had your clit throbbing with anticipation.

You would see the sheets he slept on, the place where he storaged all of his robes, the shower that saw him naked every day. Jealousy of an inanimate object took over you as quickly as it left, making you feel stupid for getting angry at a room.

You almost didn’t notice that the battle was over, the only remnants of it were the people being moved in gurneys, the clouds of dust and the beaten up ships. Your outfit was probably not the best to endure the hardness of the Ryloth landscape: a tight, white buttoned up dress with a stupid little hat on top of your head. You hated the son of a bitch, it was ridiculous as fuck, but necessary for recognition among all of the personnel working in camps.

Anakin will think it’s stupid too.

He will think you are stupid.

The self-degradation stopped once you reached the entrance of his tent. Gulping exaggeratedly, you were unsure if to knock, announce yourself or wait until he was annoyed enough to come out and see you standing there like an idiot.

“Come in.” It was his voice who cruelly cut the silence, growling.

With shaking legs, the green fabric that formed his personal chamber was removed from your eyesight and you were hit by the delicious smell of him. So manly, so musty. It smelled like his cologne all over and you wished you bottle that up to spray it on your own sheets.

It was less rewarding to see him sitting on the edge of his bed with an exasperated stare, analyzing your figure with obnoxiousness. You even cut short your eye-fucking tour of his body when you met his tired eyes. Have you taken too long to get here?

“So they sent you.” He sighed, deviating his gaze. The evident disgust at your presence made you slouch timidly. You were a good nurse. The best one in the camp, if you dare to say. “I told Rex I’m fine. I don’t need assistance, it’s just a bruise.” His tone was harder than his words, surprisingly.

“Well, now that I’m here, might as well take a look at that, huh?” Fighting through the devastating embarrassment, you proceeded to walk over his bed to place your kit. Biting your lip, you feared to ask the next question. “Shall we get started?”

He was one step away from rolling his eyes. “Fine. Just do it quickly.”

“Got it, sir.” Weird. There was no chilly breeze, however, Anakin had just flinched. “Care to show me where the bruise is?”

He hesitated for a bit, closing his eyes with frustration. You were about to ask again when he exhaled with annoyance. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I would like to confirm that. Please, sir, the faster we do this, the faster I’m on my merry way.” You hated that he was desperate to kick you out, but apparently your compelling argument helped to accelerate the process.

After seeing that he still felt fuzzy about checking the bruise, you decided to start somewhere else. “Let me get started with this cut over here. Looks pretty nasty.”

You doubted if to take a seat, scared that it would be too close to him, but you needed the space to maneuver. Giving up to your internal fight, you sat down next to him and began by cleaning up the wound that escaped the fabric of his burgundy robe.

“That’s nothing.” He mumbled under his breath, still not looking at you.

Ignoring his attempt to diminish your work, you decided to also ignore your basic instinct to start a conversation to ease up the process. The internal alarms of survival were yelling at you not too. However, there was a moment where the alarms shut down, basically because every part of your brain shut down simultaneously and it was when you had to grip his bicep to make it stand still. Your fingers dug into the hard muscle, feeling how every little bit flexed under your fingertips, proving first-hand just how strong he was.

“Done. Now I’m gonna clean the ones in your face.” You poured some alcohol into another cotton ball and turned to face him.

Being face to face with Anakin Skywalker had been the most intimidating experience of your life and that hot as hell scar and mean frown didn’t make it easier. In fact, it had you clenching around nothing. You cleared your throat before slowly reaching out for his chin, pulling him to give you a better look of his dirty and exhausted aspect.

He gasped the second the puffy ball made contact with a cut on his left cheekbone. You took that opportunity to bring him some comfort, despite your irregular breathing and overall tenseness. Rubbing your thumb along his jaw, you saw his pain decreased until the sting was gone. You moved to another cut on his forehead, repeating the process until you had treated most of them gone. When you swapped your current cotton ball with a new one so caught him looking down on your body.

It’s this stupid uniform.

He sensed your eyes on him and quickly deviated them to focus on your irises. You gulped before continuing your beeline around his face, this time close to the scar you often fantasize about in bed.

“That one 's old. No need to worry about it.” He joked.

He joked.

Unable to form a coherent comeback, you limited yourself to give him a nasal laugh, demonstarting that you got it.

“Thought you wouldn't be this silent. You’re more chatty with the clones.” He said, slightly tilting his head.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to talk.” You replied, this time with a little smile as a peace offering.

“What did you think I wanted?” He frowned, interrupting your cleaning.

“I thought you wanted me out as quickly as possible.” You stopped momentarily to accommodate his face once more into a position you could work with.

He let out a dry laugh. “It’s nothing personal. I just want to come back to work.”

“You just came back from battle and want to keep working? Do you ever stop?” You joked back, feeling how the atmosphere inside the tent had changed. Feeling more comfortable, you switched your body a little, now your chests were aligned, just inches apart.

“Hardly.” He clicked his tongue, gaze slightly dropping to give a quick sweep of your lips.

“Well, you should rest. Relax. That’s an important part of recovery.” You advised him, finishing up the last cut. You took a cloth of your kit and used it to clean some of the dry blood and dirt off him.

“Can’t stay still.” He shook his head.

“There are other ways to relax.” You shrugged your shoulders, taking that little pause to admire his beautiful demeanor. Those blue eyes could spell you into saying yes to basically anything.

“Like?” He pushed, licking his lips as his intense gaze focused on making you feel smaller and smaller.

“Like…” You dirty minded bitch, think about something other than sex!

Almost like he could hear your inner dialogue, he chuckled.

“Like taking a walk or reading a book.” You finally came up with a pg-13 alternative to relaxing.

“Could be.” He snickered. After his beautiful giggle dialed down, you felt the tension switching. Thicker. More intense. “More of a physical guy myself.”

Feeling the pull to his plump lips, you rushed to get out of the trouble zone. “Ready for me to see this world-famous bruise?”

Your brain short circuited when he snapped his shoulder armor in one swift move and threw it on the floor. The next thing had you mentally panting and physically in shock: Anakin was removing his robes to expose his naked and bruised torso. The skin of his middle part would dip perfectly into breathtaking abs, not to mention the flexing of his arms became more evident to you without the stupid robe in your way.

The reddened-purplish spot expanded all the way from the right side of his lower abdomen, all the way down the waistband of his pants. The silent gawking didn’t go unnoticed by him, a little smirk coming to greet your widened eyes. That woke you up enough to get moving.

“H-how-“ You took a moment to regain some composure. “How did this happen?”

“A droideka fell on me.” He muttered shortly, almost as if the portion of information brought shame to him.

“Alright, I’m gonna need to palpate the area to know if there’s any further damage.” You announced with more nerves than a medical professional should speak to their patients.

Because he was now standing up, sitting down didn’t give you the best height to disinfect some of the minor cuts that tainted his perfect tanned skin.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to lay down for me, please.” Formalities came back as soon as you felt threatened by his overpowering presence again.

“No.” He spat, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’d prefer to stand, if it’s possible. Please.”

“Sure.” After all, it was your job to make the process easier for him. On the other hand, that meant having to kneel in front of him. That caught him off guard and almost backed down when you reached out to feel the tampered skin. “Please tell me where it hurts.”

Your little fingers began to poke around the wounded area, massaging the zones where you knew a more serious injury could present itself. It didn’t go under your radar the way he would have goosebumps whenever you looked up to him or groped him more firmly. Repeating over and over: “How does it feel here?” you made your way all over the part of the bruise that was visible to the eye.

“Good. It seems like no internal organs have been compromised.” You announced with a little smile. Now the part you dreaded -and kind of expected- was next. “Uhm, I’m going to need to check the rest of the bruise to make sure you didn’t break your hip, sir.”

“Anakin.” He spat.

“Pardon?” You blinked rapidly.

“Call me Anakin. It makes this… easier.” He cleared his throat.

“Okay, Anakin.” You nodded. How you said the next thing so calmly was still a mystery to you. “So, I know this part may be uncomfortable, but I’ll need to remove your pants out of the way. Probably your underwear as well, if I need to take a better look. Don’t worry, I’ve seen enough male anatomy for this to be routinary for me-”

In the middle of your speech, as you dropped your gaze to prepare yourself for dipping your fingers under his pants, something snapped your attention.

The gigantic bulge right in front of your eye line.

How you had missed such a tent while you palpated his abdomen was another mystery to you.

“Uhm- I-” You choked, unwilling to look up. “I-”

Anakin made no effort to try and hide his wood. But what was the point? It was already there. You had already noticed it.

Mumbling, you decided to continue being professional. It was a normal response after all. “I’ll go ahead and lower your pants, sir- Anakin, sorry.” You corrected yourself, but it was too late.

You had already seen the reason why he made you call him Anakin: his dick twitched the second you said “sir”. Now that was interesting.

Your hand pulled down the brown pants, lowering his black underwear at the same time, only revealing his right hip, leaving the bulge quietly covered. Anakin’s chest rose uncontrollably, flinching every now and then when your hand would get too close to his boner, or when your warm breath would fan his exposed hip. When you finally dared to meet his gaze, to let him know you were almost through with the exam, you were pleased with the view above you.

Rose pink cheeks, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth, darkened gaze fixed on your cleavage. It was the equivalent of liquid courage in human form.

“Does this hurt?” You felt up another portion, this time closer to his groin. When he murmured a weak “no”, you inched even closer. “And here?” Same response.

When you got to a point where your pinky grazed the bulge and he gasped, you knew this was the point of no return.

“And does this hurt?” You asked, slowly palming the thick shaft that was threatening to rupture his pants at any given second.

Swallowing harshly, Anakin refused to speak up a word. Instead, he let you carry on with your devilious plan.

“And this? Does it hurt, sir?” You wrapped your hand around the still clothed member, rubbing faster and harder.

He limited himself to closing his eyes, moaning on the low as your hand gripped his swell cock with more pressure and more confidence. Your ego was so high up in the sky that you had the impulse to rub your lips against the fabric already stained with pre-cum.

“Sir, can I finish up the exam?” Your wide doe eyes were quite the contrary of your filthy intentions.

Once he nodded with hooded eyes, you fished his veiny cock from out of the confinements of his underwear and tugged it out for you to admire all of its glory. It sprung free, the tip pointing directly at you, like it knew. Involuntarily, your mouth opened in admiration to such a big and thick frame. Anakin’s sly smirk made another surprise appearance at your gawking.

You were acquainted with male genitalia. But not like this. Never like this.

So huge. So intimidating. So mouth-watering.

“It’s almost like you have never seen one. Not as huge as this one, right?” You shook your head, biting your lip as you took in the whole image. You needed a minute to wrap around the idea that he was carrying this weapon everywhere he went.

Your hands -yes, plural, because you needed both to handle such beast- pumped fast to grant him the deliberation he so desperately craved. Yanking his thick shaft in between your palms had you pooling all over your white panties, like a goddamn slut. His hips were thrusting at the rhythm you had set, fucking your fist like he pleased. Feeling how he tensed his abdomen, the climax was closed.

Taking a last leap of fate, you stopped the jerking off momentarily and clutched the fabric of his pants down with both hands, revealing his whole lower part to your delight. His thighs, oh, his muscular thighs always did unholy things to you and to have them right there for you to grip was making you rub your own thighs together. Foreseeing what was to come, you let your hair down, losing the stupid hat.

Digging your nails on the hardness of his leg, you licked the tip of his shaft, testing the water. The little drop of pre-cum you managed to catch was salty and warm, so deliciously milky. Moaning, you opened your mouth to lazily envelop his tip, rubbing it without interest, just softly teasing him.

“Look at you. Who would say that you would be so unprofessional, sucking your commanding general’s cock? Huh?” Anakin mocked you from his proud stand. “Miss little giggling nurse turned out to be a filthy cockslut. Salivating at the sight of my dick.”

You moaned, still pampering the reddened head of his cock.

“I could.” He chuckled, his thumb coming to caress your jaw just like you did to him earlier. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you stare when I walk by the medical tent? How you practically undress me with your eyes? Such a desperate slut. Begging to be fuck just right. Acting like you're not thinking about hopping on this dick while working.”

After giving a last open mouthed kiss on the sensitive tip, you opened your mouth and presented your pink tongue to him, for which he rewarded you with a smiling expression.

“You offer yourself to make me feel better?” He cocked an arrogant brow.

Nodding, you let out a small, high pitched whimper to hurry him up.

“Hope you know what you’re doing, baby.”

And with that, he grabbed a handful of your locks with his gloved limb and the other one he used to tug your chin further down, making room for the rest of his cock. In the blink of an eye, he was fucking your throat raw, having no mercy for you or the tears that spilled from our eyes when he would especially far down. He emphasized repeatedly how he had to train you to take all of him in, that you were not properly ready to take someone as big as him. He even said it with pity, making fun that you hadn’t been fucking with real men.

But he was here now. And he was going to take care of you.

Even if you lack the ability to relax your throat enough for you to take the whole 9 inch monstrosity that was violating your breathing canal, he was appreciative of the way you gagged around him and the noises you made whenever the tip would hit a wall. He even praised the movements of your tongue on his underside, rewarding you with a little slap on your cheek. Anakin laughed when he heard your horny moan at the harsh action.

Suddenly, Anakin stopped bobbing your head up and down his length, causing the mess of saliva that was covering both you and him to dissolve into a mesly string connecting you two.

“Let me see how well your other hole makes me feel, baby. Up.” As your legs made an effort to stand without shaking, Anakin returned to his previous seating position, this time manspreading to let his cock breathe in all of its glory. Patting his lap, he called you in like a dog. “Here.”

Dying of shame at the wetness that dripped from your inner thighs, you spread yourself until both your knees were at each side of his hips. Anakin glanced at the leaking juices and fucking grinned the brightest smile.

“So wet just for sucking dick.” His index and middle finger retrieved some of the spill, playing with your sensitive nub on their way. He tasted the juices himself, licking his fingers clean. He hummed in approval, ripping your panties apart to have more access and drink up more of your arousal. “Pretty little pussy. Do you think it’ll fit?” He asked you with a narcissistic loop side smile, as he sucked some more off his fingers.

“I don’t know.” You answered honestly, shaking at the ministrations of his hands around your ass.

“It will.” He reassured you, pulling your skirt up and entangling it just above your hips. “You’ll make it fit.” He put his hands behind his back, on the bed, yielding control to you. “Now show me how bad you’ve been wanting this. Ride my dick.”

Using his strong shoulders for leverage, soon your slick pussy was sucking up his length. The first contact had you digging your nails on his shoulders, fighting through the pain of the stretch, this position only enlarging the already swollenness of his member. Gasping with an open mouth, you fought to push yourself even further down. Skin to skin, you were feeling all of him in: every curve, every wrinkle, every twitch. Even after remembering the condom, you opted for not mentioning it. There was no way you could say goodbye to feeling him bare.

Anakin pulled you in by the neck, drinking in the scream you let out when you bottomed out. His lips tasted better than anything you had ever tried, so sweet by nature and salty because of the sweat. You just wanted more and more; anything he was willing to give you.

“Faster.” Anakin demanded; clasping to your hips to bounce you harder on him, to remind you that this was about him, not you.

Obeying like the sub you were, you humped him faster, adjusting yourself to surround his shoulders with your arms so you could pull his hair. You knew he liked it by the way he purred on your ear, embracing your waist tighter to manhandle you better. The hug you were both entrapped in ended with his big hands holding both your ass cheeks, groping them in such a disrespectful manner: splitting them open, squeezing them until it hurt, slapping without any sort of consideration.

“Mhm, just like that, baby.” He praised blissed out, his hand cruelly smacking your already red and abused rear. “You do know how to ride dick. So good, taking me so well with this slutty pussy of yours.”

Chasing your own pleasure, you gripped him harder and grinded on his wood, rubbing your clit with his pubic bone. You whimpered when you felt the delicious shock on your clit, which only incentivized you to rock your hips even faster. You were close, so close to coming undone, clenching him like a vice.

“C’mon, you offer yourself to me, to use you as I seem fit.” Anakin pushed you back so you could see him clearly. “I want you to bounce, baby. Bounce those tight tits for me.”

Anakin removed three buttons of your dress, enough for him to get drunk on the sight of your boobs pressed together and bouncing, but not all the way exposed. Like instructed, you bounced on his dick like it was your job to do so, enamored by the view of him hypnotized by your jumping breasts. Your nipples would shyly come to greet out of your white top, albeit Anakin wouldn’t have the full show because of the fabric that still caged them.

Tired of the partial view, Anakin’s hands left your ass and traveled to their next destination: your full tits. Without removing another button, he took in the weight of your boobs inside of his palms and played with your meaty buds like he had never seen a pair before. The rough movements of his hands around the fat caused your dress to open a bit more, basically leaving you naked for him.

“They’re more gorgeous than I ever anticipated.” He muttered, before enveloping a peak inside his mouth and lapping at it repeatedly. “Seeing you with this lame excuse of a uniform it’s harder than going to war, baby. Craving a taste of you and not being able to do anything about it, it’s torture. Pure torture.” He moaned in a ragged voice, sucking in the same nipple with closed eyes, savoring it.

“You- you wanted me?” You cried, sliding in more frantically.

You were so close and he had it in his hands to make you come in that same instant.

“Baby, I’ve been dreaming about filling this pussy to the brim the second you were drafted.” He exhaled with a smile. “I hate seeing you with the clones: gifting them smiles that should belong to me, parading this cleavage around when it should be for my eyes only, showing off this ass when only I should know the feeling of it inside my palms.”

“Anakin! I’m coming! I’m coming!” You announced, simultaneously feeling how his dick twitched inside of you.

“Let me feel it, baby. Come all over my cock. Indulge me.” This time it was you who took the initiative to kiss him, thinking this would be your last chance to savour him before this was all over.

You convulsed around his dick, just like he asked, tumbling over his shoulder to regain your breath. Anakin followed short after you, shuddering as he spilled over, biting your shoulder to muffle his groan.

After the aftershocks dissipated and you regained consciousness, the shame of what had transpired hit you like a train. Fixing your dress to cover more of you, you wondered how long you should wait before saying something. Luckily, Anakin broke the ice first.

“Next time you should keep the hat. I like it.” He chuckled, making you giggle as well.

Needless to say, you were now expected to be in his tent every night after he came back from battle, split open for him, ready to take in all of the frustration of the day and make him feel better.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin #anakin skywalker #star wars #sw anakin #tcw anakin #ahsoka series #darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #darth vader

2K notes · View notes

gooppoo · 1 year

Note

jake realize he has a size kink when you’re sat on his lap to aid his wounds and realize how you’re so small compared to him 🤲🏽

size kink is an instant soother for my underlying mental illnesses, thank you.

You're so big!

Requests Closed!!

mdni.

warnings: size kink duh, Jake being a lil pervy, tbh...you're being a tease lmao, injury

"Can you promise not to do this again?"

You were perched atop Jake's sizable thighs, massaging some healing ointment into the scrapes on his handsome face. His ears would flick every time your finger tips ran across the wounds, but he tried his hardest not to vocalize his discomfort.

Not only was he trying his hardest to not let his weakness known, he was also desperately trying to avoid provoking the stiffness involuntarily building so close to your groin.

"Jake?" You met his stern gaze, "Promise?"

He met your request with only a hum.

Satisfied enough (with a scowl of course) you returned to treating him. Sometimes you'd have to maneuver in place to reach different areas of his face, and each time Jake couldn't help but notice something else about you that flamed his groin.

The daintiness of your fingers, the harsh contrast of his muscular thighs compared to your softer ones, even the slimness of your expression. It was no debate: you were just tinier.

And this drove Jake nuts. He'd love to display his power by tossing you from position to position, stuffing his length into your delicate center - just knowing it very well could be too big. There was something about your differences that awakened a sex-fueled curiosity, fully expressing itself through his attentive, wide stare.

"Are you alright? Am I being too rough?" The shift in his gaze was not unnoticed. It took more self-control than he wanted to admit to not flash a quick glance down to his half-hard dick.

"Fine, am I done?"

You scoffed, "Yeah right, you have a few cuts I need to stitch."

Jake swore to himself on the inside, and continued to wish away the collection of rushing blood below his loincloth.

You leapt off his lap and sauntered over to a table that had prepared the items for sutures. All the while, you had a pair of wandering eyes observing your every, elegant move. Returning back to Jake, you took back your place on his lap and mindlessly straddled his thigh. Now your true size comparison was obvious.

"Ready?" The needle was next to his skin, he hummed in confirmation.

When he felt the tool pierce his skin he hissed. Jake had gotten stitches before, it was nothing new, but this was part of a ploy to entertain what he was almost sure was his undiscovered size kink. Almost in the same instant, his hand grasped around your wrist and held it still.

His fingers completely circled around your joint. More excitement rushed between his thighs.

"Jake..." your eyes were doe-like, cheeks flushed. Everything about you flashed in Jake's mind in a much different context.

He cleared his throat, "Just take it easy." Disappointed in the departure, he hesitated to let your frail wrist continue its work without his grip.

The stinging on his face distracted him some from his hard-on, and all seemed to be going smoothly. But he noticed something...

It must've been completely unintentional, just your natural flow of movement. Nonetheless, every time you tugged at the suture, your hips shifted forward and back in a rolling motion. Along his much bigger thigh.

"God..." Jake sighed, unaware his curse could double as an outlet for his painful procedure.

"I know, we are almost done." You soothed.

Once more you shuffled and this time further up his leg so your chests dusted against one another. Here, Jake noticed, the comparable size in your torso's and shoulders. He was broad, and more lengthy, whereas you were slim and petite. This crossed his mind and his jaw began to hang.

How he wanted to grab you up then and there to put this whole 'size thing' to the test.

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar smut #jake sully #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut

4K notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 11 months

Text

Bruised Like Violets

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: you and Peeta are reunited after he is rescued from the Capital (No hijacking)

Masterlist

You raced down the hallway the moment you were told where Peeta was being kept. It had been 8 long, painful weeks of waiting for him to he rescued and finally, you’d gotten word that he was back safely. You pushed past guards and burst into the room he was in, heart pounding when your eyes finally landed in him.

“Peeta?” Your voice came out as barely above a whisper. Peeta had his back to you but you could see just from his neck how skinny he had gotten. He slowly turned to you with a hardened grimace on his face. Once Peeta’s eyes met yours, his entire face softened. His eyes glazed over with tears and his bloodied lip tugged into a smile.

“Hi.” He said in a small voice. You didn’t know what came over you, but you threw your arms around him and kissed him for the first time in 8 weeks. Peeta immediately melted into you and kissed you back out of instinct. When you remembered that your love was just supposed to be an act and there were no cameras around for you to be performing for, you jumped back.

“Sorry.” You said and touched your lips, which were buzzing from kissing him.

“Dont be sorry. Come here.” Peeta shook his head and pulled you back towards him by tugging on your jumpsuit. He kissed you again and you felt your eyes well up with tears as you kissed him back. You wrapped your arms around his neck again and tangled them in his unkept hair to get him as close as possible.

“I missed you so much. I thought you were dead.” You whispered against his lips as your tears fell down your face.

“It’s okay. I’m here now.” He said as he wiped them with his thumbs. That’s when you caught sight of the bruises on his wrists, as if he had been tied down repeatedly against his will. You then took in the rest of him and realize he was half his weight and covered in bruises and welts all over his body.

“Oh, Peeta. What did they do to you?” You whispered and cupped his face to see his black eye better.

“It’s not as bad as it looks. Don’t worry about it.” He lied as you continued to inspect his arms.

“Don’t worry? All I’ve been able to do since they separated us was worry about you. The only reason I agreed to be the Mockingjay was because they said they’d rescue you. You’re the only thing that’s been on my mind since the arena.”

“I didn’t know I meant that much to you.” Peeta said through a cracked smile.

“You’re joking, right?” You cracked a smile back before leaning in to kiss him again. You weren’t used to kissing when there were no cameras around, but you missed him so much that you didn’t even think about it.

“I’m so glad they got you out of there. I would’ve never forgiven Haymitch if you died. Or Finnick. Or Joanna. If I lost you…” You trailed off as your eyes welled up again. Peeta shook his head and cupped your face to get you to look at him.

“You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.” He told you. You broke into a smile and pulled him into a tight hug.

“You’re real. You’re in my arms again.” You gushed as you squeezed him as tightly as you could. Your moment was interrupted by one of the nurses taping your shoulder.

“We need to bathe him and dress his wounds.” She let you know.

“Can she stay?” Peeta asked without letting go of you.

“You probably won’t want to see this.” The nurse told you as she held up some gauze and sutures. You looked over at Peeta whose big brown eyes looked scared at the thought of being left alone again. You just got him back, so there was no way you were leaving again.

“It’s okay. I’ll stay.” You said to him. The nurse gave you a look and went behind Peeta to unbutton his hospital gown. When the gown dropped, your jaw went with it. Almost every inch of his emaciated body was black and blue. You could tell he had been whipped and beaten over a long period of time. You started to cry without even realizing it but quickly wiped your tears it look brave for him.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” He assured you while the nurse started to dress his wounds.

“There’s no way that doesn’t hurt.” You whispered.

“You’re right. Hold my hand, please? So I can squeeze it.” He asked innocently. You couldn’t help but smile and took his hand to give it a big squeeze.

“Still keeping up with the lover boy act I see.” One of the nurses mentioned as the stitched something up in Peeta’s arm.

“I’ve gotten really good at it. You’d almost think it was real.” Peeta chuckled without looking at you, but it made you blush nonetheless.

“Almost.” You nodded, making Peeta look at you.

“I heard you had quite the lover girl act going yourself.” The nurse continued.

“What do you mean?” Peeta asked curiously.

“Yeah, what?” You laughed in embarrassment.

“You’re the Mockingjay. People watch you and then talk. I heard you were screaming and crying and hugging the TV every time Peeta was on. And then screaming some more at anyone who made a comment about the things Peeta was saying.”

“I was forced-“ Peeta began.

“I know. I made sure everyone knew. That wasn’t the real you that I know.” You cut him off before he could apologize. Peeta smiled fondly at you now that he knew you had been fighting for him, even when you were separated.

“It’s hard to remember the real me.” He admitted.

“I remember him. I’ll remind you.” You shrugged. Peeta smiled again, but just for a second until he was flinching from his sutures.

“It’s okay. I got you.” You squeezed his hand before kissing his knuckles. Peeta forgot about his pain momentarily and felt himself blush. You were being a lot nicer to him than anyone had been to him in a while. But even if he had been treated with nothing but kindness, any affection coming from you was enough to send a blush across his face.

“You need a haircut.” You said, pulling Peeta out of his thoughts.

“Thanks.” He chuckled and shyly ran his fingers through his hair. You felt bad for poking fun when you remembered he didn’t have any basic luxury for weeks and a haircut was probably the last thing on his mind.

“Or maybe keep it. Your curls are coming out.” You noticed and tugged on one of his blond ringlets.

“I know. I usually try to avoid that. It makes me feel like one of those white dogs they have in the Capital.”

“Hey. That sounds like someone remembers the old you.” You smiled at his remark.

“Yeah. I guess I do.” Peeta smiled in return.

“We need to bathe him now.” The nurse told you. Peeta looked around at the room full of female nurses and felt embarrassed.

“I can do it.” You said when you saw his face.

“Are you sure?” He asked you.

“I don’t mind. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.” You shrugged and thought back to bathing him in the River during the first Games.

The nurses ran Peeta a bath while you helped him limp into the bathroom. Once his bath was ready, you helped him into it and got to work cleaning him off. You started with his hair, that looked like it hadn’t been washed since well before the second Games. Peeta was quiet as you poured water over his head until the water ran clear.

“You don’t have to do this.” He said quietly as you gently cleaned his skin.

“Yes I do. You’d do it for me, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” Peeta admitted before a comfortable silence settled between you. You’d been on the brink of death together and forced to feign a romance in front of the whole world, but this moment felt far more intimate than anything you’d done so far.

“This reminds me of the cave.” Peeta said after a minute.

“You remember the cave?”

“I remember every second. You took care of me. Just like this.”

“It’s what we do.” You shrugged and kept cleaning.

“When have I ever taken care of you?” He laughed sadly and looked up at you.

“You’ve taken care of me plenty of times. I usually take care of your body. You take care of my mind.”

“I guess we make a good team that way.” Peeta smiled shyly.

“We do. And that’s why we’re never getting separated again.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I know. But I can do my best to never let you out of my sight again.”

“I’ll do the same.” Peeta promised and looked up at you again. You cupped his chin and leaned down to kiss his nose, feeling his wet eyelashes brush against you as he closed his eye s

“Good. Now let’s get you dried off and I’ll show you to the dining hall.”

After helping Peeta get dressed, you linked your arm through his and guided him towards the dining hall. All eyes were on him as you got a tray and got on like. Some people thought he was dead while others thought he was a traitor for the things Snow had forced him to say on TV. But most people saw him as a hero and gave him warm smiles as they passed.

“Everyone is looking at me.” He whispered in your ear.

“They’re probably just excited to meet you after all the stories I told about you.” You shrugged and loaded up yours and Peeta’s plate with bread and soup.

“Yeah? Like what?” He smirked and looked at you.

“Like how loud you were in the woods when I was trying to quietly make it to the Cornucopia.” You teased him. Peeta rolled his eyes at you and wrapped an arm around your waist to keep himself balanced as you walked to a table.

“Hey Peeta. Nice to see you back.” Someone you didn’t recognize smiled at Peeta and patted his shoulder as he passed.

“See? They love you here. Because they know I love you and I’m basically a celebrity around here so they have to like what I like.” You whispered to him ad you sat down together across from Annie, and Finnick.

“Did you just say you love me?” Peeta pretended to gasp. You scrunched your nose and shoved a strawberry in his mouth to shut him up. You and Peeta noticed at the same time that Annie and Finnick were fully engaged in a makeout session now that they had been reunited. You gulped while Peter blushed and you made quick eye contact with each other. You didn’t really know the nature of your relationship at this point. There were no cameras to fake it for but being without him for 8 weeks made you realize you hadn’t faked a single thing.

“Of course I love you. You’re my husband, aren’t you?” You said after a minute to ease the tension. Peeta smile and took your hand to jokingly kiss your ring finger.

“That’s right. How could I forget we’re married.” Peeta humored you and squeezed your hand. Gale cleared his throat and the two of you finally realized he had sat down. Gale was eating his soup while staring daggers at Peeta, who looked uncomfortable.

“Aren’t you gonna say hello?” You calmly asked Gale.

“Hey, Peeta.” Gale grunted.

“Hi Gale. Thanks for helping to get me out of there.” Peeta said politely.

“No problem.” Gale muttered and looked away. Peeta’s hands had been bandaged after his bath so you got some of his soup on his spoon and held it up to his lips.

“Open.” You instructed. Peeta opened his mouth to accept the soup and swallowed it while you ripped up some bread for him. You put that in his mouth as well before giving him a glass of water. Peeta happily ate his food and smile at you in appreciation.

“Seriously?” Gale laughed meanly.

“What?” You wondered.

“You two. Do you really have to feed him?”

“I don’t have to. I want to. I missed him.” You shrugged and turned away from Gale to continue feeding Peeta.

“That doesn’t mean you have to feed him. He’s not a baby.” Gale said as if Peeta wasn’t right there.

“It’s okay. I can do it.” Peeta said and took the spoon from you. His hands shook as he dipped the spoon into his soup and it got worse as he tried to bring it to his mouth. By the time the spoon reached his lips, there was nothing left on it. You shot Gale an angry look for making Peeta feel like he had something to prove before taking the spoon again.

“I’ll do it. You fed me once.” You said and gave Peeta another bite.

“But this isn’t the first time you’ve fed me. I owe you one now.” Peeta said with a smile.

“Don’t worry about me. I have no problems stuffing my face.”

“It’s true. I’ve seen it.” Gale chimed in to remind Peeta that while he had been gone, Gale had been right there with you.

“It’s not very attractive.” You told Peeta.

“I’m sure anything you do is attractive.” Peeta replied, making you smile.

“Y/n, you left your shirt in my room last night.” Gale said, making everyone at the table look at him. Peeta frowned sadly and looked at you, expecting you to admit that you and Gale had been seeing in each other in a new way in Peeta’s absence.

“Oh. Thanks. I can grab it later.” You told Gale. Gale looked at Peeta and smirked, confirming Peeta’s worst fears.

“You were in his room last night?” Peeta asked quietly and looked at you.

“Gales been on the frontlines a lot and he’s been showing me some things he learned in training. One of them was how to make a tourniquet out of a shirt. I wanted to learn because if I had made yours properly during the first Games, you would’ve have lost your leg.” You said with a guilty look in your eyes.

“Hey, that tourniquet saved my life. I would’ve lost a lot more than my leg if you hadn’t made it. Don’t blame yourself.” Peeta said as he put his hand on top of yours. Gale looked between the two of you with jealousy brewing before speaking up again.

“I think I’m gonna skip training today. I’m still tired from how late we were up last night.” Gale added. You caught on to what Gale as trying it do and turned to a very jealous looking Peeta.

“We were up late discussing the menu for Haymitchs birthday dinner. It’s coming up soon and we wanted to hunt to have something special for him.” You explained.

“That’s nice. Maybe I can bake something for him.” Peeta offered.

“We have enough food planned.” Gale said, making Peeta’s smile fall.

“We can never have enough food.” You insisted. “I’m sure Haymitch would love it.”

“Do you think they’d let me in the kitchen?” Peeta chuckled and nodded towards the kitchen.

“If I ask them to, they would. I don’t mean to brag, but I get anything I ask for around here. It’s the perks of being the face of their revolution.”

“What have you asked for so far?” Peeta wondered.

“Just you. And now I have it so I need to think of some other things to ask for. Like getting you some baking time.” You smiled sweetly at him and touched his shoulder. You wanted Peeta to have some time to bake to remind himself of who he was. Peeta put his hand over yours and smiled in appreciation.

“You know there’s no cameras around here, right?” Gale said, taking your attention away from each other.

“We know.” You laughed in annoyance.

“So what’s with the act?” Gale asked, making Peeta gulp. He looked at you curiously, also wondering if your kindness towards him was part of the act.

“There is no act. You haven’t been through what we’ve been through. We missed each other. Let us reunite in peace.” You said simply as you kept your hand on Peeta. Peeta smiled in content and rested his head on your shoulder.

“So are you guys dating now? For real?” Finnick came up for air long enough to ask. You felt Peeta tense up on your shoulder and lifted his head to look at you. He was wondering the exact same thing, but didn’t know how to voice it. Things had been different between you before you were separated and the way you were acting Joe only made Peeta further believe that your feelings had shifted into something real.

“Can everyone leave us alone? What’s with all the questions?” You laughed awkwardly and took a bite of your bread. Finnick chuckled and held up his hands in defense while Gale gave Peeta the death glare. Peeta gave Gale a simple shrug before putting his head back down on your shoulder. You heard him yawn and looked down at him.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.” He nodded with his eyes shut.

“Me too. Let’s get some sleep.”

You said goodbye to Finnick and Annie before taking Peeta’s arm to lead him out of the dinning hall. You brought him to the hallway where the bedrooms were and led him to the room you’d been staying it.

“My roommate is Prim but she has the night shift in the medical wing tonight.” You told him. You turned around and saw Peeta by your door, looking longingly at your bed. It had probably been a long time since he had somewhere soft to rest his head and a bed had never looked so inviting.

“They said they set up a room for me-“

You cut him off by rushing into his arms and holding him tight. Peeta stumbled back a little before hugging you back and resting his cheek against your head.

“Stay.” You whispered against his chest.

“Always.” Peeta said automatically. You hugged him for a few moments longer before climbing into bed. Peeta climbed in after you and lifted his arm so thta you could lay your head over his heart. Peeta wrapped an arm around you and you held his hand to he as close as possible.

“Can you believe how Gale was acting back there? He’s so different now. I feel like I don’t know him anymore.” You said to fill the silence that had settled.

“I think he’s mad that I was with you in the Games and he wasn’t.” Peeta replied.

“I don’t understand him. Why would anyone wish what we went though for themselves?”

“I don’t think he’s thinking about it like that. I think he’s just embarrassed that some other guy was kissing you on TV for everyone to see. And then winning the Games with you. And going on a victory tour with you. Twice. I mean, the whole entire world was rooting for us to be in love. He had to watch our fake engagement, wedding and pregnancy. I can’t imagine how that felt for him.”

“Why would he care? It’s not like I was his girlfriend.” You reminded Peeta.

“But he had feelings for you. Anyone can see it. That’s why he hates me.” Peeta said with a soft chuckle. You frowned in the darkness and tilted your chin to look up at Peeta.

“He has to get over that, then.” You shrugged. “It’s not my or your problem that he had feelings for me. He doesn’t get to be mean to you just because he wants my relationship with him to be like my relationship with you.”

Peeta was quiet for a while after that. The only sound in the room was coming from the sounds of your breathing.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked as you looked up at him again.

“Nothing.” He chuckled.

“Tell me.” You urged and shook him a little. Peeta let out another soft chuckle and looked down at you.

“If it were me, I would hate whatever guy was on TV kissing you too.” He admitted. A smile tugged at your lips as you propped yourself up on your elbow.

“We’re not on TV now, are we?” You asked him. Peeta sat up as well so that you were at the same level.

“I don’t think so.” He smiled shyly as he shook his head. Peeta looked into your eyes with his big brown ones before letting his gaze drop to your lips.

“And yet, you’re the only boy I want to kiss.” You said quietly. Peeta jutted his head back a little in surprise before leaning towards you. His eyes slowly shut and yours did the same as you met in a soft kiss. The kiss slowly became heated and you were soon in his lap with his hands up your shirt.

“We can take it slow. I know you’ve been through a lot.” You whispered against his lips.

“I don’t need slow. I just need you.” Peeta shook his head before kissing you again.

“I want to be with you. For real this time. Not pretend.” You said between kisses.

“Real?” Peeta smiled hopefully as he looked into your eyes. You nodded your head and replied before pulling him into a kiss again.

“Real.”

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark fanfiction #peeta mellark #peeta mellark x you #Peeta mellark whump

2K notes · View notes

thebibliosphere · 15 days

Note

I probably have hEDS, have had tense muscles since I was 8 and more and more of my joints started to be in constant pain, 10 years spine, 14 years hips, then hands at 19 and now all of them. And though I'm over 40 and don't practice any stretching, I still can contort myself in any direction.

But I don't know if it's worth the energy to fight for a diagnosis? Because it doesn't seem like there is any help, other than mild painkillers and physiotherapy, and I already get that. It is so much work to convince doctors to look into the source of joint pain, as soon as they can rule out rheumatoid arthritis they stop caring. And I don't belive I will get stronger painkillers even with a diagnosis anyway.

Do you think a diagnosis is woth the hassel?

For me, diagnosis was worth it because it meant getting the correct kind of physical therapy, which is often very different from the regular kind you usually get if the physical therapist is good at their job.

Regular PT used to damage my joints more. PT designed to target hypermobility has actually helped build joint stability, retrain my muscles, and reduce some of my pain by lessening the frequency of injuries.

It’s also good to know because hEDS affects more than just your joints.

I have a lot of problems with my internal organs due to how my connective tissue is affected, and my brother, who is undiagnosed but likely affected, suffered from spontaneous retina detachment twice. When I mentioned it to my eye doctor he said, “yeah, that happens to you zebras” and now I get my retinal health assessed every six months because fuck that.

It can also be good to know because of how it affects your care during things like surgery, ranging from which anesthesia they use to the type of sutures required.

When my mother had a mastectomy, she experienced several surgical complications, including not being able to get the wound site to close, so they kept dragging her back into surgery.

When I found out, I told my dad the surgical team needed to know my mother likely had hEDS because I did, and my mother and I are carbon copies of each other. When my dad told the surgeon, he apparently said, “Well, if I’d known that, I’d have done the whole thing differently!” and finally got my mother stitched up properly and into recovery.

In that regard, my diagnosis helped not just me but a family member, but also indicated the type of care I’ll likely need if I’m ever in the same situation.

So, yes, it's a hassle to get diagnosed and some (bad) doctors will frame it in terms of “there’s no cure so there’s no point.”

But for me, it’s not only been worth it but also vital to the management of the rest of my care. And let me be clear, there are some people for whom this is just a crappy joint disorder, and they are otherwise fine. But for many of us, we’re more than just our fucky joints. We’re an entire plethora of health problems that all cascade from our weak connective tissue, and it's important more people recognize that.

So is it worth it for you? That's a you decision. But it was very much worth it for me.

I wish you luck and fewer days of pain. This shit sucks.

#chronic health tag #tw body injury #ehlers danlos syndrome

396 notes · View notes

atskiruma · 5 months

Text

Chatty Medic

expl: after meeting and patching up Soap on a dangerous mission, simon takes an interest in your conversational personality during your service

a/n: hi, second person writing, gender-neutral reader, mw2 settings, reader is implied to be a little short, sfw, reader is mentioned to have hair, 1,855 words

When you were first approached by your sergeant about loading onto the Spec-Gru plane to assist an injury, it was definitely nerve-wracking at first. To be on board with immensely important generals, lieutenants and captains was a scary thought with how low ranking you were in the medical field. Nonetheless, you obliged and with your medic bag in hand you began to board the ship.

The first thing you saw as you descended up the stairs of the military plane was Captain Price standing at the top with a smile. You had known Price previously when he visited the medic facility and was nice enough to start a short conversation with you. His eyes grinning as he greeted you stepping onto the plane.

"It's good to see you," He spoke, "I'm sorry that this request is so short notice, if we'd known the medic we usually had was already boarded on another plane I would of already notified you."

You smiled at his kind gesture, "No problem, I'm glad to help." In response, he smiled a little more.

"Great, just follow me, he's down here." Price spoke while turning to make his way through the plane. Following him closely, you couldn't see much with his tall stature blocking the view, but nevertheless you examined what you could beside you. Being as this was your first time in such an expensive and high-class aircraft, the numerous equipment was fascinating.

Finally making it into the main compartment, Captain Price stepped out of the way to give you view of the problem. 11 people sat on each side of the plane while 1 laid in the middle on a stretcher. A couple of the members looked towards the 2 people entering and the eye-contact made you a little nervous.

"Sergeant Soap, or Johnny, was hit by a bullet near his torso." Price said as you watched Johnny lift a weak hand in the air comically. You nodded at his words and walked towards Soap laying on the stretcher. A couple more eyes followed your movement but you kept yours set straight.

"Hello Johnny, how are you?" You spoke softly as you set your bag down and began to put gloves on for the procedure. He smiled up at you and spoke, "Doing well, until now, you?"

Smiling at his little joke, you spoke, "Fine, until now, but once we get you all fixed I'll be feeling a lot better." Giving him a soft smile before turning to adjust your tools. Soap also smiled bigger when you spoke such kind words to him.

As you began fixing up his wound and cleaning the blood, conversation began to start between the two of you. Although it wasn't common in the medical field, you enjoyed talking to whomever you were helping.

"You're quite talkative for a medic." Johnny stated as you were threading the sutures in his stomach. Without looking away at your work, you spoke, "Well wouldn't you wanna get to know the person digging into your skin right now?" He blinked a bit at your words before laughing, "You're not wrong!" Little did you know a second pair of eyes was peering in on this conversation as you were having it.

This calm atmosphere continued until you were finished and the plane had finally reached it's destination at the Army Facility. While most of the members in the ship started to get up and leave, you stayed behind to organize all the tools you used for Johnny's injury.

The sound of footsteps behind you stopped your task and forced you to look, seeing two men standing behind you, Captain Price and another man with a ghost mask. Price spoke up first,

"Thank you again for the service, I'll make sure to note your superior of what a good job you did just now." His smile was calming to look at, and you could tell why this man was given the role of Captain just by his serenity. The man in the ghost mask however just continued to stare you directly in the eyes without saying a word. His presence seemed heavy and dominating as he didn't blink nor look away.

Giving Price a smile and a few quick glances at the ghost-masked man, you nodded your head and spoke, "I appreciate it, sir. Feel free to request me anytime." After that, both men left the plane and you followed shortly after to head back to the office.

When you were approached for the second time by your sergeant about helping another high-ranking officer, you didn't expect it to be the notorious staring masked gentleman from last time. It had been a couple weeks since you had taken on the big role of helping Spec-Gru and since then you haven't given it much thought.

Until now, when you walked out of the office and into the medic hall, seeing the tall, frightening man sitting on one of the small medic beds. Nurses passing by gave him glances as he sat staring at the floor, others turned towards each other and fawned over him.

Putting on your best smile, you walked over and greeted him. "Hello, how are you?" You spoke, watching as his eyes lifted to look at yours and continued to stare for a while. Clearly not a talker, you stated in your mind. Blinking and reaching for the clipboard placed on the small table next to the bed, you continued, "It's okay if you're not up for speaking, almost everything I need to know is here anyways."

After reading his file, you smiled again and looked at him, he was already staring at you before you spoke, "It's nice to see you again Simon, I know we met a while back when I patched up your friend Johnny." His eyes never left yours as you tried to spark a conversation between the two of you. Nonetheless, it wasn't sparking at all, it was more like trying to start a fire in the rain than anything.

Deciding you'd have to talk for the both of you, you continued to chat with him about little things. How the weather was, wondering what they'd be serving at lunch for today, if he enjoyed the lunches they did serve here. Fortunately, he wasn't deaf, because when you asked for him to lift his sleeve in order to see the damage he obliged.

"That must of hurt," You said as you tightened your gloves and held his arm with one hand while picking around the wound with the other. "I know that you're not much of a talker Simon but if anything I ever do hurts feel free to pull away in order to show me."

This one-sided chat continued on for 30 minutes as you assessed the damage and patched him up, frequently sharing little bits of your life to keep the fixing process less boring. Just as you finished you decided to speak again, "Feeling better? Anything else you need from me?" Simon looked at you and shook his head, finally speaking with a rough British accent, "No, thank you." Was all he said before he stood up and left the wing.

The interaction was odd, but not too odd, because you could tell while he definitely wanted a large wall between him and strangers, he kept a very respectful manner regardless.

You saw Simon again on Sunday, when last time you saw him was Tuesday. He was back at the medical center again and requested your service as well. When told he was waiting in the wing for you, you put on your best smile and approached him again. This time, his eyes were staring straight at the hall you were coming from before you turned the corner.

"Hello Simon, it's good to see you again, how are you doing?" You spoke as you smiled at him and turned to grab some gloves to put on. This time, he responded.

"Doing fine, thank you." His gruff voice spoke out, a small smile made its way onto your face at his response.

"I'm glad, I'm sorry you're hurting today but I promise to do my best to fix that." You tried to soothe the possible ache he was feeling somewhere and comfort his worries if he had any at the same time.

Simon nodded at your words and stared at you as you examined the clipboard with his problem. A small gash in the arm, simple. You then proceeded to explain the type of ointment you were gonna use to numb the pain and pressed to advise you if it hurt anywhere.

Again, you started to speak of plain conversation starters and this time Simon either nodded or actually blinked when you spoke towards him. Progress is progress, you told yourself as you finished bandaging his upper arm and making sure no other injuries were present.

Seeing as he requested for you twice when aiding an injury, you began to wonder if he was enjoying your little chats. Deciding not to get ahead of yourself, you told him he was all better and wished him a goodbye on his way out.

Thursday rolled around and you were again, called to go check up on Simon in the medical wing. This time around though he seemed more interactive than usual. When you first stepped out of the hall and walked towards him, he spoke before you.

“I like what you did with your hair today.” He said, as he stared directly into your eyes. The compliment shocked you but nevertheless you smiled anyways and replied,

“Thanks! I tried something different today. What seems to be the probl-“

He interrupted you before you could finish, “You should wear it like that more often.” His eyes continued to hold yours as the awkwardness set in from his words.

“You think?” You spoke, as you lifted a hand up to twirl a piece around your fingers. “It wasn’t that difficult to do,” You continued, “Maybe I will, if I see you sometime this week I’ll make sure to wear it like this.”

Your eyes followed to the table next to bed, expecting to see a clipboard but instead it was empty. “That’s odd..” You trailed off, “Did nobody examine you before you came in?”

Turning to him again, for the first time since you met him he avoided eye contact. “Simon?” You questioned as he kept looking towards the ground.

“M’ not injured.” He mumbled, still avoiding your eyes. Your eyebrow rose as you held a concerned look on your face from his sudden change in personality. Instead of speaking, you waited to see if he’d continue his reasoning.

“Was wondering if you wanted to do something, sometime.” He spoke, giving you a quick glance here and there. Your confusion was still evident on your face. “Never done this before, think you’re pretty.”

“Oh,” was all you said as your cheeks dusted a light pink color. Simon looked as if he was trying his best at the proposal, so you tried to ease the stress. “I’d love to, when are you free?”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #modern warefare ii #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #atskiruma

526 notes · View notes

jamespottersdaisy · 10 months

Text

Dulcet

Peter Parker x fem!reader

in which peter parker messes with your head

a/n: added oscorp for the sake of the plot

You got a hundred from the calculus midterm, but Peter Parker was not present to brag.

The nerve that boy has.

Spiderman is limping, and he’s injured, too. Again. And to think that you were a civilian with a sprained ankle.

“You weren’t hobbling yesterday,” You open the window to him, stepping back to make room.

He gives you a much-forced thumbs-up before tossing himself to the carpet. His suit is ruined, fortunately for you with only one big gash on his bicep. You can be a tailor if he keeps this up.

As he catches his breath, you– already knowing what you have to do– amble towards the suture kit. You hear him curse and groan by the corner of your room. You weren’t expecting him, but you are not surprised, either. “Don’t stain the carpet!”

“Come on, trouble, you’re better than that,” he calls with a hoarse tone.

No, you are not.

Bringing the kit along, you pad back to your room.

“What happened?” you pout at him, at which he waves his uninjured hand off. His wound is similar to the one that you attended yesterday. “It’s just a gash, stop acting like you’re about to die.”

“Cut me some slack,” he says, this time less dramatically.

You sit beside him on the floor to work on his bicep. “It was the same thing as yesterday wasn’t it?”

You are not sure what to call it. Monster sounds too childish, but the body of an animal doesn’t leave much for choosing.

After his silence, you avert your eyes up to him. “I thought you said it was handled?”

You hear a sigh from him under the spandex. His words echo around the room as your fingers work on the wound.

“It’s complicated. I can’t just kill him.”

“Yeah, but…”

You notice that you have actually never thought about how Spiderman handles the bad guys. Surely he catches the criminals, but creatures like yesterday? You have absolutely no idea on that matter.

“How do you handle it then?”

He shrugs. “Try to find a cure? I don’t know, if there’s a problem there’s also a solution. Usually, I just need to look for it deep enough.”

“What if there is no cure?”

He doesn’t reply, and you feel cold shivers down your spine. Indeed, from afar, in the warm comfort of one’s bed, the thought of murder doesn’t cross the mind. Why would it? You are neither the murderer nor the dead. Just a regular person who wants the monsters gone, and Peter Parker to not get a hundred from a midterm.

You don’t like the chill silence. “Were you looking for a cure today?”

His dry chuckle surprises you when you complete the stitches. “Kind of. From the former experiences, I figured Oscorp would be a nice start.”

He’s not wrong. You applied for an internship at Oscorp merely because of the company’s reputation and got a positive reply. Thus, starting in two days, you will be getting acquainted with the building's interior.

“What did you find?”

“Nothing. I couldn’t even make it there.”

You’ve never thought that you can help him. Surely, if you manage to get lost and perchance find yourself in a room surrounded by confidential information and materials that can help to create a cure, it would be great help. You can��t do it yourself, but that doesn’t mean Spiderman can’t.

“I will be there the day after tomorrow, I’m sure I can–” You start only to get cut off by the guy before you.

“Absolutely not,” he shakes his head. “You are not getting involved in this.”

You narrow your eyes at him, and he stares at you, which looks funnier than usual because of his big white eyes.

“It would be easier for me not to get noticed–”

“As it would be more dangerous,” he gets up by holding onto the walls around him. “You just do you. Don’t try to play hero, trouble.”

“I have you for that,” you mumble as he walks around your room.

Little does he know you are utterly resolute to sneak around. Not a very vulnerable civilian of you.

“Exactly. Let me handle this,” he nods at you before limping towards your bed. “You should direct your exertions towards nagging that Peter guy.”

“I would very much like to, if only his ridiculous face showed up–hey, hey, don’t–” ‘Lay on the bed,’ you wanted to yell but it was too late. He was already spread on the clean sheets of your comfort space. “SPIDER!”

“Ridiculous?”

“I washed them this morning, jackass!”

“You didn’t tell me his face was ridiculous.”

Groaning loudly, you throw your head back.

“It’s not! Can you please get the fuck out of my bed–”

“Then what’s wrong with his face?”

“Nothing is wrong with his face, it’s disgustingly perfect!” You jump to your feet and dash towards the red-bodied male and drag him by his leg. “Get up!”

“You don’t like his face because it’s perfect?” he cackles, watching you struggle to toss him away.

“Yes, exactly,” when you do haul him to the floor, he’s laughing more heartily than you’ve ever heard anyone laugh before.

“You should tell that to him. He’d be flattered.”

“The only thing I’m gonna tell him when I see him is my three-digit grade.”

You abandon him on the cold floor while making sure to occupy the whole space in bed so he won’t jump in again. His laugh slowly ebbs, albeit you can still hear the timbre of amusement.

“Three digits?”

“I got a hundred from the exam,” you nod proudly, eyes on the ceiling. “Parker wasn’t around, though.”

“I’m sure he’ll pop up,” he stands up and dusts himself off. You notice he is not limping anymore. At least not that badly. Superpowers.

“Wasn’t worried.”

Spiderman ambles towards your window, hands behind the garment making sure of the safety. You prop yourself up by the elbows.

“You’re leaving?”

“I am,” he nods, tilting his head to you. “Thanks for the help, trouble. Take care.”

You don’t notice that your eyes look for Parker when you’re on campus. You even mistake every tall brunette for Peter as well. It must be the excitement to gloat that’s hammering in your chest.

You flinch when the said boy pops out of thin air beside you. White shirt, blue jeans, so basic and yet still manages to look nice. God really does have favourites.

“Looking for someone?” When his velvety tone reaches your ears, you realize the few days without it was a bit…boring.

Ignoring the smug smirk on his face after pulling out a reaction from you, you wave off your hand. “Tell me the score. Come on.”

“Ninety-five.”

A deep smile graces your lips, immense pride festering under it. Your eyes gleam in smugness and Peter groans. “There we go–”

“I got a hundred.”

He nods as you laugh, lips forming a line. “Of course you did.”

“Meaning I am better than you.”

“I beg to differ–”

“And that should teach you not to mock me.”

“You’re making it really hard not to.”

You glare at him between your words, watching him shrug. He scrunches up his face, “Congratulations? I’d buy you a coffee after the lecture, but I’m a bit busy today.”

“Saving the city?”

You don’t see him stare at you for a moment. “Work at Oscorp.”

Of course, he got an internship too. What annoys you is not the fact that you will see him again after the lessons, it is the fact that whatever happens, it is always a tie with him.

You are not aware that the former even excites you a bit.

“You weren’t around the other day.”

It’s his turn to smirk. You roll your eyes and get in the class with the door he held open. “You missed me, huh?”

“Yes, it was too peaceful.”

That’s not exactly a lie, but you are glad it sounds like one.

“I’ll make sure you don’t feel that peaceful ever again, don’t worry,” Peter shakes his head before strolling to his seat.

You know he will walk the talk.

“Does paranoia come with the job?”

“Trouble,” he warns, which doesn’t work because the nickname is entertaining to you.

“No, Spider, I haven’t been snooping around in the hopes of finding a cure for your monster.”

You definitely have. You almost got caught by Parker yesterday, but played it off as losing your way.

Spiderman doesn't believe you, rightfully so. He's swung in to 'kill the time' for a while. Right now, he's leaning on a wall that has posters of your favourite artist on it, glaring at you through the white eyes. You sometimes wonder what colour of orbs are behind them.

“My spidey senses are tingling.”

Shutting the book before you, you slide on the chair so your body can face him. “I unplugged the iron, they shouldn’t.”

“They’re sensing a lie," he tilts his head.

“I’m sure that’s not how it works.”

“You wouldn’t know, you’re not the one possessing it.”

“You told me how they work."

"Which was a mistake on my part," he murmurs. "Listen, I don't need your help, alright? I already figured out what I need to do, I just need to find the right formula."

Nonsense, but you nod anyway. "Got it. Now get off my back, will ya?"

He shakes his head, seeing clearly that he won't get anywhere with this. Thus, he decides to change the subject.

"How's the internship going?"

"They made us go through the old files, categorize and digitalise, but it's the first few days and there are a lot of interns," you shrug. "So, good, I guess."

"Us?" he asks and you remember that you've failed to mention Peter's presence there.

"Me and Parker."

"You see him at Oscorp too?"

Unfortunately.

"I see him more than I see anyone else."

Spiderman nods and sits on the floor. You contemplate joining him.

"Shouldn't be that bad if he has a perfect face."

You know what to say to that. His perfect face is the annoying bit, you want to say but decide against it as it will sound…weird.

"Whose side are you on?"

"One hundred per cent yours, trouble," he raises both of his hands.

Spiderman said he just needed the formula. You know it shouldn't be hard to find it, you just need to search thoroughly. Somewhere in those fancy quarters, they must have something useful except old files for you to digitize.

"You're distracted," Peter says and you avert your gaze back to the screen before you.

"Am not," you don't look at him. "Stop staring at me."

"You've been crying for a new task and now when they're about to give us one, you take your sweet time to finish the files.",

This time you glare at him. He's been asking too many questions for your taste today.

What are you doing?

Where are you going?

What are you thinking about?

The last time you've been put to this kind of interrogation was when Spiderman made sure you weren't putting yourself in any danger the other day.

"What's with you today, Parker?" you ask and he raises a brow.

"What's with you?"

"Since when do you worry about me?"

"I'm a good person at heart," he smiles at you, and you grimace in disagreement.

"Sure you are," you rise from your seat, Peter's eyes following you. "I'm going to the bathroom."

You are not. You just have one last room to check for. One that is filled with machines and screens that are hard for you to control. On one of those screens, you know you can find what Spiderman needs.

If only you can slip in and out without getting caught.

You have managed so far, albeit Peter has seen you close to those rooms multiple times. He hasn't ratted you out despite that, but you know it still is not a good image for you.

"Diarrhea, huh?"

You almost laugh, but turn away from him so he doesn't see.

Walking towards the bathroom, you make a turn when you leave Peter's eyesight. Passing multiple similar white gates, you count in your head to find the right one.

After the seventh, you check around to make sure no one is there. Using the card given to you, you disappear behind the doors.

The light around the place is faint, but enough to see the blue ambience. Five giant screens sitting next to a wall-size machine whose usage is unknown to you.

You can see the camera in the upper corner of the room. Avoiding a glance at it, you attempt an image of unfazed, acting like you are sure of yourself and not after vital– probably secret, too– information.

Ambling towards the keyboard that is certainly connected to the screens, you start roaming through the programs. A bunch of old files that you and Peter digitized for a few weeks, crucial recordings of experiments that can easily seem immoral, data of used chemicals, organs, blood and the name of the donor, as well as the formulas for each process are displayed with each click.

Your fingers slightly tremble in excitement when your eyes pick the formulas.

Remember to act natural.

You tug on the button once, twice, thrice, and beg for more time so you can pick the right one. You are too close, it would all go to waste if you get caught before finding what you're looking for.

Your heart drops to your feet when you hear footsteps behind the door. They are fast and hard and don't leave enough time for you to hide with the speed it's approaching.

You flinch when the door is opened and gasp when it's closed at the same second.

Peter is frowning, dashing towards you

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His tone is harsh, his face in a scowl.

Your eyes go between him and the door, heart taking a pace. You should be able to distract him enough to find the right formula.

"I'm working," you turn back to the screens, running your eyes in speed.

"Working, my ass," he comes forward, not exactly dragging you but firmly grabbing your bicep. "You're coming with me, let's go."

"Stop this, the camera is working, act natural."

Your name leaves his lips in a hiss, enough for you to know how irritated he is.

"They will barge in any minute, you have to get out of here," he tightens his grip.

Your hands are shaking at this point, mind too dishevelled that you are afraid of failure.

Whatever happens please let it happen after I find the formula, you beg.

"Peter–"

"Look at me–"

"No, I don't have time–"

"Of course, you don't! Please, trou- try to be quick or I'm dragging you away."

"Just a minute."

Footsteps are echoing behind the door, and this time you are sure they won't help you like Peter was trying to do.

He calls your name and you make a sound from deep in your core in desperation but followed by a victorious one immediately.

A shout sinks into the air outside of the room, and you hold your breath in dreading anticipation. Reading the screen one more time you lock eyes with Peter as the hold of the door makes a screeching sound.

Next thing you know Peter is cursing under his nose before crashing his lips onto yours.

He has pulled your body close, and cupped your cheek, deeming it impossible for you to escape his touch.

The five seconds that his soft lips caress yours, your mind goes blank, your heart stops beating and your body forgets how to react as his skin on yours sets your body aflame.

While your soul welcomes the sweet shock deep in your core, the door to the room flings open, and three white-cloaked professors barge in.

Peter lets you go instantly, and not even lending a glance at you, he awkwardly stares back at the uninvited hosts.

"You two can't do that somewhere else?" the woman in between asks as you slowly gain your composure back.

"This is a workplace," the short, blonde man next to her chimes in. "You can get stripped of your internships for this."

The other man, tall and ginger, stays silent with an amused look on his face. "Bloom of youth."

"We are sorry, sir," Peter starts, not sure whom to address. "It won't happen again. Never again."

A few moments of silence drag into forever as Peter takes your hand into his.

It seems as if the stern-faced individuals soften at the gesture, their stone heart deciding to take pity on you.

The woman steps away from the door. "Back to work."

Before Peter drags you away by the hand, you peek at the big screen and see that it's back to normal.

You did it.

The only thing left to do is to give the formula to Spiderman and let him do the rest, which you are sure he will. If only evening came by faster. You can't wait for his reaction when he sees–

"What," Peter spats out through his teeth, "Were you thinking?!"

You notice how he has led you to an uncrowded space, and how he is unusually close to you.

"Thanks for the save?" you ask sheepishly, the reality of the kiss slowly sinking in.

"No, I'm serious. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Peter's visage is…more irritated with you than it usually is. Still, you don't like how he looks attractive with furrowed brows and darkened eyes.

"Look," you chose your words carefully as there is no other escape from this situation without giving him some answers. "I just needed to check something, and that's all I can tell you, Parker."

So much for 'some answers'.

"I'm sorry that you had to get caught in my mess," you tilt your head, pushing your lips together. "And do something undesirable like that to get out of it."

Peter leans back, his eyes narrowing. He doesn't seem furious anymore, just a bit agitated. "You owe me one."

"How about a coffee?"

He shakes his head.

"Oh, come on, you love coffee!"

He does, and both of you are surprised that you remember it.

"Brownie?"

"No."

"Donut?"

"No."

"Pizza?"

"No."

You groan and throw your head back. You don't see Peter's eyes lingering on your lips for a quick second.

"What do you want, Parker?"

His lips curl into a sly smile, one that he gives you when he's about to best you at something.

"Nothing. Yet," he smirks and brings his index finger under your chin, leaning in close enough that you can feel the hot breath on your lips. "You just owe me one."

With a short brush of his thumb on your lower lip, he turns around and walks away.

At least you got the formula.

19:58

20:34

21:27

Where is he?!

21:43

Your blood boils in annoyance that on a day like this, he decides to stay absent.

22:10

A tap on your window makes you jump in your place, a whisper of 'finally' leaving your lips. Letting him in, your eyes look to find any injury and fail. "Where were you?!"

"At home?"

It’s hard to envision him in such an environment.

"I got the formula," you drop the bomb.

Midway to your room, he stops in his tracks, raising his masked head to you. You can feel the confusion but also simmering anger under the white eyes.

"You did what?"

You sprint to your desk, grab the piece of paper and dash back to Spiderman.

He's silent for a minute, reading the ink. "I thought I told you not to snoop around."

"I didn't listen. Will it help?"

"It will but you had no business–"

"You can cure the creature now, right?."

Spiderman sighs. "You could've gotten caught, trouble,” he shakes his head. “If you keep this up, I'll–"

You don't listen to his words, instead cringe at the flashing memory. "I almost did."

You expected a highly ominous reaction, yet got greeted with a calm one. "What do you mean almost?"

You groan and return to your bed. The vigilante sits on the carpet, watching you toss yourself on the mattress. "Parker saved my ass."

You don't like how Spiderman is meek today. You are sure he would've asked you hundreds of questions already.

"How?"

You change your mind; maybe it's more convenient when he doesn't ask questions.

"Trouble?"

Your cheeks heat, embarrassment flooding hot deep in your core. "hekissedme."

"Come again?" he tilts his head.

"He kissed me so they'd think we were sneaking around to find a place to make out."

There you said it.

"Oh," Spiderman nods, scratching his chin with the clothed fingers. "That must've helped."

A small chuckle echoes in your room when you whine and slap your hands to your face.

"Don't laugh. It's your fault."

"No, it's not."

You know it is not. It's just that…when he kissed you, you felt weird.

"Was he that bad of a kisser that you hated it so much?"

"I didn't hate it, Spider, that's the problem!" you admit with a loud tone, slamming your hands beside your body.

He stood there, silent as a rock for a minute. "Explain."

You are not sure how to say it, you're not sure you can voice it. It's too discordant, too far from the reality you built. You long to hear the words, to try the way they roll off your tongue, echo in your ears, to know if it feels innate.

"For a moment, I wanted to kiss him back."

Spiderman doesn't move an inch, neither do you. A prickling chill embraces your heart, shivers messing with your nerves. You don't want the words that left your lips to be true, but you are not regretful that they are.

"I thought you disliked the boy."

You straightened yourself. "I do! He's aggravating and witty and annoying–"

Your shoulders sulkled and Spiderman hummed, letting you continue. "But he is also funny and kind and sometimes attractive."

"Sometimes?"

"I try not to notice his attractiveness all the time," you shrug.

"So, was he a good kisser?"

You glare at him, but when he shifts forward, you have to reply. “How am I supposed to know?”

“His lips were on yours, weren’t they?”

They were. And they were soft, warm, silky, inviting and welcoming.

“For a few seconds.”

Spiderman scoffs. “Enough to mess with your head.”

You don’t like where this conversation is headed. “You should thank me for the formula instead of dismantling my life.”

He glances at the paper again. “Yeah, thanks, trouble, sorry that you had to get kissed by a handsome guy for me.”

He is sitting a few steps away from you, brown locks tousled from the times he has run his hand through them. You dislike the way your eyes steal too many glances at him, but what can you do? He hasn't acknowledged you once yet, let alone brought up what had happened.

"Is there something on my face?"

You don't know how he can sense your gaze every time.

"Pimple. A big and ugly one."

"Wanna pop it?" he raises his eyebrows, locking eyes with you at last.

There's no pimple to pop. In fact, the only blemish on his face is the lack of a smile.

"Do you always go around and ask the girls to pop your pimple?"

"Just the ones I kiss."

Your stomach drops now that he mentioned it, albeit you manage to play it off with an eye roll. “You flatter yourself, that wasn’t a kiss.”

“What was it, then?” Peter gets up from his place and walks up to yours. You look up at him from your seat as he crosses his arms.

“Not a kiss,” you say and he smiles. “You just put your lips onto mine.”

“That wasn’t up to your standards?”

“No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

This time he actually laughs, even though it sounds like a scoff. “Right.”

When he turns away to return to his initial assigned place, a woman– no, the woman that you almost caught you– strides towards you with stern steps, her heels echoing around the place. Your heart drops and your mouth runs dry, contrasting with the sweat under your armpits.

“You two,” she points between you and Peter. “Follow me.”

You look at Peter with slightly widened eyes and see him frowning. Shame fills you, as well as with sheer panic glistening above it. You put both of you in big trouble.

The woman strides back, and Peter dashes after her, but not before holding and dragging you by the wrist. “Don’t panic.”

Funny, Parker.

Suddenly the distance of five minutes feels like forty minutes, and you are sure Peter can feel the dampness in your palm. The woman’s hair whooshes with her each wide step that you struggle to keep up.

At last, she halts in front of an ivy door and reads her card.

Peter squeezes your hand before you both enter the room. Inside, there are the same two men as yesterday, this time even the ginger professor appearing stern.

“What were you doing in the room yesterday?” the blonde man asks, and you wonder his name.

“Attempting to make out,” Peter talks, his tone calm and determined.

“We have seen the surveillance footage, boy,” this time the ginger guy says angrily. Apparently, he is furious that he let you go so easily.

Your heart is in your mouth, your stomach in your feet. You don’t know what to say to get yourself and Peter out of this mess. There’s an ominous silence, one that stretches your nerves and makes you sick to your stomach.

Even if you confess about Spiderman– which you would never– they wouldn’t believe that story.

“Well?” says the woman behind you, her hands in the pockets of white overcoat.

You take a deep breath. “I–”

“I asked her to look for a formula.”

You push your lips together, staring at Peter, who is glaring at the colleges before you.

“What formula?”

“I didn’t have a specific type, I just wanted a formula that would help me work on the animal DNA, changing and evolving it into something more.”

“Why would you want that?”

They are getting suspicious, not because they don’t believe him, but because they do.

Peter shrugs, and you frown slightly.

“Curiosity.”

They seem to be convinced. For now.

“Listen, kid,” Ginger one sighs. “It’s not a good idea to mess with DNA. It has deadly consequences.”

“If this happens again, we’ll make sure you can never set foot in this building.”

“It won’t happen again,” he assures. They look at you expectantly. You nod quickly.

“Get out of here.”

You happily let Peter lead you out of that environment. After making sure you are out of earshot, he lets your hand go and you notice how your muscles are weak from all the panic.

“Do you always sweat that much?” He wipes his hand on his shirt.

“Thank you.”

Peter’s eyebrows raise at your reverent tone. “You good?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I’m sorry that I put you in such a situation.”

“Woah, hey,” he frowns, waving his hands around. “Stop acting so…sorry. It’s weird. Seeing you like this.”

When you don’t say anything, he gets a slight idea of how much you are ashamed and regretful of the events of the last two days.

“You can buy me coffee as compensation tomorrow.”

You smile, and Peter’s shoulders drop in relief. “Deal.”

“See, I told you to stop trying to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

You toss him your pillow, and Spiderman catches it before it becomes one with his masked face. “See the bigger picture, Spider.”

“Which is?”

“Parker stuck out for me. Again!”

“He has the heart of gold,” he sniffs and puts his hand on his chest. “Bless that boy.”

“Are you capable of being serious for a minute?”

“Not a preference,” he tosses the pillow back to you, but you can’t stop it from hitting you right in the nose. “Work on your reflexes.”

“But why would he do that? Why would he accept trouble for me?” You straighten your hair and put the pillow on your lap. Your eyes ask for ideas from the guy sitting on the carpet.

“You are trouble.”

“Spider!”

“What? Do you need me to ask the guy?”

“I just don’t understand. And he hasn’t even asked one single question about what I was doing there.”

You get up and walk around your room.

“Because you told him to?” he says with nonchalance, and you squint your eyes.

“How do you know that?”

“Sounds like something you would do,” he shrugs after ten seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. He’s acting weird.”

“By weird you mean–”

“Kind.”

“Maybe he was kind all this time, you’re just noticing it now.”

You don’t reply for a while, sitting next to the hero. “Don��t–”

“Stain the carpet,” he nods and puts his clothed hand on yours. “Or I’m paying for the cleaning.”

His hand on yours feels weird and funny, but comforting all the same. “How are the wounds?”

“Better. Thanks to you.”

You nod in pride. “I’ll make a fine doctor.”

“That’s a bit far-fetched, trouble.”

“He asked for coffee for compensation,” your eyes rest on your hands.

“Hah, a cheap apology. Lucky.”

“That’s why your romantic life is nonexistent,” you repeat the words he said to you once and realise you said the same thing to Peter as well today.

“Because I’m on a budget?”

“Why is your romantic life nonexistent, Spider?” you ask, meaning the question with your heart.

He shrugs. You avert your gaze to his frame. You wonder what he looks like under the red and blue. Is he bald, or blonde, or brunette? Does he have freckles? Or a mole? Or a nice smile and brown eyes? Or dimples and blue eyes? Maybe he has dark skin or green eyes.

“It becomes dangerous with me at one point, trouble,” he slowly rises to his feet. “It’s either the people or the girl.”

“And you choose the people?”

“Someone has to,” he approaches the window and slowly opens it. “Don’t get in trouble.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Can’t sit on my ass all day and gossip, can I?”

“I don’t like latte.”

“You literally drink nothing but latte.”

“Buy something more expensive.”

You roll your eyes and explore the desserts displayed on the showcase. “How about something sweet with a latte?”

“Brownie. The big one.”

You raise your brows at the barista. “You heard him.”

He nods, readying the orders after you pay. Putting your card back, you hear Peter saying, “Apology accepted.”

“Now,” after the barista hands you the orders, and you find a nice place to sit, you say, “Why did you help me?”

“So you can buy me a latte.”

You glare and he smirks in turn.

“Felt like it at the moment,” he sipped from his drink. “Don’t look that deep, you just stumbled upon my charitable side.”

You don't question him on this matter anymore.

He drinks his coffee as you tease him, and mocks you back when you pronounce a word wrong.

He laughs when you burn your tongue because your drink was too hot, and tells you to put a sugar cube on it. It helps.

He listens to you blabber about the posters on your wall and asks questions about them to understand your fixations deeper.

He talks about Aunt May and how she is the best cook in the whole world with a wide smile on his lips. You notice your glance too many times at his lips. When you say maybe you'll have the chance to taste her cooking, he nods and says you won't ever wish for another meal.

After finishing his brownie, he walks you home, claiming that he is a gentleman. And you may believe him from the way he opens the door for you and sneaks into the road-facing part of the sidewalk.

On the way home he jokes and chuckles, his smile lines never leaving his cheeks. When you arrive he steps back and says "Take care," before saluting you.

You watch him walk away, his hands in his pockets, his curls dancing with the wind and melting into light brown under the dusk sun.

And then it hits you hard and deep in your core.

You’re falling for Peter Parker.

thank you for reading and let me know if you like it <33

tags♡ @taylorann2013 @gorillaglue23 @inkthgoat @pepsicolacoochie @delwrites @dinovickydzillarex

if you like dulcet series, buy me a coffee <3 i'd appreciate it so much

717 notes · View notes

villainousauthor · 2 months

Note

Would you plss write something where a villain and hero realize they're soulmates? Thank you<333

Hero grunted in pain as they clutched their abdomen and tried to catch their breath. Their head swam, and their vision blurred as they attempted to gain their bearings. One second, they were in a massive fight against several villains. The next, they found themselves being pushed back through a portal. Supervillain was likely to blame for that, with his ability to warp people anywhere in the world.

Hopefully, their communicator wasn't broken in battle, so they'll be able to send their location to their team. If they could even find it.

They try to stand, and immediately, their vision starts to darken around the edges and their head throbs. With a hiss they fall back to the ground.

"Careful, you probably have a concussion."

Hero cranes their neck to see Villain a few feet away, remarkably less injured and approaching. They don't have any weapons drawn, but still, hero feels their heart lurch.

They open their mouth, trying to speak. "I didn't see you go through the portal.. " Even their voice is laced with pain.

Villain is closer now and stops a few feet away, kneeling so they're at eye level. They seem to be assessing Hero's current state. Probably to see if they can easily finish them off, Hero assumes.

"I came in after you." Villain says nonchalantly, like this is the most obvious thing in the world. They eye the blood currently dripping down Hero's head, and the large gash in their arm.

Hero snort, and their chests aches in protest. "Why, to finish the job? Make sure I don't come back?"

Standing up and getting closer, Villain rolls their eyes.

"No, idiot. One day, if you die, it's not going to be at Supervillain's hands. Or because you bled out in-" Villain looks around at the tall trees, the lack of buildings or signs of civilization. "- the middle of the...pacific northwest? I don't even know where we are." They finish, unsure.

Hero tries to sit up as Villain kneels down again, closer this time. "I don't know either. I lost all my tech, I don't even have a way of contacting my team."

"Lucky for you, my stuff faired much better." Villain says smugly, and Hero wishes they could knock the look off their face. "I'll send my location to my henchmen, and they'll come to get us."

Villain reaches out for their arm, and Hero immediately finds themselves flinching away. Villain's lips press into a thin line.

"I'm not going to kill you, like I said. Unless you want to bleed out before someone arrives, you should let me treat your wounds." Villain's voice is firm as they pull a small first aid kid off their utility belt.

"I'm not going to bled out, it's not that bad." Hero tries to keep a defiant edge to their voice. For all they know, Villain will kill them, probably inject them with some poison or something just to make it easy.

"How bad did you hit your head? Are you blind suddenly? Because it looks pretty damn bad." Villain opens the small kit, showing Hero the contents. "Look, normal first aid crap." Their brows are furrowed, frustrated by Hero's reluctance.

Finally, after several tense seconds, Hero relents. They nod and slump their shoulders, as Villain moves closer now.

"The amount of trust issues you have is ridiculous..." They grumble under their breath as they slowly pull the damaged and blood-soaked sleeve of Hero's uniform back. They get a good look at the deep and long cut. Their frown deepens.

Pulling off their dirty gloves, Villain speaks again as they reach for something else.

"I'm going to have to clean this before I dress it. You might need sutures, though." Grabbing alcohol wipes, they use one hand to hold Hero's arm steady, grabbing their forearm.

Hero immediately hisses and jumps back, wrenching their arm from Villain's grasp.

"Jesus christ! Cleaning it shouldn't hurt that much!" Hero exclaims, even more tense. "What did you do, burn me?" They demand, but then they see Villain's expression. Their eyes are focused on Hero's arm, and their face looks cloudy and unreadable. They don't respond to what Hero said, like they didn't register it.

Hero looks down at their arm, and their eyes widen when they see it. Right on their arm, below the wound is a handprint. A completely different shade than Hero's skin tone, it stands out. A soulmark. Right where Villain grabbed them.

"Oh..." Is all Hero can manage to say in this moment. Villain seems to snap out of their trance and reaches for Hero's arm quickly, wrapping their hand back around where the mark is. It fits perfectly.

"This is...this really...this wasn't here before, right?" Villain asks, even though they saw Hero's completely blank and markless skin moments before. They unknowingly tighten their hold, and Hero yelps, their arm still in pain.

Pulling their hand back like they were burned, Villain finally meets Hero's eyes. "You're..." Villain trails off, shaking their head. They look away, palm to their forehead like they're trying to process this.

Hero feels like the forest floor will open up any minute and swallow them whole. If it weren't for their probable concussion, they're sure they would be taking this a lot harder. It feels like there's a charge around them now, an electrical current, live and dangerous between them.

Finally, Villain swallows and talks. "Let me just...let me just treat your wounds, and we can talk about this later." They manage.

Hero just nods as Villain returns to their first aid kit, ignoring the spark and air of tension now between them.

#hero x villain #prompts #dialogue prompt #original writing #hero #hero prompt #villain #villain prompt #villain x hero #superhero #whump #injuries #soulmates #asks #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing prompts

390 notes · View notes

callmemaeverick · 2 years

Text

Dangerous Games [Sherlock Holmes x fem!Reader]

A/N: This little oneshot has been playing in my head since the release and I had to get to get it out. Forewarning, this is unbeta’d AND non-period accurate. I am not a Brit, nor am I from that era, though I like to pretend. I just like Henry as Sherlock and I like whump, so when he was shot, well, this came out of it.

Summary: You are Mrs Hudson’s niece and you were at your aunt’s for your monthly visit, when you heard her favourite tenant stumble through the door

You knew of him, of course. How could you not? He had commanded attention and admiration wherever he went. And that case Basilweather case a few months ago made him even more popular. But you knew him not as the brilliant detective. No. You knew him as your aunt’s reclusive tenant.

Sherlock Holmes.

He was definitely a character, you decided. Sharp as a tack and not a bad violinist. But he was also blunt and straightforward, sometimes to the point of rudeness. You could recall a time or two where his unsolicited remarks and astute observations made you clench your fists and narrow your eyes at him.

And then there’s the constant revolving door of guests, wanted and unwanted, going up and down the stairs to his flat cum office cum lab cum whatever else. It was very irritating for one looking for a peaceful afternoon with one’s reading.

Your aunt loves him though. Dotes on him as if he was her own. You knew he had helped her with something serious, but no matter how many times you asked, she wouldn’t tell you what. It sometimes drives you mad, but deep down you were grateful he was there to help.

So, despite his apparent lack of empathy, you knew he was a good man. Which was the only reason you put up with him.

xxxx

“You’re an idiot, Sherlock Holmes,” You hissed as you pulled the thread stitching his skin back together.

Judging by the quirk of his eyebrow, you knew it was not something he hears often. In fact, most of the time, it was probably the exact opposite. But you were undeterred, especially since he almost gave you a heart attack, walking through the front door limping and covered in blood.

“Do I want to know the reason you decided to forego a hospital and the attention of a real doctor?”

Sherlock grunted at a particular sharp tug of the suture but did not pull away from your hand. "And miss out on your charming company? Never."

Rolling your eyes at his snark, you returned your focus to the gunshot wound. "Don’t be glib with me, you know it doesn’t work. And it’s not like you couldn’t afford the hospital, so tell me what’s going on?”

When your question was left unanswered, you finished off the last suture and looked up, just to find that his attention was no longer on you but on his map over your shoulder, still cluttered with notes. Frowning, you shifted to block his line of sight. “Sherlock?”

“I had to know.” There was no trace of jest in his voice anymore.

“Know what?”

“I had to know how deep the corruption goes. Her web. I need to know what she’s involved in.”

“She? Enola?” You referred to his young sister, someone you had just met a few days ago helping the man before you up the stairs. She endeared herself to you quite quickly, you realized, as you felt your concern for the Holmes’ siblings grow.

“No. Mira Troy. Moriarty.”

You scoffed at the clever wordplay and turned to look at the map behind you. The name was written clearly on one of the cards.

“She could have died… Enola.” He clarified before you asked. “Had the knife been real, she could've…”

You didn’t know what had truly happened and you suspect you might never will. But you knew it had shaken him quite seriously.

“Sherlock, hey, look at me,” You called, turning back to him. You waited until he pulled his eyes to yours, until you could see the slight discoloration in his left iris. “She is safe, hm? She is sleeping, right in there.” You motioned to his bedroom. "You need not worry."

His gaze moved to his closed door as if he could see right through the wood.

“I just got her.”

“And you’re scared you’re going to lose her.”

“Yes.”

You smiled at the sentiment in his soft voice. He wasn’t as unfeeling as he would like people to think him to be. “You’ve changed, Sherlock Holmes.”

He hummed, coming to the same conclusion. “Perhaps.”

“Give her some credit, Sherlock. She’s tougher than she looks.”

He was silent as he contemplated your words and you didn’t know what he was seeing as he turned to look at you but you refused to break under his stare.

“Like you?"

Heat tinged your cheeks at the sincere mirth dancing in his eyes. It hadn't escaped your begrudging notice that Sherlock Holmes is an attractive man, all wide, strong shoulders and deep voice. It also didn’t help that he was indeed one of the most intelligent man you’ve met.

The feel of his soft touch on the back of your hand stole your attention and your breath stuttered in your lungs when you saw that your hand were clasped overtop his. You didn’t know when you had reached out to him, but what shocked you more was that you felt comfortable enough that the action did not even register to you.

You could only watch as he leaned a little bit closer, grunting with the effort. His head dipped to where his thumb was tracing your knuckles. “My sister believes I’m alone here. In need of a companion."

"Is that," Your voice had dropped to a whisper, as if you were sharing a secret, so you cleared your throat to return it back to normal. "your way of asking me to be your friend?"

Sherlock looked up at you and you froze at the look in his eyes. Heart beating wildly in your chest, you followed his gaze as it dropped to your lips. "Not a friend." He said.

You opened your mouth to respond.

"Sherlock?"

The call of his name might as well be a clap of thunder with the way you both jumped apart at the sound of it. And in that instance, the moment was gone. Blood rushing to your face in embarrassment, the both of you awkwardly stood to face Enola, coming out of the room.

"Are you two alright?" She asked taking in the sight of you, wide eyed and flushed, and Sherlock, shirtless and bloodied. "I heard-"

"Y-yes. I was just... leaving." You sidestepped the man before you and headed for the door, highly aware said man following closely behind.

He called your name, exasperation in his tone, but you ignored it.

"Keep the wound and stiches dry and you'd be right as rain in a few days." Over his shoulder, you smiled at his sister. "You take care of yourself, Enola. If you still feel dizzy and nauseous, have your brother take you to the hospital, alright?" Finally meeting his eyes, you tried to convey what your lips hadn't had the chance to.

"Goodnight, Mr Holmes."

His lips twitched at the game you had initiated. He inclined his head in reply.

The game is on.

Part II

#sherlock holmes #henry cavill #enola holmes #enola holmes 2 #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #enola holmes 2 spoilers #dangerous games #mav's posts

3K notes · View notes

no-nameno-face · 1 year

Text

Taken Care Of Audio (read story first)

TAKEN CARE OF (WITH AUDIO)

Pairing: Reader x Ellie Williams

Summary: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact. You will be blocked. Ellies had a long, hard day on patrol, and after stitching her up she requests some TLC.

Warnings: Smut heavy, sub!reader, dom!ellie, face riding (E!receiving), oral (E!receiving), masturbation (R!), cum eating (kinda)? Praise kink, minor blood kink, pain kink, stitches, boob play (E!receiving), first time smut writing, did not proof read (but probably should have...)

Author's Notes: Soooo I've never written smut before, lmfao. I made the audio first, for my thirsty Ellie girls on tiktok but this audio got a bit… out of hand (wayyy too graphic) so I didn't want to post it on there. I had a whole scenario in mind with the audio so I figured I might as well write it down and share it here. I am also very obsessed with Ellie receiving so I subconsciously brought that to life while editing the audio. I know it's not great, but it was very fun to make and write soo.. Please be nice to me, I'm sensitive. Lol. (I put in the story when the audio clip applies, the story starts with context) I’d like to improve my writing cause this was a good time so any advice would be appreciated!!

I hear the door downstairs creak open and shut, a bit louder than normal. I can track the footsteps marching to the stairs and I listen with a small smile as the thuds make their way up. I hear soft profanities getting closer. Ellie is home.

Sitting on our bed I turn my head right in time to see the door open, grinning at her as she walks in. She has that crease in her brow that I recognize as her tell-tell sign that she had a shit day. She shoots me a sly glance before looking away to take her flannel off leaving her in a white tank, dirty and disheveled she pulls it over her head.

My eyes trace down her back, scarred and bruised. Muscular, and toned. Heart flutters, and a familiar heat builds. It's crazy how after all these years just seeing her still triggers these primal feelings. She just does something to me. She always has. My eyes stop wondering when I see a deep fresh cut following the curve of her hip.

“Shit els? What happened” I get up and pace towards her keeping my eyes on the wound.

She bends over pulling her shoes off, losing her balance a bit and mumbling a frustrated “fuck” under her breath. Now behind her, I prod at the gash and she swears again. I can feel her flinch.

“I'll go get the stitches, sit down.” I say pulling her to the bed. She hits the bed with a thud and leans her elbows onto her knees.Shaking her head “it's not that bad babe, im fine.” She looks up at me and gives a half-hearted smile.

“I know you're fine,” I say, giving her a gentle look “I just don't want it to get infected, okay?”

“Anything you say doc” she says with a smirk before turning to address the cut herself. She touches it lightly and winces when her fingers make contact. I head to the bathroom across the hall from our room and grab the small white kit from the medicine cabinet, and make my way back to our room. She's still sitting at the end of the bed, now rolling her neck side to side.

I plop on the bed behind her, “okay, are you gonna tell me what happened now?” trying to distract her as I begin stitching the gash closed. Her back flexes and I hear her sharp intake of breath. Heart flutters.

“Fucking stalkers. I hate those things” she says, shaking her head and looking up to the ceiling. “I was on patrol,”

“With Jesse right?”

“Don't remind me,” she says with a scoff that is cut off by another huff as I add a new stitch. Damn. Every breath in sync with the sutures releases a morbid butterfly into the pit of my stomach. “Yeah, I was on patrol with jesse. We were checking out that one restaurant by the lodge, and I found an entrance to the attic. That place has been cleared out for like forever, so I went up on my own and got jumped by a stalker.” she shrugged her shoulders. “Fucking thing nailed me into an old piece of plywood. Piece of shit.” I tie her last stitch off, and give her a gentle pat to tell her she was finished. I got up and made my way to the bathroom to put the kit back.

I turned in the doorway on my way out, “Maybe you should’ve been more careful.” She swings her head at me with squinted eyes. I shrug and turn, heading to the bathroom “just saying!”

“Fuck off” she calls back, I lightly laugh.

Back in the bedroom, she's lying on her stomach, head resting on her hands. “And then of course Jesse had to give me a fucking lecture about not going anywhere on my own, team communication! All that bullshit.” She turns onto her side propping herself up with one arm, “I’m just so fucking over it.” she looked absolutely exasperated. Oh how I love her dramatics. I sit facing her and her free hand falls to my hip. She looks at her hand, then up to me. Those green eyes, familiar and warm. Home. I smile at her.

“That sucks. I'm sorry. I mean Jesse should know by now, there's no getting through that thick skull of yours. What's a lecture gonna do?” I smirk at her.

“Ouch.” she sneers at me, one brow up. She lets out a quiet laugh, and looks back down to her hand on my waist. “Thanks for stitching me up babe.”

“You know I don't mind.” I say casually. She smiles, an inside joke painting a picture on the walls of her thoughts.

“So weird that you're into that.” she chuckles

“I'm not into that.. I just..” her eyes darted to mine. My heart pounded in my ears. She's right, but it was just so blunt. “There's just something about a strong woman who needs my help.” I say fawning innocent eyes, partially joking, but subconsciously egging her on. She sees right through me.

She raises her eyebrows, taking her hand from my hip and pushing herself up so she's sitting opposite of me. She smiles, “so stupid.” her eyes drift down to my lips, then back to me. I feel red flush my cheeks. Her gaze darkens slightly, noticing. She tilts her head looking at me. “I mean it's okay that you are, i'm not kink shaming” Her hand meets my thigh, electric, and she gives me a sideways smile. I gape at her, trying to make light of the tension building between us.

“So you like taking care of strong women? Yeah?” she says quietly with a smile in her voice as her eyes trace down my body to her hand. Her thumb started circling the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Funny, you're normally the one that begs to be'' she looks up at me teasingly “taken care of.” Fuck. I feel heat pool in my belly. My knees squeeze together by their own volition. She feels it and her teasing gaze turns to something else as her eyes shift to them. She bites her lip subtly. This woman.

Her hand moves to the button of her pants, “well i did have a hard day,” she undoes it and glances at me with an evil smile. “And since you enjoy taking care of strong women” she pulled on her zipper. “Mind doing me a favor?”

Jesus Christ.

“What do you have in mind?” I say, wide eyed. I try to sound cool but my voice comes out hungry. Starved. I watch the switch flip in Ellie's eyes at my words.

“Take your shirt off.” she demanded with raised brows, and before I could think I was pulling her baggy shirt I was lounging in over my head. I'm left sitting there topless, with nothing but my black underwear on. She rolled famished eyes over my bare skin for what seemed like an eternity. Her eyes settled back on mine. I fidgeted my hands in my lap, feeling suddenly too vulnerable. She leans in slowly without breaking eye contact and my breath catches. Inches from me she whispers “Take off my pants.”

Immediately I am in her service, at her beck and call. She knows all she has to do is ask. I'll do anything for her. She leans back onto her hands and lifts her hips slightly as I peel her jeans down the soft, yet lean, curves of her hips. Down her thighs, over her knees, and then calves, my eyes tracing every line of her legs. I toss them on the floor, and look back up to her awaiting further instruction. Her eyes are smiling with a dark inflection.

“Lay down.” I looked at her confused, thinking I was the one taking care of her. Her tone was not a question however, so I obliged. I centered myself on the bed and pulled the nearest pillow under my head, keeping my eyes on her as she stood up and took her white boxers off. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her. Pretty, untamed. My knees squeeze, I don't try to hide it. She looks at them, and scans back up to my eyes. She stares into me as she walks around the bed to my side. I bite at my nail anxiously.

“I want you to take care of me, make me feel good m’kay? Can you do that for me?” she asks with a small smile. I nod.

She looks over me once again (START OF AUDIO) “fuck, you look so pretty.” She climbs onto the bed, looking at me like prey to a predator. “Be a good girl for me” she whispers, as she swings one of her legs over my head. Shit, I get it now. Her pussy meets my lips and she lets out a soft “fuck” at my eager mouth. My arms wrap around her thighs, hands gripping soft flesh. She starts to move, pleasuring herself on my tongue. She moans softly, “needed this” she says desperately as her eyes drift close and her head drifts to the ceiling. Her taste envelopes me, her wetness growing by the second with the addition of my saliva wetting her folds.

“Okay,” she moans, picking up her pace, grinding against my face. She looks down at me, before her eyes dart shut “There!” I feel her body pulse at the peak of her thrusts and I know she's found her spot. Her bud flicking roughly over my tongue. “Oh shit.. There. There we go” she continues at her pace for a moment. Her pulsing getting stronger. Her eyes snap open and peer at me “Jesus, you feel so good.” she says as her head rolls back and her eyes closed again. She continues her rhythm as I pull my arm from under her leg and skim my hand up her body “okay” she says lost in the sensation. My palm cups her right breast and I squeeze impatiently, then rub a loving thumb over her nipple, circling it. “Damn… yeah” she sighs then her hand meets mine and squeezes the sensitive flesh with me “Baby just like that.” she bites her lip with a whispered “fuck” as she rides my face.

Her moans and the graphic sound of her wetness fill the room. I reach my other hand down into my underwear and begin circling my own clit firmly, unable to avoid the tension building within my own body. “Fuck me.” she whines into the air, before looking down to me with adoring eyes, “that's my good girl.” her eyes tighten, “lets go” she whispers as she begins to grind harder and faster into my mouth. “Come on.” My hand on my core meets her pace. “Good. There. Okay. There we go” I love how she talks mindlessly when we fuck. Her voice is enough to bring me closer to my own apex. I begin moaning beneath her, unable to contain my own pleasure. She looks down at me “shhhh shh shh shh” she hushes as she pulls my hand from my aching clit before I can reach my undoing. I whimper in disappointment as she pulls my arm from beneath her leg and takes my other one from her chest before pinning them above my head in her strong hands, deepening her weight into my face. “Shut up” she corrects.

Her rhythm continues and I can tell the new pressure she's added is building her quickly. “God damn.” she says as her eyes squeeze shut. “Okay” That same wrinkle between her eyes deepens again, this time out of pleasure. She rides harder pushing the back of my head further into the pillow. Her moans grow louder, more animalistic. her hands on my wrists tighten to the point that I am sure that there will be a mark. “Holy fuck” she gasps. She pushes hard against me and I can feel the pulse intensify, her sounds grow and grow until suddenly her hands let go of my wrists and bury deep into my hair, pushing me even further into her just at the right time when her head falls back in quiet breathy moans, she rides out her high on my mouth. Her legs shaking and clit pounding as I suck against it, encouraging her. Tasting her. Worshiping her. She lets out a whimpering breath at the end of her climax and looks down at me beneath her. “Oh my god babe.” She slowly lifts off of my face and I see her flinch slightly at the air touching her sensitivity. She takes a breath before looking at me with a lazy smile.

“All right. Your turn.”

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie smut #ai audios #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x you #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie x y/n

2K notes · View notes

purple-babygirl · 2 months

Text

in the far corner of the forest III

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,540

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: hand injury, mentions of blood, wound sutures/stitches, angry behaviour, jealousy, fighting, crying, racism against orcs. I think that's all.

A/N: this is the longest part yet because it might take me a while with part 4 depending on how the very important interview i have on the 17th goes. please send me good wishes on the stars if possible i would really appreciate it. And please enjoy this one and let me know what you thought if you can xx💜💜

“I got you something, little human,” Bucky said, his tone softer than it was that same afternoon as he scratched the back of his head.

He was new to courting, and it wasn’t exactly normal that he was courting his already-wife. Still, he was doing everything possible.

Bucky’s life has all been about fighting and wars. He didn’t do love or courtship. He didn’t do coddling or romancing. But there was a first time for everything and he was trying his best.

“Thank you,” she replied without looking up, pretending to be focused on folding laundry.

She was ignoring him.

Bucky had let his voice get loud a couple of hours ago after he had found her lost in the forest again. Only this time her foot was already messed up and she needed the rest, but she wouldn’t listen.

It hurt him how much pain she was willing to go through if it meant she could get away from him, but he wouldn’t let it show.

Instead, he yelled in frustration as he brought her back to their cottage.

She seemed like she wouldn’t quit, and so he wasn’t going to quit either.

Despite her constant rejection, Bucky refused to give up, his determination fueled by a newfound sense of purpose. He was willing to endure anything, face anything, if it meant earning even a glimmer of acceptance, or even affection, from her.

“You didn’t even see what I got you,” Bucky tried again, hoping she would at least look at him.

When she did, he gave a tiny smile and walked to the cottage door, bringing something inside.

“Here.” He dragged in a shiny wooden chair and placed it before his on their small dining table.

“You bought me a chair,” she said, pretending to be uninterested to hide the warmth that just spread throughout her heart.

“I made you a chair,” Bucky corrected, proudly palming the smooth wood, swiping his tongue over his tusks.

Bucky knew gifts were an essential part of courting and he didn’t like how she had to eat on the bed while he ate alone on the dining table because he only owned one chair.

He knew his days as a loner were long gone and it made his heart swell that he had her to share his house and life with now.

So he got to work and decided to make her her own chair out of an old oak tree. Being a lumberjack who had a woodworking shop had its perks after all.

It was going to be a weekend surprise, but he thought now was better timing after the fight they just had.

“You— you made this? From scratch?” She stood up in surprise, laundry forgotten for now.

“Yes.”

“For me?” She asked, not able to hide her emotions at the kind gesture anymore.

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckled, taking a step back so she could examine the chair.

She sat down and a big smile found its way on her lips when she looked up at Bucky. The chair was comfy and new and hers.

No one has ever gotten her anything, let alone made her something so beautiful. It was so special and a flood of emotions washed over her at the idea that someone had actually thought of her enough to make her a chair. That Bucky had made her a chair.

“Thank you,” she whispered, breaking eye contact so that she wouldn’t tear up.

Bucky only nodded in reply, internally celebrating the win with his heart doing backflips. She liked the chair.

She stood up and closed the small distance between her and the orc, getting on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek, “welcome home.”

She quickly put the clean laundry in its place in the closet and went to the kitchen to start dinner, leaving Bucky with the most idiotic smile on his face as he shifted back and forth on his feet like a teenager.

She was punishing him for yelling at her by not making dinner, but that chair and the effort behind it deserved a good meal.

She was cleaning up after dinner later that night when she heard Bucky moving stuff outside. She didn’t pay it much mind; it was his house after all.

“Come outside, little human,” his voice called for her and she tentatively stepped out of the kitchen.

Bucky was standing by the open cottage door, a hopeful smile on his face as he encouragingly nodded for her to come over to him.

She didn’t know what to think, but any chance not to stay cooped up inside the cottage was going to receive a yes from her.

It wasn’t like she was ungrateful. She was certainly thankful she had a roof over her head and warm walls that she could hide inside from the rain and the cold.

But again, her situation wasn’t the most ideal either. If it was up to her, she would have stayed at the orphanage with the rest of the girls because if her fate was drawn for her to be an isolated orc’s wife, she didn’t want to be married.

When she stepped outside, however, marriage and Bucky didn’t seem that bad for a second.

“I thought we could watch the stars now that the sky was clear,” Bucky explained, internally nervous that she might call him ridiculous and refuse to sit with him.

He had waited for a day without rain and laid out a thick blanket on the ground before their cottage, the way lit for her feet by a close by lantern he had put out.

She was enthralled, mouth open and breath stolen. Tears welled up in her eyes, a mixture of joy and disbelief engulfing her.

Bucky has even went as far as bringing out the shawl he had gotten her just in case she felt cold.

It was just like… a date.

Her heart raced and she smiled shyly at the orc, making him smile too as he watched her sit down on the blanket, holding her knees to her as she glanced up at the night sky nervously.

She has never been on a date before in her life, the town’s boys always picking other girls from the orphanage to fool around with, but never her. She was never really anyone’s type.

She slightly shook her head to shut down her insecure thoughts, knowing that none of those player town boys could have ever brought her on a date like this.

“Is the ground too cold?” Bucky asked as he draped her shawl over her shoulders.

She hugged the soft material around her body, smiling gratefully at the orc as she shook her head.

She was too shy to even speak at this point, her mind barely registering the amazingly romantic end to her day that Bucky had brought into existence.

Bucky then laid down on his back, wordlessly urging her to do the same.

She got on her back, eyes mesmerized by the sight of the stars. She has never seen so many before, her view from her room’s window at the orphanage was very limited.

It was different here in the middle of the woods because there were no town lights to take the view away from the sky and it was gorgeous.

“So beautiful,” she whispered with a smile, observing how the stars sparkled above them.

“Yes, the most beautiful,” Bucky whispered back, watching her as she watched the sky.

He wished she could one day look at him the same way she was looking at those stars; the same way he was looking at her.

In his eyes, there was a mix of determination and yearning, reflecting his unwavering commitment to win her heart despite her initial reluctance. Bucky’s gaze lingered on her, drinking in every detail as if he couldn’t believe she was really here, right next to him.

She turned her eyes to him, her shy smile widening, “thank you for this, Bucky.”

Gods, the way she said his name was something else.

“You’re welcome, sweet thing.” Bucky smiled back, turning his eyes back to the sky as to not make her uncomfortable under his stare.

As they silently continued stargazing, she felt her heart become lighter. She felt so serene, so content, and she had suddenly forgiven Bucky for raising his voice at her just hours ago, wanting nothing but for this peacefulness to last for as long as possible.

Was it imaginable for marriage to be this good? Could her life finally be turning around?

She couldn’t help but want to see Bucky in a different light in this very moment.

She knew that he was harsh sometimes, but she also knew that she wasn’t making it easy for him either.

Maybe she didn’t choose him and didn’t choose this marriage, but Bucky was trying with real effort and she wasn’t blind to it.

Bucky cared for her when she was sick. He provided for her. He brought her gifts, filled up her half of the closet for her with anything and everything she could need. And he, most importantly, apologized when he was in the wrong, which wasn’t something common for the human males of this kingdom. He also respected her boundaries and hadn’t tried touching her after their first night together.

Could this all be preparation for the purpose of bedding?

No, it couldn’t be. Bucky didn’t need to do this to get her in his bed. He had already had her there and he had willingly let her go. He could have his way with her anytime if he really wanted to.

She wanted to believe that this moment was real so bad. She wanted to believe that Bucky was trying to win her heart.

So she did.

And if Bucky was trying, she was going to start trying too.

She knew just the thing to do actually.

She was going to make Bucky strawberry jam tomorrow to show him how grateful she was.

She might have not much to offer, but she knew she made the most delicious fruit jams and marmalades. It was her specialty at the orphanage. All the other girls always managed to ruin the jams, adding too much or too little sugar, applying too much heat or not enough, eventually producing something inedible. But not her. No, that was one thing she knew with her whole heart that she was good at.

She might’ve not been the prettiest of the girls, but she deserved a good life and she was now determined to build one. With Bucky.

She wasn’t in love with him, she knew that, but she didn’t need love to have a good marriage. Respect and effort were going to be enough.

This marriage could be her chance at building a life worth living.

“Could you bring home some strawberries tomorrow?”

“Oh my gods, this is amazing!” Bucky exclaimed, sliding another spoonful of strawberry jam in his mouth.

“I’m happy you like it,” she replied proudly, a smile plastered on her timid features as she brought a basket of sliced bread to the table.

It felt so good to have someone other than the orphanage girls taste her hand’s making. Receiving Bucky’s praise felt so much different than all the compliments she’s ever received before.

It felt… way better.

“It’s really good, little human.” Bucky was too busy adding jam on the piece of bread in his hand, groaning as he slipped it into his mouth and chewed, “how much of this did you make?”

She laughed, “well, I wanted to start with a small pot because I didn’t know if you liked jam and I didn’t wanna throw out any of it, but we have enough if you finish this and want more!”

“None of this is getting thrown out, little human,” Bucky told her seriously, “I asked because I wanted to take some to Sarah. She has a sweet tooth and she would love this.”

A frown quickly replaced her smile at the mention of another female’s name. She suddenly felt like wanting to take the bowl of jam away from the orc. Hell, she felt like she wanted to get back the jam he had already ate and swallowed.

“Who’s Sarah?” She asked, trying to act nonchalant as she greased her bread with some jam.

“She’s Sam’s sister,” Bucky answered innocently, oblivious to the way she hummed with her jaw clenched.

“And who’s Sam?”

“Oh, right, you don’t know Sam. He’s my best friend; and my partner in the shop. Great guy,” Bucky told her, more interested in the jam than her reaction.

At least Sam was a male.

So just to be clear, Bucky wanted to take the jam she made to his best friend’s sister so she could have a taste and satisfy her sweet tooth? Yeah, she didn’t like that very much.

“Is she, like, married?” She wondered, trying hard not to show her anger.

“Who?” Bucky asked, chewing the bite in his mouth, the foreign question finally gaining his attention.

“Sweet tooth Sarah,” she answered with a somewhat bitter tone that Bucky has never heard before, her thumb swiping under his plump lips before she could stop herself as she harshly wiped away jam from the orc’s face.

The realization as to why her mood had suddenly turned sour made Bucky smile as he hurriedly swallowed his food, “little human,”

She looked up at him with a silent glare.

Despite her efforts to appear unaffected, there was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hint of insecurity betraying her true feelings

“Are you… jealous?”

Bucky’s amused smile made her even angrier as she watched his lips literally twitching.

Jealous? Pfft, of course not! Why would she be jealous!

“No!” She replied aloud defensively, “it was just a question.” She stood up, collecting the plates from the table without asking if Bucky was done eating.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Bucky laughed, holding onto the small bowl of jam.

“Try to save some for your Sarah,” she snapped, snatching her hand from the orc’s as she let him have the bowl.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her surprising reaction, his widening smile still glued to his face.

She frustratingly sped to the kitchen, violently twisting the water tab open as she rolled her sleeves up and started washing the things in the sink.

She had went through all this trouble and used all of these bowls that she now had to wash just for him to want to take her jam to another female to eat.

Who did he think he was?

It was her fault for trying to do something nice in the first place.

He didn’t even answer her question, and that Sarah was probably unmarried. She was probably an orc too. Yeah, it made sense that Bucky would be attracted to someone similar to him. Those two ‘friends’ were probably part of his clan.

The clan he never introduced her to.

How naive was she to think this marriage could actually work?

Bucky was outside still smiling to himself like a fool as he finished the rest of her sweet jam.

She was jealous. She was jealous over him.

He didn’t want to upset her though, so he didn’t say anything, letting her calm down first.

He took the empty bowl to her, setting it in the sink as she avoided looking at him.

She heard him chuckle as he left the kitchen and it made her punch the sponge in her hand inside the bowl, pounding it angrily as she ‘washed’ it clean.

When she was done cleaning the kitchen and brushing her teeth, she stomped out to the bed, getting in and covering herself from head to toe as she gave Bucky her back.

Bucky walked to the lanterns and dimmed their lights before joining her in bed.

He laid on his back, innocently waiting for his good night’s kiss.

A minute passed. 2 minutes. 5 minutes. The kiss didn’t come.

“Hey,” Bucky whispered as not to startle her in the dark, “we had a deal. Where’s my kiss?” He put a hopeful hand on her shoulder, trying to twist her to face him.

“Have Sarah give you your kiss,” she replied with a deadpan tone, masking her fury as she pushed her pillow over her head, shrugging Bucky’s touch off her body.

Bucky stared at the back turned to him with an open mouth as he took his hand away and laid back, disappointment replacing his surprise and filling him up.

It was the first time since she had started feeling well again that she has refused to give him any of his kisses. Yet, respectful of her feelings, Bucky let her.

Maybe making her jealous wasn’t all that fun after all. But he didn’t even mean to make her jealous, he was just talking!

Bucky sighed, turning on his side as well as he fell asleep staring at the hidden back of her head.

The next morning as she put his breakfast on the table, she didn’t sit or eat with him, preferring to scrub the kitchen sink while Bucky ate even though she had just washed it the night before.

She didn’t give him his good morning kiss either; didn’t even speak to him.

She was still mad at him. This was serious for her, he realized.

Bucky might have found it fun last night, but today as she deliberately ignored his existence, he wanted nothing but to make her understand that what was in her head was nothing like the truth.

“Here, I packed jam for your sweet tooth Sarah,” she said harshly as she set a small jar of strawberry jam on the table before him.

“She’s not my—”

“Hope she likes it,” she cut him off, disappearing into the kitchen again.

Bucky sighed aloud, running a hand over his face as he stood up. Grabbing the jam, he took one look at the kitchen entrance before leaving the house for work with a clenched jaw.

She peeked outside when she heard the door shut to see the table empty. Bucky had taken the jar to Sarah.

Oh, that was it.

She could take being given to an orc against her will. She could take never having been chosen or given the chance to choose. She could take not being loved.

But she couldn’t and wouldn’t take being cheated on.

Was that why Bucky had decided to relieve her off her wifely duties in bed? Because he had another female? Was it because he had someone else to keep him warm and wet where he needed to be?

She couldn’t even think about the idea without feeling herself gag.

Why would he ruin her life by bringing her here when he already had that Sarah?!

How could she be so dumb, trying to meet him in the middle like that? Starting a peaceful life with this orc was never going to work!

She tried to pick the lock on the door like she usually would, but the new lock Bucky had put in wouldn’t budge.

She groaned in frustration before hauling herself up and out of the cottage window, running off to gods know where, hoping that luck would be her friend for once and maybe lead her somewhere out of these woods for good this time.

This marriage ends today.

Back at the shop, Bucky was as exasperated as they come as he used his chisel to shape the rough piece of wood in his hand.

After everything he was doing, how could she think that he had someone else? What was he doing wrong? What was missing?

Bucky had only ever wanted her. He thought he was the luckiest orc just because he got to fall asleep next to her every night.

How could he make her see that?

As his mind ran with thoughts and before Bucky could stop it, the chisel slipped and sharply cut the inside of his palm.

“Gods, fuck!” He shouted in pain as blood started flowing from the fresh wound.

Bucky tried to get the chisel from the floor so that no one would step on it, but his hand hurt more when he tried to squeeze his fist around the item. He grabbed it with his metal hand instead, rushing to the supply closet to find a clean towel to wrap around his cut.

He couldn’t continue working like that; couldn’t do anything with his hand.

Sam insisted on sending for his sister after seeing the amount of blood staining the cloth around Bucky’s hand.

Sarah tried to be efficient while messily stitching the wound as best as she could, wrapping it up carefully with gauze before advising Bucky to take a few days off work until his hand was healed. She was no doctor but she did her best for her friend.

Bucky thanked both siblings, giving Sarah the jam jar before leaving to go back home as his friends insisted.

He thought that his day couldn’t get any worse, but then he opened the cottage door to find the place empty and he could all but forget about his injury as he slammed his fist against the wall, crying out in anger. If his wound had started bleeding again, Bucky didn’t care.

“What the hell did you think you were doing out there again?!”

Bucky was enraged. He had found her wandering around the forest, as lost and as stubborn as ever.

“Getting as far away from you as possible.” She crossed her arms, her stare upset and unbending.

“And going where exactly!” He shouted, the idea of her spending the night inside a cold cave clawing at his back.

“Anywhere but here!” She yelled back, her face so hot she could feel sweat forming on her hairline in the middle of winter.

“It’s going to snow soon! Do you wanna get sick again?” Bucky held her by the arm, not too roughly as he didn’t really want to cause any real damage.

Neither of them noticed his blood staining her clothes.

She was too infuriated to notice Bucky’s hand wrapped in gauze. She saw nothing but red.

“I don’t care. I just don’t wanna be with you!” She retorted, snatching her arm out of his hold and pushing at his chest.

Though he didn’t move, her touch too weak to do anything to his colossal body, Bucky was hurt.

“Are you doing all of this just because of a little jealousy? Gods, human females are just—” Bucky shook his head in frustration.

“Jealousy? Hah! You think I’m jealous?” She faked a laugh, “this is not even a real marriage! What’s there for me to be jealous over?!” She continued raising her voice, the mention of her jealousy provoking her further.

Her words hurt Bucky more, the real gash now slashed across his heart.

Not even a real marriage.

Despite everything he was doing and trying, she still didn’t consider their marriage a real marriage.

“Well, do you wanna make it real, little human?” Bucky growled lowly, bringing her closer to his heaving chest by her arm, painting the sleeve of her dress in more of his blood.

Her heart thrummed in her ears at the proximity, her breath trembling as she imagined what the orc could do to her if he only wanted to.

“Let go of me,” she whispered as tears clouded her vision, hoping he wouldn’t be able to hear how scared she was in her voice.

Bucky complied, hating how nervous she got in the span of a second.

She ran to the kitchen at once, a hand on her chest as she felt her heart trying to escape her ribcage.

What an audacious orc! He was already with someone else and he dared threaten her with taking her to bed?! Damn, she was so stupid to think they could make something good out of this marriage. So stupid.

Bucky took a seat on the bed, face in his metal hand as he tried to gather his thoughts.

He had almost lost her for the millionth time today.

Was it going to be like this forever? What could he do to make it stop? How could he show her that this life with her was all he ever wanted? That he never wanted anybody else?

“You’re not gonna eat with me?” He asked when he saw her slam one bowl of rice on the table.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied curtly, her eyes on the ground and her jaw tense as she waited for him to get off the bed.

Bucky moved away understandably, taking a seat on the dining table instead as she climbed in bed, burying herself under the covers and hiding away from him.

Bucky knew she wasn’t asleep and he needed to talk to her; or at least see her face.

How was he supposed to have an appetite to eat if she wasn’t on the table with him, her beautiful eyes facing him and her shy smile greeting him every time he would moan over the taste of her delicious food?

“Hey.”

She felt the bed dip next to her as it took on Bucky’s body, his warm hand on her shoulder just like last night.

“Let your sweet tooth Sarah give you a kiss,” she spoke before he could say anything.

“This is not about the kiss. And She’s not my Sarah,” Bucky told her, turning her on her back so she could see his sincere face and hopefully believe him, “she’s not my anything. She’s just a good friend.”

She snorted, not buying it as she turned back to face the wall.

Bucky brought her back to him again, “she’s not married. She’s a widow, who is loyal to the memory of her husband, with two kids that are her whole world.” Bucky answered her earlier question, not wanting to hide anything from her.

“That’s none of my business.” She pretended to be uninterested, giving him the cold shoulder for the third time as she turned away, covering her head with the blanket.

Deep inside, she knew she was relieved to know that Sarah wasn’t interested though.

“It is your business,” Bucky sighed, taking the blanket away from her hands, making her look at him again, “it is your business when you think I’m involved with her.”

“You can do whatever you want.” She shrugged, acting indifferent, making Bucky more frustrated.

He released a loud exhale, “you’re what I want, little human.��

She remained silent, not expecting the orc’s patience or this admittance.

He had told her he wanted her before, but that was on their ‘wedding night’ when he had forced her to get completely naked for him.

This one was different. It sounded different and felt different.

“You don’t have to say all these things. We both know how this marriage came to be a thing.” She tried her best to hold her tears in.

“How did it come to be a thing?” Bucky wanted to see inside her head.

“How?” She sat up, her voice loud yet wobbly with emotions, “they gave you an orphaned girl you didn’t get to see or pick beforehand to make up for making you go to war for them, that’s how!” She felt bad for him, but even more for herself.

So she had read the contracts.

“Who told you I didn’t get to see or pick you?” Bucky swallowed.

“What do you mean?!”

“I’ve seen you before, little human. More than once. And I asked for you to be my wife instead of the noble man’s daughter I was originally offered.” Bucky came clean about the truth behind their arranged marriage.

“You what?!” She became even angrier.

He did this? She was here now because of him?!

“I willingly picked you, little human.”

“Why! Why me! Did you ever stop to think that I might not want this? Or you?!” She practically screamed in anger.

Who was he to decide her future for her? Why didn’t he just take the nobleman’s daughter!

“I did. But you were the only human female who has ever caught my attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off you every time I won a glimpse.” Bucky confessed, his light grey skin gaining a tint at the cheeks as he bared his heart to her, “I knew I couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you, little human.”

Won a glimpse

Couldn’t continue if I didn’t have you

No one has ever used such words to describe an act so normal as looking at her. No one had ever wanted or needed her. Why was her heartbeat speeding up? What was that orc doing to her?

“The minute you entered my cottage, you became my one and only. I don’t want anyone but you.” He promised, squeezing her smaller hand in his, “I will live and die loyal to you, little human.”

She knew he was telling the truth because she had heard the stories. Loyalty was very important to orcs and their mates were for life.

She just stared at Bucky, words stolen from her throat by the way he was looking at her.

No one has ever looked at her like that. Like she was the most beautiful thing they could see. Like she was the only girl in the world. Like she was the only one with any sort of control over this orc’s mind and heart.

“When I suggested gifting Sarah some jam, I was only thinking of doing something nice for a friend.”

She listened with a frown, a little angry again at the mention of the other female’s name.

“If it wasn’t for Sam and Sarah and the boys, I wouldn’t have survived a lot of things. They are my only friends and the only ones I can share nice things with.”

“The only ones?” She pouted, turning her face to the dining table in discontent.

“That’s not what I meant! I just— I’m not used to saying such things, but—” Bucky took a deep breath, squeezing her smaller hand closer, “I was so proud of you being my wife and knowing how to make such delicious things that I wanted the important ones in my life to share it with me…”

Bucky didn’t have to know, but those words were everything to her because when she thought about it, no one has ever been proud to know or have her. No one has ever been proud of her for anything.

But Bucky was, and he wanted to show her off.

When she looked back at the orc, he was staring at the blanket covering her thighs, doubtful to meet her gaze.

Bucky looked… nervous, if you will.

She smiled, eyes tearing up despite herself as she waited for him to look back at her.

When he did, Bucky was instantly smiling back at the sight of her grin. That smile was the whole world for him; it sent him up on cloud nine.

“Have dinner with me?” He asked, his metal thumb wiping away a stray tear from the corner of her eye.

She nodded, her smile bigger as she got up and walked to the kitchen to make herself a plate, her heart going a hundred miles per minute as she couldn’t make her smile leave her face.

She wanted to be angrier over the fact that he got to choose and she didn’t, but then again, if she was being honest with herself, she probably could have never dreamt up a husband as good as Bucky was to her if she tried.

She believed that everything happened for a reason and she was too dreamy not to imagine that this whole marriage had to happen exactly the way it did just for her to meet this orc, and maybe, against all odds, have her happy ending with him.

Taking the lid off of the rice pot, she finally saw it: her palm covered in fresh blood.

“Oh gods!” She quickly washed her hand under the water, seeing and feeling no injuries, the realization that it must be Bucky’s blood sent a pang to her chest.

“Bucky?” Tears blurred her vision as she found the orc in the bathroom, trying and failing to remove the wrapping around his right palm with his left one.

She had been forced into this marriage, a union she never agreed to, but as she watched him struggle to tend to his wound, something inside her softened.

How did she not notice that he had come home with a covered up hand?

“Are you okay?!” Bucky asked, troubled to see her crying even when he was the one bleeding above his bathroom sink.

Her heart clenched at the sight; at the care in his cerulean eyes, “what happened to you?”

She sped up to get the first-aid box from him, getting out everything she was going to need as she looked at his bloody palm.

“It’s nothing, sweet thing,” Bucky told her softly, hating the look of anxiety on her precious face even if it was for him; even if it was making him feel all sorts of things, “just a scratch, really. Nothing I can’t handle”.

She tenderly finished unwrapping his hand, gasping as she saw the bleeding gash across it, “this doesn’t look like nothing!” She cried, more tears streaming down her face, “how did you get this?”

“I just hurt myself while working…” Bucky’s metal hand hesitantly pat her shoulder.

“Bucky.” She looked up at him, not believing that that was the only reason because the wound seemed to be loosely stitched and it was obvious that something had happened to make the wound bleed after it had been stitched.

“And I might have punched the wall when I came home and didn’t find you,” Bucky mumbled lowly, not wanting to make her feel bad.

It was just a silly scrape compared to what he had to endure back when he was still fighting wars, really.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed into the back of her hand, feeling terrible for all the things she has been putting him through ever since she came here.

“Hey, I’m okay.” Bucky’s metal hand cupped her cheek, his smooth thumb sliding across to wipe her tears.

“No, you’re not.” She shook her head in deep regret, not believing that he was still the one reassuring her in such a state.

“I am, I swear on our marriage.” Bucky wiped under her eyes patiently, caring about nothing but her heart carrying no burdens.

She was speechless because did Bucky just use their marriage to swear? Was it really that important to him that he would swear on it?

She didn’t care that this was an arranged marriage in possibly the most twisted of ways, a woman knew love when she encountered it and that orc’s eyes were showing nothing but pure love.

In the middle of her heart’s longing for a person to care about her, she couldn’t bring herself to step on Bucky’s. Trying to calm her down when he was the one injured and dripping blood? Yeah, that was an orc worth trying, caring and staying for.

“I’m— I’m gonna need to redo the stitches, is that okay?” She sniffled, relaxing herself as she wordlessly promised those concerned blue eyes to give them and this marriage her all.

“Yes.” Bucky smiled when he saw her wipe her tears away and the smile she gave him back made his heart soar.

“It might hurt a little, but just for a short bit, okay?”

Bucky nodded, not believing how delicately she was handling his huge hand with her smaller ones.

He was glad she never had to witness him back then or the actually deadly injuries he had had inflicted on him during wars. He wouldn’t have been able to take that look of fear in her eyes after every fight.

“Who did those sloppy stitches anyway?” She wondered in dissatisfaction with the work and Bucky swallowed hard.

She looked at him knowingly when he remained silent, “it was sweet tooth Sarah, wasn’t it?” She asked with half a smile as she started cautiously taking out the old stitches with the tweezers.

“Yes.” Bucky nodded sheepishly, “but Sam only called for her help because they don’t offer me help in the kingdom’s infirmaries.”

“What?!” Her head snapped up angrily.

They don’t offer him service at the infirmaries?! After all that he had done for this kingdom?

“I’m no longer a soldier of their own so…” Bucky shrugged with a sad smile.

Her expression went from angry to devastated to angry again in less than a second, “this is gonna sting a little.” She warned as she disposed of the old sutures in the bin.

“Don’t be upset, little human.”

She looked up, not knowing what to say or how to apologize to the orc about the terrible treatment of this kingdom’s people, but his smile told her that everything was going to be all right. She couldn’t help but smile back.

Her eyes swayed between his palm and his face as she started disinfecting the wound with the piece of sterilized cotton in her hand.

Bucky hissed and winced, making her stop at once.

“I’m sorry! I’m so so—”

“Ha, fooled ya! It’s not that bad,” Bucky laughed, amused at her reaction, instantly earning himself a slap on his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“Hey, you can’t do that to the injured!” Bucky whined playfully.

“Can’t I?” She teased, biting her smile back.

He smiled wider because she could.

Oh, she could do anything to him and he would take it with a smile and thank her for it.

For a heartbeat, the world around Bucky seemed to blur as he focused solely on her, engraving every detail of her smile into his memory. It was a sight he never wanted to forget, a ray of light in the darkness that had clouded his years for so long.

Everything was going to be okay, Bucky thought as he brought her to his chest with his metal arm, praying to the gods she wouldn’t pull away.

“I’m— I’m almost done,” she muttered coyly, trying to make him let her go so she could finish tending to his injury.

But then she felt it: her husband’s tusks were pressing gently on her scalp as Bucky kissed her hair.

Her breath caught in her throat, a mixture of surprise and tenderness washing over her as she felt herself wanting to stay longer inside his embrace.

“Thank you, little human,” he whispered lovingly.

As she tilted her head slightly to meet Bucky’s captivating eyes, she found herself lost in the depths of their oceans, catching a vulnerability she hadn't noticed before.

She looked deeper and she realized that beneath his rugged exterior lied a heart capable of great tenderness, a heart that might just beat for her and her alone.

She beamed again as she softly replied, “you’re welcome, Bucky.”

Yeah, they were going to be okay.

Part IV

Tag List:

@harrysthiccthighss @tinystudentfirepurse @lavendercitizen @tumblin-theworldaway @pretty-pop-princess-hs @lilymurphy03 @idontwannagomrstarkk @glxwingrxse @littlelioncub43 @mathletemadison @canned-rootbear @pandaxnienke @loveisallyouneed1125 @floral-recs @littlemoonkiller @hallecarey1 @vespasianphantom @vicmc624 @winters1917 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @blkmystery @millercontracting @trappedwriter @am-3-thyst @obsessedwithquinn @sydnielauryn @alittlerayof-pitchblack @olipiaa @peterparkersgirl-blog @buckybarnessweetheart @thealyrs @colorfulbluebirdpainter @stuckysgirl27 @ihavetwoholesforareason @princess-bee0 @pastel-noah168 @steeph-aniie @buckitostan @onthr-dream @sapphirebarnes @123iloveyou456 @ciaqui @lindasweetie @justherefortheficandsmut @xxdiaqiaoxx @morgthemagpie @wintrsoldrluvr @goldylions

380 notes · View notes