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love-toxin · 1 year

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Leon looks so pissed off in that last gif and Luis looks ecstatic. Oh to be stuck between the two of them. Luis so fucking happy he gets to play with you as he thought you were adorable the first time he saw you but Leon pissed off that he's having to share you. Maybe you were the price for Luis' help.

ok im sorry but i have to go insane for like. at least a moment bc luis 🥺 my love 🥺

(cws: gn!reader, post-canon, re4 spoilers!!, confessions, flirting, a kissy kissy, canon divergence, some blood and injury, mild innuendos, a lil intimate touching & mutual pining. leon's bad with feelings.)

Luis is sooooooo happy go lucky about the whole thing but Leon couldn't be more pissed. you're his mission partner, his. so where the hell does this stupid Latin-hearthrob local get off on asking him to set you two up? the danger may have passed and Ashley may be safely loaded on to a helicopter and taken away, but does he really have no better way to spend the last evening you've got to waste here? he just has to bug him about trying to get in with you?

"come on, prince charming. didn't you say you would thank me for my help?" Luis teases, nudging him with his elbow as the two lounge side-by-side on one of the sofas in the palace's many sitting rooms. Hunnigan had pointed out that the castle would be the most fortified place for you three to wait out the evening, as another chopper wouldn't be available until the next morning. but despite it being comfortable, Leon's only got his mind on passing the time as quick as possible so he can get you away from Luis and nip that possibility of you two hooking up in the bud.

"pick something else." he huffs, arms crossed over his broad chest as he elbows Luis back even harder--and a smirk twinges at his lips when he hears the Spaniard groan and buckle in pain, his wounds still fresh from just barely escaping Saddler's attempt to get the "sample" back from him.

it was because of you that he even survived, you had shoved him out of the way and landed a hit on his attacker with your shotgun aimed right at his head. and even though it obviously hadn't killed him, and you'd suffered your own injuries as you were flung away and Saddler retreated, you still rushed to Luis first to stem the bleeding from his abdomen and whisper those soft, worried reassurances that he would be okay. you'd taken care of him, brought him back to life, soothed him and babied him and smiled when he managed to get to his feet--and Leon had hated every second of it because it was for someone else. what he wouldn't give to have you look at him that way, to croon over him and want to protect him and kiss his wounds better.

so duh, he's jealous, and that's why he's been so stubborn and childish over Luis' attempts to claim his prize. but even now, when all is said and done and he's finished what he started, he still can't get even that.

"Luis?" Leon's head perks up at the sound of your voice--your sweet, delicate voice wafting over as you step through the doorway. clearly you heard him whining in pain, your eyes say it all. they soften with your brow and you move briskly to crouch in front of your friend and rest your hands tenderly on his knees. "are you okay? is it hurting again?" damn that doting look you give Luis. he shifts uncomfortably in his seat as he tries not to think of you looking at him that way, in that same position, with his legs spread apart and you on your knees like that...

"only when I breathe, mi corazon." he laughs albeit defeatedly, and only now does Leon feel a little guilty for prodding some of those wounds. he definitely looks paler than he should, but it also hurts to see you so worried for him.

"oh, Luis--here, let's get you somewhere more comfortable, yeah? it'll be better for you to lay down anyways. Lee?"

he's so lost in the way your hands glide up Luis' legs to check on his bandages that he flinches when you call his name again, your expression questioning when he finally snaps back to reality until he utters a "huh?". and then you gesture for him to help you prop Luis up to take him into the bedroom next door, which he does for you begrudgingly and remedies only by dropping Luis just a little rougher than needed when he lifts him up on to the bed. it bites him in the same way as the Spaniard groans and you hurry to evaluate his pain, but at least now Luis looks a bit more pathetic laying back on the sheets--much like he's moments away from passing out cold. it's been a long day for all of you, after all, although he would be lying if he said he wouldn't be glad that it'd shut him up for five minutes.

it feels even longer when he watches you lean over him, and Luis' fingers trail up your hip to give your waist a playful squeeze--and when you two share a too-intimate smile at each other as you work on tightening his bandages, Leon's had more than enough. when you straighten up and turn to him to ask him to fetch something, the words don't even hit his ears because he's already leaning in. both hands come to rest just underneath your jaw and sit right below your ears, so the entire lower half of your face is dwarfed by him as his lips meet yours in a hot, wet flurry; one, another for good measure, and a third just grazing your bottom lip as you finally flinch at the sudden contact. a sound escapes you but whether it was his name, or a question, or just a sound, he doesn't know. because as soon as it's over, Leon's turning on his heel and leaving the room in a hurry to go get whatever it was you wanted. he'll just have to guess. something for Luis.

"my, my..." the man in question wonders aloud, a smug grin tweaking his lips as he watches Leon's back disappear from the doorway. "...finally got the courage, I see." he whispers devilishly under his breath.

"L-Lee? Lee! I...d-did I do something..? I didn't hurt his feelings, did I?" you whimper so sweetly, and Luis can't help but laugh even though it has him keeling over in a second, the pain in his chest bringing up a hacking cough that thankfully goes away quickly, and without any blood in his palm to boot.

"oh, mi amor, you're going to rot my teeth...don't worry your sweet heart, he's just got something on the mind." he shifts his position and looks up at you with a wink at the ready, but your unexpectedly sour expression staring back at him wilts that charm in no time at all.

"I hate it when you two act like you know something I don't." all that pouting you're doing now is just too adorable to resist though, especially since you're throwing yourself right back into securing his injuries yet again--perhaps, based on the concentration on your face, because you want to focus on figuring out the reason for why your coworker just did what he did. those warm cheeks and glimmery eyes speak for themselves, though. you must have enjoyed it, conflicting feelings and all.

"and--hngh--what if we do?"

"then just tell me!"

you huff, straightening out his clothes for the last time and gently dragging his shirt back down to cover his stomach. just when you reach his belt, however, Luis grabs your wrist in a tight grip and yanks you towards him--and when you squeak and collapse on top of him, your hands hitting either side of the pillow under his head while your knee rests on the edge of the mattress, that flustered face and those quickened breaths at your newfound closeness just melt any remaining hesitation from his heart. his thumb grazes your palm on the hand he's still got in his grasp, and with a smirk he slides it over yours to lace your fingers together while the other creeps up your neck.

you've got eyes on him alone, heart beating in your throat for him. the kiss he plants on your half-open mouth is warmer, sweeter, and deeper than the one you had from Leon--not better or worse, just enthusiastic in a different way. and his grin only grows wider when he breaks away and spots Leon standing there over your shoulder, watching with flushed cheeks and a vial clutched in his hands as he waits in the doorway. how polite of him, especially shutting the door so quietly as he slowly stalks up behind you both in your moment of heated, Spanish passion.

"...now, how's that for a confession, cariño?"

#luis sera #leon kennedy #luis sera x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader x luis #ot3 #resident evil #re4make #ellie writes #anons

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eliias-bouchard · 4 months

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everyone posting about how theyd be immune to elias' trauma beam does not understand how it works

it is, by nature, something you don't already know. you can't know if you're immune to it or not because you cannot predict what it would or wouldn't be.

it taps into the unwanted / fearful knowledge aspect of the eye. if elias had just hit melanie with her dad's deterioration from dementia, sure that'd hurt, but it wouldn't be as effective as what he actually did, because she didn't actually know how he died. she knew how bad he was getting, and that was painful for her, but she's probably grieved plenty!

it's specifically the intersection of the painful nature of the knowledge, and the sudden, forceful recognition that she's been wrong this entire time. she probably hinged a lot on the idea that her dad died peacefully in his sleep. it's unfortunate she didn't get to say goodbye, but at least he didn't suffer.

except he really suffered, and she had no idea.

and martin, too - the nature of what elias told him is such that martin never could've known. his mum got rid of pictures of his dad, didn't talk about him. martin, too, probably hinged a lot on his dad! maybe his dad would come back to help, maybe if his dad came back his mum would get better, his dad probably cares about him, etc. and his mum is sick - he can make as many excuses for her behaviour as he like. he never has to face the truth.

anyway tldr you wouldn't be immune to the trauma beam because you dont even know what youd get trauma beamed with

#tma #elias bouchard #tma spoilers #tma elias #elias tma #the magnus archives #tma s3 #tma s3 spoilers #tma meta

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 10 months

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Pairing : (College AU)non!idol!Kim Seungmin x F!Reader TW : established relationship ; bullying ; depression ; attempted su*c*de ; major angst ; is it considered fluffy at the end or more yandere the way that Seungmin acts at the end??? ; let me know!!! Word Count : 4.6k Request : Anon : depressed reader gets actively bullied and bruised which leads to a suicide attempt. seungmin never thought it was that serious once she brought it up to him. but after her failed attempt he is now extra careful with her and maybe a bit mad at himself for not taking it seriously. A/N : PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS BEFORE CLICKING READ MORE!! To the anon that requested this, I hope you're still here and you remember sending this in! I'm finally posting it!! I hope you enjoy it! The gif came from this blog!!

It rained again today… It seemed like everyone on campus knew that the storm was coming, everyone but you. Umbrellas were pushed open all around you as you quickly put your hood up, the downpour was torrential and you were soaked within the first minute of your walk back to your dorms. It didn’t help that people seemed to be purposely angling their umbrellas so that whenever you walked by, the rain from the top would pour onto your head.

You’re overthinking it… There’s no reason anyone would purposely do something like that to you. You don’t deserve that. Is what everyone else would say, even your boyfriend… And you would have believed them if not for the insults that were constantly hurled in your direction and the scrapes and bruises that littered your knees and elbows from being pushed around and laughed at when you fell to the ground. You didn’t believe them… And they didn’t believe you.

By the time you got to your building you were dripping wet, but the attacks wouldn’t stop until you were behind closed doors, in the safety of your room, at least for the next couple hours until the next day started and you got to go through it all over again. That was your life, a constant repeat of the day before, and you weren’t sure how much more of it you could take.

As soon as you walked through the front door of your building you heard it, the laughter of the girls who seemed to make it their job to make sure your life was hell. You weren’t sure what you had done to make them hate you so much, you had never even talked to them, but they still decided to target you.

“God, look at the shit they let live in the building with us.” One of them said, although you sure it was the main girl talking. Every clique had a leader, and it was obvious that she was the leader of the group. Everyone else just decided to follow along, and maybe it was because they were scared of being on the receiving end of the girls shit. You were done being scared though, you had simply become numb to it. “What should we do? She looks like a fucking sewer rat, dripping shit all over the entrance. Disgusting.”

You couldn’t walk fast enough, and even if you tried to, you were sure that she’d catch up. She was following right behind you, and before you could even get your foot on the first step, you were being pushed, your knee cracking loudly as it hit the edge of the stair. You didn’t make a sound, you didn’t wince, you didn’t cry, you just got back up, trying your best to focus on anything but the pain that shot through your leg as you continued walking up the stairs.

“Now she’s an injured rat, maybe she should just put herself out of her misery. It’s not like anyone wants her here anyway.” They all laughed, like your pain and your suffering was entertainment for all of them. Maybe they were just bored… It’s not like you could do anything about it. If you said anything, it would only make things worse and no one would ever believe you… You were nobody… There wasn’t a single person who would notice if you were gone.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning if you want to go out and get breakfast together before class.” Seungmins voice came through the speaker of your phone as it sat on the bed. You hummed softly, not in agreement, not in disagreement either though. It was a sound only to let him know that you were there, that you were still listening. “Did you bring your umbrella with you today? It was raining really bad.”

You hummed again, once again becoming aware of just how wet you were, your clothes soaking through to the mattress that you were sitting on. “Yeah… I’m gonna take a shower and then a nap… I’ve got a lot of studying to do… Want to be well rested.” You muttered, your voice almost robotic, but he didn’t pick up on it, or maybe he did and he just decided to ignore it.

“Alright. Don’t study too hard. I’ll see you in the morning, I’ll pick you up.” His voice was as cheerful as usual, not a care in the world… and why would he have one? He didn’t go through what you did. He didn’t know what it was like, and he refused to believe that it happened to you… In his eyes, everything was perfect. Nothing was ever wrong because it didn’t hurt him… not personally at least.

That’s how it always was… He either didn’t want to believe that such horrible people existed, or he just blew it off, assuming that you were making it seem worse than it actually was. That’s why you didn’t even tell him anymore. You were tired of wasting your breath, trying to call out for help, trying to get him to listen to you and be there for you. It was all pointless. Nothing would ever change… Not for you, not unless you did something… You were the only person who could help yourself.

Your roommate wasn’t back yet, she was always out late studying. It was the perfect opportunity, the perfect time. No one would ever know, and by the time they did, it would be too late. You weren’t going to continue being tortured, you shouldn’t have to continue suffering just to make other people's lives easier, to give them their daily dose of entertainment. You shouldn’t have to go through hell just so someone’s perfect view of the world wasn’t soiled.

Your phone was left on the bed as you went to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and taking a deep breath. It would be over soon, it would all be over soon. It’s not like anyone wants you here anyway… Those words repeated over and over in your mind as you dug through the cabinet under the sink, pulling out the razors that you had bought a couple months before. They were purchased right before your talk with Seungmin. You had wanted so badly for him to listen to you, to tell you that everything would be okay, that he’d help you… You were wrong in wanting those things, you hadn’t gotten any of them. You weren’t sure why you had even held out this long after the talk, it’s not like anything was getting better, and you knew then that nothing would ever be better.

The hoodie that you had been wearing was pulled off, dropping to the ground with a heavy thud, the soaking fabric creating a puddle where it landed. The shower was turned on, the spicket turned all the way to hot. If this would be your final moment, you at least wanted to be comfortable for as long as it lasted.

Hesitating was something you did often. You hesitated when having to pick a multiple choice answer on a test. You had hesitated a little too long when you were called to the front of the class to answer a question on the board. You even hesitated when Seungmin had asked you to be his girlfriend. Hesitation was just… your thing. Not now though, you didn’t hesitate at all as you climbed into the tub, lowering yourself down into the tub. There was no reason to take pause, your decision would affect no one, no one but yourself, and the only effect it would have on you was positive. You would finally be free, and you saw nothing wrong in wanting that.

It was much easier to sleep, to let yourself drift off knowing that you’d have no worries left, knowing that once your eyes were shut, they would be shut for good. You let your wrists fall into the water that filled up around you, focusing only on the sound of the shower, the way it felt like rain as it poured down around you. You’d be okay soon, and while you didn’t know where you’d go or what would happen next… At least you wouldn’t be in hell, at least not this one.

“I really have to go to the bathroom, stupid rain. Just wait here, I’ll be out soon.” Your roommate said as she burst through the door, the rest of her study group drenched as they filed in behind her. She knocked once on the door to the bathroom, then once more, rocking back and forth impatiently as she waited for you to give her the okay to come in. “Fuck it!” She called out as she pushed open the door, coming to a full stop when she saw you, the bath water a dark red as it inched closer and closer to spilling over the sides. “Help! Come help me! Oh my god! Call an ambulance! Fuck! What the fuck!?” She shouted, running over to the tub and grabbing your arms, holding them above your head to try to stop the bleeding.

The rest of them rushed in, some of them screamed when they saw you, your color almost completely drained. Others were pulling out their phones, trying to make the same call at the same time. The ones who screamed were ordered to come over and help, their hands shaking as they tried to help your roommate pull you out of the tub. The others who were on the phone were all trying to tell your roommate and the few others what to do to try to help, at least until the paramedics arrived.

It was strange how even with all the commotion, your mind was happy. You could hear all of it, but you refused to focus on it, scared that if you did it would bring you back to the hell that you called life, the hell that you were trying to escape. “Why would she do that? Why? Are her grades bad? She could have come to study group with us!” Someone had shouted, and if you weren’t feeling so tired, you might have actually laughed. Your grades were the least of your problems, they weren’t even on your list of problems. Of course, your roommate had never believed you either, so she had probably never brought it up to the rest of her group.

“Check… Check to see if her heart is still beating!” One of the guys shakily ordered, and your roommate pressed her fingers against your neck, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to focus on the feeling of the faint beat that came a little too slow. Time was running out, and you felt it too, it was a good feeling, to know that soon you’d gone. There would be no more suffering, no more nights spent lying in your bed crying as you wished that someone, anyone, would understand you, that they’d just listen.

Sirens sang outside the building and you wished that you had done it earlier, that you hadn’t even answered the call from Seungmin. Maybe if you had cut a little deeper… maybe you had been hesitating, a little bit of hope left that maybe now someone would help. Did you really want to die or did you just want things to get better? Would things even get better? At least you were feeling tired, no matter what happened now, you’d be so out of it you wouldn’t remember. Maybe you wouldn’t wake up, maybe it would still work. Maybe…

“Dude, have you seen on twitter?” Jisung asked, leaning back in his chair as he scrolled through his phone. Seungmin was sitting across from him, more focused on his meal. “There was a freaking suicide attempt back on campus… there’s literally live updates right now.” Seungmin rolled his eyes, not nearly as impressed as Jisung for some reason was. “That looks a lot like Y/Ns building! You should call her! See if she knows what’s going on!”

The last thing Seungmin wanted to do was bother you when you had told him you were studying, but by the way Jisung was looking at him, Seungmin knew he wouldn’t let up. “Fine… But I’m not gonna force her to look at that. She can’t handle that kind of stuff.” He mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. It’s not just that you couldn’t handle it, you absolutely hated stuff like that. You couldn’t even watch horror movies without hiding in Seungmins shoulder for the better half of the movie.

Jisung watched as Seungmin dialed your number, his knee bouncing so much under the table that Seungmin could feel it in the floor. “S-Seungmin!” A male voice came over the phone, it wasn’t you at all, and the man sounded breathless and his voice was shaky. Now, Seungmin wasn’t the type of person to jump to conclusions, but he couldn’t help but get a little worked up when he heard anyone but you on the other end of the line.

“Who are you? Where’s Y/N?” Seungmin hissed through the phone, his fist already balled up on the table as he awaited an explanation. Knowing you it would probably be a good one, one that would have Seungmin feeling foolish while laughing about it later with you. You probably just left your phone at the cafe that you always went to… But that wouldn’t explain the urgency in the person's voice… This was someone who knew something or had done something and it wasn’t good. “Where is she?” Seungmin asked again, and he could feel Jisungs eyes on him, eating up the drama without a word, enjoying it far too much since he wasn’t the one personally involved in it.

“Hospital… Ambulance… Lia found her… Come fast…” The man said, and then the line went silent, leaving Seungmin to put the pieces together. He reached across the table to grab Jisungs phone, still open to the twitter feed about the attempted suicide, and as he scrolled through the pictures it became quite clear to him. Your room, with the yellow tape making a big X across the door, your bed that was still made just as it had been this morning. Your bag sat on the floor next to your nightstand where you always left it… And on the nightstand table was a picture of you and him together.

“H-Hey! Where are you going?!” Jisung shouted as Seungmin pushed away from the table, his chair falling back and crashing against the floor as he ran to the front door and pulled on his shoes. The trip that he and the guys in his club had gone on had him miles away from you, of course that’s how it would work out, why wouldn’t it be like that? He needed to be with you the most right now and it would take him hours just to get there. “What is going on?! Come on, dude! Tell me!”

“It was her!” Seungmin shouted to Jisung, although nothing would stop him from moving forward right now. He was on a steady track and it led only to you. He wasn’t crying, not yet, for now he kept the tears at bay with nothing but anger. Anger towards himself for not being there to stop it, anger with you for doing something so stupid. Did you even know what that would have done to him? He loves you, and you were going to just take yourself away from him like that without a word? Why didn’t you talk to him? Why didn’t you tell him? What was going on that would make you think to do something like that? He didn’t get it, and that was only pissing him off more. Right now he just needed to get to you, make sure that you’d be okay.

~~~

“She lost a lot of blood, so we had to do a transfusion. She’ll be okay, we just need to keep watch over her, make sure everything stays good.”

“Can I see her? Why aren’t you letting me in her room? What’s going on? Let me see her!”

“They would like to talk to you first… Before you see her…”

He sat in the lounge room, his hands folded on the table as he looked at the officer across from him. He didn’t know what it was about, but he tried his best to keep calm even though all he wanted to do was get to your room and sit beside you. “Kim Seungmin… You were her boyfriend, right?” The officer questioned and Seungmin narrowed his eyes as it set in that he was about to be interrogated for this shit.

“I am her boyfriend… Present tense…” He responded, quite snarkily, but this felt like a complete waste of time to him. “Is there a reason why you’re doing this? Do you guys think someone else did this to her and set it up?”

The cop shook his head, leaning back in his chair as he looked over Seungmin. “Where were you tonight? How did you know to come here? Seems like you came pretty fast too… Like you knew this was going to happen…”

Seungmins eyes went wide and his jaw was slack as he stared at the officer. How could someone even insinuate that this was somehow his fault? “I was three hours away with my club. I’ve been out for almost a week going to different high schools trying to get people to apply to the university. I called her because my friend saw a bunch of posts on twitter about something happening… I didn’t know it was her until some random guy answered and told me.” He ran his hand through his hair, his teeth gritted as he closed his eyes, his composure slowly wearing thin. “I came fast because she’s my girlfriend… I’d like to think that anyone else would do the same thing. I broke a lot of traffic laws to get here as fast as I did.”

“Do you two ever fight? Does it ever get physically violent?” The officer rapidly tapped his pen against his notebook, the sound going straight to Seungmins head, driving him absolutely crazy. The assumptions were absolutely preposterous, only fueling his anger towards the entire situation.

“Look man, I don’t know what kind of information you’re fishing for, but I didn’t do anything. I’ve never laid my hands on her. I love her… And I really want to be with her right now. Can we be done with this?”

“So you love your girlfriend so much, you never laid a hand on her… Yet she’s covered in bruises? If we didn’t know any better, it looks as though someone might have mistook her for a punching bag.” Seungmins stomach dropped as he listened to the officer, and while he knew that he himself hadn’t been the one to cause those marks on you, a certain rage built inside of him as he tried to think about who would hurt you like that. “Do you know of any accidents she might have been in to cause her kneecap to be entirely shattered? Do you know anything at all?”

His head shook as his tears finally began to fall. You had never told him anything… What had happened to you while he was away? “I… I don’t know… I’d just really like to see her… Please…” His head dropped into his hands as he sobbed quietly, his body shaking with ragged breaths.

Seungmin was no help to the investigation, and the officer quickly realized that, helping him out of his chair and then leading him out of the room, motioning towards the closed door that would soon open and reveal you to him. Were you awake yet? He had so many questions that he wanted to ask you, but the biggest question of all was why… Why would you do something like that? If you answered that one question, he’d have the answer to a lot of his other questions too.

The nurse let him into the room, and seeing you, it had his heart breaking. You looked so weak, so fragile, your arms were completely wrapped up in gauze, your leg had been casted and hooked to a strap in the ceiling to keep it elevated. “Are you sleeping?” Seungmin whispered as he got closer to your bed, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stood beside you. The IV for the blood that was being pumped into you had to be inserted in one of the veins in your neck, the sight of it causing a cold chill to run up his spine. “I’m here now…”

“Do you… believe me… now?” Your voice was so quiet, and your eyes were still shut, if there had been other people in the room he would have sworn it was someone else talking, but you were the only one there, and now he was trying to think of what you could possibly mean. “Was this… enough?”

His hands held onto yours a little tighter as the reels in his mind turned, trying to understand what you were talking about, but nothing was coming up. “What are you talking about? I always believe you… What happened? Tell me, please… I want to help you… I don’t want this to happen again… Talk to me…”

Your fingers twitched against his own, yet your eyes seemed to be glued shut, and even as he was watching your face, it didn’t even look like your mouth was moving even though words were coming out. “People are bad… Seungmin…” People are bad…. What does that even mean? What do you mean? Your answers were only creating more questions for him.

“Visiting hours are over now, sir.” The nurse said from the door. He hadn’t been given enough time though, he needed to know, he needed to know what you were talking about. His head shook rapidly as he kept watching over you. He didn’t want to leave you, even if you didn’t answer any more of his questions, he wanted to stay beside you. “She needs to rest, sir… You can come back in the morning to see her. Okay?”

It’s not like he had a choice, and he didn’t want to have to be escorted out by the officer who interrogated him, so he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before walking backwards to the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow as early as I can… I promise. I’ll be back.”

People are bad… He mulled over the words in his head as he walked through the parking lot and climbed into his car. What the hell did it mean? He couldn’t ask you now… And the only place he could go for any sort of answer was your dorm. Was it still taped off? It’s not like it was a crime scene… It should be open.

The building wasn’t too far from the hospital, he was there within ten minutes, and when he pulled up he could see a group of people sitting on the bench outside smoking a cigarette. You always told him how you hated that, having to walk through the cloud of smoke just to get to the front doors, and it seemed like they would purposely blow it in your direction… People are bad… He’d always tell you that it was just the wind blowing it towards you, that people wouldn’t purposely do something like that.

“I can’t believe she actually did that. What a fucking drama queen.” “She didn’t even write a note. It’s like she was looking for attention.” “How embarrassing for her boyfriend. He’ll probably dump her. Nobody wants to date the campus suicide risk.” “Oh please, it was embarrassing for him to date her in general. I’m sure he only did it out of pity.” “Whatever, the bitch should have cut deeper.”

How could they talk so harshly about you? Were these the ones… the ones that you had told him about before? “Do you believe me now?” He hadn’t believed you then… If he had, would you have done this? He could have stopped them… He would have stopped them. They were still talking, loud enough for everyone to hear… And no one cared. No one cared enough to tell them to shut up, no one… You could be dead… And they talked about you like you were shit.

“Hey, at least we’ll have a couple days out of class… You know… For like… Guidance or whatever.” “Oh yeah… We’re super torn up about it…” “If she would have done it right we’d probably have a week or two. Ugh… I swear, she’s fucking useless.”

Red. All he saw was red as he got out of his car, slamming the door shut and going straight over to where they sat. “Shut up!” He shouted, and for a second, he thought they would keep quiet, but as soon as the initial shock wore off, they were all laughing. Their heads were thrown back as the boisterous laughter bounced off the walls of the building and rang in his ears. “I said shut up!” He screamed, and before he even realized what he was doing, his fist was cocked back and being thrown straight at the face of the girl who sat in front.

Now, Seungmin wasn’t a violent person, not usually, but you were his girlfriend, he almost lost you, and while some might say that a college relationship means nothing, his relationship with you meant everything to him. “Hey man! What the fuck!?” One of the other girls shouted, her hand quickly moving to the main girl's face to catch the blood that trickled down her nose. “You can’t just fucking hit people like that! You’re a psycho!”

Now it was his turn to laugh, his fists still balled up at his sides as he glared at every single person in front of him. “Really? I can’t just hit people like that but you can?!” The girl who had been hit scoffed loudly, her head rolling forward causing the blood to drip down her mouth and hang at her chin.

“Don’t worry, he’s just the bitches boyfriend. She’s too much of a loser to fight back herself, I guess she got her boyfriend to do it for her. Or maybe she’s just not alive to do it.” She stood up from the bench, a cocky smirk on her face as she looked at him. “I guess she’s getting all the attention she wanted now. I did your bitch a favor. You’re welcome.”

He completely lost it, he snapped, his hand flying back just to shoot forward, the smack that landed across the girl's face sounding much louder in the silence that surrounded them. “I find out any of you even so much as look at her… I’ll slit all your fucking wrists and break both your fucking knee caps. I’ll make you suffer, I’ll make you wish you were dead. I can and I will ruin you… Remember that.”

He wasn’t this kind of person… Not before he had met you, but seeing you in the hospital bed, knowing that he had almost lost you forever, it had sparked something inside of him. He wants to protect you, he wants to keep you safe, and if that meant having to be like this… Then he’d do it without hesitation. People are bad… You weren’t wrong, people are awful… But he’d do everything and anything to keep those people away from you, to protect you from them. He’d stop at nothing to make sure that this never happens again.

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

Note

Mimi ❤️!! Congratulations on hitting 450 followers 🥳!!

If you'd like, could I suggest Commander Wolffe and the prompts: 18 and/or 35?

😘

Awww @ulchabhangorm thank you, love!

I realized on my previous post, I didn't put a warning. Oops. Anyway, I'll include a warning this time.

Enjoy.

Just Breathe

Warnings: anxiety, slight panic attack, mentions of death, broken finger, surgeries, medical procedure, kissing.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

You took a deep breath, needing to calm down your mind. There’d been just too many injuries, too many bloody soldiers, too many you couldn’t save. It was just all too much. You just needed peace and quiet. Needed to remember you were more than just someone who stood by and watched soldiers die.

Wolffe was looking for you, he knew in battles like this, you always suffered the most. You always made sure everyone else took the time to recoup, while you ploughed through the difficult carnage. He smiled when he saw you standing outside of the camp looking up to the stars, he loved the way the moonlight illuminated your face, your bright eyes that were full of sadness pulled on his heart strings.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

It was the only reprimand he would give you on a day like this, he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in close to his chest.

“I know. I just … I just needed to breathe.”

He rested his lips on the side of your head, pressing a gentle kiss, “Hmmm, and did you?”

You swallowed the anxiety, fighting back the tears, “I think so…”

“Doesn’t sound like it”

A shuddering breath escaped your lips; you hated how much Wolffe really knew you, how much you tried to be strong. You turned in his arms and held him close, burying your face in the crook of his arm and shoulder, wanting to escape from the reality that was this world.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I got you.”

You simply nodded, letting your tears escape, and finally finding the comfort you had been so longing for, as you felt Wolffe bury his face in your hair, his breath on your neck, and his hand rubbing your back up and down.

You shifted when you realized he kept his left hand elevated and away from you. You wiped your tears as you looked into his warm eyes that would always be your home.

“Wolffe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, ignoring the pain in his hand. He looked at his cyar’ika’s face which told him you didn’t believe him. He let out a sigh, he didn’t want you to be worried about him, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, cyar’ika.”

“Now, I know there’s something wrong,” you pulled back and looked at him, holding out your hand for him, “Show me.”

“Cyar’ika, let’s worry about you. I can wait.”

“I’ll keep standing here, and not saying anything until you show me your hand.”

“Well, I can play that game too, cyar’ika.”

You nodded, and stood in front of him, hand raised, keeping your eyes locked on his, with an unimpressed face. You stood there staring at each other for a good ten minutes before finally he caved, “Alright, alright. Here.” He placed his left hand in yours, his glove was off, his middle finger bent at an odd angle.

“Wolffe, your finger is broken!”

“Like I said, not a big deal.”

“I swear…” you started mumbling under your breath as you looked at his finger, “you need to thank the force, you didn’t have a pinched nerve or something. Otherwise, we would’ve had to amputate this, you do realize that!”

“As I previously stated, not a big deal” he smirked as he looked at you. He knew how much it drove you crazy, when he downgraded an injury, simply because he wanted to see how angry you got. Plus, it had the added benefit of making you stop thinking about your anxiety.

“Come with me,” you took his other hand in yours, interweaving your fingers. Shaking your head as you walked back to the med tent. Forcing him to sit down, as you tried so hard not to laugh at his best, ‘What did I do?’ face. You grabbed your supplies, pulling over a cargo crate so you could sit on it.

“Just so you know, this is going to hurt, okay?"

“You always say that, but how can it hurt when I’m looking at the most beautiful face in the galaxy.”

You smirked as he tried to distract you, “Keep it up.” You challenged him, as you looked in his eyes and held on to his finger.

“What, you think, you can make me cry?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Not possible, my most beautiful cyar’ika. Your eyes are … AHHH! Son of a nerf herder!”

You laughed as you straightened out his finger and braced it, wrapping the splint around his finger. “You’ll have to keep this on for three to four weeks, and no strenuous activity for two weeks after.”

“Doesn’t really work on a battlefield, cyar’ika.”

“Hence the splint.” You smiled as you leaned forward pressing a kiss to his lips, “Better?”

“Mmm, I think I need a little more” he threaded his good fingers through your hair and pressed your lips to his again.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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thisapplepielife · 1 month

Text

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up Spring challenge.

Holding Out For Spring

Prompt: Spring | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: M | CW: Alcohol Abuse | Tags: Eddie POV, Corroded Coffin, Future Fic, Struggling, Chronic Pain, Post Break-Up, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Gatorade: Not a Sponsor

Eddie scratches his pen against the page, scribbling forth and scratching away the words that are spilling out onto the loose papers shuffled all around the desk. He reaches for the bottle sitting on the edge of the desk, and takes another long pull.

It was supposed to be a sober month, and he only made it eight days. That's two more than last month, he supposes.

Writing drunk never gets him anywhere, not really, but he's doing it anyway. Because he feels too much right now.

The door to the hotel room opens and closes, and Eddie ignores it. He doesn't want the lecture, not from any of them. He's heard it all before, and it doesn't bear repeating.

It's Gareth, and he's quiet as he gathers up the discarded empties, dropping them into the small trash can across the hotel room. Then, he's putting his hand on Eddie's, covering his fingers as they grip the pen, stilling his wrist. Stopping the flow of words.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Gareth tells him, and it's too soft. Too gentle, and Eddie fucking hates it. Hates him. Hates this godforsaken band.

Hates the never-ending winter he's suffering through. Freezing him to the bone while he moves through the world.

Gareth can't fix that, nobody can, and there's nothing the three of them can scheme up to change this. No amount of babysitting, no amount of coddling, and no amount of treating him like he's fragile.

He's not fragile. He's broken. There's a difference.

And Eddie wants to fight back, wants to snarl and bite, but he doesn't. He lets go of the pen, and watches as it rolls off the desk and onto the carpet.

Gareth pulls him up off the chair, and leads him towards the bathroom, getting the water turned on and to the right temperature. Eddie just leans there watching it all happen, numb.

"Can you stand?" Gareth asks, and Eddie nods.

It's too cold, this winter that's lingering. Steve left, and that saddled him with six more weeks of winter. Only, it's been six months now.

And he's still holding out for spring.

If spring would just come, then maybe he'd be able to breathe again, even if that feels impossible these days, without Steve.

He gets in the shower, and sticks his head under the spray, trying to sober up. Scrubs at his sides, fingers digging into the scars there. The ones that have faded, but will never disappear. He's in constant pain. The nerve damage, the muscle loss. You can't get gnawed on by bats and just bounce back, at least Eddie couldn't.

Steve did.

But Steve's always been stronger than him.

He's not gonna be fixed, not ever, but they have a show tonight, and if they cancel any more gigs, shit's really gonna hit the fan. He's a goddamn mess, has been since Steve…took a break.

It's just a break, not a break-up, Eddie tells himself. Over and over, because he won't survive, if this is permanent. Even as the days have turned into weeks, into months.

He can hear the rest of the band arguing outside the door, Jeff and Goodie now involved. Throwing ideas around. The same old, same old.

Rehab, again. Canceling the tour, again. Calling Wayne, again.

The last resort, calling Steve.

They can't do any of those things. Won't. None of them will help, will fix him. This is just the way he is, and they have to work around it.

So, they'll get him sobered up for the night, for the week, and pretend he'll be better this time. He won't be. He never is. The pain will come back, and he'll turn back to the bottle.

It's genetic. The Munson way. He's cursed, and there's no point in fighting it.

When Eddie gets out of the shower, Gareth has his scribbled lyrics in hand, waving them around as he talks. Like Eddie isn't even here, listening. Eddie sees the bottle of yellow Gatorade on the desk, that one of them must have gotten from the vending machine, like it'd be enough to sober him up, and Eddie bats it away, sending it skittering across the carpet and into the wall, leaving a dent near the baseboard that they'll have to pay for. That's nothing new. But it shuts them up, just for a second, before Goodie picks the bottle up off the ground and hurls it back at Eddie. Eddie ducks instead of catching it, and it slams against the mirror, glass against glass, all of it shattering to the carpet below.

Eddie lunges towards Goodie, while Gareth and Jeff struggle to hold them both back, and the shouting starts, all over again.

Eddie comes off the stage, and a bottle of Gatorade is pressed into his fist, and he downs it. Ignoring that it's the wrong color. He prefers yellow, and Steve knows that. So does the band. But this stranger, this roadie, doesn't. So, it's red.

It's fine, but it isn't right.

Eddie still claps the kid on the shoulder in thanks, and walks away.

Opening the door to his dressing room, there's a bottle of yellow Gatorade waiting on the coffee table, and Steve waiting on the couch.

Eddie can't be mad they called him, can't do anything other than crumple in on himself at the sight of him. Steve shouldn't be here, shouldn't be trying to save Eddie from himself, yet again. It hasn't worked before, and it probably won't work now, either.

But Eddie wants it to work. Wants to be good enough for Steve.

"Why?" Eddie asks, and Steve stands. Crosses the room, takes Sweetheart off of Eddie's back, sitting her down gently. Then he pulls Eddie to his chest, those large, warm hands sliding up and down Eddie's back. Soothing him, warming him.

"You know why," Steve says.

Eddie held out for spring, and he's here now.

His sunshine, in a yellow sweater.

The start of the thaw.

Inspired by the song Spring by Ed Sheeran.

I said I'd do a sober month, I failed, but tried, and wrote this drunk, Oh, what a state we're in, I'll keep holdin' out for spring Spring, Ed Sheeran

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #tw: alcohol abuse #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles #corroded coffin #gareth & eddie #gareth stranger things #jeff and goodie #angst with a hopeful ending #stranger things fic #Spotify #yellow gatorade supremacy #i said what i said

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wlwprker · 3 days

Text

your little things- tom!peter parker x reader

a/n: I have a lot of old stuff that was posted on my old Tumblr, and this was one of them :)

warnings: brief mentions of anxiety, not proofread a lot so I apologize for grammar or spelling mistakes! italics indicate a flashback.

w/c: 1,847

-Peter Parker-

Peter was aware that you didn't think he noticed or paid attention to the little things that you do but he does, he always pays attention to you.

He notices the way that you love to sit by the window reading a book when it rains because the sound of the rain hitting the window makes you feel calm. He admires how you can get so caught up in your books and how your face lights up with different emotions depending on what was happening in the books you always got lost in.

Your little things that make you so wonderful, he notices them all and he loves them all because they're what makes you so beautiful and he loves everything about you.

Peter loves to look at you and he adores all of your little things, especially the ones that you're insecure about but he doesn't know why because everything you do is beautiful to him.

He picks up on things that you didn't even know he knew about or took note of. He knows when you're anxious because of the way you always bounce your legs repeatedly and how you nervously play with the rings on your fingers. He notices it all. Peter notices that when you're incredibly anxious, you draw patterns on yourself to attempt to calm yourself down, but it doesn't always work, which makes you more anxious.

When he senses that you're having one of your really rougher days, he is there to help you because Peter loves and supports you... Always.

Today you were having a hard day, nothing seemed to be making you feel better. Peter knew instantly because when he took peaks at you every so often, he saw the way that you couldn't stop bouncing your legs and the fact that your hair had been messed up from the number of times that you pulled at it in frustration. He takes note of a simple fact: you cannot sit still. Peter worries for your poor lips that you've bitten down on many times throughout the night.

Peter wasn't even doing anything productive if he's being honest, he was just writing out a study guide for a test that wasn't for another 3 weeks. He put his pencil down and walked over to you and sat down on his bed next to you, you were so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn't even know he left his desk. He softly touched your thigh to remind you of his presence because he knew that you were a million miles away.

"Oh! I'm sorry Peter, did I interrupt your work?" Peter's heart stung with pain as he heard the hurt in your voice because you were genuinely worried that you distracted Peter from his work. You turned your head slowly to look at him and his heart swelled because every time that you look at him, it's as if he's looking at you for the first time. Peter took your shaky hands in his and intertwined your fingers with his and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

"I don't care about my work; I care about you. What's got you so anxious today, sweetie?" Peter asked while he rubbed comforting circles on the back of your hand, your hands had stopped shaking. He watched as you sighed deeply and laid your head down in his lap.

"There's just so much happening and it's happening so fast, it's nothing particular, it's just well...everything. I don't know but it's breaking me down, Pete." He visibly frowns when he could hear the genuine suffering in your voice, and he knows how much it sucks to be anxious. He took the hair-tie that was practically falling out anyways and let your hair fall down onto his lap.

"Baby, I'm so sorry that you're dealing with this, but you don't have to deal with this alone." Peter played with your hair, and he could physically feel that your rapid heartbeat was returning back to its normal pace, he knows how the simplest gestures can ease your anxiety. Peter used his free hand to draw patterns on your arms because he knows how you try to do that when you want to relax.

Peter easily sensed that you are starting to finally relax, and he can feel the way your entire body is visibly softening just by the touches from your favorite person, Peter Parker.

Peter always knows how to make you feel safe, he's made mental notes of things he does that makes you feel safe, loved and at peace.

You love random displays of affection, which is completely fine with Peter because he loves to be affectionate with you. You love when he is affectionate with you because it reminds you of how lucky you are to have such a lovely person in your life.

You'd never admit it to him but he knows how much you love the pet names and compliments he gives you so he will compliment you any and every chance that he can.

Peter knows how you're not very open to talking about your feelings, but he always feels a sense of pride and love when he realizes that despite you not being open to share your feelings, he's made you feel safe and comfortable enough to share those parts of yourself with him.

Peter always loved to give you small kisses here and there just to let you know he appreciates you, but he had no idea how much those meant to you. He smiles to himself as he remembers the day that you told him how much you like his small kisses and ever since that day, he gives you random kisses throughout the day...every.single.day.

Peter was coming home from his nightly patrolling duties and he climbed through the window that led into your room, you always left the window open for him, he'd always have a place here. Peter watched in adoration as he caught the sight of you lying in your bed, with glasses perched on top of your head and a book lying face down on your stomach as you slept peacefully. He quietly removed your glasses from the top of your head and marked your place in your book (he knew how mad you'd be if he didn't) and placed them both carefully on the bedside table. He removed his suit, took a shower and changed into the spare clothes he left at your place and calmly climbed into the bed next to you.

You were a very light sleeper so no matter how hard he tried to be quiet, you were very aware of his presence. "Peter? Is that you?" He almost laughed at the sound of your sleepy voice. He moved a piece of hair away from your face and smiled to himself at the sight of your half-closed eyes and eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

God, you are absolutely gorgeous.

"Shh, love, it's okay. Go back to sleep." Peter whispered as he watched you drift back to sleep and he pulled you closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his body and he held you close. Peter kissed your forehead and whispered goodnight into your ear and you're a light sleeper so you stirred in your sleep.

"Mmm. I like when you do that, Pete". You mumbled in your sleep-like haze.

If it was anybody else, they would not even knew that you said anything but Peter being who he was and hanging onto every word you said, he heard you. Peter knew you were very sleepy and had very little energy to fight him back which was the perfect chance for Peter to use this to his advantage.

"Do what, pretty girl?" Peter watched as you hid your face in his chest and he laughed, he knew what he was doing, it was funny though because you are just too cute to not mess with. "Don't hide from me!" You begrudgingly lifted your face from his chest and snuggled closer to him.

"I like when you give me random kisses like that, it makes me feel loved and really happy." You sighed happily and began drifting off into the world of dreams.

"Oh how I love you, Y/n." Peter confessed for the first time. The corners of your lips twitched upwards as you started to feel sleep overtake you for the millionth time that night.

"I love you too, Peter." Peter placed a gentle kiss to your hairline, and he fell asleep.

You love kissing Peter; you really do but Peter discovered that you also love other kinds of things that he does to show you how much he adores you. To other people, it may seem small but to you, it was everything which meant that Peter continued to do them. You love when Peter locks his pinky finger with yours and places a soft kiss to your pinky, it's such a mundane gesture but it reminds you of how safe you feel with Peter, and he does it with so much love and devotion that you can't help but fall even harder for the brown eyed boy.

Peter can go on and on about all the things he loves about you. Whenever someone asks him if he has a favorite little thing that you do, his answer is always the same.

His favorite little thing that you do is loving him.

Peter never really had a way with words, when he really cared for someone, he would get starstruck and the words would escape him. He always felt bad about it because he has so much love to give and he wants to share it, but the words never left his lips, he would stutter because his emotions clouded his senses, and the words would dissolve into thin air. You changed that for him. When people would ask him what being loved by you is like, the words poured out of him easily as if it was as easy as breathing, he didn't have to think too hard.

Your love is so warm and comforting and being loved by you is like falling asleep next to a fireplace, on a freezing winter day while drinking a cup of hot chocolate. The feeling of your love is so special, he could talk forever about it but he knows that there aren't enough words in the entire universe to fully express how much you mean to him.

You would so call him super cheesy and a romantic, but he means it. He only became all mushy and lovey dovey because of you.

It's the feeling of his knees going weak as he locks eyes with you from across the room. It's the feeling of safety when he holds you close to him in bed at night.

That is what it's like to be loved by you.

The little things you do remind him of what being loved feels like and maybe one day, there will be a ring on your finger, a forever one.

#tom!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #wlwprker🥀💌#peter parker #tom!peter parker x reader #spiderman #mcu spiderman

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mycenalucentipes · 2 months

Text

Rekindle My Flames || Diluc x gn!reader

HI SO I also write Genshin :'D, figured I might post it here too. This is crossposted from ao3. Except thered, I'm for some reason mycenaLucentipes. So I'll probably change my name here to reflect that beceauseee mushrooms, anywayS =============================================

Summary: You’re depressed, but up until this one night, you had been amazing at masking and hiding it away. Diluc stumbles in on your dying flame and wants to help relight it.

All the passion for life is gone, minus your love for Diluc? The depression just…its a cloud of sadness that’s hard to escape

Just a short venting one-shot :’)

TW: Angst, depression, low will to live / implied suicidal thoughts, crying, cursing, generally sad depressing theme, but there is comfort ending : )

Word count: 1,966

a/n: I think I made it entirely gn this time. I hope so. I'm sorry if I messed up somewhere or if Diluc is ooc. But i feel like if he really loved someone romantically, I think he would be sweet and bashful and caring towards them.

Diluc was mad.

Diluc was mad at himself.

How had he not noticed earlier? He could he not notice the love of his life suffering silently with so much pain?

His love shouldn’t need to bear that much pain in their heart. They didn’t deserve that, no.

They deserved the shining stars, the flowing rivers, the ripest of all fruits, the whole universe. They deserved it all.

You were his star that guided him through the lonely world he created for himself. You were his everything. He swore his love for yet set his flames to blaze even brighter and more powerful than before.

You are his everything.

So how could he not notice?

Just a couple days ago, you casually strolled in Angel’s Share at 20:00 with the traveler and Paimon, humming your favorite song. No more than 15 minutes later came Kaeya and Venti stumbling towards the bar where you and travel sat. The atmosphere was a lively one that night.

Upon your arrival, Diluc’s gaze followed you with gentle, tender eyes for his love. He began mixing your favorite drink before you even had to open your mouth. Once he finished yours and carefully slid it in front of you, he began mixing a cocktail up for the traveler. Although a bit wary of serving them alcohol, you assured him more than a dozen times that they were well over the age to start drinking.

Your eyes lit up as you felt the cool drink glide down your throat. “Diluc, sweetflower! This is amazing! Whatever you’ve mixed into here, is really hitting the spot,” you cheered, holding your glass up with a large grin adorning your face. It was fruity, with a hint of mint among the blend. Diluc knew just how you liked it. He offered a soft small back as he tried not to blush at the compliment and the nickname. Oftentimes, you would give him random, sweet nicknames.

As the night went on, he carefully observed you, happily singing and cheering along to whatever the drunken bard was playing. You, Kaeya, and Traveler had wrapped an arm around each other, swaying back and forth with a drink in hand.

Looks can be deceiving. Didn’t anyone ever tell him that?

Every once in a while, he noticed your features go blank. Void of all emotion. Stuck in between a drunk Kaeya and tipsy traveler, your movements were lifeless, but your body still swayed with the other companions’ arms wrapped around your shoulders, and yours on theirs.

“Dearest, are you alright? You look like a puppet hanging from our arms,” Kaeya would slur out when he noticed the weight on his shoulder increase. You would always snap back into reality with a smile and nod your head. It was enough to fool him. Surely if he wasn’t drunk, he might have noticed how your smile never met your eyes.

Every once in a while, he noticed your entire demeanor go quiet. Spaced out and dissociated from reality. He wondered if you were okay, but didn’t know how to ask or he would be swept away by another customer.

From other previous times, he would notice a far off look in your features, empty eyes void of life. You always brushed it off as just being “tired”. He didn’t want to pry.

Diluc was always a stoic man and didn’t appreciate others prying into his mind, so he was hesitant to prod you for more. He was still learning to accept the help and comfort you so warmingly gave. For not being a pyro wielder, he swore that your soul was warmer than his would ever be.

Until that one night. That one night where he found you. He’s thankful it wasn’t life threatening. But archons, his mind raced with all of the worst scenarios that could come.

Diluc stirred in his sleep, wearily reaching out for your warmth that was no longer beside him. It was about 3 in the morning by now. Not finding you next him, Diluc was more alert now. He quickly sat up, breathing turning short as he frantically looked around the bedroom. There was no trace of you.

It was 00:00 when Diluc finally came to bed. Then it was 01:00 when you carefully slipped out from his embrace and softly headed for the door, heading for the city.

Where had you gone? Diluc was sure that you were in bed when he climbed in next to you, pulling your body close to his. He remembered as he mumbled weary apologies and sweet nothings as he drifted off to sleep, feeling safe with you by his side.

Diluc quickly changed out of his sleepwear and rushed out the door and down the stairs of the mansion. He called your name out, worry laced into his voice. When you were nowhere to be found within the confines of the mansion, Diluc grabbed his coat, deciding to head into the walls of Mondstadt. He knew you had an art studio there with a small shop on the main level.

As he neared your shop, he could see a faint light flickering from the second floor. There you were. Why were you here at this hour? Diluc timidly wrapped his fingers around the door knob, testing if it would turn. Finding it to be unlocked, he gently opened the door and stepped in. Once he closed the door, he froze.

It was eerily quiet.

He could only hear the blood rushing through his ears and his heart pounding erratically in his chest. Not wasting another second, Diluc ran up the stairs, skipping one in a panic to reach you. As he neared your studio door, he froze once again in hesitation to open the door. What would he find on the other side? Why did he hesitate to open the door?

In his moment of hesitancy, he heard small whimpers and light sniffles. He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You were still alive. Diluc swung the door open, gaze darting directly to you.

His heart shattered when his eyes landed on you. You looked so small and broken, huddled into yourself, tears streaming down your face. Diluc slowly made his way over to you, nearly tripping over debris. Wait, debris?

He carefully scanned over the room as he continued his walk towards you. Those few steps it took to get to you felt like he was in a nightmare and couldn’t reach what he was looking for in time. He felt as if he was trudging through slimes.

Paint cans were discarded around the floor with color pooling out from them, vibrant hues of paint coated the floor, shards of canvas framing were split and splintered into piles. Some of your unfinished works were cruelly sliced through the center while others were haphazardly slashed.

Once he finally made it over to you, Diluc sank down to the floor beside you, enveloping you into his strong arms. In his embrace, it felt as though the fiery essence of his pyro vision wrapped you in a cocoon of warmth and protection.

“My love,” Diluc’s deep voice pierced the heavy silence, a gentle murmur barely above a whisper, “if you would like, you are free to share your troubles with me, I’m here for you.” His tender words only seemed to unravel you further. You choked back a sob, trying to form words. It’s been a long time since you’ve been met with such sincerity and caring from someone. Asyou struggled, Diluc soothingly rubbed circles into your back.

“You don’t have to tell me right away, love, I’m not going anywhere,” He whispered sweetly with his low voice. This only made you cry harder, except there were no more tears, just broken sobs and heaving breaths. Diluc’s other hand gently moved to gently stroke the back of your head, gently urging it closer into his chest.

“D-Diluc,” your voice was soft, yet rough from the hours of screams and sobs, “c-can we just go…go h-home?” Your words were whispered in a plea, exhaustion prominent in your gaze as you looked in Diluc’s crystal, red eyes.

His heart ached as he met your gaze. He noticed how tired, red, and glassy your eyes looked.

Really, how could he not notice how tired your eyes were?

“Of course, my love,” he murmured softly, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead before gently helping you to your feet. “Are you alright to walk? Or…,” Diluc’s cheeks reddened with bashfulness as he tried to voice the option of carrying you. Of course, if you needed, he would have you off your feet in a heartbeat. As you pondered an answer, he shrugged his coat off, tenderly draping it around your shoulders.

“I-I’m alright to walk,” you stuttered out. Despite this, you clung to his side as he guided you out into the cool air of the night with care. The whole walk home, he held you close with an arm tightly wrapped around your shoulders.

As you reached the familiar sight of the Dawn Winery, you felt a small spark of endearment within your broken soul. Diluc led you into your shared bedroom, helping you remove his coat and draping it over the chair. He then picked you up, gently setting you on the bed, pulling the covers over you. You tugged the covers closer to your chest as your gaze followed his form, changing into his sleepwear and finally crawling in bed next to you.

He shuffled closer to you, pulling you into his embrace once again with one hand stroking the back of your head.

“Diluc?” You softly whispered, head still buried in his chest.

“Mm?” He tiredly hummed out.

“C-can I– Can we talk…uhm, I-I want to–,” you fumbled for words, not knowing how to articulate your thoughts into actual words.

“Of course, love, of course we can,” Diluc gave a small nod as he replied, squeezing you in reassurance. You loved how well he understood you, even when you were at a loss for words. A few stray tears slipped out with a couple of sniffles to follow. He only tightened his embrace again, still soothingly stroking the back of your head.

“For now, let’s try to get some sleep. You must be exhausted,” Diluc suggested gently, voice tender with care. He felt you snuggle closer into his warm embrace. He hoped this could ease the pains of your inner storm, if only slightly.

Nodding in agreement, you allowed yourself to surrender to the embrace of sleep. You listened to his steady heartbeat, a rhythmic lullaby, that slowly lulled you into a deep slumber.

Once Diluc heard you slowed but steady breathing, he felt his whole body relax. He could feel his throat tighten as his own tears threatened to escape from the corners of his eyes. Oh how he wanted to take away all of your pain so you wouldn’t have to suffer any longer. He knew you would most likely struggle to accept any help or comfort on your own. But he wanted more than anything to reassure you over and over that you could come to him any time. You were his top priority and he would never let you forget that.

He was determined to learn to read you better as well as help you feel confident in confiding in him. Working on feelings and emotions with someone else was foreign land to him as well, but if it was for you, he would go to the moon and back in his efforts to help you.

Diluc was so head over heels for you. You were the brightest star in his galaxy and the kindest, fiercest flame that he had ever encountered.

#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact diluc x reader #tw depression #tw crying #tw implied suicidal thoughts #reader is just overall depressed okay?

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lakesbian · 5 months

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and now for our Checking In With The Dallon Sisters poasting

Panacea shook her head, “Tattletale found a way around my sister’s invincibility. Glory Girl was bitten pretty badly, which is why I didn’t come sooner. I think it hits you harder, psychologically, when you’re pretty much invincible but you get hurt anyways. But we’re okay now. She’s healed but sulking. I- I’m alright. Bump on my head, but I’m okay.”

victoria is demonstrably having a bad time with the previously noted psychological pain of being forcibly reminded that, no matter how hard she tries, she will never be the spotless, invincible, perfect hero she wants to be. the bug bites suck obviously but the "sulking" After being healed is an indicator of where it really hurt--not just physically.

(amy's power reminds me of. do you guys know that one tumblr post about the concept of exploring the horror potential inherent to D&D-esque fantasy healers? like, the horror inherent to being perfectly, magically healed from horrifying injury a hundred times over, and being expected to just get up and keep fighting afterwards, without any regards to how your mental health is doing. that's exactly how amy's power functions: you're made physically better than ever, and expected to get back up and keep being a hero, but you still have the memory of the pain and the lingering psychological aftereffects. but, like, you're fine now, so you just need to get over it and go back to throwing yourself in the line of fire, okay?)

amy is also right off the bat clearly not doing so hot--she's acting very shy and withdrawn and unsure compared to both of her prior appearances. obviously that is due to the horror of some random villain going "btw, remember that you're ontologically an invader into the family you are trying to belong in!" but i think it's probably compounded by the fact that amy is so used to being treated either 1. like she's intrinsically awful/unwanted or 2. like she's only valuable/desirable as a resource by Everyone But Victoria that walking into a room of heroes w/o victoria by her side is always liable to make her insecure and withdrawn.

oh, and the burnout. obviously the severe fucking burnout.

“No, I hated that he would have a normal life, because I’d given up mine. I was scared that I might intentionally make a mistake. That I might let myself fuck up the procedure with this kid. I could have killed him or ruined his life, but it would have eased the pressure. Lowered expectations, you know? Maybe it would have even lowered my own expectations for myself. I… I was just so tired. So exhausted. I actually considered, for the briefest moment, abandoning a child to suffer or die.” “That sounds like more than just exhaustion,” Gallant replied, quietly. “Is this how it starts? Is this the point I start becoming like my father, whoever he was?”

the "every second i rest, someone dies" conundrum would be nightmarish for her even if she had the healthiest social support net on the planet, but her circumstances make it infinitely worse. she's treated by everyone in her "family" but victoria like an invader, and even victoria has unintentionally stressed the importance of using her healing power in the way that the family wants (i.e. to cover up victoria's police brutality) in order to Be A Good Family Member. amy has internalized that being a good dallon is the same as being a good hero, and failing at being a dallon is the same as being overcome by her ontologically criminal roots. so she works herself to the bone, and when she inevitably starts to falter, she views it as an indicator of something intrinsically wrong with her rather than as a sign that her family + society's expectations for her are harmful and unfair.

and dean's advice for her only reinforces this further:

Gallant let out a slow breath, “I could say no, that you’re never going to be like your father. But I’d be lying. Any of us, all of us, we run the risk of finding our own way down that path. I can see the strain you’re experiencing, the stress. I’ve seen people snap because of less. So yeah. It’s possible.”

he suggests that she try to take a break, but only in the service of "so you can heal more people in the long run." he validates the idea that she could go "down that path," as if becoming a villain--becoming A Bad Person--is a risk all heroes have to fight against on an individual level, as opposed to criminality being a result of circumstance and not even inherently immoral. and of course dean thinks that way--he's a millionaire child soldier, his entire life is predicated on individualist thought with ignorance to the ways in which systematic factors impact people. acknowledging that amy is being horrifically mistreated would mean not only acknowledging the flaws in the PRT system, but acknowledging what might lead people to stray from it, and he simply can't do that. it goes counter to every idea that his life is built on.

he never even tells anyone that amy thought about letting a child die, or if he did, it didn't go anywhere. she was desperate for help all along, increasingly ready to explode, and everyone just ignored it. because as she says:

"My sister’s all I’ve got. The only person with no expectations, who knows me as a person. Carol never really wanted me. Mark is clinically depressed, so as nice as he is, he’s too focused on himself to really be a dad. My aunt and uncle are sweet, but they’ve got their own problems. So it’s just me and Victoria. Has been almost from the beginning."

this is also where we see another more blatant sign of her crush on victoria--it's very ambiguous as to whether dean is interpreting amy's feelings towards him as meaning "wants to date me" or "jealous of me for dating victoria" but i think it's probably the former because there's no way he would keep his mouth shut if it was the latter, lmao. really what this scene is doing is introducing all of the stressors amy is experiencing that, because they're going unaddressed, because everyone else is refusing to address them and she has internalized that's how it should be, are going to boil over horrifically later on. that burnout and fear of accidentally-on-purpose making a mistake will lead to truly being unable to heal victoria later on. that sense of obligation, that if she can't keep healing she's turning into her father, will contribute to her being unable to just walk away from victoria instead of trying to heal her. her crush on victoria--the ultimate example of how her should-be family has ostracized her--will boil over in the impulsive brain alteration & the sexual nature of the wretch's design.

and all of this would've been avoidable if not for, as mentioned in the prior post abt this interlude, the dallons' and the PRT's enforcement of wallpapering over the kid heroes' pain to Keep Up The Show.

#wormtime 2 #wormtime 2 arc 3 #wormblr #parahumans

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tomtenadia · 1 month

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My new fic

Hi all,

So, I am trying to gather all the possible courage and post the Prologue of my Hockey fic. I still don't have many chapters, but I am hoping that posting it for the public will give me the push I need to write more.

So, Rowan is a Pro Hockey player in the THL (Terrasen Hockey League) and Aelin in an ex pro figure skater now working as instructor. Rowan has suffered a serious head injury in a game and has been off for a few months and is now dealing with his healing. Aelin plays tough girl but she is still dealing with the accident that destroyed her career.

A very small part of Rowan's injury and recovery is inspired by "Unsteady" by Peyton Corinne (which I recommend to everyone if you love hockey romance) and also just a smidge of Icebreaker.

Also, Rowan is a single dad to a lovely 5 years old tornado called Maya (yes, I know always the same but I love it.)

The title.... Check my heart.... a play on the concept of cross check. Not the greatest but I am bad at titles.

Anyway, I will leave you to it.

CW: mention of injuries, panic attacks

PROLOGUE

The ice rink was empty and quiet on a Saturday afternoon.

Rowan slowly walked the familiar path that took him from the changing rooms to the ice, the feeling of walking in skates still strange after two months off.

As he finally exited the tunnel, the coolness of the stadium hit his face as he sat down on the home team bench. His team’s bench. Hockey had been a huge part of his life. He had started playing as soon as he had learned to walk. His dad had been a great champion in the Wendlyn Hockey League, leading his team to many championships and countless other major victories. His dad, Alasdair Whitethorn, had been the hero for many kids. Under his guidance, Rowan had learned to skate, and to get better. He trained, he played, he breathed hockey. In high school people had started to call him his father’s heir. He signed up for uni and graduated in aeronautical engineering. Aircrafts being another passion of his. At uni he played in the team and made captain and in his final year the offers from pro teams started to rain.

His first year as a pro in Doranelle he showed the world his skills and lead the team to a cup victory. Rowan thought he was at the top of the world, until the THL, the Terrasen Hockey League, found him and got his first offer. After three years in Doranelle, Rowan was called by Perranth with an offer that was impossible to turn down. Rowan’s career exploded, brought him across different teams in Terrasen until he landed in Orynth as captain for the Hawks. Together they won a cup and other teams kept begging for trades but Rowan always refused saying that he had finally found his team.

His career had been on a trajectory for more success until the last season.

Until the final game in the championship when they battled the Skull’s bay Pirates for the cup.

Until…

A deep breath and he stopped as the usual wave of nausea hit him and the fuzzy memory of that night threatened to surface and break him.

If he closed his eyes he could still hear the sound of his body colliding with violence against the boards. The pain. The terror and then the darkness.

Still on the bench, Rowan shook his head, trying to chase away the memory. His team had won, after Lorcan had led the Hawks to the triumph while seeking revenge for his captain.

Even with his team mates chasing minor penalties to avenge him. Even with Lorcan getting a five minutes major for roughing after he thumped Rolfe, they still had won.

Rowan had been in a hospital bed when they told him. He should have been elated, but all he had felt was emptiness.

He blamed it on the bad concussion. His team had explained him that Rolfe had checked him from the back, pushing violently against the boards. His head had taken a bad hit as he collapsed on the ice.

All Rowan remembered was the sound of Lorcan’s voice calling for a major penalty on Rolfe, the feeling of ice under him and the taste of blood.

Another shake of his head to clear his mind and finally Rowan stood, gripping the edge of the gate. That was progress. He had made it a bit farther than last time. This time, the gate was actually open and his right foot was on the ice. He took a deep breath and the left foot joined his companion on the ice. Gently, he pushed himself away from the boards and stood there. He stared at the Hawk logo painted under the ice and then took a tentative skate towards the middle. But when he paused and took a look at the empty stadium, memories betrayed him and the screams and the noise of a game hit him. His head started pounding and a moment later he found himself sitting at the centre of the rink, his chest tight and his breathing laboured. A panic attack.

“Are you okay?” A voice called behind him.

He heard the distinctive sound of blades scraping the ice but did not turn until he saw a woman kneeling in front of him. Even in his confused state he could not fail to notice that she was the most stunning creature he ever saw. Her hair was blonde and tied in a tight high bun and her eyes. The woman in front of him had deep blue eyes with a ring of gold in them.

Was he dead? Had he actually died on that hockey game and this was finally heaven? Was she an angel?

“Hey, you okay?”

She touched his shoulder and felt real. No. He was still alive.

“You fell?”

He nodded lightly.

“Come on big guy, get up, I need the ice.”

“Oh.”

“I have a class coming and I have the rink booked up.”

Rowan stared at the woman, she had black leggings and a jumper. Her body was definitely the one of an athlete but at the same time he could see elegance in the way she stood on the skates in front of him.

“Come on, off the ice.”

“Hey, I can use the rink too. How much space are you going to need?”

“The whole of it?”

He scoffed “I just need a small part.”

Aelin snorted “The ‘learn to skate’ class is tomorrow morning.”

Rowan stared at her aghast. Did she have no idea who he was?”

“I can skate.”

“You fell and look unsteady. I doubt it, big boy.”

“What, you never fell in your life?”

Something strange passed in her eyes and Rowan had a feeling it was hurt.

“You really have no idea who am I?”

The woman folded her arms at het chest “Should I?”

“Captain Whitethorn of the Hawks.”

She snorted loudly “a hockey barbarian, I should have suspected.” Her tone dripped disgust.

“I assume you don’t follow it.”

“What, watch a game where ten men skate on the ice like brutes and pound each others just for the sake of it?” She protested, not moving from her stance “the only thing I know is that you oafs destroy my ice and it takes the Zamboni a lifetime to repair the mess you make.”

He was about to reply when he heard voices and saw a group of kids entering the ice “Well, princess, your class is here,” he touched his head in salute and in a powerful move he skated to the opposite side of the rink, well far away from the woman.

It was later on when he finally left the venue with a sliver of hope. It had been his first day out on the ice since the accident and he had gone through some basics exercises that coach Gavriel had recommended. It had not been easy and being back on the ice had felt alien all of a sudden. A few times he had stopped to watch the strange woman teach young kids figure skating. He had watched her demonstrate some basic moves and he had been totally enthralled by her.

Now he was finally home and a smile appeared on his face when a little tornado crashed against his legs “dad, you are back.”

Rowan kneeled and kissed the girl who was his clone “I am, muffin, did you have a great time with grampa and nana?”

“Yes, we baked.” She grabbed his hand and dragged her father in the kitchen where on the table lay numerous trays of chocolate biscuits.

“Did you bake for an army?” He asked his mother.

“We are taking some of them for her friends at skating classes.”

Aside from hockey, Rowan had another big love in his life. His daughter Maya. His life. His everything. Maya had been born five years earlier from his first marriage. He had met Lyria still back in Wendlyn. Lyria was a rising star in the world of figure skating. He had fallen hard for her and a year after dating he had asked her to marry him. Not long after they got married he got drafted in the THL and Lyria refused to move due to her busy competition schedule. One of the biggest championship was happening in Wendlyn that year and Lyria wanted the win.

Lyria’s dream got destroyed when she discovered she was pregnant. Rowan had gone back to Wendlyn to watch one of her competitions but Lyria never turned up. She gave birth to a baby girl a month before the world championship.

The day after she had been discharged she had served him the divorce papers and a letter in which she renounced to all her rights as mother. Lyria had left the house the following day. No goodbyes, no last words. Just a a note on the bed reading You ruined my dreams.

Two days later he was back in Terrasen with a newborn baby and a career as pro hockey player. He had tried to find some information on Lyria after he was back. She had moved to a land very far across the ocean and had tried to restart her career but eventually gave up and became a trainer.

“Were you on the ice?” Asked his father sitting at his side on the sofa.

Rowan closed his eyes and nodded.

“How did it feel?”

“Alien,” the answer barely a whisper “I hated being on the ice, dad.”

“It takes time.”

“The team will be back from summer training camp in two weeks and then we need start preparing for the season. We have the first friendly game at the beginning of September against Perranth. I don’t have much time.”

Alasdair placed a gentle hand on his son shoulder “I know, but recovery takes time. Especially after such trauma.”

“I am the captain and I am letting my team down.”

Alasdair was about to reply but Maya came running and screaming for her father’s attention. “Dad, nana says that dinner is ready. Wash your hands.”

The girl was about to run away but Rowan stood in a powerful motion and lifted his daughter upside down on his shoulder. Maya laughed freely and patted his back screaming to be let free.

Rowan deposited his daughter on her chair and inhaled the scent on his mother’s cooking.

Being a famous THL player came with perks. He had signed a very good contract with the Hawks that allowed him to live a very comfortable life. He had bought a beautiful house in the outskirts of Orynth near nature. While all of his team mates had modern luxury mansions in the centre, he had gone for a cottage that he had slowly expanded and fixed up. It was cozy and, most of all, Maya loved it. They had a lake at the back that in summer was used for swimming and in winter they would use to skate together. Most of his money went to make sure his daughter had a good life. When he came back from Wendlyn with an infant, his parents had flown to Terrasen to help him and Rowan would be forever grateful to his parents for the help they had given him especially when he was away for his games.

His mother’s voice woke him from his thoughts “Are you taking Maya to the rink tomorrow morning? It’s her learn to skate class.”

“Yes. I need to go and train anyway.”

“Rowan, you should not push yourself too much.”

He sighed. His mum was a sports doctor and she saw his situation from the point of view of a physician. His hand curled in a fist and took a deep breath, he knew his parents were just looking after him “Mum, I am just getting again familiar with the ice.”

“Nana, can you skate?”

Rowan mentally thanked his daughter for the interruption.

“Yes, my love. Your grampa taught me to skate a long time ago.”

Maya smiled happily.

“Once the lake is once again frozen we can go you and I so you can show me all you have learned.”

The girl’s grin spread and her green eyes brightened in happiness “my teacher said I am good.”

Eiddwen lifted the girl on her legs and stamped a kiss on her cheek “of course baby, you are a Whitethorn.”

The dinner eventually finished and after his parents left, he took his daughter upstairs and helped her get ready for bed.

She climbed in bed and grabbed her soft toy “dad, can you tell me a story of when you won a cup?”

Rowan smiled and sat at her side. Maya had grown surrounded by hockey. Her grampa, although retired, was still an important personality in the hockey federation. He would take Maya to the games if possible and would explain what was happening. She loved listening to some of the stories of his victories from both her dad and her grampa.

“You don’t want a story from the last book we bought?”

Maya shook her head “not tonight.”

Rowan sat properly with his back against the board of the bed and pulled Maya against him “It was the third period of the cup final and we were down by one and down one man….”

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127 @mariaofdoranelle

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #rowanwhitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin galathynius

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farfromstrange · 1 year

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Ease The Pain | Matt Murdock x Reader

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader

Summary: Matt helps to ease your period pains.

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), vaginal fingering, description of blood and period pain, use of "Good girl", hurt/comfort, praise kink

Word count: ≈ 3.1k

a/n: I love how Tumblr just keeps not showing my works in the tags so I have to post them again. Fun. Anyway! My period pains are the fucking worst. I hate my life. If men like him were real I'd sure feel a lot better. Anyway, I wrote this in like an hour or so because I'm that desperate. Hope you enjoy!

Pain.

That’s all you can feel in every inch of your body. The core of that pain lies in your lower stomach and back, but it has already spread to your head and the rest of your muscles, even your legs, and feet.

It’s Saturday, and you should be up and enjoying your free time but instead, you’re bound to the bed while the worst cramps of your existence ripple through your uterus as it brutally sheds its lining just because you chose not to get pregnant again this month.

Every position you try feels only comfortable for a split second before another surge of pain appears somewhere in your body, mostly your stomach, but every time a cramp hits, your head seems to explode too, and shifting is futile.

You’ve tried everything you could think of. Painkillers, heat, curling up into a fetal position, standing up, sitting down, you even took a hot shower, but none of it managed to take the pain away for more than a minute or two. So you have accepted defeat, realizing you don’t stand a chance against the monster that is mother nature. You decide to suffer in silence until the cramps ease up, which could take another day or two.

Every once in a while, your eyes flutter close and you find yourself blinking back to life a few minutes later disoriented and almost shaking from the pain. Another wave of cramps tears through your body, keeping you wide awake as you roll onto your side and pull your legs up to your chest.

The door to the bedroom opens and it creaks, which makes you grind your teeth. You feel the sudden urge to tear the glass apart, nerves thin from exhaustion, and the noise only adds to your pain.

“Sweetheart,” Matt’s voice is gentle from where he’s standing against the door frame.

You bury your face in your pillow. “Go away!” you groan. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he says.

“You’re right, I’m not, but there’s nothing you can do about it. I just hate my fucking body right now and it hates me.”

“Well, at least you’re not pregnant.”

You lift your head to glare at his stupidly attractive person. He’s not wearing a shirt, that bastard, and his grey sweatpants are hanging dangerously low on his hips.

He ducks when you toss a pillow at his head. “Fuck off!”

He wants to laugh, but the sound of your pained moan into the pillow has him sprinting toward you. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. If it’s that bad, maybe you should take some more Advil.”

He strokes over your upper arms, pulls the hair out of your face, and presses feather-light kisses to your shoulder blade, which feel soothing at first, but the cramps ruin it for you once again. You’re forced to switch positions, curling up on the other side of the bed.

Matt follows, sitting up against the headboard on his - previously your - side of the bed.

“I’ve already taken the full dose today,” you tell him. “If I take any more, I’m gonna have more problems than my fucking uterus stabbing me to death. Ugh!”

You hate this. You’re in pain, exhausted, and bleeding so badly, you’re sure you’re going to have to go to the bathroom soon. Every last contraction of your uterus has you cursing Eve for eating that stupid apple.

His hand moves from your arm to your lower back. Gently forcing you onto your stomach, he starts digging his fingers into the sore muscles of your pelvis. You sigh. Now that is something you haven’t tried yet, too embarrassed to ask him for help with something like this, but he doesn’t seem to mind. You keen into his touch, letting him loosen your muscles one by one. The cramps continue in the front, but the tension in your back finally releases and gives you a second to breathe.

“You need anything?” he asks, leaning over to nuzzle his face into your neck. “Tea, maybe? More pillows? Or do you want me to run you a bath?”

Sleep threatens to take over. “No,” you slur. His hands are working wonders and you start to question how you even deserve him. “Keep going. Feels good.”

Your approval is all he needs to knead firmer at the flesh protecting the bone of your pelvis. You melt into the mattress. His lips move back to your shoulder, leaving messy kisses over your heated skin.

“Ow, fuck!” The next sharp cramp directs itself toward your entire front, tearing your abdomen apart. “Why does this keep happening?” you cry. “I hate this!”

You’ve been suffering from periods for so long, you should have gotten used to it, but every month feels different, and sometimes worse.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says. “I wish I could help you.”

“Yeah, but you can’t. Too bad!”

That was rude.

You whimper a small apology into your pillow.

“It’s okay, I know you’re in pain. If it helps to yell at me, go right ahead.”

You want to laugh, but you’re too worn out to make any other sound than pained puffs of air from deep within your chest.

Another harsh cramp has him moving his arm around your body, his hand continuing the massage on your stomach now, and you can’t help it; The pressure offers sweet, sweet relief for the pain that has kept you on edge for the past eight hours and his touch sets every fiber of your being on fire. You push your hips back, wanting him to push his fingers deeper into the flesh. In response, his other arm comes to rest around your shoulders from the front, and he pulls you flush against him.

In his attempt to make you more comfortable though, he accidentally brushes over your sensitive nipples, and you moan, so oversensitive from the hormone outburst, it hurts.

He “accidentally” does it again, just to test a theory, and when you moan again, louder and higher this time, Matt realizes he just opened Pandora's box. You wouldn’t have asked him to even if it killed you, which it might, and he read somewhere that orgasms produce enough oxytocin to help with period cramps. He knows you don’t care much about studies, but he can’t deny that there is something plausible about this theory. Most importantly though, he just wants to help you. Hearing how much pain you are in hurts him, and he wants to stop your suffering in whatever way he can.

“I have an idea,” he breathes into your ear, fingers moving lower until he reaches the hem of your sleep shorts that you haven’t bothered taking off. “Do you trust me?”

Goosebumps erupt on your skin. He keeps sending electrical shocks down your spine with his touch alone and no matter how hard you try to refuse yourself such a lucrative treat, your body has a mind of its own during this particular time of the month. Even though you’re in pain, the arousal is only a foot away.

He pulls at the waistband when you don’t answer, letting it slap against your skin. It’s not painful, but you can feel the burn spread from your stomach straight to your core.

“But-” you try to interject.

He won’t let you. “Do you trust me, angel?” he asks.

“Always,” you say without hesitation.

“Then let me help you.”

You’ve never done this before. You’ve never let him touch you during your period before, ever, not since you got together. You’ve always felt far from sexy, bloated and bleeding, and moody most of the time, if you’re not uncontrollably eating whatever you’re craving before puking from the pain, but you can’t help the whimper that passes your lips this time when a certain gush of wetness that isn’t blood starts coating the walls of your cunt.

He’s shirtless and so incredibly hot, he looks almost biteable. His muscles flex, you can see every last dent in his bicep, and it grows seemingly two sizes every time he moves his hand to touch you.

The way he’s almost choking you with his elbow has you clenching around nothing. And it hurts because God, you’ve never been this sensitive, not even after several rounds of sex with him, but you don’t care. Your clit pulsates and it rubs against whatever fabric is closest. The friction is bittersweet. You try to move your hips to feel the same jolt of electricity again, to get rid of the pressure resting between the sore folds of your cunt, but you can’t seem to find relief.

Matt grows confident in his actions and starts to cup your breast ever so slightly. You gasp, tears shooting into your eyes. Your brain is fuzzy. Your body tingles. Your nipples get hard the second he brushes them, and the more he squeezes, the harder they seem to get. Your skin flashes hot. You’re not sure what feels better – the hand on your stomach or the one on your breast.

“Do you want to stay like this or can you sit up against the headboard for me?” you hear him ask.

In your state, you can either nod or shake your head, and you’re not sure which one is the better option. The curled-up position is the only one you can feel comfortable in, but if you don’t sit up, he can barely touch you. It’s a desperate situation and you’re so overwhelmed, you want to cry — but it’s not a question of wanting anymore, you need to cry because your body is a bundle of hormones and your mind isn’t yours to command.

He tilts your head toward him to kiss you. “It’s okay,” he whispers, “I’ve got you.”

You whimper again, tasting the coffee on his lips.

Slowly, the hand that once rested on your stomach inches lower and lower and lower until… you throw your head back into the crook of his neck and he tightens his grip to make sure you don’t slip away.

The moment he presses his calloused fingers to your clit, your vision explodes. You try to spread your legs while at the same time scratching at his arms and pulling at the dark hairs that adorn them. Your muscles are too sore to throw your leg over his hip, a familiar position from the many lazy mornings spent drowning in each other, and you can’t seem to find another way to get his hand closer either. He’s already cupping your pussy with his entire hand, drawing circles on your clit, and with how swollen it is you jolt with every stroke, but it’s still not enough. You need more space.

“Wait,” you say. “I need… can you…”

The systems in your head completely shut down.

He reads your mind. His hand slips away, pulling you up with him against the headboard. Instead of forcing you to sit up though, he places you over his lap, a pillow under your stomach, and your legs spread over his thighs. The slight bow in your back from the positioning of his knee works better than any position you could have thought of.

“Better?” he asks.

You spread your legs wider. There’s enough space now, you can move freely and still roll over if you need to, and the sheets can easily muffle your moans.

“Sweetheart, talk to me,” he strokes a hand over your exposed ass cheeks, “are you okay?”

You don’t want to imagine the mess you’re making, lying naked over his lap while actively bleeding out of the very folds he’s touching with his skilled fingers now. You’re wet enough for him to slide across them, returning to your clit.

“Just touch me,” you whine. “Please, Matthew, just touch me.”

And for the love of God, you think, don’t think about the sheets.

“Anything you want, baby. This is about you,” he says and finally, God finally, he gets to work.

There has to be something he takes to make his fingers feel so amazing every time he touches you. He never fails to amaze you with his skills. The fingers he uses as fists more often than not to beat criminals senselessly only do good for you. They comfort you and bring you pleasure where and whenever you need it most. He would never hurt you, especially not with his hands.

You cry out when he picks up the pace. “Matt,” his name is only but a breath on your lips, “Your fingers…”

“What about them?”

“I need them,” you say.

His thumb stays on your clit while he circles your entrance with his ring and index finger, pushing in only slightly and you hiss, as he expected, from the soreness of your walls.

“Fuck!”

“Relax,” he tells you.

He moves his fingers deeper, slipping right in, the wetness and heat of you engulfing and hugging him like you were made to take him. He sighs and curls his fingers inside, finding your g-spot with ease. He knows exactly where to press to have you crying out in ecstasy, and you have to bite down on the sheets to keep yourself from screaming.

Pain is the last thing you can think about. All you feel is the burning pleasure in your core, the electricity that spreads through your cunt like an explosion and rests in your lower stomach as the biggest knot you’ve ever felt, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel the pressure that has your legs shaking as it waits to be released.

All the while Matt keeps massaging your back with his other hand, matching the circles he draws on your clit and the thrusts of the two fingers that he has shoved deep inside of you. With every painting he draws, you inch closer to the edge of release. It’s only moments away, you can feel it.

The sounds you’re making are incoherent, muffled through the sheets, but he can tell from the way you’re bucking into his hand that you’re closer than ever.

“You’re doing so well for me, sweetheart,” he’s purring the gentlest of praises into your ear, “You’re such a good girl, letting me take care of you. You deserve it. You deserve to feel good.”

You moan, reach for his shoulder, and cling to his skin for dear life. Your legs start to shake around his hand, locking him in place. You’re thrashing around wildly, not letting him finger you but rather riding him in a way that has you coming faster than you thought possible.

Matt only chuckles. “That’s it, take what you need. You can come whenever you need to,” he says. “And I know you need to, baby, so do it. Let go for me and come.”

“Oh, fuck, Matthew!”

Your walls spasm around his fingers as you come apart. You’re crying, moaning, possibly even screaming and you clench so hard around his fingers, you’re scared you might break them.

His tongue is silver, trained, and too damn good at articulating words that drag out your orgasm to the point it hurts, especially now. “That’s it. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

It wouldn’t stop. You’re wasted, exhausted, and spent, but you can’t stop from pulsating heavily around him.

Only when the pleasure turns into an uncomfortable soreness does the wave of the orgasm start to ease back into the ocean.

Your clit is aching, swollen, and wet from how coated his fingers are, and you can already feel the wetness trickling down your thigh. The blood, you think. It’s not just arousal or your cum, you’re sure of that.

The bed probably looks like a crime scene now. You have to change the sheets. Not even as you’re crying, quivering from the intense orgasm, you can help the shame from swallowing you whole. He can’t see it but he can smell the copper. It has to be more than uncomfortable.

You whimper when you finally come down from your high, still holding onto his arm.

“The sheets,” you manage to choke out. “Matt, I’m so sorry…”

He shushes you. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t not worry about it. I just bled all over your sheets.”

He helps you sit up and into his lap where he holds you close to his chest.

“It’s just blood, baby,” he reminds you with a gentle kiss on your lips. “I don’t care. It’s natural. Besides, have you ever seen me not covered in blood?”

The crinkle in his eyes is playful and you manage to laugh softly.

“Hm?”

“No, I guess not,” you say. “But still…”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing.”

Your head drops to his shoulder. “I love you.” There are a million other things you want to say, but for now, those have to be enough.

The pain is gone, finally, and you can breathe again without getting an excruciating headache. He hugs you tight to him, stroking your hair and kissing your scalp to make sure you’re okay, that you know you’re safe and that he wouldn’t go anywhere. He’s with you, until the end of the line.

“C’mon.” He manages to tear himself away from you eventually. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?”

You pout, feeling his dick more than hard in his sweatpants underneath you. “What about you?” you ask.

Matt shrugs, pulling you in for another kiss. “I’ll take care of that.”

“We can-“

“No,” he cuts you off with a finger to your very tired lips, “You’re too sensitive for that. Let’s wait another day and then we can think about it, okay? I don’t want you to be in any more pain than you already are.”

Thanks to your hormones, his considerate nature has you crying like a baby in seconds.

He is confused at first, touching your contorted features in worry before he reminds himself that it’s normal. You’re more emotional than usual, but it’s okay because your body is doing unspeakable things that no man could ever understand, and you’re going to feel better soon enough. The world just sucks for now, then maybe again in the next twenty minutes if you happen to come across the picture of a very cute dog or watch one of your comfort movies, but you’re going to be fine.

So instead of making fun of you for something you can’t control, which he never would but he knows that some of the men in your life have and it scarred you for life, he holds you to his chest and tells you, “You’re going to be okay.” And he keeps telling you this until you manage to stop crying and are smiling again, thankful and so in love, you forget how fucking awful you feel for just a second.

It wouldn’t take long for the pain to reappear, but until then you could enjoy the relief in the arms of the man you love.

Having Matt Murdock by your side is much better than painkillers, and much more effective, too.

And as you lie there on his lap, his arms around you and his lips on yours, you can’t help but keep wondering,

How did I get so lucky?

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