#caregiver Hiccup | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

1,644 Tumblr posts in 1 second.

hiccupbutpurple · 7 months

Note

I got reminded of your age regression fic post that I have a small headcanon that Krogan is an age regressor/or just someone who really enjoys acting childish and playing with toys an$ being a kid because he had no childhood to speak of, at times due to stress, and then it pooled down into ideas towards how Hiccup and Viggo would react to it. Especially since Krogan would have kept this fact a secret due to the fear of having some of the few toys he has to play with by himself taken away from him since that has happened before.

Viggo at least already knows Krogan has a stuffed toy he sleeps with, her name is Kitty, and when one of them notices that Krogan is starting to shut down/revert, Krogan is terrified and just shuts down more because despite his fear of judgement and backlash, the urge to cry is too strong and it feels good to cry because it helps him feel a little better.

A resin for this happening is that Krogan gets captured or something, he’s branded again during his time in there, possibly worse, etc.

Hiccup and Viggo though, are more than open to him during the time he’s relapsed/in his regressed state (if that’s the right word), so that when he comes back out of it, he is all parts confused because in most cases he’s brutally punished for regressing until he comes back out of the state- the longest he’s gone is about a year, and even then, the only reason he would come out of the state is after he just started being ignored.

Idk the silly thoughts. Never gotten to put it in a fic though. (I’m probably going to do more research on the topic as I do this though:)

Ahahahah yes that’s so cute! Honestly the httyd fandom is kinda barren of age regression content (there is some but not a whole lot) lol so it would be cool to see more! And yeassss Krogan would be so cute with caregiver Viggo and Hiccup!

Considering I headcanon Hiccup to age regress and of course I’ve pictured Viggo with him, I feel like Viggo would be that calm and strict but gentle kinda caregiver. No nonsense but he still understands that kids will be kids and that involves some silliness sometimes. I feel like he would indulge a little in games on occasion if Hiccup (or in this case Krogan) really pleaded with him! He would probably really enjoy teaching as well! He would be very observant and I love him knowing about Kitty! Maybe he would subtly reference her when he thinks Krogan needs to calm down a little once Krogan gets more comfortable with the idea of having actual caregivers.

I think Hiccup would be able to convince Viggo to get into the more fantastical games and imagination with Krogan too. Hiccup basically already interacted with kids in canon but only briefly so we didn’t see to much but I think he’d be fairly indulgent (like how he invites the dragon explorers in for food but just lets them play with Toothless easily), he’s not overly authoritative with kids (Viggo would fit that better) unless there is danger or something important I think but that’s not so say kids don’t listen to him, just that he’s more easy going, if a little unsure and awkward at times. I think he would love sharing drawings and creating stuff (both as caregiver and regressor).

And yes fear of judgment (especially when critiqued for it before) absolutely would make him even more scared and wanting to hide it! (I’ve got a bit of a scene of that for my Hiccup one when he gets overwhelmed by everyone around him and regresses further leading to a breakdown and I can def see that happening with Krogan, he deserves a good cry!)

Also ahahahah being regressed and tortured would be so dark and scary, not to mention the possible long term impacts of associating a potentially previously safer mindset with newfound trauma, or getting even more reason to struggle with regression if there was already childhood trauma within the regression. And Viggo and Hiccup making him feel okay and telling him it’s alright would be so sweet!

Also just for extra info cause I can’t help myself! I’m not exactly an expert and can only speak from my experiences but i see a lot of things about people fully not having any awareness of older age, and that can happen, but it’s also possible to have awareness rather then fully being small and both can still be involuntary and voluntary. One thing as well is teen regression (which is another element of the story I’m working on!) is another thing that has potential too! From what I can tell and based on myself, there’s a tone of different experiences of age regression both voluntary and involuntary. I love the idea of him choosing to act childish too to make up for childhood, that I would also count as age regression personally, considering it’s a coping mechanism!

#httyd krogan #hiccup haddock #viggo grimborn #vigcup #age regression #agere #httyd #rtte #torture mention #caregiver Viggo #caregiver Hiccup #regressor Krogan #regressor Hiccup

9 notes · View notes

tteokdoroki · 10 months

Text

☆༉ — SEISHIRO NAGI. touch me, soothe me.

about. if there’s one thing nagi’s going to put effort into — it’s making his baby feel better when the world gets you down. or nagi + spank therapy because i said so. i need him.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. smut, nsfw, fingering (f!receiving), spanking, spank therapy, squirting, dom/sub dynamics, use of colour system, cockwarming fem!reader, pro player + soft dom!nagi

when you have a lot on your mind, the first thing you do is turn to your boyfriend, nagi.

he acts as a sort of centre point for your comfort, whenever the world gets too much and there’s too much weight on your shoulders. nagi willingly accepts his role of caregiver, stress reliever, anything his angel needs him to be. he’ll do whatever it takes to see you smile and laugh again even if it means seishiro has to put in a little extra effort.

besides, it helps that you get a little needier when you’re stressed out.

“s-sei!” there’s something so satisfying about the way you curl into him, trying to make yourself smaller against nagi whenever he’s close by. a quiet ‘fuck’ drifts from between his parted lips, watching the meat of your ass ripple from the impact of his his hand against it. your core loosens a tad and your lashes make soft contact with his bare shoulder when you blink back the hot liquid that slips from your pretty eyes.

nagi knows that when your jaw goes slack and your drool starts seeping past the boundaries of his clothes — that he’s making you feel good, making the day hurt less. carefully, he runs a hand over the tender zone to pacify any pain you might be experiencing from being smacked about like that.

“shhh, pretty thing. you’ve had such a long day. lemme take care of you, kay?” nagi coos to you soothingly as he smooths his hand over the area where heat blooms on your ass cheek. “d’ya want the next one to be harder or softer?” he feels your lips tremble against his bare neck, and the tears that drip onto his shoulders and if he didn’t know any better — he might think you were crying out in pain rather than relief.

your shaky voice quickly soothes the player’s concern while you nuzzle into him further. “harder, please.”

nagi let’s out a noncommittal hum, the sound comfortingly reverberating through your frame as you cling onto his larger one. “such a good girl, for using your manners with me.”

he waits a few more seconds, letting you prepare for impact, before his heavy hand comes down against the opposite cheek. he revels in the way that you jolt with your nails digging into his milky skin so hard that they might break flesh. but as quickly as you tense up, you sag in relief — letting all of your worries flood out of you as the pain from being spanked subside.

the strangled moan that escapes you tells nagi that he’s doing a good job at helping ease your tension. the effort he’s putting in, evident in the way his palms tingle from spanking you so hard. there was some weight to that one.

“check in with me, angel. how are we doing?”

you’re still a quivering mess when you answer your boyfriend, swallowing thick and choking back your tears. the stress that you had been experiencing now burns and brews into something hotter, a slick gathering between your thighs. “green,” you hiccup, tauntingly dragging your hips back and forth against the white haired striker’s lap. “‘m okay to keep going.”

“oh, pretty thing.” seishiro cocks his head to the side, brushing a thumb under your eye before another tear drops. “y’gonna kill me. s’not fair…so pretty like this,” that very same thumb drops to the swell of your lips, barely pushing past them to enter your hot mouth. “tell me how you want it, then i’ll make you cum.”

obediently, you suck on the digit that your boyfriend offers you — your frenzied emotions instantly calming down. “wan’ a few more in a row… keep going. please.” you slur around him as nagi slowly fucks your mouth, pressing down on your tongue to watch you writhe.

as per your request, the player continues to bring a a rapid and heavy hand down against your pert ass — groaning as the flesh jiggles beneath his touch. it all rushes to his head, the sound of skin meeting skin, your hushed, dreamy sobs and sighs, the way you claw and cling to him. he’s dizzy with lust all for you but somehow manages to power through long enough to make an effort for you, make you feel better before he tends to himself.

you’re all squirmy with sore cheeks by the time nagi is done, but you’re happily snivelling into his neck as he ruts up into you — hard cock pressed against your soft thighs. “sei,” you plead gently, rocking back against his erection and whimper when it’s thickness sinks between your wet, panty-clad folds perfectly. “think i need a little more help… with the stress relief…”

“i think so too, angel,” seishiro replies with a rasp, already in the midst of rolling you onto your back and into prime position to ruin you. somehow, two sets of hands fumble between your bodies to push and pull clothes aside — allowing the genius player’s cock to slide right into your soaked and fluttering hole. both of you sigh out in relaxation, your moans syncing up into the most airy-fairy harmony. “might need to fuck it out of you, fuck you s’good pretty thing. s-shit… you’re so warm ‘n tight around me… gonna make a mess…”

with newfound motivation, nagi draws his hips back and bucks into your tight heat, using one fluid motion to fill you up with his drippy cock. it’s the cry you let out and your fingers gripping the sweaty silver roots of his hair that drive the man forward, forcing more of his throbbing dick into your sensitive little cunt while his free hand reaches down to toy with your clit.

he’s going to fuck you until you’re numb, dumb and crying because of him — not because of work. pound you until your pussy froths, because seishiro really would do anything for you to feel better and less stressed — even if it meant fucking you starry-eyed and delirious.

1K notes · View notes

purple-babygirl · 3 months

Text

don't call me daddy III

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 3,840

Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.

Warnings: Bucky is less mean, age regression, period blood, intrusive thoughts, crying, Bucky's PTSD & nightmares.

A/N: Here you go, beauties💜 Thank you for your patience, please enjoy xx💜tell me your ideas about how we should proceed with these two if you have any💜

She shifted again on the couch, the discomfort in her abdomen turning more and more into a sharp pain by the minute.

Sitting up to rub sleep out of her eyes so she could go to the bathroom, she felt the dampness in her underwear and quickly realized what was happening.

She didn’t need to go to the bathroom; it was something else.

Oh, no.

It was her period, and it has made a huge mess on her clothes and possibly the leather couch. Bucky’s leather couch.

He was going to be so mad at her.

Unless she got up before he came home and cleaned everything up, right?

She took a deep breath, leaving the couch to look for pads in her bag, only to find nothing.

She forgot to pack her pads? Oh, no! What was she going to do now?

She was in so much pain and she was literally bleeding. She didn’t know if she should change first, clean up first or try to find painkillers first.

It was too much.

But, of course, as if all of this wasn’t enough, her little mind closed up and she was standing in the middle of the room, crying, when she heard his key turn.

“Bucky,” she called out, panicked and nervous.

She could see the shock on Bucky’s face, but given his previous behavior, her small mind translated it as anger; anger directed at her, “I had an accident.”

“What happened?!” Bucky dropped his jacket on the floor and ran to her, holding her by the shoulders, checking for wounds on her face.

“I—” she hiccupped, clearly scared of him again, she didn’t realize he wasn’t angry at her, but rather scared himself.

“What is it?” He asked again, shaking her shoulders before frantically searching her arms and hands.

“Period,” she sobbed, her voice quavering.

She felt so bashful, but also annoyed because she didn’t want to want or need Bucky’s help. She wanted to give him the space he’s wanted ever since he’s gotten her.

She didn’t want to tell him. She wanted to help herself.

“What?” Bucky genuinely had no idea what she was talking about.

“It’s that time of the month. Period.” She bit her lip, “I need pads.”

“So you’re not hurt?”

She looked at him with confusion for a second before shaking her head.

She heard Bucky mumble something that sounded like thank god as he hung his head down.

“Well…Okay, do you wanna get dressed?” He suggested with a sigh, letting her arms go.

“I can’t go anywhere like this,” she cried more, embarrassed at her state. She couldn’t believe she forgot her pads back in her room at the institution.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go!” Bucky said quickly, surprising her and himself by bringing a hand to her cheek.

She closed her eyes in fear, but whatever harshness she was anticipating never came.

Bucky’s thumb stuttered as it wiped away her tears, “I’ll get them.”

“Really?” She sniffled, slowly opening her eyes.

“Yes, go change into something clean and come back to tell me what pads… look like?”

Bucky has never done this before and he frankly had no idea how he was going to do shopping for period pads.

She nodded, hurrying to the bathroom with her bag.

She thought she’d use toilet paper as a temporary substitute until Bucky’s gotten her the pads in order not to ruin anymore clothes.

She lined her underwear with the tissues as best as she could before collecting her bloodied clothes in hand and opening the door.

“I— ehm— could you please start the washing machine for me?” she timidly asked, holding her stained clothes behind her back.

“Why?!”

“I wanna clean my clothes.” She swallowed, shifting on her feet uncomfortably.

She remembered well enough that ice cubes on bloodied clothes made it easier for the stains to come out. Maybe she should tell him about that.

“Leave that for now. I’ll do it.” Bucky waived his hand, wanting to go and get her what she needed.

He couldn’t imagine what periods were like for women, and in her state? He felt like she shouldn’t be going through this at all.

“But the blood—”

“It’s okay. Leave them on top of the hamper.”

She wordlessly did as told before coming back out, rubbing her tummy as discreetly as possible.

“Are you in pain?” Bucky asked, moving to sit down.

She nodded quietly before shouting, “no! Don’t sit there!”

“Why not?!” Bucky frowned and she grimaced before grabbing a couple of tissues.

She wiped the stained couch a couple of times before running with the tissues to the trash.

“Oh.” Bucky swallowed as she ran to wash her hands.

He didn’t think he’s ever been in a similar situation in his life and if he has, he certainly didn’t remember. But Bucky knew he wasn’t disgusted; only worried for her.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was worried about someone and it made him uneasy.

As she dried her hands, she was dreading leaving the bathroom because she didn’t want to hear Bucky’s scolding about how she’s gotten his couch dirty.

Tiptoeing back into the living room, she had her hands back on her sides, desperately rubbing where her ovaries were to ease the piercing pain.

“I’ll get you some painkillers as well.” Bucky nodded, his frown never leaving his face.

He probably didn’t know, but his normal face as well as his intense stare were screaming I will kill you and it didn’t help her.

“Thank you.” She bit her lip again, eyes casted down.

“Here.” Bucky grabbed his jacket from the floor, hand fiddling with the pocket, “eat this.” Bucky brought a chocolate bar out of his jacket’s pocket, “I got it for you last night but you were asleep.”

“How did you know I was getting my period this morning?” she tilted her head innocently.

“I didn’t. I— I was gonna give it to you to—” Bucky stuttered.

To say I’m sorry

“To say good job during the visit yesterday,” Bucky sighed, the lies heavy on his unaccustomed tongue.

She took the chocolate without a word.

He was manipulating her again, wasn’t he? Probably just trying to build credit for the next visit.

“Mrs. Morrison isn’t coming the rest of the visits this month. She’s coming next month,” she informed him, disappointment evident in her tone, before leaving the chocolate bar on the coffee table.

I know, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want her to know he listened in on their conversation.

Bucky merely nodded, trying not to show dejection.

“Let me grab a pen so you could tell me what you need.” He got his new notebook out of his back pocket and sat down next to her.

“Can’t we just ask for it to be delivered?” She suggested, wanting to get away from receiving Bucky’s help, especially with something so private.

“Well, I’m offering to get them, aren’t I?” Bucky snapped, slightly losing his patience again.

He was internally mad he had to lie. Why couldn’t he just say he was sorry? And why was he feeling like he needed to protect her against the pain of this monstrous monthly visitor?

Her eyes teared up again as she stood up and started giving him the details about the brand and type of pad she used without an extra word.

Wow, she didn’t even want to sit next to him now.

Bucky understood, but he wished things weren’t the way they were. He wished he wasn’t the way he was.

Only now did he realize, she’s been a literal saint to him all along and he was all but the most ungrateful person she could’ve ever crossed paths with.

At the store, Bucky stood in the middle of the long aisle with his notebook in hand on the verge of crying because what was all these brands? Why did you need so many colours? And how did any of those have wings?

He needed to get back to her with those pads as soon as possible but he couldn’t because he didn’t know which was which.

She’d told him the ones she used had a pink package, but there were at least 4 groups of those coloured pink, different shades too.

Two women noticed Bucky’s dilemma and pushed forward to where he stood.

Oh shit, he looked creepy, didn’t he?

“Can we help you?” One woman asked with a smile as she stopped her cart by Bucky’s.

“No— yes. I don’t know.” Bucky shook his head sheepishly as his cheeks grew red.

He's never done this before. He never thought he would either.

He didn’t want people to think he was a pervert, but he couldn’t leave without bringing her home those pads.

“For your girl?”

“Yes!”

Well, that was a fast yes.

The blonde woman looked at Bucky weird before laughing to the brunette next to her.

“First time, huh?”

Bucky nodded, blushing deeper.

“What did she tell you?” The brunette asked knowingly, not wanting to embarrass him more.

“Here, I wrote it down.” Bucky showed them the page where he had the description for the pads scribbled down haphazardly.

“Aww that’s so sweet!” The blonde woman put a hand on her heart, making Bucky smile awkwardly.

“We’ve been married two years and she’s never took down notes of my words!” She gently elbowed her wife.

“I don’t need to because I know what you want by heart!” The brunette defended before going to look at the pad described in Bucky’s notes.

“True,” the blonde standing with Bucky giggled, “your girl is gonna appreciate this very much.” She nodded with a smile.

Bucky faked another polite smile in reply.

Ah, if you only knew…

“Here, that’s the one you’re looking for.” The brunette handed Bucky two baby pink packages, “just in case.”

“Thank you so much!” Bucky was eternally grateful for the couple for saving him from going in an endless journey down that aisle.

“You’re welcome,” the brunette sang, pushing her cart away with her wife.

“Don’t forget to get her some ice cream!” The blonde shouted to Bucky.

Bucky saluted with a chuckle, walking with purpose to find the ice cream fridges.

Enough stalling. Today was the day he made everything right. He was going to apologize even if the words killed him.

“Thank you.” She hastily grabbed the pads and a clean underwear and ran shyly to the bathroom to put them to use.

Bucky just changed his clothes and waited outside so he could ask her what she wanted to eat and maybe properly apologize this time.

He waited and he waited and there was nothing but silence.

She wasn’t coming out.

Now, he didn’t know how much time it took for girls to use those things, but he felt like she’s taken enough time.

Could she be in trouble? Was she too mad at him to leave the bathroom?

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Bucky knocked on the door, unknowingly making her drop the pad as she jumped.

“Y—yes!”

She was trying hard to remember the steps to put on the pad, but she kept messing it up, her mind just too little to function properly.

“Are you sure?” Bucky called for her again.

“No.” She opened the door with tears in her eyes because she was about to ask for Bucky’s help for the millionth time when she wasn’t supposed to; didn’t want to.

“What is it?” Bucky asked, his voice unconsciously caring and worried.

“I don’t remember how big me puts it on and the pain won’t go away and my underwear is all messy again,” she sobbed without breathing, covering her face with her hands when she was finished.

“Okay, okay, let me help,” Bucky suggested, feeling dumber than ever because he had no idea how to do this either, but he felt so bad for her.

“Mr. Barnes is a man. Men don’t get periods,” she whimpered.

So she was back to calling him Mr. Barnes… good job, Buck.

“We’ll look it up online. Sam showed me how before.” Bucky found himself reassuring her as he guided her out of the bathroom and back to the couch.

“It’s here.” She pointed to the drawings on the side of the package describing how to stick the pad on one’s underwear, “but I still can’t do it.” She shrugged helplessly, crying more.

“Oh, okay!” Bucky took a look at the package, trying to understand what to do, “I can do it. Let’s get you something to eat so you can take the painkillers first.”

Wait what? He wasn’t going to let her ‘figure it out’ and feed herself?

She nodded dumbly as Bucky led her to the couch.

He heated up some pizza from the box he brought last night and got himself a piece too when his stomach started making sounds at the smell.

“Here.” Bucky set her plate in her lap and his on the coffee table.

She raised her underwear to him and he discreetly took it from her, trying to avoid being inappropriate.

Was this the first time he was consciously holding a female undergarment in seventy years? Yes. Yes, it was.

He attempted to follow the steps on the packaging as he removed the thin paper on the pad, revealing the sticky side of it.

He pressed the pad on the inside of the underwear and stared at it hesitantly, “now what does that paper cover?” He removed the shorter paper, revealing two more sticky parts.

“Wait, is this side supposed to stick to your body?!” Bucky asked, horrified at the idea.

“No.” She shook her head.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked, trying to find a use for the upper sticky part of the pad.

She nodded without a doubt because she knew that nothing was supposed to stick on her skin.

“I think…” she started, gaining his attention.

“Hmm?” Bucky looked at her for clues before bringing his gaze back to the underwear, determined to do it right.

“I think it’s upside down…” Her small voice stated cautiously, fearing Bucky’s anger.

“Huh.” Bucky examined the underwear with an open mouth.

After another half hour, the pad had lost its stickiness and was no longer useable.

She’d finished eating both her slices of stale pizza and took her painkillers, but Bucky was still going at it.

As she sat down looking at how determined Bucky was to help, she didn’t understand.

He was probably just feeling bad because she was bleeding, right? That must’ve been it because like he had told her, it was impossible that he’d suddenly want to be around her.

She looked at his plate and saw his food untouched. He didn’t eat a bite, too focused on the pad project.

She was mad at him and didn’t want to talk to him, but she felt really bad. Maybe she could help him without talking to him?

Without thinking too much about it, her hand was grabbing Bucky’s slice, raising the tip to his mouth so he could eat.

Bucky temporarily looked up from the underwear in his hands, speechless at her gesture.

She looked away, not wanting to meet his beautiful eyes because she was ‘mad’ at him.

Bucky bit back a smile, quietly taking a bite, “thank you.”

She nodded indifferently, head still turned away, hiding her own smile.

It was the first time Bucky has ever thanked her since they’ve been together.

But that didn’t really matter because Bucky still didn’t want her help, right? She was just doing this because he was helping her with her pad. Or at least that was what she was telling herself.

When Bucky was finished with his pizza, she took the empty plates and walked to put them down in the sink.

All of a sudden and before she could hold it in, a fart has escaped her and exploded aloud in the quiet room.

Bucky stopped trying with the pads and just stared at her silently for a second.

And then she was choking up again.

“Why are you crying now?” Bucky shook his head, not wanting her to cry, but she took it for frustration.

“Because it’s embarrassing and yucky,” she sobbed, covering her hot face with her hands as she plopped down on the couch.

“It’s not embarrassing or yucky. It’s human,” Bucky told her, leaving the underwear for a second to touch her hands.

“Mr. Barnes is not mad at me?” She sniffled, allowing Bucky to hold her hand.

“No.” He rubbed the tears off of her palms before handing her a tissue for her face.

“Do you think I’m disgusting?”

“No,” Bucky chuckled, amused that that would be her concern as she sat there literally oozing blood.

“Really?”

“Did you think I was disgusting when I was sweaty fresh out of a nightmare and you hugged me?”

“No,” she answered without hesitation.

Bucky remained still for a second, just cherishing her for everything he’s never noticed before, “it’s like that, too. I’m not disgusted.”

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” She smiled gratefully.

It was a really short smile that Bucky could’ve easily missed it.

But he understood. He’d take what he could get. He had plenty to make up for.

“I’ll just look it up.” Bucky shook his head finally giving up on the pad project, resorting to his phone for help from YouTube.

Women’s lives were hard.

Ten more minutes and Bucky was enthusiastically yelling, “Yes! I did it!” while raising a feminine piece of underwear in the air.

Too soon, however, his excitement was deflated when he saw that her reaction and expression didn’t match his.

All she did was mutter a polite thank you, Mr. Barnes as she took her fixed underwear and went to the bathroom to change.

He knew why and he knew he shouldn’t expect anything less.

She’s let him off the hook many times and he couldn’t expect her to do it forever.

No matter how kind or innocent, she was only human.

Inside the bathroom, she was thankful for Bucky and proud he’s managed to do something that she was sure he’s never done before, but her feelings were still hurt.

Bucky made her feel unwanted again after she had almost forgotten what that was like. He made her feel like she could never be loved for all that she was, or exactly as she was.

She didn’t understand him. She didn’t know when he hated her and when he didn’t. She didn’t know if he was nice or mean.

And she hated these games. They confused her too much and that was the last thing she needed, especially while little.

And even if she made everything okay again and let this, too, go. It wasn’t what Bucky wanted. She couldn’t keep ignoring his wishes forever.

And so their night continued in silent TV watching and more cold pizza consumption; and instead of being familiar, the quietness was scary to Bucky.

The way she looked so blue gnawed at his insides because he knew he was the cause of it.

She didn’t try to poke at him, made sure she didn’t accidently touch him and only spoke when necessary and she called him Mr. Barnes all over again.

Is this what it would’ve been like had she conformed to his rules from day one?

So what? Why was he upset about that now? Wasn’t that how he’s been ever since he came back to himself? Why wasn’t it comfortable anymore? Silence and solitude were what he wanted, right?

Bucky wanted to talk to her before bed, to hopefully end this agony, but she quickly gave him her back after swallowing her painkiller.

“Listen—” Bucky started, gaining her attention.

She looked like she knew what he was going to say and so she did something that goes against everything polite she’s ever learnt; she cut Bucky off.

“I’m sorry about ruining Mr. Barnes’ couch. It won’t happen again,” she apologized first.

Couch? He wasn’t worried about some leather couch!

“That’s not—”

“I’m also sorry about making Mr. Barnes go shopping for me when I promised I won’t annoy him no more. I promise not to do that again.”

“It’s—”

“And I’m sorry for interrupting just now.” She bit her lip, unable to not apologize for something that she knew was wrong.

Bucky stayed silent, however, so she assumed she’d covered what he wanted to reprimand her about.

“Good night, Mr. Barnes.” She gave him her back again, pretending to have instantly fallen asleep.

With a sigh, Bucky went to his makeshift bed as well, swearing that tomorrow morning was apology time. It was final.

She wanted to be strong, but she just couldn’t bear Bucky’s thrashing and his suffering any longer.

She wished she could only give Bucky what he wanted and not care, but instead, she was going to give him what he needed, what she was here for and knew how to do.

She got on her knees by his shaking body and patted his flesh shoulder gently, still resisting calling his name.

Bucky woke up with a loud gasp to find her concerned eyes pouring love onto him.

Without a word, she began wiping away his tears with her sleeve, her other hand patting his shoulder to calm him down.

“It was just a bad dream,” she whispered, wishing she could hold her daddy close and make all his fears go away.

Yes, he was her daddy even if he didn’t agree.

“Sorry, that’s embarrassing,” Bucky chuckled, trying to make little of the fact that his nightmare was so horrifying that he was crying in his sleep as he wiped at his own cheeks.

“It’s not embarrassing. It’s human.” She echoed Bucky’s words and that was when he felt it; her warmth flooding his heart and body, surrounding him in gentle waves.

He looked up to meet her gaze and saw only care and compassion reflected back. He wanted to drown in those eyes; hide from everything that was hurting him.

And for the first time in decades, Bucky decided to let himself receive kindness because maybe, just maybe, he deserved some.

Before she could register, Bucky leaned in carefully, his forehead was on her shoulder and his arms at her sides as he let himself cry.

Her eyes were wide, not believing herself as her heart pounded. Bucky was seeking comfort. From her.

Without much thinking, she wrapped her arms tightly around Bucky’s larger body with an unspoken vow not to let go any time soon.

“I’m here, Mr. Barnes,” her small voice whispered, hands going up and down his back in slow, loving strokes.

Bucky shook his head on her shoulder, “no.”

“Bucky?” She quickly switched to his first name, but he shook his head again, raising it this time to lock eyes with her.

“Call me daddy.”

part IV

Tag List:

@harrysthiccthighss

@tinystudentfirepurse

@lavendercitizen

@tumblin-theworldaway

@pretty-pop-princess-hs

@lilymurphy03

@idontwannagomrstarkk

@glxwingrxse

@littlelioncub43

@mathletemadison

@canned-rootbear

@pandaxnienke

@loveisallyouneed1125

@floral-recs

@littlemoonkiller

@hallecarey1

@vespasianphantom

@vicmc624

@winters1917

@ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal

@blkmystery

@millercontracting

@trappedwriter

@am-3-thyst

@obsessedwithquinn

@sydnielauryn

@alittlerayof-pitchblack

@olipiaa

@peterparkersgirl-blog

@buckybarnessweetheart

@thealyrs

@colorfulbluebirdpainter

654 notes · View notes

minminyoonjii · 3 months

Note

I've read your little reader posts and I'm addicted. I haven't been able to find a single other writer for things like this and your writing is just *chef's kiss*

I loved the nightmare one and I was going to ask about little reader having a nightmare with a different scenario where little reader wakes up from a nightmare and sneaks(or "sneaks") into bed with their cg for better sleep.

Love your work, hope your day/night is amazing. If you don't want to write this for any reason, I won't be offended.

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.1K

Scenario

You whined, holding your plush close to your chest. Fear seeped into your mind as you tried to coax yourself back to sleep. Thoughts taunted each time you closed your eyes. "Caregiver Title," you sniffled, rubbing your eyes with your plush. The silence felt eerie and you wanted nothing more than your caregiver with you. "Need you," you whispered, crawling off your bed, clutching your plush. You patted the walls in the hallway, finding your way to your caregiver's room.

Bang Chan

"Daddy," you whispered, hearing snores coming from the bed. You huffed, crawling onto his bed, "Daddy," you repeated, patting Chan's chest. Chan furrowed his eyebrows, "It's still early," he grumbled, trying to roll aside. Your lips wobbled, "Daddy," you sniffled, holding his cheeks. Chan's eyes flew open, "Little one, why are you crying, hm?" he asked, slightly disorientated. Tears dripped down your cheeks, and silent cries escaped your lips. "Daddy got you, little one. Daddy's silly for not waking up properly," he cooed, rocking your body. You sniffled, burying your face into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Chan sighed in relief the moment sleep caught up to you. "I'll always be right here," he whispered, chuckling softly at his pounding heart.

Lee Minho

Your lips pursed into a pout, crawling onto Minho's bed, "Mama," you said, nosing his neck. Minho gruffed as he was used to his cats sleeping on his face. You whined, nipping his cheek, "Mama," you whined, tears threatening to spill. Minho jolted in his sleep, eyes squinting awake, "What are you doing awake, cupcake?" he asked, stroking your hair. A whine escaped your lips as you relaxed your weight on him. Minho chuckled, kissing your forehead, "Did you have a bad dream?" he asked, shifting to pull the blankets over you. "It scawy, Mama," you sniffled, tears dripping onto Minho's skin. He cooed, tucking you in with him, "Mama's going to have to protect his little cupcake," he said, giving you a tight reassuring squeeze. You giggled, melting in his arms.

Seo Changbin

"Baba, uppies please," you whispered, shaking Changbin's sleeping body. He groaned, accidentally shifting you with him. You squeaked, knocking his headboard with a thud. Sobs wasn't hesitant to escape past your lips. "Baba!" you exclaimed, flinching Changbin awake. "Agi? Agi-ah what's wrong?" he panicked, sitting up to hold you close. You whimpered, bringing his palm to the owie on your head, "Huwts," you cried, holding your plush towards your chest. Changbin felt his heart drop, "Don't worry, hm? Baba's kisses have magic powers," he coaxed, wiping your tears. You hiccuped, looking up at him with sorrow-filled eyes. Changbin cooed, kissing the area you held, "Baba will kiss the pain away, agi-ah" he said, smooching your owie.

Hwang Hyunjin

You whined, crawling into the space next to Hyunjin. "Up, Jinnie," you whispered, poking his cheek but to no avail. You huffed, wiggling under the comforters covering him. Hyunjin instinctively, wrapped his arms around you, tucking you against his chest. A yawn escaped your lips, the fear of your nightmare no longer plaguing your mind. Hyunjin groaned, scrunching his nose, when your hair brushed his lips. You yawned once more, pressing your plush against your cheek as you squirmed to get yourself comfortable. Hyunjin tightened his hold, sleepily rocking your body, "Sleep," he mumbled, kissing your forehead. A final yawn escaped your lips as you shifted, pressing your back against his chest. Hyunjin smiled in his sleep, "Sleep good," he whispered, holding you tight.

Han Jisung

"Appa," you grumbled, climbing onto his bed. Jisung woke up from the motion, "Sweetheart?" he slurred, sleep still coating his mind. You huffed, plopping onto him. Jisung felt the air get knocked out of his lungs, "What was that for, hm?" he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. "Bad dweam," you sulked, pressing your face further into his chest. Jisung cooed, kissing your forehead, "Aww, sweet thing. You just couldn't sleep after that, could you?" he asked, running his fingers through your hair. You shook your head, turning to press your cheek on his shoulder. Jisung hummed, sitting up with you in his lap, "Let's get comfy and sleep, hm? It's quite early, sweetheart," he whispered, pulling the blankets over the both of you.

Lee Felix

You tiptoed into the room, expecting your Mommy to be in deep sleep when you heard the crudes of slurs. "Mommy?" you questioned, walking towards the sound. Felix screamed when you poked his shoulder. You flinched, tripping back on a misplaced carpet. Felix's eyes widened, "My sunshine!" he exclaimed, quickly tugging off his headset to pick you up. Tears spilt down your face as the dull sting from the fall ached your bottom. Felix whimpered, pampering kisses all over your face, "Oh, oh, my precious sunbeam, you gave Mommy a big scare you know that," he said, holding you close. You sniffled, trembling in his arms. "Aww, sunshine. I'm not mad. Mommy's not mad," he said, wiping your tears. Felix sighed, kissing your nose, "Come on, sunshine. You can sleep on Mommy's lap while he plays," he said, getting himself comfortable with you cosy on his lap.

Kim Seungmin

"Dada, help," you whispered, nudging Seungmin's arm. You sulked, raising to smack Seungmin's face with the plush when he stopped your plush. "Are you trying to murder Dada while he's sleeping, munchkin?" he rasped, sitting up. You sniffled, "Dada, hug," you whined, crawling into his lap. He chuckled, rubbing your tummy, "Did you have a nightmare?" he questioned, smelling the traces of baby shampoo. You nodded, nuzzling his shoulder, "T'was scawy," you mumbled, yawning at the warmth. Seungmin nodded, "We should go back to sleep, munchkin," he yawned, kissing your forehead. You yawned back, getting comfortable in his hold. Seungmin chuckled, patting your bottom, "Scoots aside," he said, cuddling you to his chest.

Yang Jeongin

You quietly snuck your way into Jeongin's bed, tucking yourself under his blankets. Jeongin flinched at the movement, "Angel?" he questioned, facing you. "Ninnin," you whined, nuzzling into his back. Jeongin chuckled, setting his phone aside, "You're lucky I'm still awake," he said, wrapping his arms around you. "What's keeping you awake, my sweet little angel?" he asked, booping your nose. You sniffled, hiding your face behind your plush, "Nightmawe," you slurred. Jeongin frowned, kissing the top of your head, "Aww, my precious. You're safe now, Ninnin's got you right here," he chuckled, rubbing your back. You yawned, melting into his touch, eyes getting droopy by the second. Jeongin hummed, "Big squeeze," he whispered, holding you tight.

292 notes · View notes

marvelfanfics1 · 10 months

Note

I just fell. I know a random start but when I was playing outside I fell and hurt my knee and it bleeded 😥 maybe you can do the same with daddy stucky x little reader x little Peter (Tom Peter) where the reader fell and it bleeded so her dada Steve toke care of it and put a cute little unicorn plaster (I'm not sure how it calls bc English is not my native Language) and she is still crying when they got out of the bathroom and daddy Bucky but her in his lap and hug her and little petie comes to the reader and put a kiss on the hurting knee and says "that makes u feel bwtter"

🩹<---- I mean this thing

Kisses make it better

(GIFs not mine)

The Super Soldiers Little Angels au

Pairing: daddy!stucky x little!reader x little!Peter

Warnings: Age Regression, hurt knee, mentions of blood, fluff, comfort

A/n: Hey guys 🤗 I'm really sorry for the lack of fics, I had a writersblock and have been struggling with family drama (ya know the usual 🤙🏻) anyway, I hope I overcame it now and can spoil you with fics again 💜

⭒𖥸⭒

It was a beautiful day outside so Steve and Bucky decided to take you and Peter to the compound so you could play outside with other littles from the Avengers group.

At the compound were so many fun things to do and with how much space they have you can find activities literally everywhere.

Now you were running around a play structure with Kate while Peter was chasing you both. It was all fun and games until you tripped over your own foot and fell on the rubber ground that was around the structure.

It all happened so quickly that it took you a few seconds to now feel the pain that was coming from your knees, tears already blurring your vision before you could even take a look at it.

Peter was a second later beside you, trying desperately to figure out what was wrong when he saw your bruised knees and quickly jumped into action.

"I go get daddies!" he said and rushed off to where all the caregivers were sitting and talking.

Meanwhile, poor Kate was trying as hard as she could to comfort you, Peter would most definitely almost suffocate you in a hug, Kate only rubbed your back, assuring you that Peter will be back soon with your daddies and it did comfort you in a way.

Soon enough you saw Peter coming back with Steve jogging after him and he quickly knelt beside you.

"Shh, it's okay, Angel. Dada's here." he grimaced a little when he saw your bloody knees. Your little sobs broke his heart, he and Bucky hate seeing either of their littles in pain, and in a quick motion, he picked you up and carried you inside to the nearest bathroom.

"Dada hurts." you cried while Steve was looking for some bandaids and something to clean the wounds.

"I know, sweetheart." he kissed your forehead. "I promise it will be better soon."

You kept crying silently, wincing when he touches a sore spot with the alcohol pad. When all the blood was wiped off he grabbed a colorful unicorn bandaid and put one on each knee, hoping to cheer you up a little but you were still sobbing a little.

"Let's go see what daddy's doing." he offered you a smile and you nod, raising your arms for him to pick you up which he happily did.

Your crying ceased to little sobs and hiccups while Steve carried you to where he was before Peter came in running and frantically pointing outside. There you saw Peter who was leaning with his back against Bucky's shoulder and playing on his switch but he quickly turned it off when he saw you.

"Our poor doll." Bucky cooed and you started to make grabby hands for him.

Steve handed you over to him and you got comfortable on his lap with your back against his chest and him wrapping his arms around you to make you feel secure and safe.

Peter frowned a little, seeing how some tears kept falling from your eyes. He got up from his spot beside his daddy to kneel before you both. First, you were confused, tilting your head to the side. He then leaned forward to kiss each of your knees carefully.

"Dis will make you feel better!" he smiled and you wiped the remained tears away, smiling back at him.

"Fank you, Petie."

He got back on his spot and took one of your hands caressing the back of it with his thumb, making your daddies hearts almost explode from the cuteness.

⭒𖥸⭒

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @fluffyblanketgecko @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

Stucky masterlist:

@almostcontentcreator @stuckysgirl27

Crossed out are the ones I somehow can't tag!

634 notes · View notes

shares-a-vest · 4 months

Text

@steddielovemonth Day 1: Love is... Letting someone take care of you (Prompt by @starryeyedjanai)

wc: 722 | Rated: G | tw: the ever-present possibility of Steve vomiting, migraines

Tags: Sick Fic, Steve Has a Migraine, Caregiver Eddie

Eddie makes his way down the hall, following the sounds of gross, loud and retching coughs, his pace quickening with each step.

Steve was supposed to meet him at the arcade an hour ago. Steve isn’t exactly the most punctual person (despite the guy always looking at his watch with a laboured sigh). He sleeps in more often than not.

But he’s never an hour late at 2 in the afternoon.

“Stevie?” he asks, just narrowly missing the doorframe as he practically spins into Steve’s bedroom.

He doesn’t wait for an answer and tiptoes towards the blanketed form that is spluttering gibberish like Steve is attempting to answer.

Eddie looks around the room, his hand hovering over Steve’s form.

The place looks about the same as usual – a little too clean for the bedroom of a twenty-year-old boy, curtains drawn like they were downstairs. Steve’s work clothes from yesterday are discarded on the floor...

Wait.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, rubbing the blanketed mass now.

The lump moves to reveal a muss of Steve’s hair, sticking on end, looking greasy and tangled at the back. Steve grumbles.

Eddie rounds the bed, hoping the other side will reveal Steve at least a little.

“So dizzy,” Steve mutters as soon as Eddie spots his flush, pained face in amongst his bedding.

His eyes roll back and close, a full-bodied grimace shaking the pile of bedding.

Eddie eases down and reaches to comb his fingers through Steve’s fringe, only to be hit with just how clammy his boyfriend is. He swoops back the sweat-caked hair, patting it down gently.

“Think I’m gonna… throw up,” Steve says clear as day and gulps.

And Eddie thinks this might be the first time he has ever seen someone’s face flush green.

“I’ll go get your bucket,” he says, earning a reedy whine in protest.

Steve doesn’t embarrass easily, but he does when it comes to his (sometimes vomit-inducing) migraines and the yellow bucket Claudia Henderson brought by after Spring Break and demanded he keep close by. It sits under the sink in the ensuite bathroom now.

Eddie makes quick work of retrieving the bucket, plus some tissues and a glass of water. There are more supplies he could do with, he thinks, but they’ll have to wait.

“Come on, Big Boy,” he says, tugging at the covers, “Time to sit up.”

Steve moves at a snail’s pace to get himself untangled from his cocoon and sit upright. The blankets eventually fall away to reveal a flush, bare chest.

“You naked under there?” Eddie teases.

“Clothes sting,” is all Steve says as he swings his legs around with a monumental effort to hang off the side of the bed.

“Feet on the carpet, sweetheart,” Eddie instructs, placing the bucket in his lap and spotting it with his own hands.

“I’s gross,” Steve mutters, head falling into the receptacle, his voice echoing in its (so far) emptiness, “Go... away.”

He sways a little as if those limited, broken words were too much. Eddie wraps his free hand around his boyfriend’s middle.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he begins, “And you are not gross. You need help. I’m here now.”

He soothes his hand up Steve’s back, feeling him relax a touch.

“O-okay,” Steve hiccups, a tear falling onto his cheek.

“I’m here to look after you,” Eddie reassures, his voice barely above a whisper, “And I’ll get you good enough that we can pack you up and get you over to my house. Sound good, hmm?”

Steve half-nods into his bucket before he looks up.

His eyes are glassy. Nose red. His fringe now sticking to his forehead. He looks like a wreck, unkempt and sweaty. Now only a pale, pink-tinged green.

But Eddie leans forward and presses a kiss to his partner’s cheek anyway.

“Just think about your feet on the carpet, okay?” he whispers when he pulls back, “Your feet are planted on the ground – balanced, steady. Focus on that for a while. It’s okay if you throw up.”

Steve huffs and nods.

“‘Kay.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve.”

Steve drops his head towards the bucket again and Eddie begins detangling at the damp hair at the nape of his neck.

“Thanks,” Steve rasps after a long while of silence (and him not blowing chucks everywhere), “L-Love you.”

#yayyy love month is here #had to go for a sick fic first off #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddielovemonth #sick fic 🤧#steddie ficlet #tw vomit #tw vomiting

266 notes · View notes

sabersandsnipers · 7 months

Text

The King of Caregiving

You are a skilled warrior. Some have even called you the commander of death. Enemies tremble when they hear your name. You have always managed to maintain an image of strength, and focus.

But all that goes to shit when alcohol gets involved. You turn into a mushy, bubbly mess. It’s only happened a handful of times. Getting drunk means letting your guard down, and that’s unacceptable to you.

But the ale at the tavern was too good to turn down. You can’t remember the last time you had a drink that tasted this good. The warmth creeping through you is a welcome feeling after the events of the last few weeks.

The only development as of late that doesn’t fill you with frustration and hate is thanks to Halsin. You’ve been able to draw closer to him, which is something you’ve been craving to do for a while. But the differences in your personalities led you to believe he wouldn’t be interested. He emits pure warmth and light. His words are filled with kindness and despite his skill in battle, he has a gentle hand.

You on the other hand…a different story entirely. People tend to keep their distance from you. Even your companions give you a healthy amount of space on a bad day. It’s not like you’re trying to be mean, sometimes you just can’t stop yourself from blurting out your cranky thoughts.

And somehow, you managed to catch Halsin’s eye despite your angry tendencies. Maybe it was because he was the only one that managed to calm you, to keep your anxieties and anger at bay. The two of you just clicked. You complimented each other in a way you had never experienced before. You never allowed yourself to slow down long enough to cultivate a relationship.

But it was good. Whatever you had with Halsin right now had you smiling like some idiotic bard. A small part of you was infuriated with yourself for falling so quickly, but Halsin’s attention overpowered any of these negative thoughts.

And it’s the thought of Halsin’s attention that has you giggling as you and Karlach stumble back to camp. Your limbs feel like jelly and your brain feels like it could slide right out of your ears. All of your heightened senses have been numbed, and for once, you’re enjoying it.

Giving Karlach a sloppy hug and slurring a goodnight, you begin stumbling toward your tent. But a tug in your mind stops you. You slowly turn your gaze to Halsin’s tent, evil thoughts beginning to breed in your inebriated mind. You let out another giggle as you move to Halsin’s tent, trying to be quiet but failing epically.

You attempt to move the flaps leading into the tent, but instead trip over your own feet and fall directly through the entrance. A fit of laughter rips through you. Your abdomen cramps at the sheer force of your laugh.

“Tav?”

Your laughs die down a bit as you sit yourself up, your eyes moving to a very confused Halsin laying in his bed roll. You admire his bare chest, the chiseled muscles making your mouth water. You crawl your way over to him and straddle his lap.

A small smile grows on his lips. “It seems like you had a good time with Karlach,” he notes, taking in your disheveled state.

You hiccup. “Mhm.” You take in every feature of his face, from the scars reaching into his hairline to the shape of his lips. Gods, this man is beautiful.

Leaning down, you softly press your lips to his. His chest feels so strong under your touch. You wait for the feeling of his hands on you, but it never comes.

He chuckles against your lips as your hands begin to slide down his abdomen. “Eager are we?”

“I need you,” you tell him, breaking the kiss so you can take in his expression. Usually his eyes are filled with desire, but instead you’re met with their usually calming warmth.

He smoothes your hair back with his hands, and then gently holds your face. “You should rest, little one.”

You whine, grasping onto his forearms. “I don’t want to!”

He laughs, and a twinge of annoyance flickers in you. “Don’t laugh at me!” you insist. “Is not funny!” Your words begin to slur more.

He smothers his laugh, but still grins. One of his thumbs traces along your cheekbone. “We can do this another time, hm? When we both can truly enjoy every sensation.”

You want to argue with him, but you can’t deny the increasing weight of your eyelids. He notices the way you sway in his lap, fatigue beginning to overtake you. He lifts you up a bit and helps you into his bedroll. His body is so warm and inviting that you barely register your head hitting the pillow before you’re asleep.

When you wake, your eyes scrunch up at the pounding in your skull. Your stomach rolls at the sensation, and you clamp your teeth shut as the first wave of nausea passes. A groan builds from deep within you. Your head feels as if it’s been kicked by a horse.

You attempt to sit up, ignoring the building pain. You take in your surroundings. There are carvings of ducks in various stages of completion. There’s a glass jar of honey that sits on a table.

Halsin’s tent. The memories of last night wash over you. You cringe at your actions. Covering your face with your hands, you groan in complete and utter humiliation.

The moment only gets worse when Halsin walks in, looking as gorgeous as ever. You can feel heat flushing your cheeks as he walks over to you, two steaming mugs in his hands.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, handing a mug to you. His voice is soft.

You avoid his gaze. “Like death.”

A light chuckle leaves his lips as he sits next to you on the bedroll. “Legend has it that you consider death a friend.”

Steam rises steadily from the mug in your hands. “Well none of this feels particularly friendly.” You sniff at the liquid.

“That should help with the pain,” he tells you.

You finally look at him, gratitude surging through you. Your cheeks still feel flushed under his gaze. Bringing the mug to your lips, you take a tentative sip.

Hints of lemon and honey hit your tongue. You sigh at the taste, savoring the sensation of the warm liquid sliding down to your belly.

The pounding in your skull already seems to be lightening. The rolling of your stomach ceases. You glance at Halsin, a mixture of both anxiety and thankfulness rumbling in you.

“Thank you, Halsin,” you tell him. You shrink in on yourself under his gaze. What a brave warrior you are, feeling small because of a Druid.

You force yourself to keep speaking. “And I’m sorry about last night. I can’t believe I acted like that.” An uncomfortable heat begins to creep through your bones as you keep going. “You wanted a strong, focused woman and instead you got a messy drunk last night.”

Sunlight peeks in through the flaps of the tent and dances along his hair, brightening it. You wait for his reaction, unsure of what he’s thinking.

Then he reaches out to you and gently grasps your hand. His eyes seem to be alight with flame. "I didn't want you because of your reputation. Not because of the legends I heard of your victories or the tales of your strength." He pauses a moment as his thumb traces along your knuckles. "I want you for the woman I see within. The woman who cares passionately for her companions, and would die for them without hesitation."

He moves a bit closer to you, and your hand brushes his knee. "I want you for the selfless and loving woman I've come to know. Not for the legend I've heard of for years."

Your heart pounds at his words. Every inch of your skin seems to tingle as he looks at you. It's almost uncomfortable, this feeling of vulnerability, if it weren't for Halsin's ability to make you feel safe.

You clear your throat. "Well I'm glad I didn't scare you away then."

He laughs. The sound of it makes your very soul feels as if it's blooming into something brighter. "It's going to take a lot more to scare me off. In fact, I think I like feeling a bit intimidated by you."

He's so close to you now. You can feel the heat radiating off of him. His hand still grasps yours, and you savor the way his calloused palms feel against your skin.

"Will you lay with me?" you ask him. His face brightens at your request.

"Always."

He slides in next to you, pulling you into his chest. He smells of the woods after a heavy rainfall, and just a bit like honey as well. His fingers begin to trace up and down your spine. And you feel your eyes beginning to grow heavy at the comfort of it all.

No one in your past has made you feel this way, but you force yourself to admit you may be growing a soft spot for Halsin.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin x reader #halsin imagine #Halsin x Tav

352 notes · View notes

sporadic-gremlin · 2 months

Note

do u think the other eleven would be a dom, switch or sub? i need some hcs for any of them

the other eleven who literally degraded anyone who wasn’t working hard enough? oh yeah she’s a hard dom but one hell of a brat if you somehow get her to sub and I’m all for dominant women being submissive. she might actually be a power bottom…

there’s almost no instance where you’re in control with the other eleven and because of that, you use both a safe word (obviously) and the traffic light system. when you’re fucking eleven and she’s still able to put words together, you’re not fucking her good enough and she’s gonna make sure you hear about it. she’s going to degrade you and say that she can fuck herself better. or she can even have one of her listeners come in and fuck her while you’re forced to watch.

but while she’s saying all this, she’s pressing herself up against you, she’s touching you so gently, she’s looking at you with soft eyes to let you know that she doesn’t actually mean anything she’s saying. she’ll tilt her head and ask your color, if it’s anything other than green, she kicks in to caregiver mode. she’s going to praise the living fuck out of you or she might even have the other eleven come out so they can pamper you at the same time. just know you’re going to be taken care of.

if and this is a big if, she’s subbing, she’s going to an absolute asshole. it’s worse than when she’s domming. like i genuinely think she’s one of those brats that make you want to end the scene(and yourself) right there. but if you can somehow tame her, the feeling is like no other. she’s so pliant but she still has that bite to her except it’s more like a nibble now. and she sounds so pretty when she’s moaning for you. but to get back at her for being a little shit, you’ll deny her orgasms and make her beg for it.

eleven will put up a fight but she will eventually give in and she sounds so good. her voice will crack a little and she’ll paw at you, trying to look so small but you’re not falling for any of that shit. you don’t stop torturing her until she’s hiccuping for you to stop and let her cum. maybe it gets so bad that the other eleven has to come out and apologize on her behalf

#gremlin.talks #ptn x reader #path to nowhere #sub!ptn #sub!eleven #dom!reader #ptn smut

78 notes · View notes

cherrsnut · 4 months

Text

Hostage - Chapter 4

Finnick Odair x Healer!Reader

Summary: Up until now, your life has been a solitary one. Being the sole owner of an herbal shop, and apothecary to many fishermen who have been injured. Just when your life seemed to follow the routine you were so used to, your life turns a 360 when you’re suddenly taken away for the 67th Annual Hunger Games. This turn of events forces you to accept the idea the Grim Reaper is stalking close behind you, faster than you had hoped for.

Tags: Extremely Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Typical THG Violence, Forced Prostitution, Forced Lab Rat, Injury, Mental Health Deterioration, Psychological/Physical Torture, Death, Alcohol/Drug Consumption, Medical Malpractice, Fluff (bc they deserve it).

Word Count: 8.1 k

Previous // Next

Chapter 4

Breathe. Just breathe. Just like what Edna said.

The palms of your hands kept your face hidden. You were completely still, were it not for the trembles running along your spinal chord. Just remember what Edna taught you.

Almost as if your late mentor were in her flesh and bones standing in front of you, with her usual critical frown looking down at you, you tried to breathe. Mouth agape, you sucked in air, so much so, the oxygen filled your lungs.

It shoudn’t have surprised you in the least when the air particles felt heavier than normal, not with the countless times you were in this very position.

So hopeless, and so hurt. It was especially that, a thundering spark hit you straight in the chest and it felt like your heart had collapsed in surrender. You hiccuped more breaths, the unbearable pain swirling and expanding throughout your body as the air squeezed itself in the inflamed throat, a throat abused by what felt like multiples splinters penetrating the back of your tongue.

Oh, Edna, how much you missed her. She was everything you had. She was your warm home after a freezing storm, she was your teacher and caregiver, and she was your saviour sent for you to have another chance in life. That last thought hurt more, how much she struggled to raise you in such an unforgiving world, only for her efforts to be spent in vain. All the efforts she put into the woman you were now, all your knowledge, all your ideals, all your empathy; none of it mattered now when you would die out into the battlefield.

The Capitol were stripping away all of Edna's perseverance throughout her life. First it was the Peacekeepers trying to take down and dismantle Edna’s and your’s name, and now they were trying to kill all knowledge Edna curated through the only living and breathing version of her, you. Now, you were going to be gone soon. And when you’d be buried under the hard stones, so did everything Edna did to contribute to the world.

You gulped down a whine. Edna’s death was still submerged in your mind, like a hungry shark after smelling the most endearing blood drops scattered aorund in the ample sea. You still missed her, you longed for her heartily touch, for the cruel words that deep down you knew came from a place of love, for her warm presence against her cold facade, and you absolutely missed the way she looked at you, those blue greyish eyes that whispered doting poems about you in her head, never to be revealed and to be otherwise kept hidden hidden within her soul even in her deathbed.

You were squinting your eyes, just as another tear threatened to spill all over your burning face. “Oh, fuck” you cursed between slow breaths. You went to grab the only thing that gave you comfort in that moment, alcohol. The wine was resting by your feet, camouflaged by your dark room.

It was dimly lit, only to be illuminated by a red lamp sitting by your night stand, whose light bulb also stemmed from the same crimson colour.

It was then you remembered the stories Edna used to tell you when it was past your bed time, and you supposed even in the surviving light of the already dark room, it would still salvage you from the night terrors.

You took a sip from the mouth of the bottle, and let the fresh liquid relieving your burning ache. The bottle was around halfway through, and you supposed you had a good resistance to it. That or your helpless body felt too overpowered by the grieving memories you still wanted to cling to.

Another gulp, you didn’t want to think of her, but how coudn’t you? Everything you built yourself up to be, every dream or moment of motivation was because of her.

You still wanted to live. That was what caused you most pain. Your pathetic mental state still whispered to keep going, to never give up in the face of danger. You still wanted to cure people, you liked that, right?

That was your role in the town, to heal anyone who needed it. The whole point of your little existence was to help anyone who neded some healing, no matter how insignificant it may be. And for what? Where did empathic heart of yours take you? Straight to your umbearable pain you’d have to endure in the arena, like a trident piercing straight to your unnerving heart.

You were nothing but a puppet to play with, and the more gruesome your death, the better. You coudn’t help your thought to follow that tormenting path. How would you die? Would it be just like what you had seen on the screen? A rusty knife to your neck? An arrow to your head? Or would you decapitated? You’d seen this when you were younger. You’d been barely ten then, and that’s the first and only time you had been able to see any scene from the Hunger Games.

Two more corners and to the right, that was the direction you had to take to get to the Herbal Shop, which meant you’d pass by the town’s plaza. You could only remember bits and pieces of the leading up, afterall your brain dictated that to be insignificant, but you fairly recalled that you were filled with newly cut supplies of essential herbs. Edna was by your side, she always was when she went out to collect her ingredients to make up new medicinal oils; maybe she always tagged you along with her to teach you, or just simply because she never fully trusted you to do the job by yourself correctly.

Walking by the familial streets, you would have ignored the otherwise lively plaza, often switching on any type of distracting sounds, and passing it by simple white noise. But this time, a foreign sound you hadn’t internalized took you out immediately, stopping in your tracks and following your head to see the unexpected commotion you never remembered seeing.

It was a loud shriek, the one only a mother could do while witnessing the torture of their own child.

She was many feet away, and you coudn’t quite see her face. All you had taken in was the how her lone sobs echoed in every corner and alleyway, just like a telltale from a ghost roaming the streets of your town in a hurry to find their already dead son.

It was in that moment you looked up, a big screen showing the livestreaming of the Hunger Games. You hadn’t seen the fight play out, and by the time your eyes took in the glimpse of what was performing, the Executioner’s act was done. There were two males, one whose hand held the axe of what sealed the fate of the deceased one on the floor, its head ditached from the rest of his body. You didn’t know from which District they were both, and you could only assume the decapitated one represented District 4. The other male, released his grip of his weapon and fell down behind him, retorting his facial expression in self-disgust, as he had sunked in the sin he just committed, just as the eyes of the one he killed, slowly faded into nothing but a vacant lot.

Edna pulled you by the sleeves of your soiled shirt, and muttered a “Let’s go” before the both of you left the mourning mother to be handled by a few passerbyers who seeked to give her comfort.

You nodded to your mentor, but your eyes still stayed on the mother crying out in pain, begging for whatever holy spirit to bring back her child in one piece.

That memory was connected to another one. It had been months since your first time ever seeing the cruelty of the games, and the memory was very much still in your mind, even more when you closed your eyes and tried to sleep. The first month was the worst, having to wake up from very real bloody images from nightmares and scared to even fall back as sleep in the terror you’d find them once again.

But after months you slowly got back to your usual self, one that mixed very well your constant exhaustion and your love to sleep as many hours as you could, without any type of night monster to invade your dreams.

So one day you came back to the Herbal Shop after being ordered to go and buy ingredients that were going to fill your bellies for the week. You asked Edna something that the older Carriers said in passing.

“If I were to be decapitated, would I live for a few seconds more before I died?” that was your question. “Sometimes” was what she answered. “In some scenarios, you could take up at thirty seconds whilst still being alive, even without having your head” she developed further her previous answer.

Did that mean that was a possibility for you? For you to still having to feel that uberable pain of a stranger sawing yout head off, in those slow and excruciatingly painful thirty seconds? You hated thinking about this.

And there went your third gulp of the wine, all so you’d drown yourself in misery. You appreciated the sparkling of the wine, popping bubbled bursts against your blocked off despairing throat.

You thought of her again. You stopped your movements, not even the beverage was keeping you from thinking about your dead mentor. You set it down back to its previous place, next to your feet. Your fingers traced up every cell of your face, and stopped to rest you palms on your forehead. Your fingers snaked to to find a comfortable place just by the front of your hairline. And you cried, you couldn't do anything but cry out in pain.

“Edna” you whined so high pitched you didn’t recognize your own voice. Your cries and breaths stayed in that unnatural tone you had imposed yourself. Breathing hesistantely and desperately, while trying to taking in as many puffs of air as possible, and yet it was never sufficient for you. Your humid lashes found themselves completely wet, as waves of tears swam across your hot cheeckbones.

Your eyes we tired, but at the same time, not tired enough for your depressed form, and definetely not tired enough for your cries to bounce from every sharp corner of your room.

A hand clasped around your shoulder. You were so deep into your own wretched form, you hadn’t noticed someone just came in. A thorn of embarrassment prickled your skin at the thought of someone seeing you cry as uncontrollable as you. And even if that thorn hurt you, there were still a million more stuck in the pores of your back from each and every mistake, regret and mourn from your years lived in your short life, it was easy for your to quickly ignore that one.

You had been told that the walls were soundproof, that no one would be able to hear a peep coming from inside. And after Scarlett’s big talk about the trust she had in the technology of the Capitol, about just how “Top notch” the privacy was. You willingly gave into her prideful mouth, without considering the little fact that the door may be easy to acces in. Naturally, you felt ripped off, privacy my ass.

Mags’s fingers snaked her way up your face, like a snake in the name of retribution, and changing their biting nature into something calming and sweet. She moved your face to hers, and the sweetest smile decorated her pretty wrinkled lips.

“I’m fine” a hoarse breath left your mouth. Those words you kept repeating again and again, today. A lie that didn’t even convince your stammering mind, which was soon to be lost in the gray anyway.

“Really…” you tried to persuade Mags, although the undertone was still directed in reassuring yourself. Because you were the only one who could keep you in check, you were the only one that was able to comfort yourself.

The elder simply looked at you for many seconds, an intense glare slowly finding the cracked pieces of your irises you had worked so hard to hide them to the rest of the world. And this truth, only hurt Mags more.

You realized the woman sitting beside you wasn’t just a person of a few words, but rather she never said anything. And even as silence prevailed your saddening room, she very much felt present in there. Her comforting stace eased the nauseating pain you were enduring all by yourself.

Her fingertips drew a ticklish circle around your cheek, and pushed back a string of hair behind your ear. The action itself whispered sweet nothings, affectionate acts in the form of unspoken words, all because of her empathy towards you.

She always was persistent with herself, if she were to be mentor of many fallen Tributes, she would still lift her head high and carry on her duty as effectively as she could. Especially considering Finnick returned from the arena, it was then, she was sure she wanted to learn about the people from her District, and wanted to see them grow as adults, no matter how slim their chances of their survival actually were.

A wider smile. The wrinkles that stayed in her face, the lines of a visual representation of her old an frail body, and yet still peaceful and optimistic in the face of the cruel fate of this world.

Another glint of hope came across her eyes as her hands moved down to your back, while the other stayed at the side of your face. The exhaustion from your long day finally crashing down, and you felt the weight of your head leaning against her smooth palm.

“Edna… She was my teacher…” You explained to Mags. It wasn’t like she had asked you personally, but you felt like you had to get it off your chest. Maybe it was from your tiredness, or perhaps you simply just moved another stage of vulnerability with Mags, but your fuzzy mind gave up on the idea of trying to switch topics, and for the first time, you had found yourself someone who was more stubborn than you.

The elder was in a way familiar with the way she tried to comfort everyone she deemed necessary for her reassuring eyes, but she was nothing like Edna. Both of them were total polar opposites, but even being so different from each other, you found a piece of Edna inside of her, the sweet motherly care of helping the younger folks, to be present in their good, bad, and their dirt. Even being so different, they still fell under the same identical box, they showed them this delicate and vulnerable side, even to the people outside their family, to total strangers that were goners.

You coudn’t stop once you started. Mags never gave a hint or indication she had asked for the identity of your passed mentor, or what it had meant for you for so many years. But a little voice whispered your brain to keep going, and let our your innermost feelings run wild instead of keeping it hidden for so many years like you had.

“She found me when I was four. And she took me in” you cracked your voice. The spilling tears were dampening Mags palm, squeezing themselves between her fingers and flowing to her wrist and down her arm. God, this was painful. You felt absolutely naked right then, so see-through to her, so vulnerable you could be stomped in any minute. Like a little lost kitten scared of the wide world. You didn’t like that, it was foreign and it felt very much out of your own control. But the demanding sensation only kept resisting against your opposing thoughts.

“She didn’t have to, but she did. And for that, I’ll be in forever debt with her.” you sobbed harder, trying to hide back a cough from your raging salty tears streaming to the corner of your mouth, following further into your inflamed throat.

Mags only looked at you, a sad smile hanging from the rest of her melancholic expression. You scanned her features more, from her sypmtathetic eyes to her nose and mouth, tracing her face with your very red and traveling eyes.

You looked back up at her eyes, just as if they were calling for yours. Begging you to look up at her calming ones. You almost skipped a beat, feeling like something with heavy weight crashed down your heart. Her eyes were filled so many different things that would drive you to the edge of a cliff, to submerge further into the depths of the salty foam you were growing used to. She showed a vulnerable side of her, or perhaps they were telling you, you were safe in her arms and gaze.

But the thing that startled you most, was her dearing gaze to you, filled with the honey-love you grew distant since Edna’s death. Something you thought you forgot, and you never imagined Mags would be the next person to give that to you. It shocked you for a second, all because you had confused her for Edna for a moment.

“Oh, Mags” you cried lowly. You swung yourself to you new mentor, wrapping around your arms around her frail and much smaller body. You found stability by the back of her neck, leaning deeper into her touch. You didn’t want her seeing you so broken down and depressed. You didn’t want to have see her roaming eyes promising you a new home you could stay the night. You hated it, because everything Mags did, reminded you of Edna, and the hurt that came from her returning image clasped in your tumultuous mind.

Mags just grabbed your scalp and drew lovely circles around it, keeping you closer to her. The helpless you, coudn’t help but sob harder against her shoulder, screaming out the pain you kept hidden and locked away from everyone else to see.

Maybe tonight you’d stay by Mags warm house. In a way, it made you feel closer to Edna, or at least the presence she left on earth. The ghostly finger touches you had oh so missed trailed up your back, and it turned your hair on end by the vertical column, just as if the spirit of Edna was standing beside you, wanting to give you the touches she missed giving you. Yeah, you’d stay by Mag’s tonight.

Mags was resurfacing nostalgic memories of Edna, the ones you missed the most about the time you had spent with your mentor together. And maybe for tonight, you’d stay by Mag’s to feel closer to the ghost of the person you loved the most. But only for tonight, because you knew too well it was not worth getting used to someone’s love too much, not when your days alive were numbered.

Your senses were completely numbed, aside from that disgusting taste in your tongue. You coughed up some more, while your eyes swelled up with tiny prickly tears. They didn’t come from sadness, but from an overexertion of your body. You felt like your face was stomped by giant feet, just as you tried to squeeze your throat to purge the remaining acidic vomit.

And once your started, you coudn’t stop the little squirts exerting out your tongue. You coughed again, your hand gripping tight onto the toilet cover that was leaning up. Its not like it was dark, the automatic lights had found your clumsy movements the very moment you had walked into the bathroom, and in the sheer brightness of the room, the was lamp neatly placed on the middle of the ceiling.

The shining light was betraying your vision by the sheer brightness in the middle of the dark night, and you thanked that your head was covering the main source, otherwise the lamp would burned right behind your pupils. And while you were only able to squint just slightly your eyes, you could very much take in the piece of art of your vomit right in front of you.

An escaped grunt hoarsed through every vocal chord you could muster, the sight of the shortcakes you had to expulse from your belly, as a means to get rid off the alcohol in your system. You lamented then, having to see the mushy lumps of a pale yellow colour that left you as equally revolting in both your mouth and sight.

You closed your eyes in exhaustion. You were in a horrible state. A line of saliva, slightly pigmented of that horrible color, travelled down to join what used to be the delicate food of the Capitol. You spat down into the toilet a few times more, desperately trying to take away the acidic taste that seemed to only grow stronger by the second.

Your hand traveled wobbly to get toilet paper. It clanged and banged everywhere before achieving the simple task of getting something to clean yourself up. You gripped onto the piece of paper and fastly brought it up to your mouth.

The claustrophobia from the tiny compact space you locked yourself in was starting to eat your soul away, and you let another blasphemial word as another of the many waves of nausea hit you point blank.

A flashing light filled your sight for barely a second, knocking yourself to the side of the toilet. You recomposed yourself, at least tried to by using the wall to lean your back with. And all because of the rapid movement of snatching away the toilet paper so your fingers wouldn't get lost in the way back. You were in a horrible state.

Your fingertips brushed past your lips against the thin layered paper, in hopes it would take away remains of the vomit scattered around the corners of your mouth, your mind was too fuzzy to even deal with the possibility that your clothes may be stained by the disgusting substance. All the while, cursing at yourself for the moment you had the genius idea to drink as a means to ease your depressive state.

Another spit joined the purged covered inside of the toilet bowl. More tired breaths ragged around in the air of the bathroom. Anyone would assume you had run away from an angry bear with the determination filled in her mind of protecting her cubs. And while you were trying to escape her grasp, the mother bear saw the opportunity for their next meal in you; of course, this would have been an interesting anecdote, if it weren't for the fact that you never came across a bear in your life, with the addition that you were in a slightly different situation, a story that had to do with decorating with putrid the inside of the toilet.

You threw away the stained paper, and flushed it. Earning a mentally pat on your back, no matter how silly, you were proud you were able to do that much.

Next step, you needed to leave the bathroom. You managed to get on your feet by gripping your hand onto the sink. Somehow, by using your whole force of your nonexistat tricep muscles, you got up in a stamering manner. Moaning after noticing your legs were trembling

Your feet had a big gap in between, and you once again cursed, this time outwardly at the sudden realization, your drunken legs refused to move accordingly. Just as if they had a brain on their own, and claiming they were to tired to do the task, and completely shut off. You coudn’t feel your knees, and that was good indicator, that your legs were going to be really difficult to handle for your mission, which consisted of making your way to your room.

You coudn’t believe your head was the most sober of all the your body parts, and now you had to manage your disoriented legs that didn’t seem to know from left to right.

Another flash of nausea slapped you across the face, leaving your head hunged low. You were glad your hands were still holding onto dear life to the sink. Otherwise you were sure you would have fallen face down to the pretty white tiles of the floor. And you would have lost some teeth for sure, you drunkenly thought.

This was a bad idea. You moved your head to see your own reflection, but you coudn’t. Everything was just jumbles of your eyes and mouth disorderly moved against each other. Even when you concentrated your glare to see yourself in the real you, what reflected back seemed the picture drawn by a small infant with no sense of direction or scale. You were absolutely wasted.

You groaned at your clumsy eyesight, and the more you seemed to curse at yourself, it became more nervous, and the moving images became more agitated. You blinked slowly in the low hopes it would help your vision to become more stable.

“Fuck…” you hoarsed out. The alcohol was still burning you in your veins. You had gotten to the bathroom to take out the uncontrollable depressant. But even when vomiting it out, you soon realized you had gotten worse, and you groaned at the idea that maybe pure alcohol filled your senses now that your only source of food was gone.

“Shit, fuck” you continued on, you didn’t know what else to say but curse at everything, and especially at yourself. You just needed to get to your room, it would take twenty steps at most. You gulped down hard readying yourself to do what seemed the most difficult task known to mankind.

“Just twenty steps” your words jumbled around in the thin air, the nonsense of what came out of your vocal chords were soon lost anyway. You sighed, and your eyes locked onto the door handle, or at least the best it could with your drunk eyes. With a mental slap on the back to fill you up in determination, you found your target for your next move.

You counted to three and jumped to your target to find stability from your lazy legs that didn't want to work. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, which was probably from the nausea disturbing all your six senses. A despairing emotion run along with the intoxicated drug in your veins; just as you brushed past the shining metal handle, so close you could feel the cold emanating from it, someone opened it before you could even touch it. And that was enough for your body to try and convince your stubborn mind to simply give up.

You fell down, just by the feet of a person you coudn’t help but feel nothing but resentment. Your head was out the doorway, in full view of the dimly lit salon car.

Your already migraine got worse from the impact, and now you had to deal with not only the internal pain from your head, but the external one as well when your forehead took the blow to the floor. And for once you thanked you were so out of your own control. Your banged forehead’s pain was already fading away, and you knew if you were completely conscient that would hurt like a rock throw straight to your body.

But in good, there’s bad, and so another complication filled you up. Your head was spiraling and seeing a million stars that were already confusing your already messed up head.

You simply stayed still, just as you mentally wove a white flag to give up on this impossible mission.There was no way you’d make it to your room in your condition, especially not when your body remained on the floor of the bathroom. Your body ceased all the strength your brain kept ordering, and even when pressuring them to do their job as your limbs, they were on a strike and refused to even want to move an inch by the nauseating exhaustion.

You heard a low chuckle, and you felt it was within your right to feel at the very least annoyed by whoever that was. Your brain was multitasking at this point, and was ready to retort something sarcastic back, but you coudn’t. You body was starting to get comfortable in the position it had taken in your fall, and to your head’s dismay, ready to slumber for the night.

So you closed your eyes to rest, the thought of another person present already erased by your tiredness. Just as you drifted to sleep, the repeated words you wrote in your mind over and over again, as a means to make sure your remembered your lesson would cling to you. Never. Again.

That person though, didn’t mind your new sleeping bed, and got down to your eye level. A shit-eating grin among his pretty features. God he was so gorgeous even when you coudn’t see his face straight, all in crazy hazy motions swirling around your vision, you could only but daydream about his outstanding beauty.

“You alright there, love?” his raspy voice came in contact with your ears. He was like a beautiful god, one that anyone upon seeing him could agree was the definition of a sculptural piece of art, the type of god that could ask anyone to join him in his darkest desires and anyone would accept without hesitation.

He was any girl’s daydream man, but in that very moment his, awoken and overly energetic presence, frustrated your sleep deprived muscles. You groaned at him in response, too out of reality to even care. The mix of your drunk noises and the blocked sounds through the tiles of the floor, because you were still face down, only amused Finnick further. “What was that? Couldn’t quite understand you” he teased next to your limp form.

“Wha do chu think?” you spit back at him with slow syllables. “If chu could felp, thad be gret” you struggled to say the words. And you were sure they sounded worse in the ears of a sober person who wasn’t going through a hell hole like you were.

You tried to move your head on the side, all to give him the privilege of letting the man in front of you, hear you better.

He could only chuckle more at that. Even in your drunken state you could still see the lines of his smile, and for a moment you thought you were in a some sort of dream. There was no way someone that beautiful could exist, and it became stranger to you when he was simpy talking to you normally. Another drunk thought passed by your mind, and you were sure if he wanted to, that smile could be the tide to end all catalystic world wars. You were in a trace, and rightfully so, it was impossible for anyone not to fantasize by a guy like him.

You wanted to touch his face, but your fingertips stubbornly stuck themselves to the floor. Then it dawned on you on a mortyfying fact, you were in the bathroom floor, face down after just vomiting, and very much ready to sleep in there, until morning shined bright throught the windows.

Well, that was embarrassing. And you had to slap yourself again within the depths of your consciousness.

“Here. Let me-” he cut himself, and you felt his creeping fingers walking over you waist, so light and ticklish, that even after being so numb you could feel this featherly touches. His built body may be seen to be hard, which probably was, but you found yourself learning he also could be as soft as the dry falling leaves of fall.

His hand gripped onto he corner of your waist, and after placing your closest hand over his neck and hook it around the arch of his shoulder by the side of his face. Letting out a shaky breath, he helped you up after exercising his muscles with the weight of your corpse.

But even so, you were fascinated just how he was able to lift you up in your silly body. This was most girls deepest desire, and you had to suppress a giggle from forming in your heart. All the while he was holding you in that hypnotic state. It was hard for your mind not to linger anywhere other than him.

Your feet touched ground and you were extremely thankful to find the contact of the tiles at the flat of your feet. Your heavy head hunged low. You made a move to look up at him, and he was still holding onto your waist, untrustworthy of your senseless state.

You were sure he squeezed at your side playfully several times. It felt oddly affectionate, but for your hazy brain, it translated that and got even sleepier by those light tuches.

“There you go” he whispered at the side of your face. Unknowing to him that he left a burning mark right on your flustered ears. An inflaming sensation traveled along your every bloody vein, making it a more vibrant red, more colourful than what’s supposed to be. The living corpse of your body felt very much ligher against his ticklish fingers, like a flowing feather through the wind. Both of your irises met his, and his close proximity left you in the silence of your shyness.

He let out a husky giggle out at your expression. “Don’t look at me like that. Might start thinking there’s something deeper you want to tell me” he mumbled with a cheeky grin along his lips. His teeth were out in the wild, white and as strong as his unfiltered words.

Oh, how it irritated you his smuggish intention; but how much you loved seeing his lovely face complexion just the same. You coudn’t deny it, and he wasn’t blind either, he knows just how everyone looks at him, Finnick was built like an ancient Greek god.

You tilted your head to the side, this time careful not dragging yourself yet another nauseating impact from the sudden movement. You spoke some drunken mutter that was difficult to understand, so much you had confused yourself as well.

“You’re so pretty” you repeated those words that were incomprehensible for the English language. But Finnick had understood you the first time, and so when you confirmed for a second time, he was slightly taken aback from the boldness of you words.

Your constant thought pattern whenever you thought of the man just beside you, never came from a place of infatuation, and he could feel it in the way the sclera of your eyes shone, and the way you mustered those words, it was from utter fascination, not so much from than seductive desire.

A laughing huff escaped though his lips just as a giggle rang through his vocal chords in amusing disbelief.

You eyes pierced his soul. The intention of his words came rather late to your consciousness, and you blamed the alcoholic drink for the slow pace of your current thought process. And you made yet another mental note, never listen to Scarlett’s recommendation of especially alcoholic drinks, in the off chance that the concentrated drink’s percentage would be through the roof. Really, never again.

An annoyed puff forced out of your mouth. His mocking laugh felt unnecessary to your ears, especially in this vulnerable position you just got in. You moved your legs, and you were glad they had properly woken from the sleepy illusion from a minute ago. You moved forward, at least tried to, and away from his presence.

You reprimanded the alcoholic you. The drunk you seemed to more jumpy, and let off harmless confessions. It was obvious the wine riled your sensitive senses up, especially when they learned from your little secret of your physical attraction of the the one and only, Finnick Odair.

The drunken you had declared your concient mind’s sole enemy; as sneaky as a scorpion, camouflaging itself as to get unnoticed, only to strike you when you were in your most vulnerable, which meant targeting the very much good looking man close to you. Yeah, you were convinced the drunk you had something agasint the concient you.

“Anyway. Tanks, an Goodnight-” You spoke best you could, and made your way ahead of you.

You tried to walk away, before yet another disastrous fall. The drunk you had definitely had something against you. Your legs seemed to twist themselves into a senseless knot from your numb knees and before you could even recognize the problem, your vision fell apart instantly. Again another wave of nausea punched you straight in the jaw. Luckily your quick hand grabbed onto the wall next to you, refusing on having to deal the earlier’s ordeal.

You cursed out again, followed by a groan in pain. Your hand crept to the side of your head to try and keep your vision still in vain. God, you absolutely hated this.

Another low chuckle from the man behind you was present in the air both of you breathed in. And you turned around, a disapproving glare threatening him to keep going on his laughing spree, which only made him find you all the more amusing.

You sighed defeated. A pointed migraine was swirling in the sea of you mind, which in turn only made the grip of your hand stronger in your face. You scrunched up your nose in pain, crumpling your features.

Just as you were losing yourself from the pain of your headache, you body got completely readjusted. Your burning head very much still present and screaming for your attention, and if it that wasn’t hard enough to deal that alone, your mind got once again disoriented. After tonight you knew, you would definitely quit alcohol altogether.

All your blood crashed down to your head, leaving you with a pressured face, and it was starting to feel painful. God, your brain was suffering from all stages of Hell all at the same time. The pain was overtaking your body, and you ceased all your movement. In that very moment you welcomed the idea of dying if it meant stopping your outstanding headache.

With your head low and you arms flying over them, or better said below them as gravity did its work , you noticed the pointy bulk of muscle was just below your breast, and you figured Finnick had to be securing you with his arm over the back of your knees.

Finnick seemed to have the brilliant idea to throw you over his shoulder like a big heavy sack of dead fish ready to be sold off to the market.

Your hands fell to whatever thing you could find, which happened to be his shirt. You had figured he had manhandled to be in that position, because of the way your nose and forehead kept making contact to a broad smooth surface, one that emanated sweet warmth, and you could drown in his natural thick scent.

It had been barely half a minute, although for you it felt almost like an eternity from the succumbed curse of the ugly pain in your head, whoose fault was none other but the man holding you tight over him. It’s not like you put up a fight anyway, already too weak and defeated to even flinch at the scorching hurt.

So you welcemed the sea of covers and pillows when you were plopped down all of a sudden. Your before hurting eyes that you could barely manage to even open them, felt confident enough to redo the task they weren’t able to do a few seconds ago, and you looked up at the ceiling.

You were safe now, you were safer in here. Even in the amidst of your spiraling mind, you could that much, feel relaxed enough to ready yourself to soon sleep. You didn’t need to dance in utter misery of your drunken state like before, like a blind duck that also happened to have twisted his ankle.

The new room also brought short nostalgic memories, which evaporated the little optimism you would have gathered before you died, and who knows, maybe it would be the last time you’d feel truly at peace. The new ambience still had that heavy sour mood from when you had talked to Mags, from when she had to comforted you. The suffocating air was still like a toxic gas, and you regretted that you still let the melancholy poison you.

Finnick sat down beside you. A smirk creeping his beautiful facade just as he looked at your form, still in his playful mood after having you found on the floor almost passed out. It was amusing in a way, it had to do more about the way you responded to him that entertained him to go further in his banter.

He quickly took notice of your sudden somber expression, and with that the bits and cracks that you body spoke. The energy from before was all but gone now. Maybe you were emotional because you were drunk, but in that moment you were ready to cry off yourself to sleep in self pity, right then and there with or without Finnick.

You curled your arms around yourself, trying to imitate the warm hug that Mags had given you earlier, but to no avail. It was impossible for you to even recreate a feeling that felt soul crashing from such a simple act. Because afterall, it was something that had left you taken apart so easily.

You bent your knees slightly up. You were lying on your side, and Finnick could feel the mournful look without the need to see your eyes. But when he did, he heard the breaking crack of his heart. That hurt had haunted him since the day the Reaping when it took him two years ago.

“Thank you” you muttered with the ringing of you vocal chords. And he answered in courtesy, his raspy tone still vabirating each words. “No problem”

Both of you let the spoken words be slowly evaporated through the air, with nothing else to add in. Finnick took the courage to look at you once again, and you had taken in his concerned expression feeling in every nerve cell. You also realized the presence of his scanning eyes watching over your still form like a creeper of the night. But you were too comfortable in your position, too tired and depressed to mind it, so you let him be.

The silent particles the both of you shared swirlied around through the air like a little gust of wind between your breathing forms. You wanted to cry again, but you lost the capability to even do that, and as another amusing thought came across your senses, was still fully loaded with grief’s emptiness. I cried so much, I don’t have any more tears to spare.

Finnick felt impotent there, unlike you, he had volunteered to be in Games. He considered that to be his greatest mistake, all because he thought it would be just fun and games, being brainwashed that it was more light hearted than what the actual suffocating reality really was, and oh boy did reality run him over. Just like a deer, and the unchanging decision of willingly walk in the arena a unmercyful fast truck.

He got up whilst you were still submerged under powerlessness; like the little dry kisses brushing against your back, whispering in the most seductive way, a despairing and exhasuting prediction, one that had you convinced, you were simply just a dead girl walking.

His head turned around to look at you once again, and it confused you as to why he was apologizing within the depths of his sea eyes. So he went and opened his mouth to say something, to ask you if you were alright. But he closed his lips momentarily after, knowing fully well that you weren’t.

He had and internal debate between mixing opinions. Your ominous stance was begging him to ask about your own welfare, and maybe that was a signal he should stay for a while longer until he could hear the breaths of your sleeping form. But then again, he wasn’t sure your empty eyes longed for sympathetic eyes, the ones from a total stranger that as far as he knew, you probably thought of him as a calculated murderer, and maybe then his presence was nothing but a burden in your heavy shoulders.

“Hey, Finnick?” your weak voice alerted his attention. He turned his head, he was grateful that you’d taken him out of his own thoughts. He locked his eyes on your very irises, studying them as a means to try and understand the question before you’d even formulated it. “You think I’m going to die?”

He looked away. Although in normal circumstances your drunken accent might have been a delight to his ears, and he would be ready to tease you further with that. But right now, the drunken syllables that came out of your mouth were deafening, only wanting to take in and alaysze the question itself.

You knew what you had asked him went straight to him like an unexpected bullet, and to his dismay, he wasn’t wearing any bulletproof gear to save him from you. He opened his mouth, and even in your swirling vision you could see the ugly truth hidden somwehere within him, and opting to say sweet lie with a cherry pop on top. “Please, be honest with me” you added in.

The past victor let out a stilled breath before speaking. “Yeah…” Finnick finally said.The words you didn’t want to hear, broke your jaw like an incoming brick to your face. And yet, although he was speaking his truth, he seemed conflicted with what he said.

You knew this would be his answer, so why did it hurt you so much? Perhaps it was his confirmation from the bitter words from your inner monsters, and finally you felt your reality crumbling down. And even in that emotional turmoil, you had to agree with Finnick, because deep down you knew that your betraying mind was right all along “I thought so too”.

Something gripped onto your throat again, a grieving pain of the knowledge you were most likely going to die. Your expression started to wrinkle in on itself, just as you felt like something had caught onto you leg and pulled you deeper in to the poisonous sea, making sure you’d drown yourself in further agony. Finnick was just standing there, and he felt your sea whirlwind like he was there with you, joining you in the mercifuless sea currents that started to leak from your room with dark muggy water.

Finnick could only but feel your agonizing stare, and within his empathy, he wanted to say something to you. Because your dreadful pupils struck him all over his body like thin needles.

“But something I learned through the Games is that, its supposed to be planned to be irregular. Even if you aren’t as strong as others, you could still have a chance to survive” he added to reassure you. Finnick hoped that would set you mind at ease, at least before you’d hit the arena. He wanted to drift away the consternation from your scraping mind, and let it become more level headed.

Soon all of you would arrive at the Capitol, and for a chance for either Vito or you to survive, you’d need to be put away the insanity that was slowly licking your body, and to focus on a plan. To scheme up ways into getting sponsors, to anylyse the rest of the player coldy, but the most difficult one was to gather up ideas whilst in the fighting arena while pressuring your mind to stay sane throughout all of it. “Its intention is for anyone to be able to win this. Its not a competition, just pure entertainment”.

You stayed silent, taking in everything your mentor was telling you. In a way it helped you thinking of him that way. He may be just a year older than you, but he was still your mentor, and he was supposed to help you survive this afterall.

“Thank you,” you were slowly surrendering yourself to the cage of sleep, one where you wished for your night terrors to leave for another night. A sleep deprived voice was all Finnick could hear, the raspy weak tones from your smnolent voice made Finnick content enough to set his mind at ease for the night. “For everything”

The energy you wasted in the last day was too much for your body to handle, and you felt optimistic enough to finally go to sleep without any negative energy swimming across your mind.

Finnick chuckled, he repeated himself again. “No problem, Dove” he grinned at you. He found you so endearing, especially with the image of you closed eyes, and your mouth half opened, in a way so peaceful, like nothing lurking between the shadows could attack you.

“Good night” you lastly said slowly crawling to your sleeping chamber in the depths of you soul.

Finnick grinned further and said a “Good night” back to you.

The last images before you went to sleep were of him. The drawing of his face in your imaginary world, and you wished you could dream of him that night. The world made him almost untouchable, but it was surreal to you about his caring slip ups you had discovered that night; his soft face, feathery gentle hands, and his warm whispering voice brushing your ear like the slight breeze of the forest.

Yeah, you wanted to sleep with that in mind, with the ilusion of him.

Previous // Next

NOW, this was a way longer chapter than I had intended, so you'll hopefully enjoy it cuz DAMN!

TagList: @marvelescvpe @meri-soni-meri-tamanna

#finnick odair x reader #finnick x you #finnick #finnick odair #finnick odair x you #finnick x reader #the hunger games #thg finnick #thg x reader #thg #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games finnick #finnick odair fanfiction #finnick fanfiction

69 notes · View notes

uchihaxitachi · 10 months

Text

|| Coincidences | You kiss him drunk ||

A/n: I will make a masterlist of all the word-vomits I write for him. I had so much fun writing this one🤍

One thing Itachi Uchiha hates is babysitting, he does not like to take responsibility for people who can’t fend for themselves. Or- worse— who can, but don’t. He was ticked off, feet aimlessly searching for the tavern you went with your friends to. It was one of your friend’s birthday but Itachi somehow— with some extra inculcated sixth sense, just knew you’d be knocked unconscious. Or worse— be puking your guts out.

He searched for a bit, until he found your group. Your friends knew him now. Sometimes they teased him as your part time boyfriend but Itachi didn’t know it.

“Ah— he’s here. The knight in shining armor to rescue our princess” your best friend cooed, while you looked at him, droopy eyes and a hiccup escaping your parted mouth.

Itachi noticed a lot of things, how the outfit was a little too revealing, how you did your makeup today. How your lip shade perfectly suited your complexion, prominent collarbones highlighted just right. He cleared his throat, not letting the fog of his observation and obsession— lingering, silent, unnamed obsession with you which he heeds no mind to; cripple his wordings.

“I believe it’s time for you to bid good night to your dear friends.” Itachi didn’t sound like he was giving a suggestion. You, on the other hand, had no choice to obey when his eyes warned yours sternly.

“Hai hai~ I know.” You walked beside him, trying your best to walk straight but eventually falling right on his chest. “Fuck- m’ sorry.” You mumbled, fuck you felt like you’d start sobbing. The alcohol does so little for you to control your emotions. Itachi on the other hand was seemingly pissed off. “That’s alright” he assured, patting you on the shoulder.

“Let’s get home.” Itachi carried you princess-style, away from the bland ruckus, away from everything. While you were lucky enough to gaze at his exquisite features, his stress lines, his prominent lashes. A little furrow in those brows which suited him the most. “Fuck you’re so beautiful.” You mumbled, causing Itachi’s tender gaze to land upon you.

You couldn’t see what was the expression he had in response, eyelids falling akin to slumber. When the next time they opened, you were being tucked into bed. “I’m not your care taker. I hope you keep that in mind when you get reckless again.”

Itachi’s words stung, tears prickling in your eyes as you gathered words from your clogged throat; pulling him closer by his shirt, his face a few inches away from yours. Eyes-widened with how you both could feel each other’s breath against your skin.

Your pupils moved, enamored by his face to forget the stab of his words for a moment. “Never asked you for your help, Itachi.” You managed to answer, the scent of alcohol and the garlic chicken you ate mingling with your breath while Itachi watched, dumbfounded.

Before he could lean away, you pulled him closer, a stray tear drop falling from your tired eyes to get absorbed against the silk pillow case. “You can stop acting like you are dependable. You are free to leave you know? Well— as if you ever ask me before leaving.” You sounded like an angry child complaining to their caregiver. Itachi listened to you, he was always a good listener after all, and, right now? You were spewing honesty.

With ragged breaths, you leaned further in, stealing a longful peck from Itachi’s lips. “I hate how I can’t hate you.” You mumbled, while a very perplexed Itachi, who was almost angry you didn’t kiss him right, leaned further and stole the kiss from your lips. Shoving his tongue right in while his bony fingers tucked stray strands of hair behind your hair.

“I, also, hate that I can’t leave.” Itachi mumbled silently, watching your hazy pupils give into slumber. Taking advantage of this, he leaned in and deeply kissed your forehead, confessing to himself. “I hate— that I love you. You don’t deserve someone as cruel as me around you.”

#itachi uchiha #itachi #naruto #naruto shippuden #itachi imagines #itachi x reader #uchiha x reader #itachi fluff #uchiha fluff #itachi angst #uchiha angst #naruto x reader #naruto shippuden x reader

212 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

20K notes · View notes

8-rae-rae-8 · 5 months

Note

Feral anon back with brain worms 😔

What if 09! Ghost and 22! Ghost, who both regress temporarily swapped universes?

(For simplicity, 22!Ghost will be Simon and 09! Ghost will be Riley)

Simon at first does his best to remain professional and respectful. He just wants to get home and is willing to cooperate the best he can with the version of 141. He’s stressed and worried about his 141 and he feels his regression coming along. He misses Baba, he misses Soap, he misses Gaz he just wants to be held. He doesn’t realise he’s pulled out his comfort blanket until he sees Captain Mactavish’s soft, concerned eyes.

“Ah, so you’re a wee one like my ghostie?”

Ghost is reluctant to answer, he freezes and holds his breath. But Mactavish has played this game before. Very carefully, he steps into Simon’s space, slowly cupping Simon’s masked cheek in a delicate hold.

“It’s alright if you need a break. Little one. You must be so stressed and scared, aye?”

Simon nods, his shoulders shaking a little as he starts to weep “w-wan’ baba..” he hiccups.

“I know, wee one..it’s okay, I’ll get ye back to baba.” Mactavish promises “but until then, would you let me take care of you?” Simon hesitates but nods, with shaky hands he pulls off his mask. A sign of ultimate trust. Mactavish’s heart aches at seeing that Simon’s face is littered with scars- even more than his Ghost’s. Glasgow smile, a tear in his upper lip that exposes a little bit of his gum. Tiny, scarred cuts…but he looks past all those and sees the scared, vulnerable tiny boy instead, waiting for the captain to step back in horror. Mactavish doubles down and cups his cheek again.

“There’s the sweet, adorable wee bub. Goodness yer’s just as cute as me own wee one!” His heart warms when he sees the 6’2 giant melt and squirm at the praise. His already flushed cheeks getting hotter under his touch. He smiles when he hears Simon coo and babble a little.

“Oh? We got a really tiny Bub? Well, we should probably get you out of these yucky big boy clothes, aye?”

Simon nods and begins to suckle on the corner of his blanket. He’s about to try walk when he feels the captain pick him up. He squeaks and clings to Mactavish, wiggling and trying to get down. He’s too heavy! He’ll hurt Mactavis-

His thoughts and squirming are halted by a soft chuckle and a gentle pat on the bum.

“I know ye wan’ to walk Bub, but yer just too small! Can’t risk ye going home to baba hurt, no?”

Simon whines and blushes more. Mactavish’s words make him fully regress and the last bit of fight leaves his body. He opts to cling to his temporary caregiver and the stress immediately leaving his body. His eyes gloss over and his eyelids get heavy. A soft coo can be heard and he melts further as the captain begins to draw random shapes into his back.

“There’s a good Bub, just relax an let uncle Mactavish take good care of ye until baba can come pick ye up.”

Simon has to borrow Mactavish’s softer clothes. Riley’s frame is a bit too small for Simon’s. But he’s still able to be padded up before a nap and is content with suckling on his blanket as he cuddles in Mactavish’s lap.

Price and Roach enter the office and see the soft scene. Mactavish looks up and chuckles

“Looks like both the ghosts have more in common than we thought…” Mactavish grins fondly, brushing a stray lock of hair away from the sleeping baby’s face “hell, I think they maybe the same age..”

He misses Riley and is worried about his little Ghostie. But being able to take care of another Ghost is helping ease his anxieties and fears. He’ll get his Riley back and he’ll make sure Simon is reunited with his Baba.

UNCLE MACTAVISH

SOBBING SOBBING SOBBING

THATS SO FUCKING CUTE

Stabbing you stabbing you /pos /aff

I MUST REITERATE

"UNCLE MACTAVISH"

UGH /pos

The Ghosties 😭😭

IMAGINE THEY MEET

MACTAVISH AND SOAP

(then the lingering question 'why isn't Roach with you too? Where's your Roach?')

#call of duty #cod agere #captain mactavish #captain john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod #soapghost #ghostsoap

74 notes · View notes

tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year

Text

First Time Father - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster / Wife (No Name or Appearance)

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Hospital Visit, Self Doubt, Stress, Light Angst, Sick Baby, Baby OC is Referred to as 'Dove,' Rooster Thinks He's a Bad Dad

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: It's Rooster's first time alone with his baby daughter. But when she comes down with a fever under his watch, Rooster seriously doubts his abilities as a father.

Master List

It was Rooster’s first extended time alone with his daughter without his wife around.

He was very much a hands-on dad, but his wife was their daughter’s primary caregiver for the first four months of their daughter’s life because of maternity leave and then her gradual return to work. Rooster was always quick to look after their daughter, who they nicknamed Dove, when he got home, but he openly acknowledged that his wife cared for Dove most often.

So, with his wife’s college friend’s child-free wedding coming up, Rooster had a three-day weekend to care for his daughter all on his own. And, well, this was a test for himself. His wife didn’t put excessive expectations onto him. That was all Rooster.

He always tried to check-in with his wife to make sure that he was pulling his weight with Dove. Rooster didn’t want to become one of those complacent dads who just relied on their wife for everything and couldn’t take care of their own child by themselves. He didn’t want his wife to be one of those women who said that she had two kids at home—her actual baby and her husband.

Maybe that was just the fear creeping up from his conversations with Penny about her divorce and what the older guys at work said, but Rooster wanted to prove to himself that he could do it. He could take care of his daughter by himself without any hiccups.

Rooster’s wife left Thursday night and Rooster handled Thursday night and Friday morning perfectly well. Dove stayed on her nap and feeding schedule, he got some projects done around the house, and they even went to see Grandpa Mav. But then a few hours after they got home, Dove came down with a fever and started crying like nothing Rooster had ever heard before.

And, well, maybe he panicked just a little bit.

The lights of the ER were bright and blinding and Rooster did his best to shield Dove’s eyes from the excessive light. Holding her against his chest as she cried, Rooster tried to console her as he waited for a medical professional to come and collect them.

Since it was a Friday night, the pediatrician and Urgent Care centers were all closed. And his wife wasn’t answering her phone, probably because she was at the rehearsal dinner. And the lady giving him the side eye for the last hour combined with his daughter’s continuous cries were really starting to push Rooster over the edge.

“It’s okay,” Rooster tried to console his daughter, his voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of his daughter’s little head, praying for some advice from his mom. She would know what to do in this situation. But Bradley didn’t know what he was doing. Maybe he wasn’t as good of a father or as good of a husband as he wanted to be. As he thought he was.

“Bradshaw,” a nurse called, causing Bradley to hurry to his feet.

The nurse led him back to one of the smaller hospital rooms. Bradley listed off the timeline of events to the nurse, who nodded, typed them up, and walked off to grab a doctor. Rooster tried setting his daughter back into her carrier, but that only made her cry louder. He picked her back up and cradled her to his chest, feeling a few tears leak out.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you’re in pain,” he whimpered, resting his head on top of her smaller one.

There was a light knock on the door before a man dressed in a pair of turquoise scrubs and round glasses stepped into the room. The doctor seemed to quickly assess the situation before striding further into the room.

“I’m Dr. Greene,” he stated, causing Rooster to nod. “What seems to be the problem?”

“She has a fever and she won’t stop crying and I don’t know what’s wrong. Nothing that I try seems to work,” Rooster replied shakily, hugging his daughter just a little tighter as she continued to cry. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright, let me take a look at her.”

Rooster set his daughter on her back on the examination table. She wiggled around, still whimpering and crying. Dr. Greene started with his stethoscope and listened to her heart and lungs. He quickly checked her ears and her throat and looked over her vitals again. Rooster stood to the side, trying to comfort his daughter as well as he could while subtly wiping his tears away.

He must have done something wrong. He was a terrible father. He screwed up his daughter.

“It’s an ear infection. Nothing too serious,” Dr. Greene deduced, straightening up. “I’ll prescribe some antibiotics. That should clear it up in a few days.”

“But her screams . . . she sounds like she’s in a lot of pain.”

“Ear infections hurt. And this seems to be her first one and she’s only about four months old. Every little bit of pain to a baby can easily be the worst pain that they’ve ever experienced before,” Dr. Greene explained calmly, typing away at the chart. “Her heart rate is normal and her lungs are clear. And an ear infection can cause the fever.”

“And the ear infection, what caused it?” Rooster asked nervously, rubbing his daughter’s head.

“Well, does she spend any time around other kids? Is she in daycare or does she have any siblings?” Dr. Greene suggested, turning back to Rooster.

“She’s at daycare twice a week,” Rooster breathed out, causing Dr. Greene to nod.

“Exactly. Those places are a breeding ground for disease. Especially with babies and young children who haven’t really built up an immunity to anything.”

“So . . . I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Dr. Greene stated, finishing up with the chart. He turned back to Rooster, studied his tired and frazzled expression, and offered him a small smile. “First time dad?”

“Is it that obvious?” Rooster returned, wincing a bit.

“I assure you that we’ve seen and heard plenty of stories far stranger than an ear infection from first time parents,” Dr. Greene chuckled, gathering his things. “Kids get sick. It happens. And you did the right thing in getting her to a medical professional. The antibiotics should be ready at the pharmacy and they should clear it up. But if she’s still sick in three days, go to your primary care physician.”

Dr. Greene turned to leave the room before pausing and turning back to Rooster one last time.

“And to be perfectly honest with you, I would highly prefer a parent who was overly concerned with their child’s health than one who wasn’t concerned at all. You’re doing fine,” Dr. Greene assured Rooster with a small smile before opening the door. “Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you too,” Rooster called back, finally able to breathe a bit again.

It was just an ear infection. He didn’t screw up. He did the right thing.

“Let’s get you some medicine, Dove,” Rooster sighed, setting his daughter back into her carrier.

The Dr. Greene that I may or may not have had in mind:

#rooster fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster #dadley dadshaw #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #tgm #tgm fanfiction #top gun #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster x wife!reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x wife!reader

383 notes · View notes

v3nusxsky · 1 year

Note

Hello Mars!! Hope all is well. Hoping to request a student agere Larissa fic!

It’s parents weekend and r is a shapeshifter and when stressed or nervous she regresses to the age she feels. R’s parents come and they know (or don’t know, up to you) that R regresses which annoys them and tell her to grow up. So when R is feeling overwhelmed, they run to Larissa in tears and regresses in her arms. Maybe R stays in her arms while Larissa finishes her work and basically loves R like her own🥺

-🐈‍⬛

Precious Angel

*Authors note~ I love this idea sm and I can't wait to write it *

Trigger warnings~ age regression unsupportive parents shapeshifter r

Prompt~see ask^^^^^

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Regressing was something you tried to keep private from your family, they weren't the most supportive parents in the world, especially when you told them about your sexuality. They'd practically disowned you at this point. So that's why when you were told they'd visit for this parent's weekend all you felt was dread. Why now? You'd attended Nevermore now for three years, so why on earth would the visit now after leaving you here three years ago and telling you to forget their existence, you were a ward of the state as far as they were concerned. Nothing more than a freak.

You still remember it as clear as day and yet now you'd have to face them again. The trauma they had caused you was the whole reason why Doctor Kimbot explored the idea of regression, your shape shifting ability adding an element that allowed you to reclaim that part of your childhood. Larissa was the only other person who knew you regressed, she caught you in your toddler state crying and stumbling your way through the Nevermore halls late at night. And that is when she met Oaklyn. You decided to give her a name that you think would've fit you well and it helped separate your mindsets.

Larissa and Oaklyn hit it off, Larissa falling in love with the little girls toothy grin and infectious giggles. She immediately took on the caregiver role for Oaklyn and you knew if you needed to let Oaklyn out she would always be safe with Larissa, her motherly instincts made both you and Oaklyn feel incredibly safe.

Your parents had been at Nevermore a total of two hours and you were already stressed beyond belief. Their constant nitpicking and comments where driving you insane and making your ache with a sadness you thought was long gone. You could feel Oaklyn wanting to slip but with them here it felt near enough impossible for you to let her. That's when they found Oaks box. Larissa had gifted the little girl the box made out of oak wood, painted a nice Saige green with her name in gold letters. The box contained all of her little items.

When your parents followed you to your dorm and spotted the box you felt your stomach sickly twist with fear. To say they hit the roof was an understatement. Your dad went redder than a tomato and your mother began to throw Oaks items on the floor, effectively breaking a few and scuffing the beautiful hand made box. You lost your control then and there, Oak slipped, tears streaming down the two year olds cheeks as she looked up to see your mother and father breaking her items.

That was all it took for the little girl to burst out in tears and flee the room, followed by insults being hurled her way. The little girl instinctively found her way to Larissa Weems office, without knocking she pushed open the semi shut door and stormed in. She was hysterically crying and picking at her clothes which was scaring the headmistress. "Hi baby" the blonde greeted the little girl only to be met with a teary "momma" cut off by hiccups and her hands outstretched in her signature "grabby hands" motion.

"Oh baby, come to momma" was all the toddler needed to hear before slamming her tiny body onto the older woman's. "Momma, mean people broke special box" she sobbed clutching onto Larissa like a life line. "Oh baby your box is broke? Momma can try fix it or get a new one okay? What caused the slip love?" Oak pouted and took a few deep breaths, "parents mean things going leave me sad" you mumbled as you nuzzled into the woman.

She scooped you up into her arms and moved back to her desk, settling you on her lap as you snuggled impossibly closer. "You're okay my love bug, thank you for finding momma darling, I'll make sure it's all okay don't you worry. Mommas so proud of her girl, you just rest pretty baby" she murmured rocking you gently which happened to soothe the two year old to sleep as she clung to Larissa as if she'd disappear. "I'm here love bug, I'm never gonna leave you. You don't deserve those awful parents darling. Mommas gonna protect you" she promised with a sweet kiss to your forehead.

Word count~ 853

#anon answered #v3nusxsky answers #fanfic #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa x reader #larissa x you #principal larissa weems x reader #weems x reader #principal weems #weems #anon requested

157 notes · View notes

minminyoonjii · 11 months

Text

First Time: Getting Your Period In Little Space [OT8/Fem! Reader]

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.2K

Scenario

You squirmed, eyebrows furrowed in pain. Your breath hitched, waking up to aching pain in your abdomen. Your head spun, holding your plush closer. "Hurts, hurts, hurts," you whispered, slipping in and out of your headspace. A whine slipped past your lips, eyes barely seeing what was in your room. The only source of light is your nightlight at the corner. You sat up, face puffy from sleep. "Want, Caregiver Title," you whimpered, removing your blanket. You squinted your eyes, staring at the growing dark spot between your legs. "Caregiver Title!" you yelled, tears welling in your eyes.

Bang Chan

"Can I come in, little one?" he asked, knocking on your door. "Yes, Daddy," you sniffled, hands trembling. Chan opened your door, "Why are you crying, baby girl. Tell daddy, what's wrong, hm?" he whispered, heart racing from worry. You shakily push your blanket aside. Chan follows your movement, noticing the stain on your sheets. "You're okay, baby. You're okay," he said, kissing the top of your head. "Is something wrong with me?" you asked, staring up at him. Chan smiled softly, "Big you is having her period, you're alright," he reassured. "It's uncomfy Daddy," you whimpered, burying your face into your plush. "I know, little one. C'mere let daddy help you out," he said, getting clean sheets and clothes from your closet. "Daddy's going to make sure you're as comfortable as possible," he said, kissing your forehead.

Lee Minho

"Cupcake, are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked, slightly stumbling into your room. "Mama," you sobbed, relief going through your body. Minho wiped your tears away, holding you against his stomach "Breath, cupcake. Take a deep breath," he whispered, rubbing your back. You sniffled, calming your breathing. Minho cooed, "That's it. You're doing great," he praised, stroking your cheek. You pulled your blanket off, showing the problem. "Aww, cupcake. You must have been so scared," he said, looking behind him when he heard meows. Minho chuckled, "Look the babies are here to comfort you too," he said, carrying Dori onto your bed. Soonie and Doongie curled up against your side. "You're safe, cupcake. I know it looks scary but trust Mama. I'll take care of you," he said, ruffling your hair.

Seo Changbin

"What? What's making you upset?" he questioned, hair messy from sleep. You hiccupped into your plush, getting more panicked from Changbin's questions. He took a deep breath, checking your body for any type of physical bruises or wounds "I'm sorry if I scared you, agi-ah," he whispered, nuzzling your foreheads together. You pointed to your blanket, shame burning up your cheeks. He gently moved your blanket aside, "Oh," he sighed in relief. You peeked at him behind your plush. Changbin smiled, "My little agi, everything is alright. It's normal, you don't have to be afraid, okay?" he said, tilting your chin. You looked at him with glossy eyes. Changbin kissed your nose, "Don't worry, Baba has everything under control," he said, holding you.

Hwang Hyunjin

"Is everything alright, lovely?" he asked, carefully going up to you. You sniffled, pushing off your blanket. Hyunjin stared with a blank stare, internally panicking "Let me call you daddy, okay? I'll be right outside your door," he said, wiping your tears. You nodded, curling up with your plush. Hyunjin called Chan, "Hyung, I know you're at the studio but I need help. Our little love is bleeding and I know why but I don't know what to do and I don't want to cause more pain," he rambled, running his fingers through his hair. Chan chuckled, "Calm down, Jinnie. Here's what you need to do," he said, telling Hyunjin everything he needs to prepare. He walked back into the room, "Okay, lovely. Papa's going to try to help you," he said, kissing your nose.

Han Jisung

Jisung sat in bed, disoriented from sleep "Did I hear that, right?" he whispered, furrowing his eyebrows. "Appa!" you yelled again, sobbing into your plush. Jisung stumbled to your room, bumping into a wall at some point "Why is my sweet thing crying, hm?" he asked, leaning against your door frame. You sniffled, rubbing your stomach. Jisung tilted his head, "Does it hurt, sweetheart?" he questioned, stroking your cheek. You shook your head, hesitant to lift your blanket. "Do you want me to lift it up for you?" he whispered, holding your hand. You nodded, giving Jisung the hem of your blanket. He lifted it up, noticing the stain "Don't worry, sweet thing. Your Appa knows exactly what to do," he reassured. You sniffled, "Appa, know?" you asked, wiping your tears. Jisung smiled, "Yeah. When you turn big again, sweetheart. Just remember that your Appa spends a lot of time on Youtube," he said, patting your head.

Lee Felix

"Mommy's coming on, okay?" he asked, holding the door knob. You whined, "Mommy," you hiccuped, rocking yourself. Felix opened the door, "I'm here, sunbeam. Mommy's here," he whispered, hugging your close. You removed your blanket, showing Felix your sheets. He nodded, carrying you up "Mommy's going to get you clean up, okay?" he asked, setting you on the bathroom counter. Felix turned on the tap, placing a bath bomb inside "Stay here for a bit, Mommy will go change your sheets and get you ready for your bath," he whispered, kissing your forehead. You whined, tugging the hem of his sweatpants. Felix cooed, "I know, sunshine. I'll be quick I promise," he reassured, clearing up as fast as he could. You waited, dangling your legs over the counter. "Let's get you clean up, we can cuddle up after, sunbeam," he said, helping you into the tub.

Kim Seungmin

He walked into your room, eyes shut from sleep "Tell me whenever you're ready, munchkin," he said, letting you wrap your arms around his waist, rubbing your back. You shuddered a breath, pushing away your blanket. Seungmin's eyes widened slightly, nuzzling your hair "Listen to me, okay? You're alright, there's no need to be afraid or embarrassed," he rasped, staring into your eyes. You nodded, taking deep breaths to calm down your pounding heart. Seungmin smiled, "Dada's going to call your Mama to get some things at the store," he said, carrying you up. You nodded against his shoulder. Seungmin chuckled, removing your sheets with his free hand, "Don't worry about the sheets, munchkin. A cold wash will remove the stain easily," he said, kissing your cheek. You smiled, nuzzling against his neck, melting into his hold.

Yang Jeongin

"Why is my little angel upset?" he asked, running his fingers through your hair. You whimpered, holding your plush tighter. Jeongin frowned, "Ninnin's not going to judge, angel. He just wants to know where you're hurting," he whispered, holding your face within his palms. You nuzzled into his hand and pulled the blanket off. Jeongin gently stroked your cheek, noticing the patch "Aww, angel. You're going to be okay. Ninnin will check if you have any supplies. If not, I'll just contact your Baba," he comforted, touching your cheek. "Not weird?" you whispered, fidgeting with your plush. Jeongin looked at you with sympathy "Of course not, angel. It's just your big girl body, doing big girl things," he said, tracing your nose. You wrinkled it, jutting your bottom lip "It's icky, Ninnin," you grumbled, puffing your cheeks. Jeongin cooed, "Ninnin will try to make it less icky, angel," he said, getting everything prepared.

207 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

20K notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

probablyjustbap

fuck it

affomar

Mirando un momento partir y otro llegar...

tequilanevoeiro

Inverso de gelo

bunnypoland

Bunny Poland

elinannagabriella

Elin Anna Gabriella