Tw Self Loathing - Tumblr Posts
Is school supposed to ruin me this bad?
What makes them go mad...
Pgr bois angry headcanons
What pushes the contruct's buttons, or, things that gives them a small M.I.N.D Deviation.
⚠️Tw: Aggressive behaviour, physical contact when angry, self hatred⚠️
Lee (Palefire/ Entropy)
Kamui
Lee is a construct that runs on logic and factual statements. So, if there are things that runs, just a little off, he would get annoyed.
Like the time when both of you were watching a movie during Valentines. Lee legit got upset over the running time being one minute less. (I don't make the rules, Kuro did)
You can try to test his patience by telling him untrue facts or data insisting they are correct.
Lee would not back down from that, "Agree to disagree..." or "Sorry, but I simply don't see how......"
Gets even more annoyed and irratated if you drag Kamui into the conversation. It's two verse one.
When Lee has enough of this argument and your childish attitude, he would excuse himself. "Anyway, this isn't something worth fighting over..." and turns to leave.
He doesn't see the point in continuing, especially if you are so insisted on that fact. It's pointless.
Kamui (Tenebrion)
Kamui doesn't strike as a person to act aggressive towards others.
He would express his anger in a more subtle way.
If you were to think it's fun to annoy him, Kamui doesn't bite, but rather tells you off in a passive aggressive way.
"If you are going to do this others, make sure to noted that other will do the same to you some day. So, don't cry when that happens, okay?" ヾ(о-ω･)ﾉ⌒★
Or, something like, "You really are quite annoying today."
But if you were to really push it and proceed to use him as the butt of a joke, he would straight up tell you, "That's not cool." and gets a little distant from you.
Camu (Crottota)
You better not do anything to make him mad. He barks and he bites.
He likes to be independant, so if you were to restrict his freedom, he get's hella annoyed.
Once he is annoyed, his mood plummets and at this point you are walking on eggshells.
When you comment on his tardiness, he would click his tongue and tried to shut you off.
When your nagging falls on deaf ears, you reach out to fix his head scarf, and that just triggers him.
Would 100% not heasitate get physical. Camu grabs your hand, tightly, before you can touch him, and push away.
Of course another thing that get's him to loose his cool, would be his insecurities of being a compositor.
Of you mention something about his current state and he misinterpreted that...
He grabs your shirt and pull you towards him. He growls, "You say that again?"
Chrome (Archlight)
Would it be a surprise to find when Chrome gets angry, he gets angry at himself? Even if he is mad at others, it would usually be very short lived.
He spend so much time and brain/mind power to make a flawless plan only for it to backfire or some unforseen factor ruined it.
Chrome would be angry at himself for not doing his job properly.
He would be devasted if you are the cost of the failure.
After the failed mission, he will be responsible and own up to his mistakes, even if it couldn't be helped in the first place.
If someone mentions about his failures, or how "he got you injured", it hits Chrome in a sore spot. But he won't fight back or make a rebuttal.
Keeps his head down and works even harder to not let the same thing happen again.
Changyu (Qilin)
Being new to Babylonia, Changyu would have felt a little unfamiliar with the place.
This is especially when he has to abide to a certain set of rules, militarily. He no longer can have a carefree lifestyle like the one in Akidilek.
Would, at first, find the rule reinforcing annoying. But, still abide, because it is a small cost for great living conditions.
But when the rules starts to become a big set back for him, Changyu gets frustrated. Such as, if his friends are in trouble.
"Commandant, please let me come with you!"
If you try to reinforce the rules onto him again, he would get really angry and just walk off to somewhere ignoring your calls.
He needs to blow off some steam before he can talk to you again.
Watanabe (Astral/Nightblade)
It's Babylonia and its higher ups. What more is there to say?
After everything he had been through, he would get mad if, you sided completely with Hassen or Nikola.
Watanabe's trust level with you would drop.
He puts his family, The Forsaken, first so if anything happens to them... It's war.
For you to jeopardise his family, he's not willing to let you do that.
Another thing that would annoy Watanabe is, if you try to get him talk about his issue with Babylonia.
You bet, you are stepping into a landmind.
He would warn you not to tread further with this conversation. But, if you insist. He would give up and give you a vague answer.
He gives you an angry look and march away. Just don't expect he would give you a warm welcome when you visit The Forsaken.
“if you have letters to write,you have a reason to stay.”
So that means I can finally dip???
“Who hurt you babygirl?”
actually myself🥰
Oof what a difficult choice
TW: intrusive violent thoughts, explicit violence, self-loathing, thoughts of self-harm
Xiao has intrusive thoughts. They're always about it harming others, specially people it cares about. It might have thoughts about snapping Ganyu's neck, stabbing Zhongli in the back and more like that. It's very common for them to come before karmic pain, but it's not exclusive for this moments.
Whenever Xiao has this thoughts, they hurt and make it feel guilty and have even more self-loathing. Many times, it considered hurting itself as a kind of "punishment" for having these thoughts.
When Zhongli adopted Qiqi and it started interacting more with her, the thoughts began to come, with thing like tearing her body apart. That made its self-loathing get worsened and it told Ganyu about the thoughts, for it thought that this was a sign that it was a monster.
Then, Ganyu told it that she, too, has intrusive thoughts, specially about harming herself and how distressful they are to her. She tells Xiao that it's okay and that this doesn't make it a bad person. She tells Xiao that if it wants to, they can tell to Zhongli or someone else. It says that it wants to keep it between just the two of them for a while. She understads.
I've been telling my family i love them more often because i don't know when i might snap and actually kms..
Uhm,, trigger warning?? Its vent art so it's not gonna be good, scratching and strangulation u know the deal
Sorry for the bummer art, it's the only one I drew so
I figured I'd post it
I really am trying NOT to harm myself further than I have already had, and that's good progress to me.at least
I wanna learn to trust myself, and I think I'm getting there
It's just bad vibes day
Asking a request: I seen your previous writing for an MC who's plus size and insecure about herself. Could you write a second one but maybe with Nokto, Luke and Yves? Please, you're first one was absolutely beautiful~
A/N: Because of the nature of the content, it will be posted after the "Keep Reading"
TW: body dysmorphia, self-loathing
Word Count: 1455
Nokto:
Although the ballroom is crowded, filled with glamorous women dripping in gems and handsome men in hot pursuit, he notices you. You’re standing at the edge of light and shadow, allowing the darkness to spill over you, cover you like a shroud. But still he sees you.
He sees the way you stand, body pressed against the wall, arms wrapped around the curve of your midsection. Maybe if you press yourself hard enough against the polished wood, you’ll sink into it and disappear, surround yourself with quiet and isolation, away from eyes that notice the way your body stretches your gown, the soft, dark material spilling over your curves like water over stone.
One final drink from his glass and then he is on his way to where you are. You look up from the business of staring at your shoes to find his crimson eyes on you, his hands reaching for yours. His smooth voice in your ear, whispering for you to come with him.
And you do, following him away from the glittering masses, down a darkened hallway, up richly carpeted steps until you arrive at your own room.
He has a key. Of course he does. And he pulls you inside, closing the door behind him. Again you find your back pressed against wood, eyes wide as you look up into his beautiful face, as you feel his hands slide down your waist, over the generous curve of your hips. What are you doing, you whisper as your heart drums a wild rhythm in your chest.
His nimble fingers find the hooks on the back of your gown as he lowers his mouth, catching your earlobe between his teeth. Reminding you of how beautiful you are, he murmurs. How much I want you.
You shudder, both at the feeling of the heavy gown opening and at his words. Your eyes close as he slides his hands over the now exposed skin of your back. The gown looked horrible on me, you whisper. Nothing looks good on me.
Nokto pulls and fabric cascades to the ground in a whisper of heavy silk. His hands caress the skin of your hips, one skims over your throat to catch your chin in his fingers. You look beautiful in all your clothing he purrs. However, he continues as he drinks from your lips, without your clothing….you look positively divine. A goddess who deserves worship.
Slowly, the silver-haired fox sinks to his knees, his hands reverently gliding down your sides, fully intent on showing you just how devout he can be.
Luke
You’re walking through the small store, admiring all the homemade jellies and jams and chutneys. Luke has been wanting to visit this place ever since he heard they sell a specific kind of wildflower honey he has been wanting to try. You are browsing the colorful jars as he speaks with the store owner, listening with an interest he only has for his favorite things: you and honey.
You are admiring a jar of deep red cherry marmalade when you hear it. The snickering. Glancing over your shoulder, you notice the boys, no older than thirteen, staring at you, their eyes bright with amusement and malice. The one leans over, hand cupped over the other boy's ear as he whispers something. They both burst into wicked laughter. You make a cursory glance over your clothing. Nothing appears to be undone. You haven’t stepped in manure. Your hair is still neatly braided away from your face. What could be so funny? And then another sound. A loud mooing. The moment you turn to look at them, to see the source of the mocking noise, they burst into laughter again, nearly tripping over each other in their giggles and haste to get out of the store.
You set the jar of marmalade down with a shaking hand. Your heart feels like it’s been pierced by something sharp, something barbed. It stumbles in your chest, shaking, grabbing your breath to try and stay afloat. They aren’t wrong. How must it look, you, large and unwieldy, staring at a jar of sweet cherry jelly as if you could swallow it whole. Tears of shame sting your eyes and you turn on heel, pushing open the door and stepping out onto the street. The boys are nowhere to be seen but it doesn’t help. The damage is done.
Luke finds you already inside the carriage, hands over your face, body turned away from him. You have fallen apart in the time he was in the shop, your self-esteem in tatters around you, the jagged edges of your heart having ripped it to shreds when it broke. He slides over to where you are, pulling you into his arms, your name whispered over and over until you finally turn, burying your face in his broad shoulder.
Holding you to him, he kisses your temple, resting his cheek against your hair. He does not know exactly what has happened but he loves and knows you enough to be patient. You’ll explain when you are ready. Until then, his body knows what to do. It knows to keep you close. To kiss you. To rock you gently. To make you feel every bit of love he has for you without saying a word.
This is how he loves you. He takes your broken heart in his hands, unafraid of the jagged edges, the ones that bite and slice and scar. He takes each piece of you and carefully fits them back together. It isn’t beautiful nor is it perfect. But when he is finished, when you can finally lift your head from his shoulder, you feel air flow into your lungs again. You have a heartbeat once more.
Yves
He flits around the kitchen like a hummingbird, hopping from dessert to dessert. He is talking to you, muttering about this or that, making a mental list of all the things he is going to improve on before the sweets are perfect enough for the visiting diplomats. You are seated at a small table in the corner, only half listening to your love as he murmurs notes to himself.
He’s placed a whole tray of desserts in front of you. Tarts that didn’t come out perfectly, small cakes that may have been the slightest bit lopsided, a chocolate mousse whose consistency wasn’t quite up to snuff. Help yourself, he said before spinning off to the oven where his next attempt needed checking on. And you want to…..but then you look down at your fingers, at their roundness, their ugliness. Long, slender, elegant fingers worthy of jeweled rings will never be yours. Petite Princess hands, dainty wrists, long, thin arms….none of these are yours. You are made of flesh and curves and a body that demands space, demands room. A body that stretches clothes and strains necklines. Certainly not a body that needs or deserves anything as sweet as Yves’ creations.
He pauses in his whirlwind, pushing his blond hair out of his face. You haven’t even touched any of his desserts. Head cocked, he watches you a moment before heading over, sliding onto the chair next to yours. Is something wrong with the sweets? I know they are dreadfully ugly but they should still taste perfect.
You shake your head, unable to meet his gaze. You claim you’re not hungry. Your stomach has been sensitive. You can’t eat any of it. In fact, you should just get out of his way and leave. You start to rise but a surprisingly firm hand to your wrist stops you. Fingers touch your chin and you flinch, wondering if he notices how ugly that part of you is too. Your name, a tight sound that slips through his lips, grabs your attention and you meet his gaze.
What you see in the blue depths of his eyes unlocks the tightness of your chest. A softness, wounded by the sadness in your expression. A brightness, admiration and desire for you in equal measure. He leans closer, pressing his lips to yours, the taste sweeter than any of his creations. Reaching up, he cups your face, canting his face to deepen the kiss. In his hands, at his touch, you feel yourself slowly letting go of the knife of self-loathing, your fingers going slack with the heady current of want. You know this does not solve how you feel. It won’t make you immediately love yourself and all that you are.
But feeling his love and his desire for you, the way he is standing, you locked in his arms, pulled up to your feet and then against his body, it helps. Somehow, it does.
Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart
Ah yes. The post I read five years ago and had self hated thoughts about my gender because of it.
@vince-dafreak , Fuck you. Skye is just as much of a man as Damian. Think before you fucking post. Think about the people who FUCKING BELIVED YOU, and had maybe months of self hate with their body and personality.
Im genderfluid, Panromantic and Im fucking proud and out, i tell everyone that i trust wont kill me about it.
My ex was never really mentioned that she was queer. But guess what! We dated just fine, and we are still friends to this day!
So really. Fuck off
Being trans is not special or fun.
You need dysphoria to be trans.
Being cisgender is great.
Being trans is not your aesthetic.
Truscum/transmeds are the only ones who really care about trans people.
Hopefully, people like Skye are still a minority. If you have gender dysphoria, I hope you will be alright. You can always talk to me if you feel bad
Also, sorry for my English mistakes
>> Visit my art blog [NSFW]
On some days you do not recognise ur reflections... they haunt you... this is the conversation that plays out when this happens to me... Read my new poem here pls
Drowning
There are days when breathing feels easier. Not today, though.
Today every breath leaving your lungs rips open a cut that bleeds out your eyes and onto your cheeks. The salt water falling out in a hurry to pour the pain out. Like a falls, so mighty and strong, the never-ending pain keeps pouring on.
Today, it's all so wrong. The lights are too bright and sound too loud. A tick here and a click there, and a hitch in your breath that makes the pain too much to bear.
It would all be a lot easier to point fingers- at people, at time, at incidents and at places. Yet you constantly find all ten of them staring right into your soul. Blame it on youth, or the colours you can't let go. Nothing can change the stubborn brain with no remorse. "Protect yourself, wear the armour tight". No one told me that the armour might choke me at night. I struggle, never swam through the blues just rode the high tides. Free falling through to the lap of gravity, a dark ocean bed that awaits me. Breathing is not a problem for me tonight, for drowning makes it easier by burning my lungs. Water rushes up my skin and into my eyes, there's beauty in madness and peace in demise. Will I be missed? Should I hold back for tonight? Maybe it'll be alright and I won't lose my mind... But what if I never make it after all the incessant "fake it"s. My brain goes numb and my skin opens wide.
I exchange the blues for crimson, a shade that's my best friend. Mixing up the salt and the pungent smell, another night I chose to drown in my head. It would be easier to lie on thorns if it was the bed I made. I willingly pierce my own heart to protect my head from the larks.
Drowning my sorrows into stories I wish into the universe, for when they come true I'd still push myself into the deep end. Around the globe, I brought along the baggage. For new people to poke through and tell me my worth.
Tw: self harm, ed
Alternate universe
In an alternate universe,
I am 14 and alone in my room,
And my hands haven't harmed myself yet.
In an alternate universe,
My mom isn't emotionally dead,
And my dad isn't the monster yet.
In an alternate universe,
I still have her by my side,
I haven't screwed everything yet.
In an alternate universe,
I don't flinch when I look in the mirror,
There are no scars on my thighs yet.
In an alternate universe,
I still eat like a normal person,
I haven't ruined myself yet.
Tw: eating disorders and self harm
The monsters in my head. They won't leave.
An empty stomach. A grave where I live.
Scars on my thighs. A strange relief.
A disconsolate existence. A sigh of grief
My shattered childhood. It haunts me still
Whimpers of pain. A broken will.
Venomous family. Full of greed.
Begged you to stop it. It never did.
My mum finding my cuts on my arm: oh no....you can't hide it whole summer.... people will see...why can't you stop ?
My mum finding cuts on my thighs: oh no...people will see....you can't hide it whole summer....people will see ...why can't you stop ? If you really have to do something like that them go running or yell at me....
Me thinking: I hate running and I don't yell at people...even at those I hate....
Also me thinking: what about my mental health ? Guess it's not important
Tw for everything
"What will we do after you have an operation"
Funny
What about me? What will I do after the operation? Will I still be alive?
"You should lose weight, everything is going wrong because of your weight."
Thanks
Now I will starve myself even more
"How do you see yourself in the future?"
Dead
You make me want to kill myself even more
You are the fucking reason for everything
Everything is going wrong in my life because of you two.
You shouldn't have taken me from the orphanage
I will rot
I will suffer
I will die
And all thanks to you
Perfect For Me (Steven Grant x Reader)
Words: 2.2K
Warnings/Themes: Angst,Self-hatred, body insecurity, hurt/comfort, fluff, light nudity (non-sexual)
Characters/Pairings: Steven Grant x reader, Marc Spector
liavaleska asked:
Hellooo! How are you? I hope you are doing great. Can I request something where reader comforts Steven Grant when he is feeling insecure about his body? Ty❤️
A/N: Sorry it took me a while to get this up! But here it is and I hope you enjoy it. It came out a tab bit angstier than I intially wanted but I'm quite proud of this one! Let me know what you think :)
Tired eyes mindlessly watched the little goldfish bob around its tank. The only sound filling the apartment was that of the tank’s filter. Rain pattered against the windows. Each door that opened or closed in the building had her peeking at the door through the tank. It was a quiet evening. As it had been for the past few days, nearing two weeks.
Nearly two weeks of silence. All because the other occupant of the apartment was hardly around anymore. Something was up with one of the boys. She had hoped one of them would have confided in her. But they are alters of Marc Spector. Mr. Secret.
The notion of her husband keeping secrets saddened her. It wasn’t hard to suspect that something was wrong. Steven would be up before her and leaving for work earlier than usual. Before he would wrap himself tighter around her when her alarm would go off, begging her to stay in bed for a few more minutes.
He had also picked up the habit of jogging. At first, she had been happy for him; happy he had found a healthy hobby. But now she’s questioning how healthy it really is. The bags under his eyes darkened with the passing of each day. Getting up early, going on jogs, and working as Khonshu’s personal plaything, had to be tiring. Not to mention she didn’t really see him enough to confirm that he had eaten that day.
“At least you’re around, huh, Gus?” She murmured, chin resting on her palm. The fish swam into his pyramid. A groan left her as she hung her head. Great. Even the fish didn’t want to spend time with her. Pushing out of her seat, she decided it was time for bed. The clock on the wall read 1am.
A quick glance at her phone showed that her messages had been read. But there had been no response.
‘Hey, love. Just wondering when you’ll be home. Any ideas for dinner?’
Read at 7:30pm.
‘Hey, again, you’re probably busy so I wrapped up dinner for you. Chinese takeout, your favorite! Love you <3’
Read at 10:46pm
With a heavy heart, she typed out one last text.
‘Going to bed now. Love you, darling’
She didn’t wait for a reply and stuck her phone on the charger. Tears pricked at her eyes as she stared at the empty bed. This would be the sixth night in a row that she would be going to bed by herself. The cold, white duvet laughed up at her. Sniffling, she padded over to the closet and pulled out one of Steven’s hoodies, and tugged it on. His scent filled her nose but didn’t bring the comfort she craved. Rather, it broke the dam holding back her tears.
She wished she could help him. Wished he let her help him. Wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone in whatever he was going through. If only he would just let her in. Her teeth bit into the soft flesh of her lip as she tried to stifle the sobs. Curled up on the bed, she hugged Steven’s pillow to her chest.
Keys knocking against the door had her freezing. The door slowly creaked open and heavy, tired footsteps entered the apartment. The sound of a duffle hitting the floor broke her out of her trance and had her shooting up.
“Steven?” The figure outlined by the light of the fish tank shuffled over to the bed, standing at the foot.
“No, sorry…” Marc said, voice low and, dare she say, sad. She quickly flicked on the lamp on her nightstand, beckoning him towards her.
“What’s wrong, Marc? Are- are you guys okay?”
Marc was silent for a few heartbeats, his silence giving her time to think of every possible thing that could be wrong. Steven doesn’t love her anymore, Khonshu’s asking too much, they have some terminal disease… Her lip wobbled more with each new possibility.
“No… No, we’re not okay.” Marc whispered, “Steven doesn’t want me to tell you… but I don’t think he’s okay.”
He sounded so tired, and his eyes didn’t even come up to meet hers as he spoke. Whatever was wrong, it had been going on for a while and it’s become too much for Marc to handle. With a frown, she grabbed his hand to tug him onto the bed.
While she wasn’t in a romantic relationship with him, Marc was still important to her. He was like a brother to her. Without him, she wouldn’t even have Steven.
“Tell me, Marc… Tell me what’s wrong,” she begged softly. If he closed the door now after letting her get a toe in, she might completely break down. He sagged forward with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands.
“I just wish I could have protected him better… All of this is my fault. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know this has been hurting you too, but I don’t know how to help him. He won’t eat; he runs until we have blisters… Hell, he’s been fronting during almost every fight and I can’t make him give me the body…”
It was as if once the words started pouring out of his mouth, they wouldn’t stop.
“The only reason I’m fronting now is that I think he was just too exhausted to…” The sigh that left him was far beyond his age. It was the sigh of someone too tired to continue. “You gotta help us, Y/N… You gotta help Steven.”
With a tear-streaked face, she nodded.
<><>
Marc had showered and changed into Steven’s favorite pajamas before climbing into bed. Y/N lay on her side of the bed, wishing that it was her husband she was falling asleep next to. She wanted to hold him close, to protect him from the dangers of his own mind. She could only hope that when she woke up, it would be Steven kissing her awake as he used to.
Her sleep was a light and fitful one. An odd form of sleep paralysis. She could hear the sounds of their apartment, and Marc’s heavy snores next to her. But she couldn’t move. Worry and fear gripped her body like a vice.
Time seemed to still be flowing as one moment she was hearing Marc’s snores, then the next Steven’s much softer breaths. Unconsciously, her hand drifted toward her husband. Her love. Her partner who needed her help.
She couldn’t be sure if her hand ever touched him. Because it was his strained whispers that had her fully conscious. The lamp in the living area was lit and he stood in front of a full-length mirror.
“You overstepped, mate. I told you not to tell her.”
She blinked heavily, unsure if this was a dream or not. A quick hand over his side of the bed told her that it was not and that he hadn’t been gone for long.
“I don’t care! If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be here with a big bloody scar on our chest from that fight! Or the other dozen scars everywhere else!” His voice started to rise.
She couldn’t help but stare at his back as he whispered furiously into the mirror on the other side of the apartment.
“She’s not gonna… she wouldn’t want a human scratching post. Y/N deserves more than… this. I mean, look at us…” He inhaled a shuttering breath. His strong hands gripped the edge of the standup mirror. “A million scars, rubbish bags under our eyes… gross stretch marks, unflattering dad bod.”
His final whispered confession had her finally jumping out of bed.
“I just wish I could be the man she deserves.”
She gave him no time to react before she slammed into his back, wrapping her arms around his middle and bunching the fabric of his shirt in her hands.
His breath caught in his throat, shame filling him. He could feel her sobs more than hear them. Gods, he made her upset. That had been the last thing he wanted to do, but Marc’s words from earlier rang through his head.
“You’re hurting her. Leaving early, coming home late, not making love with her, and keeping the lights off when you do. It’s hurting her. She told me so.”
A sob forced its way from his throat, and hot tears fell down his cheeks. His teeth bit harshly into his lip as he bowed his head, unwilling to look at the reflection of Marc’s pitying look.
“I’m so sorry…So, so sorry.” His hands grasped hers over his chest, right over the scar that had started this whole thing. She shook her head, whimpering into his shirt.
“No, please, Steven.” She took a shuddering breath, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m not mad; or upset with you… I’m upset for you.”
His eyes screwed closed, his lips pressed into a line to suppress his cries.
“I wish I could take this pain away from you. I wish I could love these thoughts out of your mind. You do such an amazing job of protecting me; I wish I did a better job at protecting you.” She pulled her hands from his to drift to his sides and gently turned him to face her.
He kept his head bowed. The shame, the self-hatred, the ugly expression on his face, it wasn’t something she needed to see. The flinch he gave when her gentle hand cupped his cheek was uncontrollable. Her hand dropped back down to her side.
“Steven, let me help you. Whatever you’re trying to keep from me, whatever it is you are trying to hide, I will still love you. Nothing will ever make me not love you; nothing will ever make me think you are undeserving. You are the only man in this entire universe that I will ever love.”
He didn’t flinch when her hand touched him this time. Instead, he pressed his tear-stained cheek into her palm. They both let out heavy breaths. A hand littered with scars he hated so much, gripped her waist. The other, just as scarred as the right, cupped the back of her neck and he brought their foreheads together.
“I’m sorry that I’ve upset you, love. I just... I don’t know how to… how to let someone help. But I know I need it.” Steven swallowed the lump still stuck in his throat. “I am truly fortunate to have you be the one to help me, though.”
“I’m even luckier to have you,” She whispered before leaning forward to press her lips to his. His grip tightened and he pulled her flush to his chest. Flames followed in the wake of her fingers tracing up his stomach to rest on his chest, lovingly stroking the raised skin of the scar. His heart was thundering and he was sure she could feel it under her fingertips.
Salty tears blended on their skin, hiccupping sobs breaking from his sweet lips. As if touching glass, she wiped his tears away, cooing and shushing him. Chocolate eyes locked with hers. Walking backward and not breaking eye contact, she tugged him by the hand towards the bed. Steven followed obediently while wiping his tears with his sleeve.
The bed was cool against her skin as she leaned against the pillows, opening her arms for him. The air was thick with tension as he stood still, watching her. The stifling air was broken when he pulled his shirt over his head with shaking hands. His body is on full display in the dim lighting. While the suit heals wounds, it doesn’t erase scars.
It didn’t seem possible, the amount of love and acceptance in her gaze. It made his breath catch in his throat and warm goosebumps break out over his skin. Wishing for him to be in her arms, she made grabby hands for him. The action made his lips quirk up.
Slowly, he crawled in between her legs and she sat up to wrap her arms around his middle. Soft lips ghosted over the scar as her hands smoothed over his sides. His head was nuzzled into her hair and his arms wrapped around her back.
After breathing each other in, she leaned back and guided him to rest his head on her chest. His strong arms constricted around her middle. Her socked foot caressed his calf while her lips kissed the top of his head.
“If I get too heavy, I can move.” He couldn’t help but mumble. Gentle fingers carded through his hair and trailed down his back. Painted nails lightly scraped over his skin, leaving a trail of more goosebumps.
“If you dare move, I’m going to handcuff you to myself and swallow the key,” she threatened.
Steven let out a breathy chuckle and relaxed more into her. The patterns she was tracing into his skin were hypnotic and slowly, his eyes began to drift closed. A low sweet hum filled his ears.
As he focused on her fingers, he realized she wasn’t just doodling random patterns. It was letters. Words.
‘I love you’
‘Perfect’
‘Strong’
Tears pricked his eyes once more. He tilted his head to press a lingering kiss to her collarbone.
“I’ve got you, Steven. I’m not going anywhere. Not when I’ve got the perfect man for me in my arms.”
I Found You (Bucky Barnes X Rogers!Reader)
Words: 4.1k
Warnings/Themes: Angst! Character death, abduction, torture, human experimentation, allusions to PTSD, depression, thoughts of wanting to be unalived
Characters/Pairings: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Rogers!Reader, Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter (Mentioned), Howling Commandos (Mentioned)
misspygmypie asked:
Hello 🥰 I saw your request post and figured I'd send something in. I've had this idea for years, and it would be fun to read it!
You know when Steve finds and rescues Bucky at Hydra in the first movie? What if it's reader who they're rescuing and Hydra did some experiments on. Maybe she's Steves sister and they wanted to get to him through her and obviously Bucky has a thing for her lol 🥰
A/N: Sincerest apologies for taking so long to get this up. I've been taking on extra duties at work since my partner got fired and things have been super crazy since it's end of quarter. it also hasn't been the best for my mental health, so writing had been a struggle. probably why this ended up being so dang angsty. Sorry. Adulting seriously sucks. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
Rain pattered gently on the canvas walls of the medical tent, while boots splashed noisily in the mud it created. Outside of the tent, she could hear the daily drills going on, soldiers training, and officers shouting commands. Her own fellow nurses milled about the tent, tending to wounded soldiers or doing other daily chores. It was a quiet day for the 107th Infantry Regiment.
“Alright, Private Richards, try not to go sticking your hand into random holes again. I doubt the next rabbit will be so kind.” Nimble fingers began tidying up the bloodied cotton balls and gauze used to clean and wrap the boy’s hand. 18 years old, you would think he’d know better than to stick his hand in holes in the ground.
“Yes, First Lieutenant, ma’am…” The boy grabbed his jacket and sulked out of the med tent. She laughed to herself as she watched him go. Knowing him, he’d be back soon enough. Not unlike his Sergeant, who wandered in a few moments later, a lazy smirk on his lips.
James Buchanan Barnes. Or as she’s known for most of her life, Bucky. The charming Sergeant was her older brother’s best friend, having been around since she was small. They were all thick as thieves, hardly seen without one of the others.
It may or may not have been a blessing to constantly have Bucky around. He was kind, funny, and took good care of her and her brother. However, other boys and men didn’t seem too eager to get to know her with him hanging at her shoulder. It’s even worse now with Steve being triple the size he was a year ago.
Occasionally, a brave soul will strike up the nerve to enter the medical tent and ask her out to the nearest town for a drink and a dance. But Bucky had uncanny timing. He always popped up just as she was about to answer.
“Now, a pretty face like that shouldn’t look so angry.” A voice sounded in her ear. A startled gasp escaped her and her hands fumbled the tools she had been organizing. Bucky caught a pair of forceps before they could hit the floor.
“James! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” She admonished him with a firm smack on the shoulder. He chuckled and rubbed the sore spot.
“Ow, careful there, doll. Gonna take my arm off with that strength.”
“Oh please, it’ll take a lot more than that to get rid of you.” She spun out of his reach when he tried to grab her arm. A small smile graced her lips as she made a final spin to face him. “Did you need something, Bucky?”
“What, I can’t come see my best girl just because I want to?
“I know your troop is supposed to be running the course right now, so no you can’t just come see me because you want to,” she said while gesturing for him to sit on the cot in the corner or her station. “Now, what mess did you get yourself into to be sent here?”
“You know me so well, Darlin’,” he whispered wistfully, smiling up at her with those big blues. He wore a dopey smile as he presented his cut left hand. She pursed her lips and tried to fight the blush rising to her cheeks. Damn him.
Stepping closer, she took his calloused hand into her softer one and observed the cut. It wasn’t too deep but still needed to be cleaned and dressed.
“What happened?” She remained in between his legs as she prepped some alcohol and gauze. His right hand toyed with the fabric of her skirt. With a narrowed look, she smacked the back of it.
“Just a climbing exercise; a nail was sticking out of the wall and caught my hand.” His voice was hushed as she worked. She hummed and began cleaning the wound. He hissed and jerked his hand back. With eyes rolling, the nurse grabbed his hand more firmly.
“You big baby.”
“Your big baby.” She smacked his arm again.
<><>
Gunshots fired all around her, men shouting and screaming. Some in pain, some as a battle cry. But all she could think about was how gentle Bucky’s hands had been in hers. And how much she wished it was his hands on her right now.
But larger, rougher hands now tore at her. Pushing and pulling. She screamed from behind her gag and her hands strained against the restraints. Black boots kicked out at her captors as she fought like a feral cat. She twisted this way and that, anything to loosen their grip on her. But against four burly men, she didn’t stand a chance.
She guessed they had gotten tired of her struggling because a blunt weapon struck the back of her head and she fell limp to the ground.
It was cold. Colder than she had ever been. The air was damp, making the ache in her lungs worse. Blurry eyes peeled open. The room she sat in was dark, only a green-tinted light on the other side of the room illuminated the space. Its murky light cast deep shadows around the room that seemed to move. Her head lolled to the side as one shadow moved closer.
Ah, not shadows. Men. Hydra.
“Good evening, Miss Rogers.” His voice was heavily accented and polite. Nothing like what you’d imagine a torturer or murderer to sound like. “I am honored to have Captain America’s sister as my guest.”
She groaned. The gag was no longer wrapped around her mouth, but her tongue felt like lead. Thoughts struggled to focus and grasp what this man was saying.
“Such a shame, a First Lieutenant, Chief Nurse, so much promise in your future. But because of your brother, you’ll never get to meet that future. We have another one much better suited for you.”
His words floated through her mind but didn’t stick. She was a nurse… She helps people. Why was she here? There were soldiers at camp that needed her. Bucky needed her…
“..ucky…” She slurred, drool dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Her bones felt heavier than lead and her muscles were like the slop served at breakfast. The shadows at the edge of her vision danced ever closer.
“Don’t worry, my dear, you’ll forget the pain soon.”
<><>
Bucky tore through the camp, Steve hot on his heels. His blue eyes roved over the multitude of bodies and injured, searching for that familiar head of hair. Always done up so prettily. Like last week when she was bandaging up his hand. Her nails were painted red, and her hair was twisted up into a flawless bun. Her red-painted lips smiled warmly at him. Fear gripped his heart at the idea that he would never see that smile again.
“Bucky, stop!” Steve clamped a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, forcing the Sergeant to a stop. It wouldn’t do his sister any good if they lost their heads. As much as he wanted to tear the whole world apart until his sister was safe, he knew that reckless actions could get her killed. If she wasn’t dead already…
“She’s – she’s gone, Steve. Where is she!?” Bucky spun to face Steve, his eyes wide and slightly crazed. He can’t lose her. He never got to take her on a date. Never got to hold her close and confess how deeply and fervently he love her. Bucky bit down on his lip to stop its wobble. He can’t cry, not yet. Not while there’s still a possibility she’s out there.
“I know. I know, Buck. We’ll get her back. No matter what.”
Footsteps rushed up to the pair. A soldier stopped in front of them, slightly out of breath. “A-a letter for you, sir. It-it has the hydra insignia.”
Upon reading the contents, Steve and Bucky took off to Colonel Phillips' tent. The older man sat at a desk, signing letters to the families of the deceased and missing. Steve hardly gave the man time to put his pen down before requesting a team to rescue the captured. He decided to leave out the fact that he was only doing this to get his sister back.
“I understand the heroic need to save the day, but those who have been taken prisoner are far behind enemy lines and we don’t have the manpower or resources to conduct a rescue mission.” Phillips’ response was expected, but it didn’t stop Bucky’s jaw from clenching or his hands from balling into fists.
The Colonel looked at the two young men standing in front of him. He knew exactly why they wanted to go. Only a fool would think that Captain America wouldn’t move heaven and earth for the younger Rogers. An even bigger fool wouldn’t see the lovesick look every time James Barnes was near her, or the way his gaze follows her as she walks across the base.
Phillips sighed heavily, digging through a stack of letters yet to be signed. First Lieutenant Y/N Rogers. MIA.
Steve took the letter with shaking hands. Bucky felt a tear roll down his cheek.
They were dismissed and the two trudged away. A silent look was exchanged and they agreed. They would go after her with or without permission.
<><>
“…name… Rogers…” Chapped lips mumbled her name over and over again. A tired mind determined to hold on to herself. Don’t forget. Don’t forget. “…Y/N… Rogers…”
“Y/N?” A voice hissed.
“Y/N/N?” A different voice, closer this time.
“Steve! She’s here!” The buckles around her wrists and ankles fell off one by one. Warm, calloused hands that she dreamed about cupped her face. She groaned and willed the fog from her brain. These hands. Bucky’s hands.
“Buck…” She croaked, red lipstick smudged, and once pristine hair hanging limply around her face. His smile brightened the shadows in her vision. Steve had joined them and helped her sit up.
“Hey, doll. What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” Giving her a watery smile, he pushed the hair from her face. The cheap line earned him a weak chuckle.
“Oh, what any girl does in a place like this,” she responded. Together, the two men helped her to her feet. The room pitched suddenly, her legs giving out under her. Whatever they had given her made her legs weak.
“Guess you make me a little weak in the knees,” she joked as Bucky swept her into his arms. She tucked her head into his neck, leaning heavily into him. Steve carefully led the way out, checking around corners and taking out any enemy soldiers that they crossed paths with.
Eventually, the trio made it out of the now-burning building. A mass of freed soldiers met them and together the company fought their way back to their camp. Bucky cradled her close to his chest the entire time. He stuck close to Steve, letting him take the punches. Steve didn’t mind.
For almost two weeks she was laid up in a cot in the medical tent. It was strange, in the years that she had been an army nurse, she had been the one giving care. She had never been the patient. And the patient of her subordinates, no less.
Her closer friends teased her that she was a horrible patient. Their teasing helped ease the residual anxiety and adrenaline from her ordeal. But what had really helped, was Bucky’s constant presence. During meal time and recreation time, he would come to visit her in the medical tent. Steve would drop by as well, but it was mostly Bucky.
As the days passed, Bucky seemed more and more nervous, however. Like he had something to say, just on the tip of his tongue. Sometimes, when he maybe thought she wasn’t looking, she caught him looking guilty. She hoped beyond hope that he didn’t blame himself for what had happened.
“You’re cleared to return to light duty, First Lieutenant,” Second Lieutenant Fredricks said with a smile.
The first few days of light duty were spent organizing and assisting. Then after a week, she was cleared to begin training again. Nurses didn’t necessarily need to do the drills the men did, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t. She also preferred to stay in shape and to keep her skills from going rusty.
Growing up with her brother being bullied, Y/N learned how to defend not only herself but Steve, as well. The elder Rogers sibling didn’t care for her fighting but he did appreciate that in a pinch, she could defend herself.
In the early morning, dressed in a pair of trousers and a simple shirt, Y/N makes her way to the track. A run should be light enough.
She could make out the tall frames of Steve and Bucky amongst the other men getting ready for their morning run. Bucky smiled as she approached.
“Hey, how’s it going? You sure you’re okay to be running?” Bucky brushed his hand over hers when she stopped in front of him. The touch made her stomach flutter but she smiled confidently at him.
“Actually, I’ve never felt better. I’m tired of being cooped up in the med tent for so long.” She bent to tighten her boots’ laces. Bucky shrugged and patted her shoulder, teasingly telling her to not fall behind. She scoffed and took off after the troops in a light jog.
Steve and Bucky kept pace with her, both worrying she might become too tired and collapse. Their hovering and not-so-subtle glances did not go unnoticed by her. Irritation settled quickly in her bones. She wasn’t some fragile flower. Just because something bad happened to her doesn’t mean she going to break at any moment.
Spurred by anger, her legs moved faster on their own accord. Steve glanced at his best friend as they sped up to match. Soon, the three of them were overtaking the other troops. Bucky was breathing heavily as they passed the frontman, now in a full sprint.
“W-wait!” He panted as the two Rogers siblings were now racing down the path. How was she running that fast!? How wasn’t she tired? Her smaller frame broke past Steve, who was now struggling to keep up.
The younger Rogers didn’t even notice the concerned and shocked looks she was receiving. The wind rushing in her ears and the trees blurring in her vision was all she could focus on. She felt like she was flying; her feet barely touching the ground. She felt free.
She burst into the clearing at the end of their running trail, the morning sun warming her wind-chilled skin. The grass kicked up as she skidded to a halt. A laugh erupted from her, her head light with adrenaline and awe. Then reality sunk in.
Bucky and Steve broke through the tree line a few minutes later.
“Y/N!”
She turned to look at them, her brows scrunched together and lips forming a thin line.
“They did this to me…” She murmured, gazing turning down at her clenched fists. She had thought she was feeling so good because she survived Hydra’s torment. How quickly this revelation brought her down. They poked and prodded, injected, and dissected. They had changed her.
“Doll?” Bucky approached her slowly, hands out in front of him. Seeing her lip wobble had his heart shattering in him. Throwing caution to the wind, he wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest, drowning her sobs in the rough fabric of his shirt. Her brother stood beside them, rubbing his hand over her shoulders.
“I’ve got ya, sweets. I got ya,” Bucky muttered into her hair. “We’re gonna figure this out. It’ll be okay.”
Lord, he hoped he was telling the truth.
<><>
Months went by as she adjusted to her new abilities. After she discovered her inhuman speed, she quickly learned she was inhumanly strong. Not as strong as her brother, but definitely stronger than any other man in the camp.
She began training with the men, easily laying anyone flat during sparring. Even Steve struggled against her. While he surpassed her in strength, she made it up in speed and agility. She had been given the moniker of Lady Liberty once the higher-ups found out.
But despite the usefulness of these abilities. She couldn’t help but feel violated. Every night she woke up in a cold sweat, dreaming of their cold instruments and icy laughter. More than once she ended up in the clearing from months before.
Each time she made it out there, Bucky wasn’t far behind. He held her as he had back then, whispering comforting words and stroking her hair. This night began no differently than the others. They sat in the middle of the clearing, the half-moon illuminated above their heads.
“I’m sorry, Bucky… You don’t have to come out here with me every night.” She sniffled, wiping her tears from her cheeks. She was settled in between his stretched-out legs, her own draped over one of his thighs. He shook his head and sighed.
“I don’t mind, Doll. Really.” Soft lips pressed against her temple. “Unless you tell me to go, I won’t leave your side. I can’t.”
Shining eyes looked up into his baby blues. She had never felt so safe and protected as she did in Bucky’s arms. Even though she could easily kick his butt in a fight, she knew he would fight tooth and nail for her. And she would burn down the world for him.
There was no doubt in her mind as she pressed her lips to his. He sighed against her as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer by the waist. Everything clicked into place with this kiss. They had been dancing around this thing between them for years, neither willing to take the leap and possibly lose what they already had.
But the feeling of her lips on his, the taste of her on his tongue had him bitterly regretting not doing this sooner. How many kisses could they have had? How many dates and late nights have they missed? He sure had a lot of time to make up.
“I love you, Y/N.” His breath fanned across the skin of her neck as his kiss-swollen lips brushed along it.
“I love you, James.”
<><>
Over the next two years, the Howling Commandos slowly but surely made their way through the Hydra bases. First Lieutenant Rogers led alongside her brother, Captain Rogers. Not only as extra muscle, but as a nurse, and occasionally, spy. Bucky didn’t like the idea of his girl being ogled by slimy nazi men, but she convinced him that no one would expect a woman to be a super soldier.
She would infiltrate their meetings as a piece of eye candy, acquiring information as needed and then arresting the men as she saw fit.
But this particular mission didn’t require revealing dresses or sultry makeup. Rather, she wore a winter coat and combat boot with reinforced soles. The speed that she ran quickly ate through nearly all of her shoes.
The Commandos were all situated on a cliff overlooking another with a set of train tracks. They were waiting on the train carrying Doctor Zola. Glove-covered hands clenched at her side. Doctor Zola. One of the men who had turned her into this. Turned her into a weapon.
Bucky’s heavy hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her to his side. His soft lips brushed against her temple.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he reassured. “We go in, kick some ass, and then get out. Easy.”
She chuckled and pressed a kiss to his waiting lips. The other men had the decency to look away from the couple.
“Alright, lovebirds, let’s get a move on.” Steve’s voice called out from the edge of the cliff.
She scoffed at her brother and kissed her sergeant once more. “See you on the other side, tiger.”
<><>
Things were going south very quickly. Hydra had more gun power than she had thought. A huge man with bigger guns than himself stood in the doorway to their car. His guns glowed blue as they powered up.
Steve shoved both his sister and Bucky behind him, holding up his shield. The blast had her teeth rattling in her skull, her body flying back further than the boys. The impact of her head hitting the metal floor caused stars to dance in her vision.
She could barely comprehend the cold rush of air from the massive hole in the side of the train. And before she could gather herself, the man was priming another shot, pointed directly at her. Shaking legs tried to bare her weight as she scrambled for her gun.
Bucky had gathered himself faster than her or her brother, so she could only watch as he picked up Steve’s shield and fired a few shots at the enemy. A scream ripped from her throat when blue light shot out at her sergeant.
Bucky went flying, the shield in the other direction. Both the Rogers siblings jumped into action. Steve went for the shield, quickly taking out the other man. She leaped for the hole in the wall of the train that Bucky had flown out of.
Her eyes widened with horror as she gazed upon the man she loved, hanging on for dear life to the crumbling handrails.
“Bucky! Hold on!” She reached out to him, trying to find her footing to get to him and pull him to safety. The look in his eyes was one she had never seen on him before. Blue eyes wide with fear, his mouth poised in a silent scream. And as his fingers brushed against hers, tips barely able to curl around each other, he was gone.
His scream was joined by hers. The image of him falling to his death will forever be ingrained in her mind. It’ll be the last thing on her mind as she goes to sleep and the first one when she wakes up. It’ll be there when she fights her way through Hydra soldiers, and as she sends her fist straight into Johann Schmidt’s ugly, red face.
Steve worried about his sister’s mental health since that day. She had retreated into herself. Long gone was the witty and strong woman he knew. His sister, who had always been so bright, had been replaced by someone who only knew how to fight.
She only spoke to give orders or to communicate during battle. Her words were always clipped and to the point; no room for banter or sarcasm. The icy wall she had built around herself was all to conceal the torment her mind tortured her with.
If only she had been stronger, maybe she wouldn’t have been down for so long. If she had been faster, she could have reached him before he fell. If she had been better, maybe he wouldn’t have died. Every moment was filled with these thoughts. Awake or not. It was all she could think about.
Eventually, she became too tired. She fought with everything she had; Bucky at least deserved that. She wouldn’t give up simply because it would mean he died in vain. However, with each new opponent, she could help but wish that this one would be stronger than her.
No opponent was ever stronger than her. Until now.
It wasn’t a person that she now faced her death with. But a plane filled with explosives. Schmidt was gone, as was the Tesseract. Now, she and her brother faced the cracked windows of the plane. She tried to keep her lip from trembling as Steve spoke with Peggy.
Even if she hadn’t gotten her happy ending, she had wished her big brother would have gotten his. Tear-filled eyes opened when she felt a hand come to rest on hers. Steve’s face was solemn as he spoke.
“I’ve gotta put it in the water.” He was half telling Peggy and half asking for permission from his sister. It wasn’t just his life going down for millions of others, but his little sister’s, too. The siblings shared a weighty look before she nodded.
Lady Liberty listened quietly as Captain America spoke with Agent Carter. No.
Y/N listened brokenheartedly as her big brother said his goodbyes to the woman he loved and who loved him in return.
And as Steve redirected the plane to the icy terrain below, she closed her eyes and imagined the warm hands of her love. His blue fire eyes and easy grin. The feel of his lips against hers. The sound of her name on his tongue.
I’m coming, Bucky.