Whump - Blog Posts
Mavis' Info
Mavis is a (mostly) normal human. She's 24 and 6'1, panromantic/demi, and transgender (She/Her pronouns).
Mavis is Zero's caretaker. She lives in a relatively unpopulated area, and enjoys gardening and cooking.
She often volunteers at animal shelters and hopes to one day adopt some sort of pet, and lives off of art commissions.
Mavis is open for asks and/or whump scenarios.
Mavis' Story (TBA)
Zero's Info
Meet Zero! Zero is an Animal Shapeshifter, with his main form being a Chinchilla. He's 22 and is 5'6, as well as bisexual and transgender (He/They pronouns).
Zero was kidnapped a few months prior to his story taking place, but is still feisty and loud despite everything.
He enjoys music and video games, though hasn't had either in his captivity.
Zero is open for asks and/or whump scenarios.
Zero's Story (TBA)
Warning: This is whump. For my regular followers, if you don't want to see this, I might make a side blog for whump. But I had some ideas that I wanted to put out there so y'know.
First off, this is my first time writing these types of prompts, so if they're wonky, my apologies.
Secondly, this is all based off my own Shapeshifter lore that I don't think I've shared here, so if it doesn't make sense I might post my own original Shapeshifter stuff at some point.
(Btw I am a minor so don't interact if you're a purely nsfw blog thank youuuu)
Contents: Shapeshifter Whumpee, Pet Whump, Isolation, Dehumanization, (Non-sexual) Nudity (god this makes me sound horrible lmao)
General
Shapeshifters being sold as pets in pet stores
Shifters shifting away wounds and fucking up their physical forms
New Shifter owners keeping only one and unknowingly making them lonely and depressed
Shifter owners not providing their pets with sufficient materials to make nests
Being captured as trophies for hunters
Being refused clothes due to being "less than human"
Alternatively, Shifter owners dressing up their pets in embarrassing clothing
Forced to wear a collar that suppresses their abilities (thus preventing them from escaping easier)
Species-Specific
Animal Shifters being forced to stay an animal for long periods of time
Species Shifters being forced to change what they look like for art references
Object Shifters being forced to be lamps/tables/chairs/etc for their owners
I don't know if this is any good but I thought I'd try my hand at this!
Had an extra splitting headache today for a few hours. So all the writers of the show and fic, who give Sammy head wounds and headaches all the time, fuck you very much!
Caretaker having to learn new skills because of whumpee but its not about taking care of the wounds or how to deal with flashbacks, no.
Its about caretaker having plain straight hair while their whumpee has the most curly hair they've seen.
Learning all about how to care for that type of hair and maybe even whumpee teaching them and ending up having some bonding time.
Imagine whumper who makes their whumpee solve hard math problems.
Got it wrong?
Well that deserves a punishment, doesnt it?
Pain shot through whumpee's back as they were hit with whumper's item of choice
Rescued Whumpee afraid of falling asleep because what if they wake up and they'll be back with the Whumper? What if it was all a dream?
[A/N]: I finally wrote a thing based on this post!
TW: Injury, Character death (but it’s not any of the PT), just Yusuke not having a good time in general.
Also on AO3
For what must be the twentieth time today, Yusuke curses his luck as he dodges a shadow’s attack.
It was a restless day in Tokyo, which obviously meant changes in Mementos. There were hordes of shadows stalking the tunnels today, and a particularly bad ambush had left the Phantom Thieves scattered.
Then, to make matters worse, the Reaper just had to show up and chase him until Yusuke was forced onto a lower floor than the others.
From the snippets of conversation Yusuke managed to pick up via Necronomicon, it seemed like the others had managed to regroup and were looking for him. He just has to try his best to hold out until then.
Yusuke chuckles to himself. Easier said than done.
A fire spell comes dangerously close to striking his face.
Keep reading
Jaskier after getting captured and tortured so many times that at this point it’s a weekly occurrence:
Thinking about someone having ptsd after surviving a giant attack.
Like imagine having panic attacks whenever there's a thunderstorm approaching. Being totally fine until that first rumbling sound comes, and you're shaking and hyperventilating. Imagine the fear that comes from seeing a shadow pass over the sun, or being unable to kill roaches or spiders without feeling overwhelmingly guilty. What if you're sensitive to loud noises now. Or, whenever you're in wide open spaces, you stare into the horizon, refusing to sleep, refusing to let your guard down because you know something could appear at any moment, regardless of what everyone else says, regardless of what common sense says. Because you know what could happen if you relaxed for even a second.
Idk just ramblings while working on this next chapter (and a few other stories on the side)
Scully feels awful. She knows she looks it too, dark shadows under her eyes, all but skin and bone propped up in her hospital bed beside a laptop. Scully had sent her mother home, there was no need for her to be there when she had other things to do, she had to go to church. Scully knew this wasn’t the end for her. Not yet. She had another month at least. She was counting the. She wasn’t sure when she gone from fighting it, to dreading it, to reaching for it. Reaching for that handsome angle of death who would take her somewhere sweeter.
It was selfish, but she was tired.
Mulder had left the room to grab a coffee and Scully seized the opportunity. She knew better than to do it in bed, so she pushed herself up and leaned against the wall for support as she looked through drawer of the bedside table. Her brittle nails skimmed the paper, then her finger tips found purchase against the pack and she pulled it out. The cool press of the lighter against the dry skin of her palm was a comforting weight.
Scully drew a cigarette out of the box and took it between her lips. Her thumb struck the lighter and she held the flame to the end, almost exhaling in relief when it caught. There’d be time for that after, first she wanted to take a long drag. The nicotine flooded her system and for a moment made her feel a little more alive.
She was so engrossed in the feeling that she didn’t hear the snick of the latch moving from its spot and allowing the door to open. “Would you cut that out?” Asked an annoyed, neigh, enraged voice. Mulder stood in the door way, cheap styrofoam coffee cup in his hand. “You’re a doctor, don’t you know what that stuff does to you?”
Scully rolled her eyes and turned her head, exhaling the smoke away from Mulder. She didn’t tell him that it didn’t matter. He was so sure that he was so close to finding someone, to meeting the right person with the right tech or magic or whatever. She couldn’t burst his bubble, she could let him have his hope at least, even if she had abandoned hers.
Mulder placed the coffee cup down and crossed the room to pluck the cigarette from between her lips, tossing it on the ground and grinding it under his heel until he was sure it was out. While he cleaned up the debris, Scully lit another.
He gave her an incredulous look as she savored the taste of stress relief and college parties and rebellion on her tongue. “This,” she tapped the cig, “isn’t what put me in here, Mulder.”
LITERALLY THE REALEST THING IVE READ ALL DAY
I'm gonna be real I'm so glad raincode has such a big sickness whump community. At first I thought it was weird but then I was like. Huh. No wait I get it. I wish somebody would take care of me like that, too. It makes me happy when I see it so fuck yeah shoutout to the raincode sickness whump community yall are real as fuck
.
wait lowkey kind of thinking about it….
i feel kind of bad bc if yuma falls ill he at least has the nda to watch over him, definitely will help him feel better. Even if they dont see it themselves the nda do care for each other, and in a way theyre each other’s family and backbone.
Anyway. bouncing off the fact makoto works alone, i doubt he’d have any kind of help when he’s sick. Maybe a Peacekeeper coming in to check on him every now and then, but otherwise he’s kinda by himself too sick to get himself back to work. Little to no one checking in and actively helping him
errm ya hope you see my vision😓🤞
i love them so much i want to evaporate them </3
I wanted to point out something I read in this article. It explains perfectly exactly why Yuma and Makoto are my prime targets for this.
Let’s talk about the absurd logic of a cold in japanese anime/media for a bit w this quote.
"The deadly anime cold often strikes in two cases: when the character is either exposed for too long to the rain or they're overworked and exhausted. In both cases, the result is that the anime character falls gravely ill, often being entirely unable to even leave their bed."
…Are you for real? Come on. You KNOW this cannot be a coincidence 😂
One is always wandering in the rainy streets for hours, while the other is constantly busy and swapped with work, and he does all of it ALONE with little to no breaks.
Both of them are exposing themselves to the “deadly” anime cold that leaves them bedridden and unable to do anything about it. And with their weak and frail bodies? They are down within the evening.
Therefore, they are equally prone to being severely ill meaning they are both the frailest characters in the series. This is canon I don't make the rules. The game makes it too easy... XD
This happens hours later 🤭
Oh how I love the bullshit logic of a cold in Japanese media... XD
Makes waaay more fun for me~😈
Seriously, illness display in Japanese media is simply the best ;w; Western media just doesn’t do it justice lol >w>
Thanks for coming to my tedtalk~ These two are perfect, end of story 🤒🌡️💜
Not even gonna pretend that this thing is only getting posted because my brain is currently be hijacked by a feral whump raccoon that needs me to just post this one fic before I get to work on anything else.
please, please, please for the love of god read the tags, i get graphic in this.
For me it’s all about how you make the initially awful situation a comfort compared to other stuff, and I don’t mean this in terms of just torture vs worse torture. It’s about the way a cramped closet in the dark feels like hell at first but has since become comforting now that it’s the only place they feel safe because at least here they’re left alone. Or how a whumper can’t help but keep thinking that they’d rather be actively hurt than try to recon with the mind games and forced intimacy because at least when they’re being hurt they feel like they know how to feel about whumper. Or even little things they took for granted like a rag they used as a blanket, or disgusting food that was they’re only option, being taken away.
It’s escalation sure, but in a way that makes recovery for whumper so much harder, because of those constants, and those sources of comfort that make you feel as soon as your snapped back to the reality that it isn’t normal. in constantly choosing between the bad and the worse in their head, wishing things would go back to just being not as awful, they later realise they completely forgot about anything else. And with those few scraps of comfort being the only thing that makes them feel safe anymore, even after being rescued, can lead to some interesting and possibly harmful coping mechanisms as they try to feel normal again.
What feels comforting is often what us familiar, but sometimes what is familiar to whumper can be the furthest thing from comforting to caretaker.
But then again it really comes down to just balancing reader experiences. Too much of the same isn’t fun, you gotta dangle that hope that things can be better even if whumpee doesn’t believe it in the moment. To me they’re stories about how people survive, regardless of how different they come out the other side of it all, and that struggle will always be more interesting to me than everything constantly getting worse with no promise of resolution. Surprises are fun, but the same set up with different unique ways of whumping the whumpee can get tedious.
Idk just my thoughts.
I feel like total discomfort/ constant complete suffering can become sort of numbing for a character, taking away the impact of escalation at a certain point. It's the scraps of comfort the character gets or finds that hit harder then some of the most brutal scenes I've read/seen. That's just me though, what are yalls thoughts on this?
Good writing tool, gonna make my personal whump writing challenge really fun
i made a whump wheel
want to beat up a character but don't know how you wanna do it? same here, friend. behold, the whump wheel! it currently has 60 different prompts/tropes on it and is ready for use! 🎉 i...love this thing. it is wonderful for writing exercises. (if you wanna know what's on it before using it, take a peak at the screenshot below)
Whump Prompt for y’all
So, y’all know about wood burning kits right?
These little tool things that are literally red hot at the ends that people use to burn cool patterns into wood?
Been seeing a lot of ads for them recently, which is sad because I know I will never have the time or the money to try it.
But then I had a thought… an awful terrible whumpy idea I thought I might share with you.
Y’all know the whole brutal serial killer shebang, ‘making art’ on our poor hapless Whumpee, y’all have heard about branding, but have you considered ‘torture through drawing pretty patterns or words with iron wood burning tools’?
Idk may write this at some point, but boy would I pay good money for some quality whump and hurt/comfort featuring this concept and the horrible but calculated scars that could result.
"Such a petulant child..."
(Pose Ref is this)
ok chat I got so much ideas for whump rn
idk what type of whump do I put it as tho, help appreciated
Like two enemies (superhero/villain, an angel/a demon, you get the idea), but they go from coworkers (or other typically same side related shit), through enemies, to friends/lovers
Like for example:
Whumpee was a ruler, and soon-to-be whumper was their advisor/knight. After an event, the whumper turns away from the "good" side, and became an enemy of whumpee. Whumpee, pursuing the good path, fights them, but the whumper decides (in spite of them) to ruin everything for whumpee in exchange. They destroy the kingdom, kill people, ruin whumpee's reputation, all to get one thing — something super duper important like the position of the ruler. Whumpee, seeing that, has to come up with a better plan to get rid of whumper for good. They form a rlly good one, and "give in" to the whumper, agreeing on everything.
And that's when the whump rlly comes. Before the plan can be finished, they have to play for a bit.
JUST IMAGINE THE POSSIBILITIES
whumper picking the clothes, and actually everything for whumpee. Getting all their sense of personality stripped away
Whumper could call the whumpee stuff like "doll" or similar
Imagine whumpee being treated as a trophy
What toll is it all taking on whumpee's mind
Maybe whumpee was REALLY powerful and whumper has to take steps to contain them in a very specific way
Where is whumpee kept? A cell? Maybe a luxurious room with golden bars?
The humiliation, just imagine
What's the difference between whumpee's usual appearance and whumper's preferred one?
What clothes is whumpee forced to wear?
Restraints?? Branding??? Maybe some really luxurious looking restraints
Like you get the idea
reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something
Sam Winchester Whump | Supernatural THE HOLY BOOK (S1-S15)
1x01 Stabbed, car crash, pinned, emotional 1x02 Emotional 1x04 Insomnia 1x05 Eyes bleeding, guilt, pain 1x06 Knocked out TWICE, restrained TWICE, beaten, choked 1x07 Arm cut, thrown 1x09 Choked unconscious, pinned, emotional 1x10 Possessed, nose bleeding, punched x2, unconscious 1x14 Panic, painful visions x2, scared 1x15 Kidnapped, hunted 1x16 Clawed, bleeding, retrained, emotional, knocked down 1x17 Choked 1x18 Pinned, life drained (flashback and present) 1x19 Pinned aggressively 1x20 Choked 1x21 Painful visions, emotional 1x22 Tackled, beaten, weak, pinned, emotional, car crash
2x01 Car crash, panic, emotional 2x02 Emotional 2x03 Kidnapped, restrained, arm sliced 2x05 Painful visions x2, knocked down 2x09 Attacked, sliced, "infected," emotional 2x10 Punched multiple times, bleeding 2x11 Drunk/emotional, hungover 2x12 Bank hostage 2x13 Passes out????????????????? 2x14 Possessed, knocked out, burned 2x15 Mood swings 2x17 Clawed, heartbroken, emotional 2x21 Kidnapped, manipulated, spine stabbed, literally dies 2x22 Dead, acting weird, pinned, emotional
3x03 Cursed, trips, (25:05), knocked himself out, restrained, beaten, shot 3x07 Hunted, thrown, beaten 3x08 Sad childhood, choked, knocked out, restrained, sliced, fingernail taken, punched 3x09 Pinned, weak 3x10 Restrained & beaten 3x11 Mentally tortured, emotional 3x13 Missing, restrained, bleeding 3x14 Knocked unconscious, restrained, bloody wrists 3x15 Drugged unconscious, restrained, HIS EYE 3x16 Punched, emotional, betrayed, pinned, crying
4x02 Manhandled, beaten, pinned 4x03 (40:55+) 4x04 Punched x2, knocked unconscious, beaten, bleeding 4x07 Pain, beaten, choked, painful exorcism, nose bleeding 4x08 Struck by lightning, unconscious 4x09 Thrown, jumps from window, bleeding, flashbacks (grieving, beaten) 4x10 Choked 4x12 Restrained 4x13 Bullied childhood, nards kicked, punched, guilt 4x14 Neck bleeding, poisoned, Dean fistfight 4x15 Scared (40:40+) 4x18 Manipulated 4x19 Manipulated, knocked unconscious, sliced, bleeding out 4x20 Betrayed, trapped 4x21 Intense withdrawl, hallucinations (tortured, manipulated, emotional), seizures, restrained, angst, emotional pain (39:20+) 4x22 Manipulated, panic 5x01 Guilt, emotional, choking, (hated the whole episode) 5x02 Knocked unconscious, captured, guilt, scared 5x03 Guilt, manhandled, manipulated, scared 5x04 Possessed 5x05 Choked, knocked unconscious, restrained 5x06 Pinned 5x08 Nut "cracked" 5x09 Thrown, restrained 5x11 Manipulated, drunk, restrained, guilt/angry 5x12 Freaky friday, tranquilized, restrained 5x13 Stabbed, dies 5x14 Addicted, withdrawal 5x16 Killed 5x18 Thrown, hemorrhaging 5x19 Choked 5x21 Nausea, collapse, bleeding, tackled 5x22 Unconscious, possessed, scared, "dead"
6x03 Annoyed, acting strange 6x06 Acting strange, knocked unconscious, restrained, sliced, beaten unconscious 6x07 Restrained, bleeding, pain, diagnosed 'soulless', choked, 6x09 Beaten, bleeding 6x10 Biteas himself, bleeding 6x11 Worried, knocked unconscious (x2), leg scraped, bleeding, restrained, panic, pain 6x12 Emotional, guilt 6x13 Guilt, restrained, collapse, convulsing, Hell 6x14 Unconscious 6x17 Threatened 6x21 Knocked unconscious, dragged 6x22 Scared, comatose, (10:15), hunted, weak
7x01 Weak, (02:50), bloody nose, collapse, hand bleeding, hallucinating (Hell; hanged, manipulated torture), (23:50) 7x02 Hallucinating (choked, manipulated), freakout, hand pain, panic/confused, hand bleeding, knocked unconscious, head trauma, seizure 7x03 Unconscious (03:50), hallucinating, flashback (punched), punched 7x05 Pain, choked 7x06 Framed, interrogated, feels betrayed, angry 7x07 Angry 7x08 Missing, mind controlled/drugged, withdrawals, headache, knocked unconscious, restrained, choked 7x11 Choked, bitten unconscious x2, restrained, poisoned, weak 7x14 Clown phobia, scared as hell, punched x2, bleeding 7x15 Head hit, hallucinating (tortured) 7x16 Insomnia/torture, spacing out 7x17 Insomnia/torture, hit by a car, hospitalized, hallucinating, passes out, electrocuted, pain 7x18 Buzzed, knocked unconscious
8x01 Knocked down, arm sliced 8x03 Thrown, choked 8x06 Berated, beaten, bloody nose, heartbroken 8x08 Heartbroken 8x09 Manipulated, heartbroken 8x10 Angry, choked 8x11 Choked 8x12 Thrown 8x13 Poisoned, dying, unconscious 8x14 First trial, pain 8x15 Thrown, paralyzed 8x16 Coughing blood, thrown, pinned 8x17 Coughing blood, beaten, bloody noose, (23:25-24:20) 8x18 Knocked unconscious (38:20), restrained 8x19 Punched, arm sliced, thrown/pinned, second trial, pain 8x20 Exhausted, dizzy, punched, shoved, (33:40), punched x3 8x21 Tinnitis/resonating, delerious, fever, passes out, angry 8x22 Coughing, upset 8x23 Manipulated, emotional, crying, extreme pain
9x01 Comatose, dying, punched x3, manipulated, possessed 9x02 Beaten, knocked unconscious 9x03 Thrown, knocked unconscious x2 9x04 Passes out, mind controlled, knocked down 9x05 Sliced, seriously bleeding, knocked out 9x07 Pinned 9x08 Exhausted, thrown, unconscious, (38:00), confused 9x09 Concerned time skips, body held hostage 9x10 Hostage, knocked unconscious, restrained, probed/tortured, thrown, choked, weak, guilt 9x11 Grace extracted, extreme pain, reverting/dying, nose/eyes bleeding 9x12 Unconscious, restrained 9x13 Pinned, kicked, choked 9x14 Trapped 9x15 Tazed, restrained 9x16 Restrained, face/neck sliced, pinned 9x17 Punched to the ground x2, pain, choked 9x18 Angry (Gadreel) 9x19 Hit, blood drained, weak 9x23 Sobbing, greiving
10x01 Sling, knocked out, hostage 10x02 Tortured/beaten, pain, knocked unconscious 10x03 Manipulated, guilt, flashback (desperate), hunted 10x04 Choked x2, kicked down 10x06 Scared 10x07 Punched x2 10x08 Knocked down, weak, passes out 10x12 Thrown, weak 10x13 Tackled, choked 10x18 Choked 10x19 Manipulated, bleeding out, passing out, slapped, weak 10x20 Knocked unconscious, headbutted x2, punched 10x21 Scared 10x22 Guilt, desperate, thrown 10x23 Beaten by Dean, emotional
11x01 Hunted, infected, manhandled/choked 11x02 Infected, Hell flashbacks, dying, pain 11x03 Thrown 11x04 Bleeding 11x06 Choked, Hell flashbacks x2, collapse 11x07 Clown phobia, scared, choked, knocked unconscious 11x08 Guilt, glum, emotional 11x09 Manipulated, scared, trapped 11x10 Trapped, scared, manipulated, beaten 11x11 Insomnia, pinned, hand sliced, guilt 11x12 Hit x3 11x13 Pinned, cursed/choked 11x14 Pinned, threatened, extreme pain, collapses/unconscious 11x16 (27:10), Punched x2 11x17 Shot, extreme pain the whole episode, suffocated, "dead" 11x20 Collapse, pain, passes out, comforted 11x23 Shot (offscreen)
12x01 Shot, kidnapped, tortured (cold, burned, drugged/hallucinating), "dead", electroshocked x2, kicked, scared 12x02 Tortured (drugged, cut), bleeding, exhausted 12x03 Thrown 12x04 Knocked unconscious, trapped 12x05 Punched x2 12x06 Bruised, thrown 12x09 "Dead" 12x11 Painful tinnitus, bleeding, kidnapped, unconscious 12x12 Punch multiple times 12x18 Hit by sledgehammer x2 12x19 Thrown, knocked unconscious 12x20 Choked 12x22 Trapped underground, exhausted, suffocating
13x01 Knocked unconscious, manhandled, thrown, beaten 13x02 Choked 13x04 Therapy, emotional 13x05 Thrown 13x06 Thrown 13x07 Kicked, flashbanged 13x08 Punched, thrown, knocked unconscious 13x09 Punched 13x10 Knocked unconscious 13x11 Depressed, knocked unconscious, restrained 13x12 Choked, lucifer trauma, paralyzed, manhandled, choked 13x14 Burning alive (Jacks nightmare), attacked 13x15 Knocked unconscious 13x16 Slapped 13x17 Poisoned, passes out, weak, kidnapped 13x18 Attacked, thrown, choked 13x19 Passes out, restrained, pain 13x20 Choked, manhandled 13x21 Bit, bleeding out, collapse, dead, scared 13x23 Tinnitus, punched x2, missing, kicked, choked, pain, punched
14x01 Depressed, tired, thrown, manhandled, punched x3 14x03 Knocked down, 14x04 Knocked unconscious, halloween trauma 14x07 Worried, emotional 14x08 Emotional, grieving 14x09 Hit by bat, thrown, knocked unconscious, manhandled 14x10 Punched, pushed 14x11 Emotional pain 14x12 Emotional outburst, crying 14x13 Punched x3, emotional/daddy issues, choked, thrown, beaten, bleeding 14x14 Emotional, choking, blind, pain, tinnitus 14x15 Depressed, guilt, mind controlled, extreme pain, head almost explodes, emotional 14x17 Angry, guilt, beaten bloody, head trauma, dying, comforted, passes out 14x18 Emotional 14x20 Shot
15x01 Sliced, mysterious bullet pain, kicked multiple times, comforted 15x03 Crying, mourning/guilt 15x04 Demon Sam "nightmare", emotional 15x05 Lucifer Sam "nightmare", knocked unconscious, nightmare (beaten, choked, stabbed/killed) 15x06 Cursed, hemorrhaging, weak, kidnapped, stabbed (voodoo), extreme pain x2 15x07 Bullet pain, knocked unconscious, poisoned, dying 15x08 Kicked, choked 15x09 Restrained, bullet wound mangled, pain, manipulated (guilt, shot), (35:50), heartbroken 15x10 Unlucky, trips, sick, spicy pepper recovery, punched 15x12 Beaten 15x13 Thrown 15x14 Pinned, tortured (4 fingernails ripped off), thrown 15x16 Thrown, angry 15x17 Choked, punched, headbutted, emotional, crying 15x19 Beaten bloody, arm dislocated 15x20 Tackled, sobbing
We finally got a photo of Izzy's back
you read stuff on wattpad for shit and giggles where most of the fics there are reader-inserted ones written in 1st person pov where y/n is a barely legal white girl with blonde hair and blue “orbs” who’s so smol and fragile that she’s dependent entirely on this morally questionable guy who’s killing people for a living but for some reason happens to have a soft spot for her.
you read real actual literature on archive of our own where it’s two middle aged men, who are each other’s sworn enemies, with tragic past, trauma and strong homoerotic tension. and while they’ve made each other bleed, killed each other’s friends and loved ones out of jealousy / possessiveness, lied and betrayed and manipulated, the rawness, depth, complexity and slow burn will keep you up all night, haunt you during your day and possibly change your life forever. and also the sex isn’t just smut. the sex is poetry that puts Shakespeare to shame
Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)
Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.
Words: 5.3K
Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers
Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.
Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.
According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.
For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.
"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.
Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.
"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"
He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.
His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.
"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.
"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"
It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"
"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.
Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.
"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"
"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."
Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.
"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."
"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."
You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.
"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."
Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.
Something really bad must've happened...
"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.
You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.
You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."
He nods again.
"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.
Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.
"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.
He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.
"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.
Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that.
"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?
He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."
Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."
"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.
"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.
From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.
"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"
"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"
You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."
Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"
He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.
"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."
"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."
At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.
"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"
"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."
You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.
"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.
"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"
"You good?"
"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."
You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.
"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."
"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.
"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."
Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.
Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.
"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."
Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.
The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.
Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.
You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.
"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.
"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.
Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.
Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"
"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"
"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.
"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.
Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.
With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.
"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.
He wants you to join him.
To wash him.
Take care of him.
The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.
"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.
With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.
He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."
"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.
The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.
Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.
"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.
Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."
"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.
He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.
"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"
"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.
"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."
You look up into his eyes.
He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.
"I know, Buck."
"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.
"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.
He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.
You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.
Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.
"Want me to wash your hair?"
"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."
You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.
"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.
"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."
You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -
"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."
"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.
"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."
You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.
"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."
"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.
"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.
"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.
"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."
"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."
"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."
"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."
"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.
You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.
"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."
"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."
"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."
He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.
"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.
"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."
"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.
Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.
"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.
"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.
The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.
You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.
"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.
You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.
"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."
You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.
"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.
"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.
"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.
"I love you too."
"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."
Your breath hitches in your throat.
"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."
You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.
He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."
"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."
"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.
"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."
With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.
His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"
"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.
He's finally smiling and it's because of you.
"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."
You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."
"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.
"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"
"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"
"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."