#WAVES AND WIRES MY BELOVED

[spirngakawening]

Obligatory spotify wrapped top songs

1: バイバイ YESTERDAY – 3年E組うた担(渚&茅野&業&磯貝&前原)

2: Waves and Wires – How to Dance in Ohio (Original Broadway Cast Recording) – Liam Pearce, Imani Russell, Amelia Fei, Ashley Wool, Conor Tague, Madison Kopec, Desmond Luis Edwards, Cristina Sastre, Darlesia Cearcy, Nick Gaswirth, Carlos L. Encinias, Haven Burton, Melina Kalomas, Caesar Samayoa

3: Good Kid – The Lightning Thief (Original Cast Recording) – Chris McCarrel, The Lightning Thief Company, Rob Rokicki

4: Nightmare Time – Original StarKid Cast of Nightmare Time

5: No.7 – Jibaku Shonen Band

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Not A Scar I'd Want to Fade

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (p in v, fingering, praise kink), angst, light fluff, humor, no use of y/n, memory loss, enemies to lovers.

Summary: Bucky can't remember anything, but he's not the Soldier. He simply can't remember. If you tell him something, he forgets everything again.

But he always remembers you first. And he loves you every time.

Author's Note: Memory fics my beloved you've never done anything wrong. Also learning I might be a whore for the non-linear fics. I can't stop writing them. Enjoy!

Word Count: 10.6k

“You in there, Buck?” A taller, long faced man was waving a hand in front of Bucky’s face. In Bucky’s face. 

“Sam.” Another man, broader and blond, sighed, and the first man shook his head.

“I’m testing something, man. Look.” The first man snapped his fingers, and Bucky frowned at him. “Didn’t even fuckin’ blink. I don’t think he’s in there.”

“He’s in there. Bucky, we-” The second man paused. “Look, he blinked at him name. That’s got to mean something, right Bruce?”

A third man—since when did Bucky know so many fucking people—leaned down, scanning over Bucky’s face over thin-wired glasses. “I don’t know. I’ve told you, Steve, I’m not that kind of doctor, but-“ 

The third man said a name. It was a good name, bright and clear and musical—like a song Bucky could feel scratching at the base of his head in a pleasant static—and he realized the third man was addressing someone over his shoulder.

A woman. Bucky certainly didn’t know any women. And this one was standing right at his shoulder, her hands tugging at the sleeve of her shirt and her features open and nervous.

She was beautiful. And Bucky had seen beautiful things before, but this was different. She was different, and everything about Her seemed soft right now as She bounced on her toes and chewed on her lip, but there were sharp things too. Harsh edges that Bucky wanted to cut into his skin, and sticky traps he wanted to fall into.

She looked like Her name.

Good and clear. 

Bucky didn’t know who She was, but there was something about Her that, as the rest of the world was fuzzy over his head, remained clear. 

The third man cleared his throat, giving Her a look Bucky didn’t understand. “Maybe you could-“

“No.” 

“But-“

“I’m not a doctor at all, Bruce.” She hissed, and there were the sharp things Bucky had—somehow—known about. Spikes, flaring up in defense. “And I’m not doing that to him. Ever.”

The second man said Her name, gently. With more familiarity than the third.

Bucky didn’t like that. He wanted to be the one who was familiar with Her.

“It would be helping him-“

“No, it wouldn’t.” She snapped. “I promised him, Steve, I said I never do that to him-“

“Look,” The second man—Steve? He looked like a Steve—sighed. “You know I don’t want anything like this happen to him either-“

“But you’re still asking me to.”

“Because we don’t have another choice-“

“Fine.” She raised Her chin, crossing her arms over her chest. “You do it, then.”

The first man blinked, and said Her name carefully. “You know he can’t do that, right?”

She gave the first man a flat look. “I’m aware, Sam. That’s the point.” Her attention returned to Steve—Stevie? He actually looked more like a Stevie—as her eyes narrowed. “You don’t have to be the one to do it to him. You don’t get to tell me I have to.”

Stevie sighed again. “I know it’s- It’s not a fair thing to ask, but we could lose him forever-“

“Don’t.” She mumbled, and suddenly She was soft again. Bucky really didn’t understand what was going on. “Don’t say that. Please. I just- I can’t.”

The first man—Sam? He was a Sam—said Her name gently. “You wanna go for a walk or-“

“No. I’m not leaving him.”

The third man—they’d said his name, but it hadn’t felt as important as the other three—gave Bucky a cautious look as he spoke. “If you won’t use your… thing,” he said Her name, and She tensed behind Bucky. He wanted to hold Her, and soothe Her, but he wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to. “Then we’ll have to wait for Tony to get back from Singapore.”

Sam frowned. “Why’s Tony in Singapore?”

“I stopped asking those kinds of questions a while ago.”

Stevie said Her name, and there was a tone of defeat to it. Like he knew he was already fighting a pointless battle. “Please. I know it’s too much to ask, but this- Bucky would want you to-“

“Don’t tell me what he’d want.” She whispered, and Bucky felt a little like a child. He didn’t know why, but he was leaning back closer to the woman. He trusted Her, and there was something magnetic pulling his body to Hers, telling him nothing’s going to hurt him as long as She’s there. Just like nothing’s going to hurt Her as long as he’s alive.

“I know-“

“You don’t.” She cut Stevie off with short, soft words. “This is his worst nightmare, Steve. He- He’s had this nightmare, and I don’t- I won’t make it worse. I promised.”

“But he doesn’t even remember the promise.” Sam said pointedly. “You promised your Bucky, not-“

“Sam.” Stevie’s voice was a warning, his opinion suddenly pivoted to Her side, and Sam’s mouth snapped shut. “Drop it.”

She gave Stevie a grateful look, and Bucky wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak now. But he wanted Her to look at him instead, and there was only one way to do that which didn’t involve pushing his luck, and touching Her.

Bucky cleared his throat, and all their eyes shot to him. It was weird.

“I, uh- Sorry. Who are you people?”

The third man sighed, Sam grimaced slightly, Stevie tensed, and She looked shattered. Her lip was wobbling, and Her nose was scrunched, and Bucky had done something wrong. He hadn’t meant to break anything, but She was going to cry-

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to cry, doll-“

She made a small, choked sound and Bucky reached for Her on some sort of instinct he couldn’t remember having, but ripped his hand back the moment it came into his vision.

“Why is my hand- It’s metal-“ He looked over to Sam and Stevie with wide eyes. “What happened to me?”

“That’s not good.” Sam muttered, exchanging a firm look with Stevie. “What, uh-“

Stevie said Her name, voice gentle and smooth. Soothing. Bucky didn’t like it. “Sam’s gonna take you for that walk, okay.”

She shook Her head frantically, and Bucky saw Her reach for him, before flinching back with a weak sound. “I don’t want to leave him-“

“You’re not leaving him, we just have to explain what’s happening, and-“

“Can you stop talkin’ about me like I’m not here?” Bucky didn’t know where the harshness in his tone came from. He just knew he didn’t want Her to leave. “I know you’ve been talking about me. I’m not stupid.”

Sam snorted, and Stevie shot him another look. “We don’t think you’re stupid, Buck, it’s just- you don’t know who we are, and-“

“You could start by telling me.”

“We’ve tried.” Sam shrugged. “Every time we say it, you just forget.”

Bucky didn’t have an answer to that. He didn’t remember forgetting things, but that would make sense. 

Stevie said Her name again, nodding his head to the door, and Bucky sprung to his feet. He really didn’t want Her to go.

“Woah.“ The third man—Bucky had forgotten he was there—took a long step back. “Steve, did that happen before-“

“No.” Stevie muttered, watching Bucky carefully. “Buck, what are you-“

“I don’t want her to leave.” He snapped, moving to block Her from Stevie’s path. Nothing was going to take Her. And Bucky knew in a split second that he’d fight to keep Her here.

The third man blinked. “I, uh, I’ll go call Tony now.”

Stevie nodded, his gaze never leaving Bucky’s. “Can you remember anything? Do you- Do you know who she is?”

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, to where She was watching him with wide eyes. 

She was looking at him. She’d looked at Bucky before, but not like this. Not so close, not like a floodlight, not cleaving straight into his body and making him fall further into Her than he’d thought possible.

She was looking at him like She looked at the stars. With the same longing.

Bucky deserved it less than the stars. Hell, they’d been under the stars only minutes ago, and She’d still chosen to look at him. 

She was so close. He could feel the heat from Her body, and he’d been on missions to tropics and deserts, but She was still the warmest thing he’d ever felt.

Bucky wanted Her. He’d always wanted Her. 

He whispered Her name, and hoped she understood it was a prayer. “What are you doing?”

She gave him a small smile, and Bucky didn’t think he’d survive it if She ever left. “Whatever you want me to be doing.”

He wanted all of it. All of Her.

Bucky wanted all of Her.

He blinked, and they were all staring at him. He didn’t know how long he’d been silent, but they’d asked him a question.

Somehow, he knew the answer.

He said Her name slowly. Carefully. With all the care it deserved. “She’s- Mine. My girl. I don’t- You’re,” he twisted to meet Her gaze, and She was watching him with nervous, open eyes. “I don’t know. But we’re something, right?”

Her throat bobbed, and She didn’t look away. 

That was good. Bucky really didn’t want any part of Her to go away.

“Yeah. We are.” She gave a small nod to Sam and Stevie. “You know who they are?”

He did. Somehow, through another hazy and colorful flash, Bucky knew that they were his friends. A memory of a shifting and blurry version of Stevie—where he was small and scrawny one second, then broad and tall the next—covered Bucky’s vision, and that was his brother. With him till the end of the line. Then it moved into Sam, and Bucky was breaking things and no one else was there, but Sam was. Sitting with him on some sort of roof, talking and talking about nothing until a phantom ringing in Bucky’s ears faded, and he felt okay. Less like a machine, and more like a person, and based on the shit-eating grin the version of Sam in his head had given him, that had been the goal the whole time. 

Bucky didn’t tell them exactly what he saw. That didn’t feel important. 

What seemed to matter was their expressions. Weary relief and smiles. He’d done something better.

He’d done something good.

“You don’t think,” Sam gave Steve a cautious look. “I mean, y’all didn’t tell me what hit him-“

“Looked like some sort of gas.” Steve muttered. “Nat translated the files, she says it’s an early stage bioweapon for… him. Make him fully forget everything, unable to even hear anything about who he is.”

She shook Her head, and She was standing really close to Bucky. Almost leaning away, like She was trying not to move closer. “But he remembered me. He wanted me to stay.”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe it’s an alien thing-“

“Not everything is an alien thing-“

“This could be, though-“

“It’s not-“

Stevie raised his hand, and She and Sam both fell silent, Sam grinning and Her glaring daggers that Bucky was pretty sure would split him open, if they were aimed in his direction.

“I don’t think it’s an alien thing, Sam.” Stevie muttered. “They are… closer.”

“Really close.” Sam wiggled his brows, and She scowled.

“I’ll scramble your brains like soup, Wilson.”

“You don’t scramble soup. That’s not good food.” Sam raised his brows. “Is that an alien thing-“

She started to lunge at Sam, and Bucky caught Her. It was another instinct. Don’t let the good thing get taken away, no matter how hard She tries to get herself locked up.

She felt right, under his touch. Familiar. Like what he was supposed to be touching. 

But they were all staring at him like he’d done something wrong.

“I, uh-“ He forced himself to release Her, and She was looking at him with big, glossy eyes. He’d really done something wrong. She was going to cry again. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Ja- Bucky, please don’t be sorry.” She turned to Stevie, something in Her voice desperate. “He remembers me, Steve, he wouldn’t touch me if he didn’t remember me-“

“Maybe, just-” Stevie groaned, rubbing his brow. “Bucky, why’d you touch her?”

There was no image accompanying this part. Just something that was the truth. “Because I’m allowed to.”

She swallowed, lip wobbling again, and why did Bucky keep breaking Her, he really didn’t want to, he wanted to hold Her and fuse Her together and make Her smile, he was supposed to make Her smile, the mission was to make Her smile, so why did he keep breaking Her-

“Bucky?” She said his name, Her voice soft, and he didn’t know what to do but listen. “Do you know why you’re not supposed to touch me?”

“Didn’t they tell you?”

Bucky stared at Her, his hand still extended for Her to shake. But She wasn’t taking it. She was just blinking at him with pretty eyes, and somehow, he’d already fucked something up. “Uh, tell me what?”

“That you shouldn’t touch me.” She whispered, a little hair floating in front of Her hair on the night breeze. Bucky wanted to tuck it behind Her ear. “No one’s supposed to touch me.”

He scanned over Her carefully. She didn’t look like a threat. Her hands were folded behind Her back, and she was shivering slightly from the cold of being on the balcony, which would already put her at a disadvantaged in a fight. No visible weapons, nothing cruel on Her soft and clear features, no instinct twisting in Bucky’s gut to defend himself. 

There was only a feeling to protect Her. To maybe fold himself over Her body until she was warm, and he was useful.

Bucky really hadn’t been useful all night, but he’d been trying. For Steve, he’d been really fucking trying to listen to all the break downs of the millions of super-people and all their special little things. There was a man who had magic rings and a bunch of sorcerers who seemed pretty high and mighty about it, plus a group of awfully loud aliens who had been stealing silverware all night, and a very bouncy young girl who had been incredibly enthusiastic about meeting Bucky. 

She’d meant well. But he’d mostly just stared at her, and even if the girl hadn’t been offended, Bucky still felt like he should’ve tried harder. Done better.

It was how he’d ended up on the balcony, with the woman who didn’t even want to shake his hand. 

A lot of people wouldn’t want to shake Bucky’s hand. Even though he’d only ever offer the human one.

But She made it sound like Bucky shouldn’t want to shake Her hand.

He really didn’t get that. She seemed lovely, and very few things were lovely anymore.

“Why?”

She tilted Her head at him. “Did Steve really not tell you about me?”

Bucky shook his head, although Steve might have told him, and he just hadn’t been paying attention. “Should he have?”

“No, I just thought-“ She sighed. “Never mind.”

Bucky frowned. “Are you and Steve close?”

“Yes- No, it’s- Ask him about it.”

Bucky didn’t want to ask Steve anything. He wanted to stay here and keep talking to Her. “About what?”

“Me.”

“Can’t you tell me about you?”

She gave him an odd look. “You shouldn’t hear it from me. You shouldn’t be out here with me at all.”

“Why.”

“I might touch you.”

“Are you gonna touch me, doll?”

It just slipped out. And Bucky was going to apologize for it—the over familiar pet-name that he had no right to say—but She flushed, and the sweetest smile he’d ever seen crossed Her face. “No. I- I don’t touch people unless they ask, or I have to.”

He was too far in now. He didn’t know Her name, but God, he really wanted to. Wanted Her. 

That should be worrying. 

It was just electric and clear. 

“What if I want you to touch me?” He extended his hand once more, flexing him fingers. “I’m James Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky. Nice to meet you.”

That was the first time he’d said it all night and meant it.

It felt good.

And She was just looking between Bucky’s face and his hand, Her eyes wide and nervous. “I know. Who you are.”

“Well, I don’t know who you are. This is supposed to be the part where I find that out.” He prompted, and if She ran, he’d live with it. This was a risk. But he wanted to take the jump. “C’mon, doll. My arm is getting tired.”

It was a lie. She had to know it was a lie, if She knew who Bucky was. But Her lips still pulled into a small smile, and it almost knocked the air from Bucky’s lungs. 

He gave himself a new mission. It had been a habit, even in Wakanda, to make things easier to do. If it was a mission, it wasn’t for himself, it was because he had to. The mission was to eat. To drink water. To sleep and not fight it. To give an awkward, weak smile to three new people that day. 

Bucky could be done with that now.

The mission was to make Her smile. 

“Are you sure,” She whispered, nodding to Bucky’s hand, and he snorted. 

He’d never been more sure of anything in his life. 

The room faded back in again, and Bucky met Her nervous gaze.

“I- Nobody else is supposed to touch you.” He muttered. “But you said I could. If I wanted to.”

Sam cleared his throat. “And you wanted to?”

“Of course.” Bucky rolled his eyes. It was an insane question. He was meant to touch Her. It was right. 

She was beaming at him. It was like all the stars concentrated into one. 

They seemed to have found something that made them all happy. Made Her happy. 

Bucky was doing something right, because he was allowed to stay near Her. And every time he answered one of Her questions it made Her happy, made Her smile, so the mission was going well.

“Do you know where we are?” She asked, and Bucky frowned around the room. It was big, painted and decorated in soft colors, cluttered with clothing and books, and there was a drawer spilling over with wires and a mug on a bedside table-

“I made you tea.” Bucky muttering, glancing down at Her as he moved the mug into her hands.

All her beauty still there, but it was faded. Losing color.

He was worried. He didn’t know how to say just how worried he was—twisted and sick to his deeper than his stomach about it–without pushing too far. This was already all so delicate. He wouldn’t break it. Lose it.

“Thank you.” She whispered, giving him a soft smile. “You didn’t have to-“

“Yeah, I did.”

She swallowed, but didn’t break his gaze.

And there was a little color. In Her eyes. 

Good.

“The doctor-“ Bucky cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “They wouldn’t tell me what happened, and you don’t gotta tell me, but-“

“I’m just sick.” She shrugged, curling deeper into Her bed. “And it’s affecting me different than it would other people. I’ll be fine.”

Bucky paused, scanning over her carefully. “Is it a human sickness?”

She shook Her head. “Mantis was on Earth, and she brought me a plant. It was carrying a toxin that’s, apparently, really bad for me.”

Bucky tensed, and he was ready to storm out and demand to know how the hell anyone let this happen, why the fuck Mantis was allowed to bring an alien plant onto the compound in the first place, and roar that everyone do more than just make Her lie there.

But She caught his arm before he could even move from Her side. 

“She didn’t mean to, James. There was no way for her to know.” She sighed, scanning over Bucky carefully, squeezing his arm slightly. “Can you please stay?”

Bucky muttered Her name. He wanted to. Fuck, he really wanted to stay and care for Her, but- “I’m not supposed to be in here at all. Tony put on ‘plague protocol’.”

“But it’s not a plague, it’s just me-“

“He doesn’t care. Nobody’s allowed to leave their rooms.”

She frowned. “James.”

He raised his brows, as if he had no clue where this was going. 

“How are you in my room?”

Bucky shrugged. “I bribed Friday.”

“You can’t bribe an AI-“

“But I did.” He’d actually threatened the AI, and begged her, and been very pathetic and annoying about seeing his girl until Friday gave up and let him leave. His girl did not need to know that. “But I only get fifteen minutes, then I gotta go back to my room.”

“Oh.” She sighed, playing with Bucky’s fingers, still in Her hand. “What if this was your room? Would you… have to stay here?”

Bucky felt a grin split over his face. “You want this to be my room, doll?”

“Do you want-“

“Yes.”

She flushed, and he got another smile as their eyes met. “Okay.”

“It’s our room.” Bucky frowned at Her. “Are we- Something?”

She flinched slightly, but nodded.

Bucky felt bright. He was something to Her. Whoever he was, he was something, and it got to be for Her.

“We’re… Yeah.” She sighed, and gave him an apologetic look he didn’t understand or want. “I can sleep on the couch, or the floor-“

“No.” That was easy to say. Bucky didn’t want Her to leave, or go anywhere that he couldn’t grab Her. “We can share.”

“Are you sure?”

“You ask that too much, doll.” Bucky drawled, grinning at Her from across the gym mat, and She flushed.

“I told you I wouldn’t use it on you-“

“But I’m telling you to use it on me.” Bucky shrugged. “Make me punch myself in the face.”

She shook Her head. “I’m not gonna do that-“

“But I want you to-“

“James-“

“I’d rather you practice on me and know what you’re doing,” Bucky said Her name, his tone as firm as possible, and Her eyes widened. “If you get caught in a situation, you need to know how to get out of it. Let’s go.”

Bucky raised his fists, but She still didn’t move.

“But- What if I hurt you?”

“You won’t.”

“But-“

Bucky repeated Her name, holding Her gaze. “I’m sure. I always am. Let’s go.”

She was still looking him. In every memory Bucky’s brain was dragging up, She was looking at him. Asking if he was sure, just as She had now. 

“Always am.” He said Her name with a shrug, and She smiled again. 

That was it. 

Bucky got to keep Her a little longer.

Tony was taking a while. Bucky didn’t know who Tony was—when they asked him, all his brain scraped up was a cold winter day and a lot of blood—but he was taking a while to get back home. 

Until he did, Bucky’s day was all questions. 

“What’s your favorite color?” Steve asked him in the kitchen a few mornings later, and Bucky frowned.

“Purple.” Steve told him, both of them crouched in the corner of a concrete yard. A lot of noise was coming from their classmates, but none of it was important. “Is the best for drawing and painting. Everyone likes purple.”

Bucky frowned. He didn’t know about everybody, but he thought purple was just okay. “What colors are bad?”

“Orange. People hate orange.”

“What do you like?”

Steve paused, and frowned at the chalk in his hand. “Doesn’t matter what I like. People aren’t gonna like what I like.”

That was stupid. “I like what you like.”

“That’s cause you’re my friend, Buck. People aren’t gonna want my art cause of me. Nobody wants things cause of me.”

“Stop being dramatic, Stevie.” Bucky muttered, sitting fully on the ground, careful to avoid Steve’s drawing. “Just tell me what your favorite color is.”

Steve sighed. “I don’t like my favorite color.”

“That doesn’t make sense-“

“It’s a weak color, Bucky.” Steve muttered, adding another line to the pavement. “I don’t want people to keep callin’ me weak, just cause of a color.”

Bucky didn’t think colors could be weak. They were colors. It was like calling one animal more alive than another. “You know, you’re supposed to tell me when people are calling you weak, punk.”

“I’m not tryin’ to make you fight people again.”

“I don’t fight them.” Bucky shrugged. “I save you from fightin’ them, or I punch them when they say something stupid.”

“They’re not stupid. I am weak.”

“No, you’re not. And neither is your secret color I’m not allowed to know about-“

“Pink.” Steve mumbled, glaring at the pavement. “It’s like my ma’s flowers.”

Bucky nodded slowly. He knew what flowers Steve was talking about. They grew in a small pot in the Roger’s place, and winter was always cold, but the flowers kept blooming. “Alright.”

“Alright?”

“Pink’s my favorite color.” Bucky shrugged, and that was the end of the discussion.

Bucky repeated the words of his memory aloud, and Steve beemed. It was the happiest Bucky had seen him yet. Then he looked at Her, and another memory hit him, all on its own, like a fucking truck.

She was more alive than all the other people here. Dressed in the prettiest pink he’d ever seen, looking like one of Steve’s old chalk drawings come to life.

But more permanent. Those had always washed away with rain or faded with the sun.

She was to clear to be anything but permanent. 

Bucky still didn’t know how to talk to Her. 

He’d tried to. A lot. In the kitchen and the gym and during “Mandatory Team Bonding” nights. But he always choked on his tongue like some idiot, and She always looked too beautiful to approach. They hadn’t had a proper conversation since that night on the balcony. He hadn’t made Her smile one, and She always looked nervous when he approached. Like he’d already ruined this before he’d even got to have it. 

But it was almost inhuman, how all the light seemed to make a rainbow halo around Her, and all the shadows enhanced Her features like some angel or demon or goddess or-

“Why are you looking at her.” 

Bucky started slightly, and the woman next to him was blue. She’d been one of the silverware thieves, that first night. “I, uh-“

“Do not look at her.” The woman said, and it seemed like an order. “It makes her nervous.”

Bucky frowned, glancing back to see Her talking to the bug-girl and magic tree, Her arms wrapped tight around her own body. “Other people are looking at her.”

“You’re not other people.”

“What does that mean-“

“You’re going to hurt her.” The blue woman snapped, and Bucky’s eyes widened. “And if you hurt her, I will break you. So do not hurt her.”

“I- I’ve never even talked to her-“

“Yes, you have. You let her touch you.”

“How’d you know about that-“

“Because she told us.” 

Bucky had felt lost in conversations a lot since he’d officially joined the 21st century. This was the worst case of it yet. “Why was she talking to you?”

“Because we are her family. You,” the blue woman’s eyes poked Bucky’s chest, her eyes narrowing. “Are not. She likes it here. She doesn’t want to return with us, so we will not be able to protect her. Do not hurt her.”

“Return-“

“To the ship.” The blue woman leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing on Bucky’s. “I will break you, metal-armed man. I have broken stronger men for less. You are warned.”

He was. Bucky was very warned. And confused.

He didn’t stop looking at Her, and later that night, he asked Sam who the blue lady was. He could remember her, from the fight with Thanos, but not her name. And in his defense, there had been too many people to remember them all.

But the answer was aliens. 

Her family was aliens. Which meant-

“You’re an alien.” Bucky whispered to Her, and her eyes widened as Steve stiffened. 

“I- Yes.” She swallowed. “I didn’t mean to hide it, you just couldn’t remember whenever I’d tell you before, and I didn’t want to lose you again.”

“And she’s only half.” Steve offered, watching Bucky carefully. “If that helps.”

It didn’t. But Bucky was more caught in how much of a wet dog he could remember being when he’d first met Her. Trailing around and whining and catching scraps of Her attention, not willing to push it, but already too far gone to give up. In everything he remembered, that was the most common feeling. 

Wanting Her.

She asked Bucky his favorite animal, and all he could remember was walking through the zoo with Her, and feeling good because She was smiling. Sam asked what his favorite food was, and he remembered trying to ask Her about space food, only to trip and fumble over his words, before shouting that he liked Thai food, and going to the gym to split open a bunch of boxing bags. Steve tried to ask him how he spent his free time, and that had been two memories that crashed into his head at once, telling him that he’d liked to wander around and strip things down to learn how they worked—until that Tony guy yelled at him and he had to stop—and his favorite way to spend his time was with Her.

It was probably creepy, how many memories kept flashing over Bucky’s brain where he’d be near Her, but not speaking to Her. Just watching Her move, trying to figure Her out, looking for an in where he could go and touch Her again, no matter everyone else seemed to think contact with Her would be the end of their lives.

That was another feeling he could remember.

Being alive, the most alive, when he touched Her.

It was how he felt now, when he’d lie with Her in the dark and only their pinkies would brush.

She didn’t want to touch him more, but it wasn’t out of  fear. A lot of Bucky’s memories seemed to involve people being afraid of him—which wasn’t an amazing thing to know about himself—but She’d never even flinched.

It was out of nerves.

And Bucky remembered Her being nervous a whole lot. Unwilling to touch him even more.

Those were some of the memories that were starting to come on their own.

“Why are you staring at E.T.?” Stark had come up behind Bucky, voice a little static through his big, stupid suit.

“I’m not.” Bucky grunted, and Stark scoffed.

“Alright, buddy. Sure. I’ve got hours and hours of footage where you’re looking at her like a lost puppy, but you’re not staring.”

Bucky scowled. He wasn’t staring. He was trying to work Her out, and find his in. 

“You know, she thinks you hate her.”

Bucky didn’t know why Stark was still there. And talking. “What.”

Stark said Her name, the suit moving in a way like he’d shrugged. “She thinks you wanna kill her-“

“No- I- Why the fuck does she think that-“

“Because you’re always staring-“

“I’m not always-“ Bucky groaned, shaking his head. Stark did this. He tried to get on Bucky’s nerves until he snapped. This was just more of that. “I don’t hate her.”

Stark snorted. “I know that. But she doesn’t. And for the record, I think you’d work together. And it would give us a good kill switch, if we needed it.”

“Work-“

“You’re both weird.” 

Bucky frowned. “She’s not weird-“

“She can play with brain like they’re doll houses.” Stark muttered. “That’s weird. I mean, genocide is bad, all of it, all the time, but whatever she is, I’m glad there’s not more of it.”

Bucky turned to look at Her in the dark. She was already watching him.

She really always did seem to be watching him. 

“Do you know what you are?” He kept his question slow, and She blinked. 

“I- I can’t answer. You know I can’t, Ja- Bucky, I don’t want to lose you- I can’t start over again-“

“Hey, slow it down, doll, you’re good.” Bucky reached over the mattress, because it felt like what he’d done a million times before. “I’m not trying to- shit-“

She’d rolled away, and now She was sitting up. Right on the edge of the mattress, facing away from him.

He wanted Her to look back.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, and Bucky could see Her arms wrapped around Her body. “I- I don’t know how to fix this, I don’t want to hurt you-“

“You can’t-“

“-Hurt me.” Bucky held Her face between his hands, giving Her a soft smile. He’d gotten better at that. Smiling, but only when it was for Her. “I’m tough. Made of nails and metal.”

She sniffed, leaning slightly into his touch. “I hate that joke.”

“Nah, you don’t-“

“I do.” She sighed, Her gaze locked to Bucky’s chest. “You are tough. You always say it like it’s a joke, James. I don’t like it.”

Bucky sighed, and pressed a soft kiss to Her brow. “Alright. Do you really not want to do, you know…” He raised his brows in the silent question, and Her eyes went round.

“Of course I want to! But I- What if you have a relapse, and they take me away because they think I did that-“

“They won’t take you away-“

“But they might-“

“I won’t let them.” Bucky said, keeping his tone firm. “I’m saying this now, no tricks or influence. They aren’t taking me away from you. Nothing is.”

Bucky stared at Her, and She’d moved back over him, Her eyes just as big and nervous as in the memory.

“What did you see?” She whispered, and he sighed, catching Her wrist to keep her near him. 

He’d meant it. Nothing was taking Her away.

“You keep almost callin’ me James.” He muttered, and She swallowed. “Why.”

“I- I’m- I can’t tell you-“

“Because I remember telling you that you could. I remember saying I don’t like it when other people call me that.” Bucky reached up, brushing a little stray hair from Her face. “But I’ve never minded you.”

Her eyes were glossy. She didn’t look away, even though Her voice was only a breath. “What else do you remember?”

That was easy. The closer Bucky was to Her, the quicker it all came back. “I remember the mission where I kissed you for the first time.” He kept his words slow, so She could catch him if he was wrong. “You really thought I hated you. After I hadn’t been talking to you all week, you said that you didn’t know why they kept putting me on all those missions with you, when I didn’t even like you. But I told you Steve had been doing me a favor. That I’d asked him to, and I’d just been freaking out because I’d forgotten how to talk to pretty girls. Then you…” It was there. It was faded, but Bucky reached for it, and it was there. “You told me you weren’t a girl. That you’d never been a girl. Girls didn’t do the things you’d done. And I said that was good, because I didn’t want a girl. I wanted you.”

“Do you-“ She took a shaking breath. “Do you remember what I’ve done?”

“Some of it.” Bucky shrugged, twining his fingers into Hers. “Remember that you were one of Thanos’ fake kids. He killed all your people because they were too dangerous, too unbalanced, and found out you were the last one. You’d been raised on Earth with your ma, but then he killed her, took you, and threw you into the whole mess. Made you control whole populations so they wouldn’t fight when he came to them. You got out with some help from two of the other crazies, cause they’d always liked you. Thought you were crazier. Then you came back here. Let me touch you. Let me love you.”

Her eyes somehow got wider. “J- Bucky-“

“James.” He corrected without missing a beat. “I get to touch you, doll, like no one else. And you get to call me James.”

“But- You don’t love me, James, nobody loves me-“

“I do.” And that was the clearest thing yet. Bucky had spent all these years getting to be the thing She wanted. The person She loved. 

She’d always shot him down whenever he tried to say it back. Said no one would love Her unless She made them, and never believed him when he said she hadn’t. 

He remembered not knowing how to fix that. 

And he remembered that, just a day before he was lost, he’d found it.  The way to keep Her. Near him, and smiling, and loved.

“I- I love you.” She whispered, trailing Her fingers so carefully over his cheekbones before yanking them away with a frantic expression. “But- You- you don’t love me. And that’s okay-“

Bucky surged up before She could finish. He pulled Her into his chest in the dark, touching Her for as long as She’d allow.

It seemed to be a while. Enough time that he decided to just say it, before it flew through his fingers once more.

“I do love you.” He muttered in Her ear, keeping his hold on Her tight. “You’re my girl, and I love you. You didn’t make me.”

She shook Her head against his chest. “But-“

“No but.” Bucky took a long, steady breath. He’d been planning to say it anyway, after the mission. He was pretty sure he’d been planning to say it anyway, and if he hadn’t been, and past him wanted to keep it secret, then past him shouldn’t have lost all his memories. 

“James-“

“I remember you,” Bucky said Her name, pulling Her back to hold Her face between his hands, and it was just as beautiful as She was. “More than anything else. I remember all of you, because you’re my soulmate.”

——————

Soulmates aren’t real.

When you’d been little, before Thanos found you, your mother had told you that they were, and that your father would always come back because he loved her.

She’d said that they were soulmates, so he’d have to come back.

He never had. And if he’d really loved your mother, he hadn’t loved her enough to warn her. To say that, even if Thanos hadn’t killed all his people, they weren’t exactly a well-loved group through the galaxy. They were feared. Hated. Untrustworthy parasites that died lonely little deaths, with no one remembering their name. 

You didn’t want to die a lonely little death. 

And you only really cared if one person remembered your name. 

But he’d forgotten, and it had split your heart in half.

It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. None of this was Bucky’s fault.

He doesn’t know how this has been killing you. He doesn’t know that every time his eyes glaze over with another memory, your heart stutters. This might be the memory. The exact wrong one where you tell him about something you did, and it’s all he can think about, and then he looks at you like everyone else does.

With disgust.

And you’ve told him so much. You’ve told him about everything you stolen, and everything you’ve forced people to do—or not do, the worst ones are where you told someone to do nothing and then their head flew clean off their shoulders—and most of all, all the memories you’ve erased. All the people you’ve turned into blank slates of nothing, worse than what Hydra did to Bucky, because he’d been able to come back.

Those people were gone. Their minds were a part of you now, and you have all their hopes and dreams and fears, and you crush most of them because it’s too much all the time, but you always keep a little. So some part of them still exists somewhere.

And you’ve told Bucky that. He knows that you crave sweet things and like stuffed animals because of millions of children, and you fidget with your clothing because of a tailor that got one stitch wrong on Thanos’ jacket, and paid the price.

Peter has called that a pretty fucked up test you do to the people you love, daring us to leave you then getting mad when we don’t.

But you’ve never gotten mad at Bucky when he’s stayed. You’ve only loved him more. 

It’s why he’ll never know how much this has hurt you. You’ll never tell him about the days before this, where he’s remember so much, and then someone would accidentally tell him something about his life, and it would all be gone. Bucky would vanish once more, and you’d be left with the version who didn’t look at you with adoration or care or desire, or hate or loathing or fear.

It was the Bucky who looked at you like he was aware he should know you. 

But he didn’t.

He would always remember you so fast, though. He’d cling to you every time he reset, but then he’d reset. Over and over he’d reset, and forget, and you’d lose him all over again.

He’ll never know how this has hurt Steve, either. How Bucky remembers you every time, but not Steve, and neither of you understand why.

“He can’t know.” Steve had muttered to you in the kitchen a few weeks ago, after the seventh slip up where Sam had seen Bucky in the library, said reading again, Buck? and that had been enough to reset. “He can never know.”

You don’t want to lie to him. Ever. 

But you agree with Steve. Tony came back and couldn’t fix it. You won’t fix it, not when you could hurt him. This is more complicated than Bucky telling you to make himself punch his own face. This is deeper, and stranger, and the Bucky that could give you permission isn’t entirely himself. And you’ll die before you do that to him without his full permission.

And this will be fixed. It has to be. But Bucky’s hurt enough, for a long, long time. You’ll do anything to easy that for him, make him blame himself a little less.

So he’ll never know. 

You’ve never offered to take that away from him. The pain in his head. He wouldn’t want you to, and it wouldn’t be your Bucky, if you did. The strong one that never runs, and never wavers, and looks at you and somehow sees an angel.

Sometimes there’s a fear. And it eats at you. Gnaws in your gut that, without knowing, you had touched him. That he’d been fucking you or holding your hand or hanging around your body, and you’d thought that he loved you, or been too intense in your own love for him, and you’d forced him to love you. Planted the idea in his mind until it took roots, and would now only be removable by your hand.

If that was the case, you wouldn’t be strong enough to. It would make you a monster, but every time Bucky claims that he loves you it makes you glow. Maybe it’s not a lie. Maybe you’re not doomed. 

Maybe—in another, better world—you meet in another, normal way. He comes up to you at a bar, and he’s never been tortured or brainwashed. You’re just a human instead of the other thing, and you can touch him without worrying that someone’s going to shoot you for daring to try and love something in a real way.

That wouldn’t be possible. He’s a hundred years old, and you’re not. You’re not even from New York. You’re not you unless you’re half monster, and Bucky’s not your Bucky—the one you’ll love even if someone says the wrong thing, and he forget your forever this time—if he doesn’t have a metal arm and a strange smile that the best thing you’ve ever seen.

You love him more than anything, and there is a special kind of cruelty in the universe, where you’re allowed to love something but you can’t let it love you back.

This is worse, though.

This is torture.

Because no matter what your mother said, soulmates aren’t real.

“Bucky-“

“James.” He keeps correcting that. It makes you love him more, and it opens the wound fresh every time. 

You sigh, letting yourself burrow a little further into his chest. “James, soulmates aren’t real. And you don’t-“

“Stop tellin’ me I don’t love you.” He mutters. “I do.”

“Please-“

“I trust you, doll. I know you think you did something to me, but you didn’t.”

You shake your head, but you’re still not strong enough to move away. “You wouldn’t know if I did.”

“Maybe. But I still trust you.”

“You shouldn’t-“

“But I do-“

“Ja- Bucky-“

He pulls you back, cradling your face between two large, warm hands. “James. Please. I know you call me that cause you love me, and I- I need you to love me-“

“I do love you.” You whisper, hanging off of his arms, because he’ll disappear if you don’t. “I do. But you don’t-“

“Stop.” He’s begging you, and your eyes start to sting. “I love you. I made me feel that, and it’s all I can remember. Loving you. And I don’t care if you forced me, doll, I love loving you and you can’t take that away from me.”

You swallow, a heavy lump forming in your throat. “James, I-“

“Just- Let me talk, okay?” Bucky pauses, waiting for your small nod before he continues. “I know soulmates aren’t real. Not for humans. You’re not human, doll.”

You shake your head. “But-“

“No but.” His voice drops slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I- I asked the other Guardians. Told them you don’t know what you are, but sometimes I can feel something in my chest, and it’s bigger than my heart and just as beautiful as you are. That I’ve been in love before but this is different. And I just wanted to know, so I mentioned it after one of your space-calls-“

“They’re not space calls.” You mumble. “They’re galactic transmissions.”

“I’m still talking.” Bucky drawls your name, and you flush. “I’m trying to tell you soulmates are real. For a whole lot of aliens, they do something fucking mind shit and form a deep form of love. Literal mating.”

Your nose wrinkles. “Gross.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, it is. But guess what, babydoll. You soul mated me, so now you have to deal with how gross that is.”

“But we’re not the same-“

“Turn out cross species mates are known to happen if the bond is mighty enough.”

“Thor?”

“Yeah. And has to be mutual.” Bucky drops his brow to yours, and you stare at him. It’s the only thing you’ve ever been certain of how to do. “Turns out there are some tests we could run, but I don’t really care. We’re soul-bonded. Deal with it.”

“Do you-“ You swallow, scanning over his features carefully. You don’t want to lose him this time. You can’t. “What do you remember? Right now?”

“All of you. But not much else.” He lets out a long, slow breath. “I want you to do it.”

“No-“

“Yes. I’m telling you. I trust you.” Bucky moves your hands up to cup his jaw, his gaze still not breaking from yours. “You can fix it. And you won’t hurt me.”

He means it. It’s written all over his handsome face, how much Bucky means it. 

You still hesitate.

“James-“

“Do it.” He leans forward, pressing a small, soft kiss to your lips. It’s the first one he’s given you in weeks. 

You’d do anything for him, and every kiss is like a war drum. You have to move. 

He loves you. 

You’ll fix this.

———

You close your eyes, as you move into Bucky’s head. You’ll only fix it, and look nowhere else. Touch nothing else. Be nothing but a cure, instead of the parasite.

“I love you-“

He’d been saying your name, when you’d moved fully into his head. Bucky had been saying your name.

You want to go back, and tell him you can’t do this. Can’t touch him like this, because you can’t hurt him.

You can’t hurt him.

If you tried, you really don’t think you could hurt him.

So you stay, and push on. 

There’s something wrong, in Bucky’s head. Not with his head. In it.

It’s covered in a heavy fog, turning every memory glossed and faded. At odd moments there will be sparks, and things will appear, but the fog will still be right around the edges.

You try to not look at anything too long. Bucky deserves his privacy, even if he asked you to be in here. Minds have a habit of warping things, and you don’t want to see how he actually views Sam, or Steve, or Tony, or you. 

But you can’t avoid it.

Seeing yourself.

Everywhere you look, every memory where the lines are sharper and the colors don’t blur together, you’re there.

And the you Bucky sees isn’t the one that’s in the mirror. She’s got a musical voice and a prettier smile, and She’s glowing every time you see Her. On a balcony or in a ballroom. Standing in the Quinjet or at the kitchen counter. Lying in your bed with an alien sickness, staring at Bucky in a safe house with wide, hooded doe-eyes—you don’t remember your eyes being that princess-like—or sparring with him in the gym.

Then you land in a memory that’s perfect. Untouched by the fog and delicate. 

It takes a second to push into it, like the barrier that preserves it from the plague over his head doesn’t want anything inside.

But then you’re through. 

And there you are. 

Bucky’s holding your face—the you of the memory, who looks more and more like a goddess every second—between his hands, and he’s smiling at you.

You don’t have to study anything to remember what day this is. There’s no reason for this to have been saved above all else, but it was. Is.

At least you understand why Bucky always remembered you so fast. This memory is a small, unmarred haven from Hydra’s chemicals, and it’s only you and him.

You should grab the light flooding the area and cast it out. Through his whole mind, until the fog is gone. But you’re selfish. And this version of you that Bucky sees, you want to be Her more than anything. She’s got nothing ugly hidden under Her features or in Her eyes, and She’s nervous but it’s adorable instead of annoying, and Her voice doesn’t scrape at your brain. 

It really is nice. She’s lovely. 

So you linger a little longer, and keep your hands folded behind your back so you don’t hurt anything.

“You won’t hurt me.” Bucky says, and his voice is a little rougher in his own head. It doesn’t have the gentle care you heard it with, only a waving uncertainty. Like he’s certain you’re going to flee at any second, when you remember being so firmly rooted in place, the world would’ve had to tear you from your legs to move you away. “I’m tough. Made of nails and metal.”

The you in Bucky’s mind sniffs at the exact same time you sigh. You hate that joke. 

“Nah,” a smirk crosses Bucky’s face as he says it, but there’s still something heavy in his voice. “You don’t.”

You do. He always says it like it’s a fucking joke, when he’s stronger than anyone. You’d know, and you hate it when he act like he isn’t. 

Bucky sighs, and presses a kiss to Her brow. 

Your brow.

You’re not sure how, but you can’t really tell which is which anymore. 

“Alright.” He mutters. “Do you really not want to do, you know...”

He gives you a pointed look, and your mouth almost falls open. Of course you want him. You want him more than anything, but you don’t want to hurt him, don’t want to do anything that might end in him being taken away from you, you being-

“They won’t take you away.” Bucky’s voice is firm, and right in your, and this has never happened before. 

You’ve traveled into memories where you played a role, even a starring one. But you’ve never been in the role. Watching it unfold in a slight daze, instead of simply standing off to the side.

You should leave now.

But you know how this ends, and you don’t want to leave before the good part.

“But they might.” You sigh, keeping your brow pressed to Bucky’s, and his tone becomes firm. Commanding. The voice he could use to tell you to jump off a cliff, and you’d obey without thought. 

“I won’t let them. I’m saying this now, no tricks or influence. They aren’t taking me away from you. Nothing is.”

You believe him. You’re looking at him, and he’s all the stars you’ve seen through every galaxy. This version of him has slightly crooked features, and a slightly harsher glint behind his eyes, but you don’t care. Bucky’s home, no matter what.

And you remember how this goes. You know what your next move is.

You fall to your knees, running your hand up his thigh until your fingers are resting on the hem of his jeans.

Bucky mutters your name, and you could swear there’s almost a choir to go with it. “What are you doing.”

You smile up at him. “Whatever you want me to be doing.”

He tangles a hand in your hair, shaking his head slowly. “You don’t have to-“

“But I do.” You hum, playing with his belt and never letting your smile fall. “Do you want me to?”

You pause, waiting for the signal you know is coming. Bucky’s hand tightens in your hair, he licks his lips, and gives a rough nod.

Then you’re gone. 

It’s a blur, the movement to get to the good part. Likely because it’s still a memory. Bucky’s belt vanished, then his jeans and boxers, and suddenly his cock is hard and heavy in your hand. You’re pumping it, slow and firm as Bucky ends up on the edge of the mattress and you settle between his legs, and you’re glad he keeps this part as vivid as it is.

It’s one of your favorites. 

“Jesus,” Bucky groans your name as you lower your lips to kiss the head of him, and you hum. “You’re gonna kill me, pretty girl-“

You’re up to the challenge. You take Bucky in your mouth until he’s bumping the back of your throat, moan around him, and he tastes the same as real life. A little salty and sour and so Bucky, you’ll do this a million more times because it’s him, and you get to be the one who does this to him. 

All by yourself, you get to suck and lick and choke on him until he’s pulling at your hair and his cock is twitching in your mouth. You get to play with his balls as you cling to his knee for grip, and that’s your name he’s shouting like a song.

“Gonna cum, doll, I can’t- Shit-“

You squeeze his balls at the same time that you moan around his cock, and that does it. 

For a second, you can feel his orgasm. Crashing and powerful and driving you out of your mind as cum dribbles out of your lips, hot and perfect down your throat.

You did that. In here, and a million more times out there.

You made Bucky feel good.

And his head skips somethings, as the memory keeps going. He doesn’t seem to remember or care for how you’d tried to move on fast. How you’d been ready to take advantage of super-solider recovery time and let him fuck you into the mattress, but he’d pushed back. Insisted that returning the favor would make him feel good. 

It’s a mercy, that he doesn’t remember that. You don’t have to relieve it.

You get to skip straight to Bucky leaving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses over your collarbone and down your chest. He takes turns with each nipple, swirling his tongue around it until your fingers are digging into his scalp and you’re arching off the mattress, all as his metal hand rubs between your legs and works you into a dizzied frenzy.

“Bucky,” You squeak as he pinches your waist, rising up to bump your nose with his, his metal palm pressing right over your aching pussy. “Fuck- James-“

“Tell me how it feels, babydoll.” He mutters, leaning back to watch you writhe below him. “C’mon, tell me it feels-“

“Good.” You moan, shamelessly humping his hand. “Feels so fucking good, James, please-“

“Would my mouth feel-“

You moan from just the thought, and Bucky shudders above you. You don’t remember that, in your version. 

You don’t mind it at all.

Bucky’s brain still isn’t bothering with the formalities. You get a long, deep kiss where you grind against his dick, poking against your thigh, a lot of bites and nips of your inner thighs as Bucky runs two teasing fingers between your pussy lips, and then you’re being pinned to the mattress by an arm over your waist as Bucky metal fingers fuck you at numbing and brutal pace, his lips wrapped right around you clit. 

He lingers on this for just as long as your own workings. But mostly on the sounds you made. Are making. The gasps and pleas of his name, the whimpers and moans whenever he flicks his tongue against your clit or squeezes your hips, and the high, breathy whines when his fingers curl and scissor at the deepest point inside of you. His stubble rubs against your sensitive skin, he keeps rubbing and kneading your ass as he angles you higher and lets you buck and squirm off the bed, and it never breaks his concentration. 

Every single noise spurs him on, and soon he’s groaning against your pussy, and the whole room is humid and vibrant. Your release starts to build up and up, and that same pleasure from before is building with it, then Bucky bites down on your clit, and you’re gone. 

When the haze clears, Bucky’s kissing all over your face, his cock rubbing against you as he mumbles your name, brushing your hair—stuck to your brow from sweat—from your face.

“You trust me?”

You swallow, and say it the same as you did the first time. “Yes, but what if-“

Bucky swallows your words with a deep, heavy kiss, and repeats his promise against your lips. “Nothing’s taking me away, doll. Nothing.”

“Okay.” You smile against him, nodding into the kiss. “Ready.”

Since this night, you’ve had rough and teasing and playful and needy sex with Bucky. He’s spanked you, and you’ve ridden him until his eyes rolled back in his head, and his hand has ended around your throat on the same day that you rode his face until your arousal was still caught in his beard.

This night wasn’t that.

It was soft. Desperate. You ran your nails over Bucky’s back as he slowly split you open, and moaned his name in his ear when he bottomed out. Just one experimental rolls of his hips makes his cock throb inside of you, you squeeze around him, and he moans in your ear.

“Can I-“

“Please.” You whisper, and this really is the best part.

Not just how Bucky fucks you. Slowly, but still with a feral desperation that comes in how he’s panting in your ear, and jerking his hips with every movement. How he sometimes manages to hit deeper in you every time, and it makes your cunt flutter around him, and you both end up moaning into each other’s mouths as the speed picks up. His balls starting to slap slightly against your ass as you hook your legs around his waist, and you cling to his shoulders and kiss and suck along his neck until he’s yours.

And that’s the best part. 

Bucky is yours.

“Feel so fucking good,” he grunts in your ear, and you start to grind against him in response. “Shit, I- You’re really tight, I can’t-“

“Bucky,” you whine right in his ear, and his moan sends a shiver down your spine. “Want you to cum, fill me up-“

Bucky’s brow drops to yours as he slams right against that deep, spongey spot. “Jesus, you can’t just say that-“

“But I want it.” You pout up at him, and he puts up more of a fight in his memory.

Or at least glares at you a second longer before hitting that electrifying spot again, and your mouth falls open.

“James-“

“Need you to cum with me.” He mutters, starting to rut against you as his metal fingers find your clit. “C’mon, you got it, babydoll, just fuckin’-“ 

He presses hard against your clit, and you cum with a loud, high gasp. 

“Fucking, God-“ You make a lewd, wanting sound as you start to see stars. “Bucky, you’re- I love you-“

Bucky moans, your words lost in the sound of his own pleasure—just like real life—and a smaller orgasm washes through you as he fucks your through it, finally grabbing you into a desperate kiss as his cock jerks and pumps you with his release.

When you pull apart, blinking and giving him a dazed smile, you realize the fog is gone. Somewhere in your indulgences, you cleared it.

But you’re still in Bucky’s memory, even as the horrible fog starts to dissipate. Vanish. Become nothing at all.

You can still feel him around you, even though as you remember this, you’d fallen asleep with his cock still deep inside of you, then woken up the same way. In this world, Bucky’s playing with your hair and nuzzling his face in your neck, his words low. Careful. Like the real you, that’s sleeping, is some sort of treasure that should never be moved or disturbed. 

“I love you,” he mummers your name, the same way he’d been about to say it before. “I heard what you said, and I love you too. Always loved you, even when you told me I didn’t. I’ve really only been remembering that I love you. Couldn’t do anything else if I tried, doll.” That’s not the Bucky in the memory, or the one who’s confused and lost a relearning who he is.

It's your Bucky. You don’t know how long the Bucky in your memory has been your Bucky, but it is. It’s the one who had you before the Hydra mission where you lost everything—lost him—and who has you for the rest of your life, if he wants you.

“Don’t want to want anything but you,” Bucky presses a kiss to your neck. “Never gonna be any point in it. Won’t love anything like I love you. And I love you.”

He means it. Your Bucky means it.

It breaks you and puts you back together all at once.

And you opened your eyes.

———

Bucky could see Her. In all the same, clear colors he always has. 

And he could remember it all. Every single failure and reset, and all Her tears, and the million times they’d gotten close to this, only to lose it all. 

For Her to lose him. Over and over and over.

She never gave up.

And now Bucky could hold Her face between his hands, and smile. He got to wipe the tears from Her pretty cheeks, and touch Her for as long as he wanted.

“You heard me.” She said softly, Her eyes round on his. “The- I thought you didn’t hear me-“

“Super-solider, doll.” He gave Her a pointed look. “I just- I thought I was going mad. And you still were so careful. Didn’t want to say the wrong thing and ruin it.”

“But-“

Bucky kissed Her. He didn’t care about Her protests, or care to hear Her try to tell him how awful She’d been. He’d never been a saint either, She just didn’t care to remember those parts. Just like Bucky had never entertained Her trying to convince him to break Her heart. 

As far as Bucky would ever tell it, She’d always been perfect. And Bucky had loved Her in all the jagged and nervous beauty She’d offered him, just like She loved him in all his half-fused brokenness. 

She tasted like salt and sugar. She was warm against him. 

“I love you,” he murmured against Her lips, and She doesn’t correct him.

She believed him. He can hear it, in Her wobbly, soft voice as She leans back and smiles at him.

“I love you, too.” She whispered. “I- I’m-“

He silenced Her with another, deeper kiss, until Her arms were wrapped around his neck and She was all but folded into his lap. “Later.”

She nodded slowly. “Later.”

They’d have later. They’d have forever. And Bucky wouldn’t ruin it. Even if he forgot again, he couldn’t ruin it. She’d done that freaky alien shit, and now Bucky couldn’t ruin it.

He really couldn’t do anything but love Her.

And he’d never want to do anything else.

End Note: I wish Marvel would let me be in charge. I have so many ideas. (I would not be able to handle the pressure of looking at Sebastian Stan knowing about the smut I've written)

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[deansbeer]

★ soup, snuggles, and mr. wiggles // beau arlen.

synopsis. you're sick during a visit to montana, but your dad, comes to the rescue with chicken star soup, snacks, and your old childhood stuffed bear, reminding you that you're never too old to be cared for.

warning(s). fluffy fluff fluff | older daughter!reader | caregiving dad beau | mild illness (stomach bug) | nausea | fatigue | father-daughter bonding | nostalgia | childhood memories (beloved stuffed bear & favorite soup).

kari yaps. i love my pretty cowboy sheriff sososo much && literally don't have anything written for him + this idea was perfect for beau, because one im an older sister / daughter myself & two my brain was wired up @ 2am ???? n i took that opportunity to write. but i only got halfway & BARELY got to finishing it 2day.

you knew it was a bad idea the second you bit into the chicken sandwich. something about it tasted... off, but you hadn't eaten at all during your flight from houston to montana, and your stomach didn't give you much of a choice. by the time you arrived at the airbnb you rented, you were already feeling the first signs of regret—your stomach twisting uncomfortably, your body heavy with fatigue. you chalked it up to exhaustion from the drive, but when you woke up the next morning, nausea hit you like a freight train.

you'd planned today for weeks—just you and your dad, a father-daughter day he'd been talking about nonstop since you told him you were visiting. he'd even promised emily she'd get her turn after you left because, as he put it, "this one's special. just me and my girl." and now, lying on the couch of your airbnb, wrapped in a blanket, you felt guilt gnawing at you because there was no way you could keep those plans. your stomach rolled again, and you groaned, reaching for your phone to call him.

"hey, sweetheart," he answered on the first ring, his voice bright with excitement. "you ready for me to pick you up? i've got the whole day mapped out—breakfast, a little fishing, and maybe we can stop by that trail you liked last time."

you winced, both at the enthusiasm in his voice and the wave of nausea that hit you. "uh, about that…"

he instantly picked up on your tone. "what's wrong?"

"nothing," you said quickly, even though your voice was weak. "i just… i don't think i can make it today. i'm not feeling great."

"not feeling great how?" his voice lost its lightness, replaced by concern.

"it's nothing, dad. probably just something i ate. i just need to rest, that's all."

there was a pause, and you could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. "where are you staying again? that little airbnb by the creek?"

"dad, no, you don't have to—"

"i'll be there in twenty," he said firmly, already moving. "and don't even think about arguing with me."

you sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to stop him. "fine. okay, dad."

"what kind of dad would i be if i didn’t take care of my girl when she's sick?" he said, his voice softening. "sit tight, sweetheart. i'll be there soon."

true to his word, twenty minutes later, you heard the familiar rumble of his car pulling into the driveway. you managed to shuffle to the door, opening it just as he walked up, two large grocery bags in his hands and a determined look on his face.

"you look terrible," he said bluntly, though the warmth in his eyes softened the blow. "not that you're not still the prettiest thing i've ever seen."

"thanks, dad," you muttered, stepping aside to let him in. "just what every girl wants to hear."

he set the bags on the counter and turned to you, his hands on his hips. "all right, let's see what we've got here. crackers, ginger ale, that soup you used to love when you were little—chicken and stars, remember that?—and some popsicles, because you'd always ask for those when you were sick. oh, and a heating pad, in case you've got chills."

you felt a lump rise in your throat as you watched him unpack everything, his movements quick and efficient. he was always like this when you were a kid—hands-on, attentive, making sure you had everything you needed even when life got chaotic. and now, standing in your little airbnb kitchen, he looked just the same, though his beard was a little grayer and the lines around his eyes a little deeper.

"dad, you didn't have to do all this," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

he glanced at you, his expression softening. "yeah, i did. you're my kid, darlin'. it doesn't matter if you're five or twenty-five, i'm always gonna take care of you."

you blinked rapidly, willing the tears not to fall. "i suppose you're right."

he gave you a small smile before turning back to the bags. "and because i know you're gonna get crabby—don't deny it, you've always been a little bear when you're under the weather—I brought backup.” he pulled out a small stuffed bear, its brown fur worn and familiar. "found this guy in one of the storage boxes last week and figured you might need him."

you let out a surprised laugh, reaching for the bear. "oh my god, is this… is this mr. wiggles?"

"the one and only," he said, grinning. "thought he'd been retired, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

you hugged the bear to your chest, shaking your head. "you're ridiculous."

"and you love me for it," he said, nudging your shoulder gently. "now, go lie down. i'll heat up the soup and put on a movie."

you didn't argue, too tired and too grateful to protest. you curled up on the couch again, the blanket pulled snug around you and mr. wiggles tucked under your arm. a few minutes later, your dad appeared with a tray—soup, crackers, and a glass of ginger ale—and set it on the coffee table in front of you.

"all right, what's it gonna be?" he asked, grabbing the remote. "something funny? or one of those sappy movies you always make me watch?"

you smiled faintly. "sappy. but you're not allowed to complain."

"wouldn't dream of it," he said, settling into the recliner next to you. "though if i start crying, you're not allowed to tell anyone."

"deal," you said, your smile widening.

as the movie played, you found yourself relaxing for the first time all day. your dad stayed by your side, occasionally cracking jokes or making comments about the characters, his presence a constant comfort. and even though you felt awful, you couldn't help but feel a little better knowing he was there.

"thanks for coming, dad," you said softly as the credits rolled.

he reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "always, sweetheart. you're stuck with your old man, whether you like it or not."

and in that moment, with the warmth of the blanket, the faint taste of ginger ale on your tongue, and your dad sitting nearby, you realized there was no place you’d rather be.

SPECIAL TAGS. @floralscented @titsout4jackles @deansbite @deanswidow @jasvtsc @beausling @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @lacydollette @lustagel @ultravi0lence14 @beausling @ostaramoon @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @bluestrd @jackleslvr @fallbhind . . . ૮っ ̫ _ ྀིა

[hedwig221b]

omg qween goddess supreme hedwig221b can you please, pretty please rec me some regency and/or historical sterek 🥹

hoping you have a good day/night (idk your timezone lol)

Hi, love! You know me so well... historical aus, my beloved 💜

When All the Pieces Fit by NARKOTIKA

"Does he even realize? With the cooking and cleaning andandand—now this fucking baby?" Isaac fumes. Said baby waves its fist in the air, and Stiles bends to haul him onto a hip. The baby babbles something and Stiles nods his head with complete seriousness, as if everything out of its mouth is perfectly sensible and coherent. Then the kid starts mouthing at Stiles' nipple through his dress and everyone goes dead silent. "I'm going to wife him so hard," Ethan announces, and they all break out into argument over who has the best chance at mating the boy in the river.

Elskende by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Stiles is an omega concubine, kept sequestered away in the city of Beacon Hills, waiting for his lord Gerard Argent when the Wulver take the city and the alpha takes the omega.

Pride and Place by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Derek Hale, Earl of Osterbrook, has inherited, following the death of Lord Montfort, a run down house in Yorkshire he neither needs nor wants, convinced his staff are robbing him, and with the mystery of a missing ward, he manages to get himself talked into a ridiculous bet, that he cannot pass as a steward until Midwinter, nearly two months away. So can he maintain the charade? Find the missing child? and manage to turn the shambles of a house around, or will he give up and let Peter take the thousand pounds he bet.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

Meant to be One by sunhazeheart

His nerves felt like a live wire was running hot beneath his skin, hands fidgeting with the silken material of his robe. If he had the concentration to spare, he might had worried about tearing it. It was all he could do to sit there at the vanity, eyes squeezed shut, and try to give in the constricting pressure around his chest that said that he was about to fall into a panic attack. Breath in. Breath out. His own heartbeat rushed in his ears. Being mated to the reclusive king with a frightening reputation to his name, bundled away from his home and father, and then surrounded by underwhelmingly distant faces hiding secrets was not how Stiles Stilinski imagine spending his life soon after turning eighteen. He can only remind himself that it is for the good of his people, both old and newly acquired. But, perhaps first assumptions are made too hastily and a fated match can be made, even surrounded by threats of war, revenge and death’s waiting embrace.

The Wolf Lord by mikkimouse

"You never know," Lydia said. "Perhaps the Wolf Lord will ask you to dance tonight." Stiles scoffed. "Oh, yes, of course he will. And then he'll transform into a giant black wolf and whisk me away to his estate to live happily ever after." He rolled his eyes at the thought. "Actually, I rather hope he does ask me to dance. I can tell him how ridiculous these masquerades are."

To Whom The Wolf King Bows by MadcapRomantic

Stiles Stilinski meets The Wolf King, the very boogeyman he'd spent his younger years terrified of; yet the man is little, if anything, like the tales he's heard. But, Stiles has spent the last ten years of his life as a slave, under the harsh whip of the cruel King Gerard Argent, and trusting Derek - trusting anyone - is beyond difficult.

Where the Shadow Ends by Green

Derek goes undercover to Delphi to figure out what's wrong with the oracle. He doesn't mean to fall in love.

The Hills Call

Five years ago, Prince Derek of the Hale Empire had fallen for the son of a Baron, Genim of Stilinski. His mother had not approved, and after some time imprisoned Genim escaped to the Dukedom of the Shore, where he was taken in by Duke Christopher and Lady Allison. Now, Prince Derek is on his deathbed from a poisoning and it is up to Genim, now called Stiles, to nurse him back to health. Wary of the Hale Empire, Stiles returns with their young son to see if he can heal Derek of his illness and escape the threats he still feels from the Empress herself.

The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter

To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

I encourage you heavily to go through the works of Dexterous_Sinistrous and DarkAthena (seraphim_grace), these two are my crushes and I am in awe of their work, it's so good. I could genuinely sit here and list dozens of their fics - I already did list some of my most beloved fics of theirs...

[masterlist link]

[anyaa2s]

࣪˖ ִֶָ ☾ introducing. . . SOULMATE!MATT && BLUEBERRY MUFFIN!READER

[ 📻 ] soulmate - mac miller

0:47 ───|────── 4:32

‧₊ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄!𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓 .ᐟ

☾ light blue linen by them & i. . . baby blue. loves animals. introvert. forget-me-nots. good listener. eeyore. fresh laundry. remembers little details. late-night whispers. legos. nature walks. always keeps a journal in hand. washed-out jeans. handwritten letters. shy smiles. acts of service. herbal tea & hot cocoa. jellycats. rainy days. empathy. temple kisses.

‧₊ 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐍!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 .ᐟ

☾ give you my lovin by mazzy star. . . blueberries. animals shelter. bookworm. soft spoken. lazy mornings. wired headphones. too nice to say no. warm quilts. crochet. overthinks texts. trinket collector. quality time. awkward waves. cinammon candles. lingering touches. milk and honey scent. brown messy waves. antique stores & coffee dates. eye contact.

nya's messages ✉️ : first writing yayy! inbox and requests open for this au! posting more about it soon :) Also a big kiss to my beloved supporter @shadowthesim for being the sweetest little pea ever, ilyy.

꩜ ١٥٧٤, nya

[padawan-snack-packer]

Hi!! Could you please write a Reader/Captain Rex fic where Reader has a nightmare and Rex find them panicking and then he calms them down? shipping if possible?

Thank you sm and no worries if you don't want to write it!!!<3

"Stay with Me", a Reader/Captain Rex ficlet

Hi Anon!!!

Of course I could write this — thank you so much for trusting me with such a soft and emotional idea!!!💙 I had way too many feelings about it (Rex my beloved) and I hope you enjoy this little piece of comfort!!!

Sending you the biggest hugs and a very small, very loyal squad of clone troopers to protect your dreams 😌✨

Title: "Stay With Me" Pairing: Captain Rex/Reader Prompt/Tags: Nightmare / Panic Attack, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Soft Fluff)

The first thing you register is the cold.

It sinks into your bones, wraps around your lungs like wire, makes it impossible to draw a full breath. Cold sweat clings to your skin, your shirt sticking uncomfortably to your back. Cold air burns every shaky gasp you drag into your chest. Your hands won’t stop trembling, fingers clawing uselessly at the tabletop you’d slumped over hours ago.

The world around you is all wrong — too loud, too sharp, tilting dangerously like a ship about to capsize.

And it hits you all at once.

The terror.

The blind, clawing panic tearing its way up your throat, hollowing you out from the inside. Your heart hammers against your ribs, too fast, too hard, and you can’t catch up. You can't slow it down. You can’t—

You don’t even realize you’re gasping, half-choking on thin air, until someone says your name.

It cuts through the rising storm in your head — distant, urgent — but the words don’t make sense at first. Everything’s muffled, underwater.

Then again, sharper this time. Closer.

“—’ey, cyare. Hey. Look at me.”

Fingers — warm, steady — wrap around your wrist. Not yanking. Not hurting. Just anchoring. Holding.

You flinch, a strangled sound scraping from your throat.

“Hey, hey, easy,” the voice says, low and steady, trying to meet you wherever you’ve fallen. “You’re alright. You’re safe. I got you.”

You blink, or maybe you don’t — your vision swims either way — and suddenly there’s a face in front of you, close enough that you can see the way the worry creases the corners of his mouth.

It’s Rex.

Of course it’s Rex.

You’re not sure when you started needing him this badly. Maybe it was the late nights in the barracks, the way he always found you when the walls felt like they were closing in. Maybe it was the soft way he said your name when you forgot how to breathe.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms into them until you see stars. You're still half in the nightmare — trapped in the awful dark — the mission gone wrong, the blasterfire too loud, blood pooling too fast for your hands to stop it—

Something shatters inside your chest, a tidal wave of relief and shame and helplessness crashing down all at once.

“I— I can’t—” you choke out, words broken and useless. Your whole body is shaking like a speeder at top speed about to fall apart.

Rex moves instantly, pushing your scattered datapads and notes aside with a sweep of his hand. He crouches in front of you, putting himself right in your line of sight, like he’s trying to block out the rest of the spinning, punishing world.

“Focus on me, cyare,” he says, voice firm but so gentle it hurts. “Just me.”

You blink again, and this time a tear slips loose, sliding hot and miserable down your cheek.

You hate this. You hate being weak.

But Rex just shifts closer, so close you could fall right into him, and taps his forehead against yours.

“You’re alright,” he murmurs, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb stroking slow, steady circles against your skin. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

His voice is low and rough, still wrecked from sleep. “You're safe. You’re right here with me.”

Your breath stutters again, shallow and panicked.

The table you'd been working at is littered with datapads, half-finished reports, the cold dregs of a cup of caf. You must have dozed off right there — nodded off without meaning to, without Rex around to nudge you to bed — and the nightmares had grabbed you in their claws the second your guard was down.

“Can you give me your hand?” he asks, soft but firm.

You shake your head, squeezing your fists tighter into your eyes. It's too much. You're trembling too hard. He can't want to touch you, not like this.

But Rex just hums low in his chest — a patient sound — and waits.

After a moment, you peel one hand away from your face, shaking like a leaf.

Rex catches it in his gloved one, warm and sure.

He presses your palm flat against the rough plates of his chest armor.

“Feel that?” he murmurs. “That’s real. I'm here. You're not alone.”

Your fingers flex helplessly against him. His heartbeat thuds steady beneath your hand — solid, grounding.

You cling to it like a lifeline.

“Deep breath, cyare,” he says, so gently it wrecks you. “With me. In… and out.”

You try. You fail. You try again.

Rex doesn’t let go.

He keeps murmuring encouragements, rocking on the balls of his feet like he’s settling a scared tooka kit.

When you finally, finally drag in a breath that doesn't feel like broken glass, you sag forward, boneless and exhausted.

Without hesitating, Rex catches you.

He tugs you down into his lap, wrapping you up in his arms like it's the most natural thing in the galaxy. His armor digs into your skin in places, but you don't care. You're too busy anchoring yourself to the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“Got you,” he says, rumbling low against your hair. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

You whimper, tiny and wrecked, and Rex just holds you tighter.

The room hums around you — the faint buzz of the lights, the distant roar of Coruscant traffic. You bury your face against the crook of his neck, breathing in the warm, familiar smell of him: leather, metal polish, soap.

Safe. Alive. Here.

After a while, your shudders slow. Your fists unclench. Your heartbeat, once frantic, starts to sync with his.

“You didn't have to—” you start, voice cracking apart on the first word.

“Shh,” Rex says, thumbing gently along the back of your neck. “None of that.”

You let yourself fall silent, too wrung-out to argue.

For a long time, the two of you just stay like that, tangled up together in the half-dark. Then Rex tilts his head, brushing his nose lightly against your temple.

“You scare me when you don’t come to bed,” he murmurs, a confession barely louder than a breath. “Don’t like waking up without you.”

You blink blearily against him.

“…Didn't mean to,” you rasp.

“I know.” His hand finds yours again, threading your fingers together. His thumb rubs slow, soothing circles into your knuckles. “You’re allowed to need help, cyare.”

You press your forehead against the cool curve of his armor.

“I don’t wanna be a burden,” you whisper.

“You’re not,” he says fiercely. “Never.”

You close your eyes, feeling the world finally, finally start to settle around you.

Rex shifts a little, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

“You’re stuck with me, mesh’la,” he says, voice rough and fond. “Nightmares and all.”

You manage a tiny, broken laugh against his throat.

“Good,” you whisper. “You’re stuck with me too.”

“Wouldn't have it any other way.”

When your breathing finally evens out against his throat, Rex lets himself relax a little.

Only a little.

You're curled into him like you were made to fit there, but the stiff chair and the cluttered table, the cold armor plates pressed awkwardly against you — it’s no good. Not for someone who deserves to sleep soft and safe.

He huffs a breath into your hair, half a laugh, half a sigh.

“You stubborn thing,” he murmurs, low and fond. “Tryin’ to pass out on a damn workbench.”

You make a tiny noise — half a sigh, half a whimper — but you don’t wake fully.

Rex shifts carefully, keeping one hand steady behind your shoulders, the other braced under your knees. In one smooth, practiced motion, he scoops you up against his chest like you weigh nothing at all.

You let out a soft, breathy whine at the movement but nuzzle closer without waking, instinctively seeking out his warmth.

Rex’s heart damn near stops.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got you,” he says under his breath, a helpless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t leave you to drool all over the paperwork, now, can I?”

He makes his way toward the bunks, his boots thudding quietly against the floor.

It’s slow going — not because you’re heavy, never that — but because he can’t bring himself to jostle you too much. You deserve better than being startled awake after a night like this.

The door to your shared quarters hisses open.

Rex nudges it shut behind him with his foot and crosses the room in a few strides.

He’s careful lowering you onto the bed — slow, steady — peeling your arms from around his neck like untangling vines.

You mumble something incoherent, fingers clenching weakly in his sleeve.

Rex leans in close, letting his forehead brush against yours.

“Still here, cyare,” he whispers. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

You settle again with a soft, shuddery sigh.

But when Rex moves to back away, your hand finds his gauntlet, tugging weakly.

He glances down at his armor, grimacing.

“Not sleepin’ in full kit, mesh’la,” he says, teasing low, as he starts peeling off the chestplate. “Might be part durasteel, but you’re not. You deserve better than cuddlin' cold plastoid.”

Bit by bit, he sheds the armor, setting each piece aside with quiet, careful movements.

When he’s finally down to the blacks, he slides into bed beside you, gathering you close again.

This time, when you curl against him, it's all warm fabric and steady heartbeat and the sure, safe weight of his arms around you.

Rex presses a kiss to the crown of your head — featherlight.

“You’re safe,” he breathes against your hair.

You don’t answer — not out loud. But your hand fists weakly in the front of his blacks, anchoring yourself there, and that's answer enough.

He stays awake a little longer, listening to the soft hitch of your breaths smoothing out into real sleep.

Only when he’s sure you’re deep under — nightmare-free, finally at peace — does Rex let his eyes drift closed too, his hand never once letting go of yours.

And if he wakes up sore and cramped because he refused to shift and risk waking you?

Well. He figures that’s a small price to pay for keeping you safe through the night.

[theflashdriver]

Summer in Winter (A Silvaze + Sonamy Fanfic)

The soggy splash of a boot disappearing into wintery slush sent a fresh chill down Amy Rose' spine. She could see Tails' workshop up ahead, she'd almost made it the whole way without freezing herself to the bone, only to stumble during the final steps. Her fists clenched, her brow hardened, but the pink hedgehog pushed forward despite the disgust. She was on the cusp of freedom from this icy nightmare, she couldn't let the cold stop her now!

Every winter she thought it would be different, that finally she'd spend the early nights by an open fire with hot chocolate in hand and her beloved by her side... but each and every time, her fantasies had revealed themselves to be delusions. No matter how she tried to deny it, Amy was a Summer girl. She longed for the warm touch of sun on her skin, the taste of strawberry ice cream, and, more than almost anything, getting to go out without freezing her toes off!

Her teeth were chattering as she hiked the last steps of the hill, why did it have to be so wet?! Around her wasn't the winter wonderland she longed for yearly, but a world claimed by grey sludge where icy spittle and frozen winds endlessly threatened to throw the hood from her head. The world simply refused to grant her the delicate tumble of snowflakes, caught on gentle winds; enough to prompt Sonic to pull her close rather than complain about being wet.

Arriving at the workshop's doorstep, the pink hedgehog kicked her heels against the thick metal wall. She patted herself down, wiping wet snow from her puffer jacket, before adjusting the bag at her side. Today she would wait no longer for that perfect winter day; today they would escape to a land of Summer!

Amy burst through the door only to be met with a room just as cold as the outdoors. Sonic and Knuckles were sat on opposite ends of a couch, bickering and kicking as both tried to lounge. Nearby, a young yellow fox was tinkering with a large ring made from metal and attached through various wires to a purple emerald on a plinth.

"Tails, is it ready?" The pink hedgehog immediately asked, gripping her elbows as a fresh shiver rocked her core, "I need out of this cold. Now!"

"Chill Amy," She could hear the smirk in Sonic's tone, "Everything's cool."

"That's the problem, and you know it," Amy huffed at him, "If you'd just kept me warm I wouldn't have had to turn to such a dramatic course of action. We could be all huddled up, sipping hot chocolate, but-

"You know he wouldn't sit still for that Amy. He's been antsy all week, running in and out of the wet," Knuckles cut her off, "Every time he shows up he looks even more pathetic, soaked to the bone and sneezing."

"At least I have the sense to come back inside," Sonic snapped back, "How long were you sat up on your island, letting yourself freeze? It's a good thing Rouge caught you when she did."

"I've toughed it out before!" The echidna hissed.

"Yes, and I'm sure you've enjoyed it every time," Amy strode across the room, waving the duo to separate, "Budge."

Their limbs untangled and Amy took her spot between the boys, setting her bag on her lap. Looking to her left, she found the Knuckles had brought a small green sack on a pole down from the island with him. A glance to her right showed the Sonic had nabbed a towel from Tails rather than bring his own; an inflatable ring was already around his waist. Neither of them looked nearly as prepared as she was.

"It's almost done Amy," Tails called from the midst of his toiling, "This is delicate work. If things are off, even just a little, we could end up anywhere; we could even teleport to the wrong dimension."

"I know Tails, but I've been looking forward to this all week. I can't wait a minute longer," Catching Sonic slouching, the cunning girl slipped an arm around his shoulders and a hand onto his chest, "Well, at least I've got my darling Sonic to keep me warm in the meantime."

"Amy, you're soaking!" He was so quick to fluster, "Freezing too!"

"That's because you haven't been keeping me warm," She singsonged back at him, leaning in closer still, "Let's make up for lost time."

"Do you two have to flirt right next to me?" The guardian shuffled further away.

"We're not flirting; she's crushing me! Knuckles, help!" Sonic foolishly called aloud.

"You did this to yourself, it's karma," Amy fizzed, "If you'd just come when I called, you'd be warm all year."

The heat radiating from the blue blur was undeniable, "If I came on those dates I'd be boiling all year, you'd be wrapped around me twenty-four seven."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Amy teased further, "We both know you'd enjoy-

A knock at the door prompted Knuckles to stand, "That'll be Cream and Vanilla, I'll leave you lovebirds to get cosy."

"Knuckles, don't leave me," Sonic whimpered.

"Don't worry, I'm still here my darling," Amy relaxed, pulling back just a little to claim some of Knuckles' vacated space, "I'm surprised you agreed to come to the beach, daring to wander so close to the ocean... it's because I'll be by your side, isn't it?"

"Better warm and wet than cold and wet," He snorted, "Besides, it's a new place to run."

"I suppose I might join you," Amy batted her eyes, "If you'll take me for ice cream afterwards."

"As long as you don't expect me to join you in the sea," Without Knuckles to mock him, the blue blur seemed to have relaxed a little, "Your bag's way too full, you must have something planned."

"Some of us need more to get by than a stolen towel," Amy huffed, poking the inner tube around his gut, "And a floaty, of course."

"Hey now, Tails designed this. It's a life preserver, not a floaty," Sonic feigned offence.

"Floaty,"Amy repeated, sticking out her tongue at him.

"When I have to swim out to save you, you'll see just how useful it is," He fake huffed.

"You say that like anything involving your belly-donut could be classed as swimming," She poked the tube once more for emphasis.

"Miss Amy!" A familiar call and the sound of footsteps pulled Amy from her teasing.

"Cream, Vanilla!" Amy beamed, "You made it!"

The rabbit pair looked to have been about as drenched as Amy, with slushy splats on their warm looking trench coats and dripping from their boots. They were plainly better prepared than Sonic and Knuckles, a full looking duffle bag was slung over the older rabbit's shoulder. If Amy had forgotten anything, she could certainly count on Vanilla.

"We were snowed in this morning, I had to call the Chaotix," Vanilla informed the room, beating the winter off of her coat, "I invited them, but Vector insisted that they'd deice the entire house... I'll have to bring them back some sort of reward..."

"I'm sure he's already regretting that choice," Sonic smirked at Amy knowingly, "I'm surprised Charmy didn't tag along."

"He was really enjoying himself in the snow," Cream explained, "Mister Espio didn't look so happy, but he said something about mastering discipline and self-control. He was meditating in the garden with an icicle hanging off of his horn..."

"He'll miss seeing Silver then," Knuckles commented through chittering teeth, "Tails, are we ready?"

"Almost..." With a loud clunk the purple emerald started to glow, "There! That should do it!"

With a spark and a swirl the ring first filled with flickering purple light before stabilising. While no visual of the other side was provided, the sound of waves splashing immediately filled the space. With a deep breath through a cold and slightly snotty nose, Amy immediately recognised the salty scent of the sea.

"The dimensional tunnel is secure, we're good to go!" The fox announced.

"And not a moment too soon!" Faster than even Sonic could rise, Amy leapt for the portal.

The transition was instantaneous, in less than a blink she went from shivering in a freezing shed atop a hillside to sweating in her heavy coat. It was all perfect- the warmth of the sun, the sound of the sea! Ahead of her stretched bright yellow sand sand and perfect aquamarine ocean all the way to the horizon. There was barely a cloud in the sky, scarcely a breeze in the air, and only a handful of confused looking koala onlookers.

Amy threw off her jacket and kicked off her boots as she dashed across the sands, fully acclimatising. Revealed beneath the former were the shoulder straps of a swimsuit she'd managed to pick up cheap during the winter. The one piece was styled like an inverted strawberry, with a leaf green miniskirt obscuring her upper thighs. Immediately she felt that warm summer comfort she'd so desperately sought; vitamin D at last!

"Blaze? Silver! Are you guys here?" Amy called across the beach, scanning the horizon.

"Wrong way, Amy!" A familiar voice called from behind.

She turned back to the portal just in time to see the others emerge, while a certain white furred psychic poked his head around the warbling disk of purple energy. The pink hedgehog rushed back, zooming past her friends once more. Before the hedgehog could react she'd pulled him into a hug, grasping low to ensure that she hoisted him off the ground.

"A-Amy, it's me, Silver!" The time-traveller wheezed, "Sonic's over there!"

"I know you big oaf, I'm not that blind! It's just been so long," She went from teasing to serious in a blink, still holding him, "While I've been freezing in the present, I see that you've been sunning it up in another dimension."

Silver's usually sun kissed muzzle was a full shade darker than she recalled, surely owing to time spent by the beach. His quills were pulled back into a neat ponytail, but they were almost certainly shorter than when Amy had last seen them. Those differences aside, the flip-flops he was wearing and the unbuttoned mint-green mini-coconut covered shirt were the real smoking gun- just how long had he lingered in this dimension?

"I've only been back for a couple of days, honest!" He professed.

"A likely story,"Amy chided, setting him down, "How's Blaze doing?"

"She's fine," He'd answered much too quickly, did Amy detect a hint of panic? "We set up a little further off, we brought some longing chairs and drinks and stuff down from the palace- but, I take it we shouldn't leave the portal alone," Now he was rambling, "I'll go grab her and the stuff!"

The hedgehog quickly flew off, fleeing the pink hedgehog's inquisitive gaze. Amy had concocted a rather fantastical view of the pair's partnership- ever since she'd learned that the two got along and that he frequented her reality, the thought of them sharing romantic rendezvous in the quiet depths of the palace had rather solidified in the romantic's brain. Already her sixth sense was was buzzing; something more than aesthetic had changed since she last saw Silver...

"Amy, don't tell me you scared him off already," Sonic teased from behind her.

As the pink hedgehog turned back she couldn't stop herself from laughing. To accompany his floating donut, the hedgehog had slipped into a pair of blaze orange inflatable armbands. As if that wasn't bad enough, a set of flippers had taken the place of his shoes and a snorkel was strapped to his forehead.

She fake swooned against his shoulder, "Every time I see you, you're more handsome, my darling."

"Laugh it up," He retorted, "I've seen this world's tropical storms, I'm not taking any chances- the last time one caught me I woke up on the shore," Sonic turned his attention to the sea, "I wonder if Marine's nearby..."

"She's going to show me how to surf!" Cream appeared around Sonic's side, kitted out in a full wetsuit.

"And I'm certain she'll have new ships to show us," Tails concurred, currently in the process of setting up a cone barrier around the portal- to prevent anyone accidentally falling into a much colder reality.

"It sounds like you all have full days planned," Vanilla emerged, having folded her coat away to reveal a beautiful white sundress, "I think I'll just catch some rays for now."

"If you wouldn't mind sitting by the portal, I'd really appreciate it," Tails chirped, "I was going ask Knuckles to guard it but..."

The fox had gestured out to sea- a set of tussled red quills could be seen occasionally breaching above the water, following the pattern of an intense butterfly stroke. The calmness of the waves meant that he was making good headway, soon he was little more than a speck on the horizon. He knew this was a nation of islands, didn't he? Perhaps he planned to swim to one and back? Well, working out atop a frigid Angel Island must have been difficult- maybe this was the first chance he'd got to train in a while...

"I'm more than willing to fill in until he's back," She smiled, before nonchalantly stating, "Ah, here come some flying chairs."

A swarm of deck chairs, made from dark wood with white fabric seating, were sailing their way across the sky in a cyan psychic sheen. One by one they descended to land on the sands surrounding the portal, arriving like highly convenient meteorites. Accompanying them descended Silver, carrying a large trough filled with ice and bottled drinks, and a grill to barbecue over with various equipment.

"Good morning," A new yet familiar voice sounded from one of the landed chairs behind Amy, "I'm glad to see you all arrived unscathed."

Lounging as if she'd always been sat there was Blaze the cat with a book in hand. She was wearing a sundress not dissimilar to Vanilla's, though a broad sunhat topped her head. Her garb was a warm mustard colour and, based on the thick dark straps on her shoulders, she'd done the logical thing of wearing a swimsuit underneath. A set of dark sunglasses sat on the edge of her nose, completing the outfit.

"Blaze, it's so good to see you again!" Amy beamed, pulling the cat into a hug, "It's been so long!"

"Likewise," Her tone was professional as ever, but Amy felt her briefly return the cuddle before she was released, "Feel free to make yourselves at home; the forecast is as perfect as we could have hoped for."

"I'm glad to hear it," Sonic approved, "And good to see you're doing better with heights now, nice show with the chairs Silver!"

"Oh that was nothing, you should see Blaze soar! We've been flying a lot lately," Silver began to retell with a grin, "There are some brilliant views out across the islands. Just last week we made it out to-

"I can speak for myself, Silver," Amy caught the hedgehog grimacing as Blaze suddenly interrupted,"But yes, I'm much more comfortable with heights now, I've been spending time to overcome that failing."

"Well, uh," Even Sonic looked perplexed at Blaze's utter frankness, "That's great, congrats!"

An awkward silence spread amongst the group, punctuated only by the lapping of waves and Tails continuing to place his barrier around the portal. Something was going on, as Amy's drama detector was ringing she caught the eye of a perturbed Vanilla. Blaze's attention seem to have dropped back to her book while Silver was tugging at his chest fur, neither were looking at the other!

Were they fighting? Was that allowed? What would they even fight over? Amy's imagined late night visits through bedroom balcony windows were quickly turning to dust!

"I'm going to go a walk and pick up some driftwood for the barbecue, does anyone want to tag along?" Silver cut the quiet, resting a hand on the grill.

"Sounds like it'll keep me out of the water, count me in," Sonic offered.

Silver's head cocked to the right, "You've got all that on, but you're not going to swim?"

"It's in case he gets swept out to sea," Amy answered, "I'll come too, to help keep him grounded."

As the white and blue pair started to head off, Amy quickly threw a pleading glance to Vanilla. The mother rabbit rolled her eyes but gave an understanding nod. She was willing to act as the portal's bodyguard and the romantic's spy at the same time! With a mouthed thank you Amy rushed to catch up with her fellow hedgehogs.

"Some of Marine's ships wrecked off the coast near here, so there's usually some good wood around..." Silver said, quickly seeming to catch himself, "Oh, that sounds bad, she's fine! Blaze makes sure at least one of us always with her when she's testing a new vessel and usually they don't crash... most of the time."

"She's still up to her old tricks then," Sonic chuckled, "Cream and Tails are excited to see her again."

"I think she'll be around shortly, she wanted to make a big show of her arrival," Silver recalled, "Expect a big boat and maybe some kind of explosion," The psychic forewarned, squinting at the horizon, "Oh, that looks like a big chunk of boat over there! It looks pretty familiar."

As the trio made their way over, Amy couldn't help but notice that Silver was still tugging at his chest fur. He'd found this task to busy himself but still his mind was elsewhere. Had he left it behind with the rest of the group; was he dwelling on one person in particular? As they arrived at the flotsam he did pull himself from a daydream enough to psychically tug a great portion of wood away from the water's edge and to their feet.

"Amy, would you like do the honours?" Sonic proposed.

"Scared you'll pop a floaty?" She snorted, manifesting her hammer with no more than a gesture and slamming it down, "Marine built this thing tough, I'm surprised it wrecked."

The wood had splintered but not broken, "Yeah, she was pretty proud of this one. I think she crashed it trying to set some kind of ocean speed record using wind alone. Naturally that meant going out in a storm. The whole thing flipped and we had to bail. Must have bounced off a bad wave- it felt like we'd hit something."

"Did she break the record?" Of course Sonic asked that; she cut off the time traveller's answer with another hammer swing.

"So, Silver," A section broke free with her third strike, "How's life in this dimension? You've been visiting for a while, right? You must be a local by now."

"I guess I sort of am yeah, with the future always in flux it's nice to have somewhere stable to sleep," He recalled aloud, psychically separating the section she'd chipped off.

"Oh? Where do you stay while you're here?" He'd taken the bait, he was on the hook, "With Marine, or?"

"There's a guest room in the palace I usually use. It started like all the others, but," He seemed to catch himself, his hand returned to his chest fur, "It's been redecorated a bit."

"You seem like the kind of person who'd own a lava lamp," Sonic stupidly snickered, "Am I right?"

Amy pulled back for another swing, "I'm sure Silver has enough sense-

"Two," It was a good thing that Silver interrupted, "No, wait, three now. I found another in the last future I visited."

Sonic's smug grin would have been cute if he wasn't distracting from Amy's investigation, "I guess you must see more of Blaze than almost anyone else then, right?"

The scandalous implication drew a raised brow from Sonic, while Silver still tugged at his fur, "She's usually busy with her duties and meetings; almost everything she does has to be scheduled, even today."

"Ah, but what about the early mornings and evenings?" Amy's hammer came smashing down once more, "I suppose that's when you found time to give Blaze some flying lessons."

"We might have found some hours around sunset when things aren't too busy," He finally admitted, "It's not a common thing though."

"Right, of course. Not a common thing," Amy agreed, continuing to hammer.

That was proof enough, the two had absolutely been dating- Amy was convinced, but something must have changed recently. Maybe rumours of their relationship had spread and Silver's lowborn status, let alone him not being a citizen, had proven too great a faux pas than the public could accept. Perhaps some shady suitor had proposed an alliance too bountiful for Blaze to deny, resulting in the cat sacrificing her relationship with Silver for the good of her people. Their split could have even owed to a combination of the two; with distinct perspectives surely weighing on them so thoroughly!

"Woah, Amy, I think that's enough!" Lost in her thoughts, she'd rather gone wild on the remains of the ship- rendering a chunk into splinters.

"It's okay, kindling is important to get the fire going," Silver responded, casting psychic light over the larger chunks, "If you guys handle that, I'll bring the big bits back to the barbecue."

"You got it," Sonic swept up some sticks in his arms, careful to keep the pointed ends away from his inflatables.

Amy gathered some kindling too, banishing her hammer, but caught the blue blur's eyes in hers as she did so. With a nod of her head, Sonic caught her drift. Soon the two of them had slipped away from Silver as he gathered, wandering ahead and just out of earshot.

"What do you know about the political situation here? Do you think Blaze sees many suitors..." The pink hedgehog asked, only to be met by a thoroughly perplexed frown.

"Amy, we're here to have fun and relax," Sonic sighed, "Don't work yourself into some kind of investigation. When we planned today, I was sure you were going to focus on-

Dropping more than a few sticks, Amy pushed a finger to his lips, "What if there's some law that princess can't marry a non-citizen! Could she overturn it?"

"You don't even know that they're a couple, let alone on the verge of getting married," The speedster groaned.

"Oh, I know that they're not a couple now, but they certainly have been and more than likely will be again," Amy insisted, "You're not seeing the full picture. If such a law exists, and she can't overturn it, then she could never be seen with him. The impropriety it would imply is simply too scandalous..."

"You've been watching too many movies," He tutted, "Let's just dump the firewood and then you can try to drag me out to sea," She could hear from his tone, Sonic knew she wasn't listening, "Come on, you came all this way in a swimsuit. It'd be a waste not to splash around a little."

"Perhaps later," By the sound of psychic whirring, she could hear Silver catching up, "For now, I've got an informant to meet with."

While Cream and Tails had moved on to create sandcastles, the former with traditional tools while the latter seemed to have brought some kind of mini-excavator for the task. Where once his barriers were only served to protect the portal, they now also cordoned off a sand focused building site. Regardless, Amy found Vanilla and Blaze still lazing on their chairs. She needed a method to separate the older rabbit and cat...

"Mister Silver!" Was Cream about to create an opportunity? "Can you use your power to create sandcastles?"

"I don't think I've never tried," The hedgehog set down the broken chunks of ship, "Maybe later we can give it a shot Cream, I need to set up the-

"I can set up the barbecue, go have fun," Amy waved him off, taking head position above the grill.

"You're sure?" Silver blinked, "It's really no problem, I can-

"I insist, I've barely brought anything to share, it's the least I can do," Amy pushed, ignoring Sonic's rolled eyes and shooting a look to Vanilla.

"Oh, ok," Silver accepted, "Thanks!"

The mother managed to avoid Amy's stare for almost a full minute before finally rising. She started to slink her way over, looking just a little frustrated. To disguise the clandestine effort the pink hedgehog quickly stacked a few of Sonic's kindling sticks into a small pile beneath the grill. By the time Amy popped back up Vanilla was looking over her, practically blocking out the sun.

"Miss Rose, is there something you wish to discuss?" The mother sweetly asked.

"Oh, you know," Amy tried to lean casually on the barbecue, "I was just wondering how our mutual friend is doing?"

"We didn't speak much, she seemed a little tense," That was unsurprising, "It's difficult to tell where she's looking, those glasses are too dark, but she was barely reading. I think she was watching you all instead..."

"Not all of us, just one..." Amy hypothesised aloud, as she quickly remembered she should have been building a pyre, "Did she mention anything strange?"

"No. We just talked about her schedule, the poor dear really is being run ragged," With a sigh, the rabbit's tone shifted to become somewhat more serious, "I think we should just let her relax and people watch if she wants."

"I promise I won't bother her," Amy got her message, still stacking wood, "I just need to get to the bottom of this."

"Need to, or want to?" Vanilla's motherly tone retained a hint of ice

"Both,"Amy squeaked, before realising she didn't have any matches, "Um, Blaze- can you shoot us a light?"

The feline didn't respond, Amy followed the approximate angle of her sunglasses lenses only to estimate she staring at something quite marvellous. In the brief time that Amy had semi-successfully stocked the grill, the psychic had proven that his powers did indeed work on sand. Between that effort, Tails' excavator, and Cream's sandcastle creating experience, the three had rapidly shaped what could only be described as a grand palace.

Columns of sand with toothed tops reached for the sky, each of them carved and stylised to give the appearance of brickwork and bearing shield shaped windows. At the centre stood a great square building, evidently strong enough to hold the weight of Tails' excavator as he shaped decorative features on what was supposed to be the roof. Currently he seemed to be styling something of a rooftop garden made of sand? Perhaps it was set to be decorated with shells...

Atop the closest spire were Silver and Cream, the former's hands still aglow. On the advice of the young rabbit, he was still expanding the palace grounds. The sand beneath the pink hedgehog smoothed and patterned itself with no more than a wave from him, taking on the appearance of hexagonal cobblestone. As she watched the pattern spread, her eyes were drawn back to the feline- now she was certain the cat was focused on her psychic companion.

"Blaze!" Amy called louder.

The feline flinched as if snapping out a daydream, flipping a page of her book before quickly turning to Amy.

She gestured to the grill, "Would you mind?"

Wordlessly, the cat snapped her fingers and sent a spark tracing across the sands. With no more than a point she guided the ember to bounce to and fro before making a final leap into the pile of wood at the base of the grill. As the flame enlarged Amy curtsied, receiving a sitting bow from the princess in response. The cat looked down to her book but, shortly after Amy had drawn some skewers from the barbecue equipment, her gaze seemed to have raised once more- had she and her beloved locked eyes?

"Hey, Blaze! Do you want..." The hedgehog seemed to catch himself, Amy swore she saw him grimace as Blaze flipped another pack of her book, "Never mind, we're fine!"

A glance back to Blaze revealed that her tail was sweeping up a sandstorm, had that always been the case? What had he wanted to ask her? What was going on between them?! Before awkwardness could claim reality once more, the blare of a foghorn filled the air.

"It's Marine!" Cream called out, waving out to sea from on high.

"About time," Sonic sounded from over Amy's shoulder.

Somehow, Amy had forgotten that her hero was stood right there and that he'd surely overheard her clandestine rendezvous with Vanilla. Come to think of it, he hadn't quite taken to the summery island in the way Amy had anticipated. She'd rather expected him to act like Knuckles had, only a good bit more landlocked.

"Oh darling," Amy fluttered her eyelashes, "Would you mind taking over on the grill? I haven't seen Marine in so very long..."

"Are you really going to abandon me again to meet up with one of your spies," Sonic huffed, "In your hands, Marine will practically be a double agent."

"Well, you can be my eyes and ears on land," Amy cooed, before realising, "Are you jealous?"

"What? Me? No," He said, like a very jealous hedgehog.

"We've got plenty of time, my love," She stepped away from him, only to look back over her shoulder in the most theatrical way possible, "I'm sure we'll have time for a swimming lesson before the sun sets..."

With no more than a teasing wave, the pink rascal slipped away from her beloved to round the castle. She regained her view of the sea just in time to see a puff of smoke and hear a detonation. Launched as if from a canon, skirting upon the ocean's surface like a thrown stone, was the shape of a small form clinging to a surfboard. Rather than riding the waves properly, the figure skimmed back and forth- creating sprays of froth with each bounce. It was only as the form drew close that Amy realised it would not stop in time- a surfer shaped torpedo was about to crash into the sandy palace!

Psychic energy thrummed above, generating a cyan glow upon the sands. Amy watched as the earth at the water's edge rose and fell, creating a series of bumpy waves reaching out to sea. One by one they cushioned the incoming surfer, gently lowering her speed until she came to an inevitable splashing halt by the shore's edge.

Amy looked up to the psychic, "Did you know you could do that?"

"Yes?" He didn't sound at all certain.

"Sorry I'm late, mates!" Marine so casually chirped from upon the water, "Strewth, that castle is almost as big as yours Blaze!"

The overexcited raccoon seemed to entirely ignore Silver's saving her life- instead rushing around to greet everyone with her usual overenthusiastic glee. She was dressed in what could best be described as a midpoint between pirate cosplay and a wetsuit, plainly of her own design judging by it's mixture of bright green and orange shades. As Silver sent Cream down to say her hellos, Amy seized the opportunity to grab the rabbit youngster by the shoulder.

"Cream," Amy leaned down close, "Do you know what Silver was going to ask Blaze? When you two were up on top of the castle?"

"Oh, he suggested making a statue of her to go with the palace. He was going to ask her to do a pose he could copy," The youngster answered, "Then he remembered, she's really focused on her reading- she doesn't want to be interrupted until it's done."

The youngster was released to bounce around with Marine. How very suspicious, why would that give him pause? The cat wasn't reading, she'd been staring at him the whole time. Her reading couldn't possibly be the reason he'd changed course, had he forgotten something else? Was he avoiding her?

"Alright, time for surfing lessons and showing off," Marine boldly announced, returning to the water's edge, "Tails, Cream- hop on board!"

"I think that surfboard's only built for one, maybe two at most, Marine," Tails called out, still working on the castle, "I'll come see the ship later, you two have fun!"

"My boards can totally handle up to eight real heavy folks," The raccoon fumed, plopping down on her surfboard, "Silver, are you coming?"

"I'll stay here to catch you both," Silver suggested, only to catch a dirty look from Marine, "Just on the off chance that history repeats itself."

"Well, if they's space going spare, I'll certainly join you," Amy quickly offered, slinking toward the board.

"Strewth! Have you ever surfed before, mate?" The raccoon asked.

"Once or twice, I've mostly just paddled," Amy lied, not wanting to steal the little girl's thunder.

"We can teach you, Miss Amy," Cream chirped, taking her spot behind Marine.

"Silver, if you're not going to come, can we at least get a push?" Marine pleaded.

Before Amy could really prepare herself, the board lifted itself from the shore. The pink hedgehog leapt onto the back of the surfboard, wrapping her arms around the two smaller beachgoers and grasping the wood for stability. With a sudden jolt the trio were pushed out to skim across the water's surface, bouncing twice before settling into a more natural yet accelerated drift- free of cyan cowling.

As the sound of splashing calmed, they found themselves close to halfway toward Marine's boat. The ship was truly gigantic, it was a shock that she'd seemingly sailed it all the way out here by her lonesome. With three massive sails and a figurehead that looked like a sabre wielding version of the raccoon herself, it seemed like it'd be capable of transporting close to a hundred sailors. On the side, Amy could see the massive cannon she'd clearly used to launch her and the surfboard.

"Did you see Mister Knuckles in your travels?" Cream queried, breaking the hedgehog's pondering, "He swam out to sea a while ago."

"I don't think so..." Marine confirmed, before frowning, "Hope I didn't hit him..."

"If you had, you'd have known about it. I'm certain he'd have started hammering at your ship," Amy confirmed, "He seems to be in an exercising mood; would probably have enjoyed the challenge."

A quick glance to the surrounding waters yielded no sight of the red echidna. They said that time flies when you're having fun, but had the guardian already reached another island? She had no idea he was such an adept swimmer. Still, since they were out here with only Cream capable of eavesdropping...

"So, Marine," Any pretence of subtly sank beneath the waves, "What's going on between Silver and Blaze?"

The excitable girl's expression said so much and yet so little. She looked as if Amy had offered her an impossible ultimatum and countless lives hung in the balance. For a solid minute her cheeks puffed and her brows furrowed, as if she was doing some ludicrous calculation. Finally, the raccoon's ears dipped as she finally averted her gaze, having made her choice.

"I'm sorry mate, I really am," Marine bleated, "But I can't tell you anything; they made me swear not to!"

"But that means they are keeping a secret," Amy wedged, "Can you really not tell me anything?"

"Not if I want..." The youngster realised she'd been caught out, "What I've been promised."

"Has someone bribed you?" The hedgehog processed before gasping, "Did they bribe you together? What is the price of your silence?! I'll double whatever they're paying!"

"C-Come on mate, let's just focus on surfing," The raccoon turned back around and started to paddle.

"I'll triple it Marine, please!" Amy paddled too, as if that might somehow close the Cream shaped distance between them, "Just-

A geyser tore skyward, splitting Marine's ship in two and sending a giant wave surging toward them. On instinct, Amy conjured her hammer and used it as a paddle to spin the surfboard. Banishing the mallet once more, she grasped the edge of the board.

"Hold on tight!"Amy commanded.

Cream and Marine hunkered down just as the wave caught the back of the board. They'd gone from being launched in one direction to being shoved in the other! Harnessing what surfing experience she had, once they were in the grasp of the wave, Amy clambered to stand. Having glanced up to estimate the collapse of the wave, Amy started to lean with all her might. The board angled to cut along the forming curve of the wave, sparing the three of them from spilling out as they surfed in a more typical manner.

On the shore she could see panic erupting, all of her friends had gathered to be cloaked in Silver's psychic aura. Quickly they were flying as a cloud, soaring close- plainly on the offensive and ready to get revenge for the sunken ship. Despite their reactions from the far side of the wave, Amy had no idea what had destroyed Marine's boat!

"Keep holding on!" Amy commanded the youngsters, timing their movements.

With a well timed swivel of the surfboard, the three of them slid up the wave and into the air! Above the whooping of Marine and the surprised squeal of Cream, the pink hedgehog heard the whir of psychic energy convalescing around the three of them. Still on the board and well above the water, they found themselves in flight between in inflatable laden Sonic and a Blaze seemingly unfazed by her airborne position- being levitated toward where the ship has been split.

Emerged from the water, looming between the sinking halves of Marine's masterwork, was a ludicrously large robotic creature. Though Amy already expected Eggman would be responsible, the presence of his insignia grinning across the face of a great metal whale was more than proof enough. In the water surrounding the false mammal, a series of large inflatable rafts enlarged to float on the surface, escaping from the gaping holes in Marine's sinking creation.

"At least the lifeboats are still shipshape," The raccoon moaned, "I was really exited to show you all that boat..."

"They'll work as platforms," Tails quickly analysed from somewhere to the back of the floating bundle, "We can attack from them!"

"Silver!" Blaze called out.

"On it!" All of a sudden, they were in sync again!

Amy felt her stomach lurch as they all shot forward faster, closing in on the scene. On top of the great whale a familiar figure was hunched over and actively pummelling the ground he stood upon. As they drew closer Amy noticed a series of great gashes in the hull of the machine leaking water, and quickly intuited just what had happened. Knuckles' swim had been interrupted by a vessel after all.

It was only as those details became discernable that the enemy's maw stretched open. Attached to a red mechanical tongue, sat within a glass domed cockpit, was another familiar face. Eggman was fiddling with dials and levers, quickly this variation of his egg mobile was both guarded and flanked by a series of further tongue-like mechanical arms wielding a variety of ludicrous weapons.

One of the life-rafts was quickly cloaked in cyan and tossed toward the doctor. All at once the mechanical limbs began to slice, dice, tear at the dingy. Despite the danger the armaments seemed to pose, they were struggling to break through the thick rubbery material. Marine built everything way too tough; it gave the perfect opportunity for them to land! Amy watched as her friends were launched toward the awful machine.

Blaze was sent down first, landing to the right of the great maw. Flames erupted from her hands, immediately scorching the side of the great whale and starting to warm its darl metal to orange. Sonic was sent down next- despite being laden with floatation devices, he quickly set to work combating the metal arms that were breaching the life raft. Tails was a lot more tactical upon landing- grabbing one of the metal limbs Sonic had dispatched and using it to strike the metal Blaze was heating. Already more holes were opening on the whale, perhaps they could sink it...

Silver repositioned to hover within earshot, "Where should I put you down?"

With the kids alongside her, Amy was in a difficult situation, "Set us down on top of the whale with Knuckles. We'll find a way to harm it from up there!"

There was a risk the machine's top could pose a distinct threat, but Knuckles seemed to be uninterrupted in his pummelling. Up there they'd be away from the lashing tongues and on solid ground. When their foe was defeated they could either jump for the lifeboats or have Silver sweep them up.

Psychic energy whirred as the three of them were sent to land atop Eggman's machine. Immediately Amy set to work, conjuring her hammer and striking down hard. She could hear Cream and Marine getting to work as well, but judging by the sharp pain in her forearms this whale was tougher than the doctor's usual machines. It was only as she got to work that Amy noticed Vanilla had been stranded up here too- Silver must have accidentally brought her along! Well, with her watching the kids, the rosy rascal could go all out!

"What are you all doing here!?" A scream sounded over a tannoy, "Finally I decide to make my glorious unanticipated return to this dimension, without my worse-half no less, only to find you all here waiting for me?! What's even the point!"

The sound of rubber tearing filled the air, the mechanical arms had fully broke free of the life raft. Amy rushed to the edge of the faux head just in time to see Sonic, still dressed in all his floaties, spin kick a sharp looking blade free from the limb wielding it. The gleaming weapon flew through the air only to catch in the side of the whale's head! An opening had been created, a point she could strike! Amy rushed over and brought her hammer down; in one strong swing the blade penetrated to disappear inside the machine, leaving a gash in its wake.

With her newfound method in mind, the pink hedgehog rushed toward the sound of another clang. She found a saw blade embedded just beneath her level. With a well aimed swing the pointed disk was sent spinning down the edge of the robot and down beneath the waterline. As it disappeared, out the corner of her eye she spotted a rather scorched looking spear spinning through the air. Amy leapt and, timing the swing perfectly, spiked the point into the ground beneath her. With a second strike that weapon too completely vanished into the mecha-whale's interior.

"Well, looks like it's now or never!" A frustrated yell blared from the cockpit bellow.

A loud metal clunk turned Amy's eyes right only to see a new opening on the top of the whale- a blowhole! She ran for Cream, Vanilla, and Marine, expecting to defend them from some kind of attack, only to end up watching as missile after missile flew free from the hole. In mere moments, a barrage of almost thirty gigantic rockets were shot into the air! They were flying as a volley, cutting quickly through the sky on an arc toward the shore. Was Eggman aiming for the beach or the palace? The missiles could have been heading for the town!

"I've got them!" Silver yelled, taking off once more and chasing after the explosives.

"Amy, what do you want us to do?" Vanilla asked, her arms around the two girls.

A sigh of relief breached Amy's lips, "I think we're safe up here, but be ready to jump for the rafts at any moment."

Before Marine could pipe up with some adventurous scheme, Amy was on the run again. She cleaved her hammer down onto the quickly sealing opening where the missiles had emerged. With three good swings the metal was buckled and broken, surely incapable of reopening to unleash another salvo. Despite four further strikes, she wasn't able to smash her way through- to tear things up from the inside.

At the edge of her vision Amy sighted a great band of cyan hanging above the beach, Silver had succeeded! With the missile threat paused, they could really focus on sinking Eggman. The hammer wielding hedgehog spiked what looked to be a redirected cannonball back down onto machine that had produced it, doing annoyingly little damage.

Eggman's voice crackled through a speaker, "Oh, what a shame, Silver stopped my missiles..." A flash of light at the shoreline spun Amy, "Good thing I can detonate them mid-flight!"

The flash of light was quickly followed by the sound of a cacophonous explosion. Silver's psychic grasp was replaced by a line of red flame cutting across the sky. The force was severe enough to render the sand palace into a mere pile and shake the seas. In its wake, Amy saw a mote of cyan tumble toward the ground.

"Silver!" The cat screamed in panic.

Amy caught Blaze's stare, "Go to him, we can deal with Eggman!"

The cat first leapt for the great metal whale, her body alight as she bounced off its iron shell and into the air. In the aftermath a glowing mark was left; another weak point to strike! Amy took advantage, swinging her hammer and breaking a hole into heated metal. When Eggman sunk, his ship would never resurface!

As Amy pounded and tore at the melted opening- she saw the feline soar as a burning meteor, blazing across the sky to land amongst the collapsed castle. Soon the cat was completely out of view, the pink hedgehog could only guess what was going on at the shore. The best thing she could do now was-

"Well, it's not the victory I wanted, but it'll have to do!" As Eggman laughed, she felt the craft beneath her shift.

Was he intentionally diving?! The water was rapidly approaching, either the machine was sinking or the doctor had made a play. Did he have something else planned? By the time Amy turned to look for her three allies, they were already jumping from the whale without hesitation.

"Knuckles, we need to go!" Amy called out.

She saw the echidna finally rise from his pummelling position as she leapt after the kids; before the craft could fully disappear beneath the waves, he too had landed on a floating platform. Bubbles thundered to the surface as the metal whale dove- surely a result of the various holes they'd torn in the device. Amy was beginning to think the doctor had foolishly sealed his own fate; that was until green light flashed beneath the waves. In its wake, the great shadow beneath the waves was gone. Eggman plainly had no intention of going down with his ship- he'd made it to this dimension after all, it made sense that he had preplanned a way of escaping it...

"Is everyone okay?" Amy called out.

Sonic had somehow made it out without bursting any of his floaties, Knuckles seemed more frustrated than anything, and Tails looked simply exhausted. Of Marine's six rafts only two had survived the conflict, though one of them was much worse for wear. Soon the group had piled onto the better looking craft.

"I can't see Mister Silver or Miss Blaze on the beach," Cream bleated, her eyes to the shore, "I think he might need help."

"The portal should still be standing. If he's hurt we can take him straight into my workshop, I've got a first aid kit in there," Tails suggested.

"Or I could run in and grab the kit, if moving him's a bad idea," Sonic proposed.

It took the most mature of them, Vanilla, to notice the issue with their plans, "How are we going to get back to shore?"

Quiet claimed the group as they realised their method of getting here and their companion, newly confident in her flying capabilities, were both on the shore. Tails could fly, but the distance to beach was sure too great for him to cross while carrying all of them. Despite how large and bulky the life raft was, there was no sign of any motor or paddles to row with. All eyes fell on the creator of this craft, who was herself looking around the very barren floor of the giant life raft.

"Where are the oars?!" Marine slapped her forehead, "I knew I forgot something when I designed these..."

"I can drag a raft back, but it won't be quick..." Knuckles offered.

"We'll probably go faster if we used my tails like a propeller too?" Tails piped up, "But Sonic, could you run across the water?"

The hedgehog hopped from foot to foot, the rubber of their pontoon shifted on the water, "I can't get a proper running start, even if the ground was stable- there's not enough of a runway..."

Amy's eyes caught on Marine's surfboard floating on the water and an idea flashed in her mind. She couldn't get all of them to shore, but she had the skill to navigate over the waves. If Silver was hurt, speed was a necessity.

"You two get started on that, but in the meantime," Amy fished the board closer using her hammer, "Sonic, get ready to kick!"

"Huh?" The hedgehog blinked as she grabbed him.

Amy stepped out onto the board, "I said I'd give you a swimming lesson, it's time!"

As the blue hedgehog was sat at the rear of the surfboard trepidation didn't so much as touch his face, "You got it, Ames!"

He swivelled onto his belly, grappled the sides of the surfboard, and began to kick with all his might. A spray of water leapt up behind them as they rocketed forward, Amy swayed at the sudden burst of speed but managed to keep her footing. Soon the two of them were well ahead of their allies, heading toward the coastline at breakneck speed.

"Thank you, Sonic. I know this isn't easy for you," She called back, "Even if you can't keep going, we'll make it to shore and see that they're okay, I promise!"

"Are you doubting me Amy? That's a first," He tutted, maintaining his cocky attitude as ever, "Of course we'll make it, I've got you watching my back!"

They ramped off of a forming wave, hitting the water and bouncing like a skimmed stone. As her knees bent in response and she reached down to stabilise, her hand grazed the back of his head. As their board made contact with the water it suddenly veered hard to the right despite how Amy was leaning! As she rose to focus more of her weight their board curved without issue.

It took pink hedgehog a moment to hypothesise just what had happened. She leaned down again, reaching her fingers to mess among Sonic's quills. A tussle to the left made the board shift right, a tug on his right swept them out to arc left. With that, her experiment was an instant success.

"Amy, is now really the time?" Was he blushing?

"Don't worry about it, my little motor," She continued to tease his quills, "Let's just focus on getting to shore!"

Using Sonic's head to control the rudder, Amy quite easily steered their vessel around the choppier waves. As the board made landfall the two of them were sent tumbling over each other. She landed on top of him, straddling his belly. If the situation were any less dire she would have taken the opportunity to tease him some more, but there was no sign of them on the beach- just the crumbled remains of the previous sand structure.

"Come on, they have to be nearby!" She stumbled off of him.

"Right behind you," She heard him mutter, for once lagging behind.

The pink lass conjured her hammer as she approached the great mound of sand that'd once been the castle. She swung the weapon back and forth, excavating a path through the remains in search of where Blaze had landed and that psychic light had fallen. Soon she found herself in something of a clearing- her eyes fell upon a pile of purple and white.

Among the largely collapsed remains of the sandcastle, though still obscured from their surroundings by its ruins, the time traveller was laying with his head in the princess' lap. He looked a little worse for wear, quills tossed and fur dirtied by sand- his cyan symbols dulled- but ultimately mostly unharmed. He was reaching up, about to tuck an errant strand of hair back into her ponytail... that was, until, the cat took his fingers in hers and brought his knuckle to her lips.

Amy's mind was racing. Had that really just happened? Had she just kissed his hand? Had Blaze the cat, princess guardian of the Sol Emeralds, just kissed Silver the hedgehog, time traveling psychic?!

"What is going on in this dimension!" Amy screamed, turning both of their heads, "I thought you two were fighting!"

For a beat, the pair looked back to each other- as if now psychically communicating, trying to come up with some kind of rational explanation. Blaze's tail had gone completely stiff, her ears had folded back, and she was completely avoiding the pink girl's stare. Silver meanwhile looked as if he had just been scolded rather than kissed, his quills drooping and pleading stare undeniable.

All at once Amy put the pieces together- the secret flying lessons, their brief squabbles, his palace guest room, Blaze's sunglasses, Marine's secret, even Silver's tan! The two of them had been keeping a distance from each other to avoid suspicion, only to rouse hers. They weren't fighting, not remotely. The reality was quite the opposite- oh how romantic summer love was...

"Ames? Have you found them?" Sonic's voice called from behind.

"Oh darling," Amy turned around, rushing to meet him, "I believe the situation has been handled."

"What?" His head tilted, he tried to look past but Amy stepped into his way, "Is Silver okay?"

"He's more than okay, he's great," She began to push him out of the ruined sandcastle, "Blaze is too. Let's leave them be for now," A broad smirk crossed her muzzle, "Time to cure your jealous streak."

"Jealous? Who's jealous?" He huffed, turning as he allowed himself to be shoved back toward the water.

The two would be free emerge whenever they were ready, no explanation needed. After all, Amy had known the truth all along. They were fools to try to hide it!

[pricegouge]

how we feel about call of duty kaiju horror?

(I’m watching a Godzilla movie tonight so✨)

-🫀

it's the fact that you knew exactly what you were doing with each keystroke that's killing me here

vibrating at a speed imperceptible to the human eye: i feel pretty normal about it.

okay i'm at a low point mental-health-slash-hope-in-the-world wise rn which means ofc i've been thinking about my sweet baby puppy, godzilla, a lot recently. just something about a larger than life monster of our own making come to visit hell upon us that's rather apt, you know?

so originally i was just gonna ramble about that as a response to this - and how easily you could plug an elite squad of soldiers into that formula, make them the focus as they fight back against the kaiju. do it kinda like shin godzilla, maybe, where it's more a procedural than anything to highlight the incompetence of their orders - the us versus them, versus it; where the pieces are government/military officials, civilians, and of course the kaiju. and then bring it back around to what they have to resort to to actually get the job done. trusting the people most effected by the actions of their overhead, and all that. which i'm super into, but knew wouldn't necessarily have made for a good fic. and then beloved @stellewriites did what she does best and seduced me into writing a little snippet after suggesting the focus be more on the after-effects, like a cloverfield situation.

and she was fucking right, but unfortunately that's not what i ended up doing here because i saw kaiju horror and blanked out a bit writing an action scene lmao.

shelling, active fire, hand to hand combat. nothing prepares you for something like this.

hell, even falling out of a hele hadn't been this bad - hadn't instilled within him this fear, just before drop, all kitted out and ready for action. as if anything on their persons could actually defend them from the screeching behemoth below. offense had been unofficially deemed hopeless. not even the stealth bombers had done any good, their blast zones only succeeding in creating more debris, more shrapnel. more rubble to bury the first wave of casualties.

they'd been assured there wouldn't be any more bombing, not while there were boots on the ground trying to minimize the growing death toll, guiding the frantic packs of terrified civilians looking for refuge.

gaz was fairly sure they had told the first deployment the same thing.

it's a struggle not to assess his team, so he doesn't fight it. takes in their expressions as they hang out the open side of the blackhawk, faces underlit by flame and heat. they look grim, worse than he's ever seen them. but cap's voice is still his standard surly growl over the comms when he tells nik to bring them closer to the… thing.

ghost is the only one brave enough to question him. "price?"

"just want a better look," the captain grumbles, as if the scale of it could even allow for some sort of misunderstanding.

"it's a big ass lizard, cap," gaz supplies, unable to hold his tongue as the creature looms closer, nik's steady hand bringing the hele up and over its head, outside of the range of its relatively short arms. "what more do you need to see?"

price eyes him, chill of his gaze turned gunmetal in the thin light. a warning. "don't know enough about it to be fightin' it."

"are we fightin' it then, cap?" soap, borderline hopeful. like he thinks he can save the world with a well-placed sticky bomb, even after everything he's seen.

"you saw what it did in pari -!"

price cuts him off. "might have to. should know more about it."

like it's got an achilles' heel they'll be able to spot while dropping, their flare lights casting a grim red glow over the mountainous mass of plates and scales. they ring it as best they can - a valiant effort to keep their paracords untangled. from each other, from the mess of wires clinging to the skeleton frames still standing. from it. gaz lucks out, manages to draw its head. his flare light casts eerie shadows on the smoke behind it, jagged cuts of spiny bone that reach like fingers skyward, as if to pluck the circling hele from the air like no more than a noisome fly hanging over head. there's a gradual slope across a heavy brow, its face wide-set and surprisingly flat, as if evolution knew it wouldn't be snuffling around in the dirt for food no matter what hellish recesses of the earth it had crawled out of. he sees the teeth first, blanched and deadly in a mouth that gapes slightly, soft pink tissue glinting with drool in the wan, flickering light. the shape of it seems to shift in the smoke, disorienting in its incomprehensibility. gaz tracks the nose - up, in, across -

the eye rolls, a ring of sclera giving it an unexpected humanity. it's beady, the iris the same dark, muddy sort of gray that blends with the rest of its plating. defensive evolutionary traits. against what, gaz did not want to know. it flickers red and orange in the light. alive, wary. a thick nictitating membrane draws back, reveals a depth of color which can't quite hide the pupil - nor the way it dilates, trained on him.

it ducks his head as he falls, assessing just as much as gaz is. he reaches for his gun, automatic, and the ridge of brow above its eyes twitches, lowers. there's a series of pops, loud enough to hear even above the thunder of air in his ears, and then a light flickers to life in its gullet, electric blue and feeble in its infancy.

debrief hadn't mentioned bioluminescence. he decides he does not want to be the first one to find out what that's about.

tipping himself forward, he propels himself faster. his angle widens, brings him around the creature's side a bit, out of its field of view. he follows along its broad flank, dipping past huge, clawed hands which curl as if in disgust as he passes. he pulls his chute somewhere around its hip, tries to plot his land despite his general lack of visibility. he's just settled on a gap in the buildings up ahead when the air stirs, a quick updraft that rocks him where he hangs, sending smoke swirling as something slices through it, maybe twenty meters above the ground. he keeps his eyes peeled for another jumper, cautious about mixed lines even though he should still be well away from soap's position.

but it's not another jumper. he sees it first in the reflection of a busted window, shatter-proof glass left hanging concave in its frame. light catches in it, a sporadic wisp refracting through the crumple points, pulsing with movement. electric blue.

he casts about for its source, finds it off to his right. it slips through the air like a knife, smooth and deadly enough to have him running through a list possible drone types he may have run afoul of. he comes up short, though he wouldn't be surprised to learn they'd resorted to test tech. last thing he needs, though he doesn't start to seriously worry until another one appears, just slightly larger, moving in sync with the first. they arch out and around to his left just as another flickers to light directly before them. again, slightly larger than the last - though maybe a little bit closer to it as well.

the next one is heralded by a quiet humming, low enough he thinks he's imagining things until his feed starts crackling with static. he pulls his cords so he can face it more fully, and the chain of lights whip away from him, circle back behind the creature with enough force to shift the air again, unexpected draft pulling him up, up.

the beast faces him, turned fully with a deadly kind of silence kyle hadn't expected. its mouth hangs agape, faint blue light leaking from between its teeth, painting the surrounding smoke blue until it looks like xenon breath, just as fatal. the aura seems to build around it, and it takes gaz much too long to realize its being backlit, the strange lights gathering behind it until the smoke all around glows blue and white and it bows, sinks to his level with an open maw. the light in its throat crystallizes into a cold white while building in intensity, lock step with the intimidation display climbing over its shoulders, the massive plates there flickering to life, veined with phosphorescence.

he'd be nowhere in life if he hadn't learned to listen - when needed, at least.

suspended as he is, his options are limited. he yanks at cords that do nothing, the air gone so still in the creature's deadly silence that it won't even let him fall. like a vacuum, just waiting for the collapse.

"fuck. shit," he hisses, panic building.

the thing shakes its head, an audible rumble building alongside the deafening hum of static. gaz pulls his emergency release and feels his stomach fall before he does, tumbling away after it with flailing limbs, unable to even right himself into a controlled dive before he's catching his full weight on his shoulder, the composite hull of a hele groaning under his mass before the world tilts sideways once more, flops him onto his stomach where his cheek grinds into dirt and metal runners.

"flare!" a thick accent calls from over head, and kyle has just enough wits about him to recognize that the thick trail of red crawling along the floor of the hele is coming from him. he draws a knee up, hands swatting uselessly at himself in search of the strap that keeps the flare tied to his ankle, smoke filtering through his mask until he's -

it's hard to tell what happens first, the blinding light or the g-force which crashes into the hele from above - pushes it down even as he stays in place, colliding with the ceiling hard enough to knock the remaining wind out of him. alarms erupt all over the dash, the noise of them blotted out by a stillness in his ears, as if they'd been submerged - an immense pressure against his eardrum which stifles even his own pulse.

until it didn't, sound rushing back in a cacophony of sirens and shrieking metal, the creature's roar only drown out by the dull sound of impact and the sudden build of force that follows, glass shattering as buildings shook and crumbled. nik curses, something in russian. flare smoke builds in the cab but it doesn't even matter, not when the debris outside the windshield is so thick nik can't even see the approaching church until he's almost gone through the belfry. he banks right, hard, and gaz has a panicked moment of free fall as the open door he'd already fallen through twice today rolls to meet him and he slips through it once more, fingers barely even managing to catch on the frame before he's falling again, a two story drop into the blessedly bare church courtyard with a winded huff, vision tunneling as he stares up uncomprehendingly at the streak of light that's pierced the sky, the burning after-image of a gale force he simply has no framework for.

when he wakes up, it's to a world on fire.

if anyone is interested in that kinda post apocalyptic world, lmk. i don't wanna do any sort of series here but kaiju are my lifelong hyperfixation so i'm always happy to ramble about this sort of setting :)

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 13 - I can't tell one from another

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Just a lil aggro and intimidation

Bonjour lovelies! Here we go...heating up now. Reader is living her best life (or trying to). As always, your reblogs and comments mean the world! Thank you!

Bucky was working on an old Camaro down at the auto shop when Steve called.

He hit the accept call button and put it on speaker as he set the phone down and began to wipe the grease off hands with a rag. Before he could even get a greeting out, Steve was talking.

“Don’t get mad,” Steve warned sternly.

Bucky frowned, “Hello to you too…”

“Don’t get mad,” he repeated.

Bucky’s frown deepened, “Don’t open a call like that, you know that’s only going to rile me up. What’s going on? Did Parker fuck up the delivery?”

“No”, replied Steve. “Work is fine. I’m in town picking up those parts from Pym…”

“And? Spit it out, Steve,” Bucky huffed.

Steve let out a deep sigh, “I just saw…you know who. She’s here. She’s out on a date, with that guy from the plant who asked her out at the bar”.

Bucky froze and Steve momentarily thought the line had dropped. “Buck? Look I’m not telling you this to be a dick. I just thought you should know. In case you see them around town”.

“Alright…thanks for telling me”, Bucky uttered quietly. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Did she look…happy?”

The long pause from Steve already told Bucky everything he needed to know.

“Uh…yeah, Buck. Yeah she did”.

Bucky hung up, taking a moment as he stood perfectly still in the middle of the garage.

He picked up a wrench and flung it full force into the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. Gritting his teeth, he then smashed a toolbox with his metal arm - sending it flying off the workbench and crashing into to the floor as its contents scattered across the room.

Bucky took a deep breath.

*

It was a few weeks later when Peter checked his phone as he walked out of the plant. Another tiring shift, but a message from you made him smirk and his fingers got to work responding as he headed to his car.

He hummed along to his earphones and waved to a few of his colleagues as he walked across the parking lot.

Looking down at his phone screen, he didn’t initially notice the broad figure leaning against his car.

He flinched as he peered up, car keys in hand. The man who had taken up residence across his driver’s door was burly and tall, sleek brown hair to his ears and a toothpick between his teeth, framed by a sneer. Peter didn’t miss the leather kutte, and the very recognisable patch attached to it. Parked up just a few feet away was a very large motorcycle.

Peter swallowed as two very intense blue eyes studied him. He knew who this was. Everybody did.

“Can I help you…bro?” He asked tentatively, keeping his tone light.

“I’m sure you can bro”, the man jeered.

Peter waited for him to elaborate, but the man continued to stare him down for a little longer.

“I’m just here to tell you that I’ve got my eye on you”, the man warned sinisterly.

Peter squared his shoulders, refusing to look intimidated, “Okay…and why would that be?” he asked.

But he already knew. He remembered the bar. He remembered that same look then, too.

“Just be good to her”, the man hissed.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Be good to her. Treat her right. I’ll find out if you don’t,” the man threatened.

Peter tilted his head, unable to stay quiet, “what? Treat her right? Like you did?” he spat.

Bucky surged forward, squaring up to Peter. They were practically nose-to-nose as they stared at each other. Bucky’s breathing was heavy and restrained.

He pressed his finger hard into Peter’s shoulder, pushing him back a couple of steps as Peter scrambled to keep his footing. Bucky reached over and yanked on the earphone wire, pulling them out of Peter’s ears and sending them to the ground. He threateningly raised a gloved finger in front of Peter’s eyes.

“Just remember what I told you”, His voice was quiet, but menacing.

Bucky moved to his bike, shooting Peter one final glare as he mounted the seat and began to rev the engine. Seconds later he shot out of the parking lot, as Peter bent over to pick up the dropped earphones.

He exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath for a long time.

What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

*

“So, I know this a nice place but you didn’t have to embarrass me by looking that good, yknow”, Peter hummed as he peered over the menu at you and took a sip of his wine.

You giggled, feeling the heat at your cheeks as you shook your head, “Oh, shut up”, you said shyly as you looked at your own menu.

This was the nicest restaurant in town, so you’d made an effort. You’d worn your favourite dress and a pair of heels, taken time with your hair and make-up. You felt good. Pretty. And Peter’s compliments made you feel like a teenager again.

You’d actually been out a few times since that coffee date. A few dinners, a trip to the movies, drinks (at a bar outside of town, you weren’t stupid). It was nice being with him. It was easy…uncomplicated. You’d settled into a routine together, texting and hanging out and enjoying each other’s company. You didn’t really think about what happened when you left town. You were just taking it day by day. You knew Peter probably wasn’t the love of your life, but he didn’t need to be.

Still radio silence from Bucky, although you’d seen him once.

You and Peter were buying groceries for a movie night, he’d gone to fetch the popcorn and you were getting a bottle of wine from the liquor section. Bucky had turned into the aisle just as you were leaving it, and the two of you both froze and stared at one another for a few seconds. It had been weeks, almost months. It felt weird to see him there of all places, after all the drama and the heightened emotions of how things were left between you both, seeing him in for the first time somewhere so mundane and normal was…strangely anticlimactic. Although your heart beating at the speed it was suggested otherwise.

He grabbed a six pack of beer from the shelf and gave you a nod, and you nodded back. Your feet were suddenly glued to the ground. He ran his hand through his hair and you had a brief flashback to yourself tugging on those strands as he pushed you deep into the mattress…

The tension lay thick, stifling. It was strange to feel a pang of longing for him, yet still angry at the same time. The hurt he’d caused you was still there, simmering under the surface.

“How are you?” He asked.

“I’m okay. How are you?” You replied awkwardly, your voice quiet.

“Okay. Yeah”, he nodded.

“And uh…How’s the bar? And the MC?”

“Alright. We had to get a new pool table after Thor got drunk and fell through the last one…”

You smirked at that, instantly chastising yourself for allowing him to make you smile. You could just picture it so clearly…

His eyes seemed to sparkle as you smiled, and you ignored whatever seemed to be stirring in the depths of your heart.

“How’s the house? Nearly ready?” He asked.

“Nearly,” you nodded.

“Did you do the fence yet?”

You scowled, “No…I will I just…I’ll probably pay somebody or something”, you muttered, annoyed at being called out, “It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just functional”, you shrugged unconvincingly.

He smiled as if seeing through your nonchalance, “Well…don’t just pay some shitty handyman to butcher it or whatever”, he said plainly, “That place means a lot to you, I know. Anyone could see that home was built on love. Give it the care it deserves”.

“Right”, you nodded dumbly, a little taken aback by his almost poetic insight as you just stared back at him.

“Well…I’d better…”, he flicked his head to show he had to get going.

“Right, yeah. See you”, you replied hastily, your trance broken.

He smiled at you and then disappeared down one of the other aisles as you stood in his wake. It was odd…that awkwardness between you. You’d never really had that with him. He felt like a stranger now. Someone from another life. Although that was probably for the best. It was what you had wanted.

Right?

Peter had appeared a few moments later, brandishing ice cream and popcorn and slipping them into your shopping basket as he chatted away about some jerky he’d seen. You’d nodded in the right places and followed him as you lugged the basket alongside him, trying to silently exorcise the ghosts that haunted you.

*

And now you were having dinner. Nice restaurant, a few glasses of wine, dating for some weeks now…You were acutely aware of what Peter might be expecting tonight…

You’d had a few heavy make-out sessions, but you hadn’t…gone all the way yet.

You weren’t sure why. You weren’t particularly prudish or shy about sex. You knew it was normal and healthy. Your general view was that if it was between consensual adults, people could do whatever they wanted in the bedroom - and that included you. You had no time for people who branded women sluts for enjoying sex or had strange rules about how long you should wait with someone.

You were fully aware Peter was keen from the way he touched you and how his breathing deepened when you kissed him, although he’d never pushed or pressurised you into anything further. You just seemed to have this strange mental barrier you couldn’t get beyond, every time things got heated with him, you’d find yourself anxious and suddenly unable to continue - a mental block you couldn’t explain or shift. You found him attractive, you liked being with him – so, what gives? Was it a hangover from Bucky hurting you? Stress from sorting out the house? You couldn’t find the answer, you just knew that moving forward with Peter hadn’t felt ‘right’, yet.

Usually if things looked like they might be heading that way, you’d find yourself panicking. You’d apologise and say you had to get home. You’d insist on driving yourself to your dates so you could leave if you had one of these mini freak-outs. At no point did Peter make any comments or seem disparaging, he seemed happy enough to go at your pace.

But maybe enough was enough. Maybe it was time.

As you toyed with the idea of finally going further with him, Peter finished his glass of wine and poured himself another, topping up yours as well.

“So what’s the latest with the house?”, he asked, “You gotta be nearly there right?”

You nodded as you took a sip. “Almost. I’ve got the realtors coming next week to take pictures for the listing, and we’re going to start putting together a schedule for viewings. I just need to fix the fence first”.

Peter rolled his eyes, “You’re always going on about that fence. Just get it done already”, he said dismissively.

You scowled, slightly taken aback by his brusqueness.

He must’ve seen the change on your face as he held up a wary hand, “Sorry, I just meant...isn’t it better just to get it done?”, he asked softly as he took your hand from across the table, “Then you can finally get that weight off your shoulders and move on”.

“It’s not a weight…”

“I know, sorry, bad choice of words - I just mean so you don’t have to worry about it anymore. Look…I have a buddy at the plant who can fix it for you. He’s not a professional or anything but he’s cheap and he’s fast, he’ll probably do it in an hour or two for a six pack of beer and a bag of Doritos. It won’t be perfect or anything but it’ll look okay in the photographs. Then you can sell up fast and do your thing,” he explained matter-of-factly as he drank his wine. “Then your buyers can figure it out…”

You nodded. Getting it done quickly was appealing. But you couldn’t help but remember Bucky’s words, give it the care it deserves. It was weird thinking about strangers traipsing around Granny’s house, changing things, knocking down walls and making it theirs…

You shook off the thought and turned your attention back to Peter. You smiled, doing your best to lighten the mood, “Sell up fast, huh? Are you trying to get rid of me?”

He laughed, and you forced a smile behind your wine glass.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

A/N: I got this request and decided to break it into three parts! Part one is Alastor’s version, this part is Vox’s version, the next will be Husks!

Warnings: Vox trying to be sneaky but failing

Navigation! // Alastor’s Version!!

Void

Vox didn’t take an interest in people easily. His attention was usually monopolized by his beloved tech—saturating screens, commanding networks, spreading his influence like a virus through Hell’s sprawling digital web. People? They were predictable. Boring. But you? You were different.

He couldn’t pinpoint what intrigued him at first. Maybe it was the strange, quiet confidence you carried, the way your presence seemed to bend reality ever so slightly even when you weren’t using your powers. Or maybe it was how your abilities—those of a living black hole—had the potential to be the most powerful force in Hell, if properly utilized.

And Vox loved power.

From the moment he saw you collapse into that swirling, incomprehensible void, reality fracturing and trembling as your form dissolved, Vox was hooked. Not in the charming, lovestruck way; no, his interest was colder, calculated.

“Fascinating,” he murmured as he watched from the safety of a nearby screen. “Absolutely fascinating.”

When you reformed, dazed and exhausted, he appeared before you, stepping out of the static with his signature smug grin.

“Well, well,” he said, his mechanical voice buzzing faintly. “A walking singularity. And here I thought I’d seen everything Hell had to offer.”

You frowned at him, not sure what to make of the tall, screen-headed demon. “Do I know you?”

“Name’s Vox,” he said, extending a hand that buzzed faintly with static. “I run things around here. Networks, data, communications—if it’s on a screen, it’s mine.”

You hesitated but shook his hand anyway. His grip was surprisingly warm, but there was something about him that felt… off. “Nice to meet you, I guess,” you said cautiously.

His grin widened, his screen flickering slightly. “Oh, the pleasure’s all mine,” he purred. “You and I are going to get along just fine.”

From that day on, Vox made it his mission to befriend you—or, more accurately, to gain your trust. He was charming, charismatic, and just manipulative enough to keep you guessing about his true intentions.

He’d show up unexpectedly, claiming he was “just in the neighborhood,” and offer to help you control your powers.

“Your abilities are incredible,” he’d say, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. “But you’re not using them to their full potential. You could do so much more with a little… guidance.”

“What kind of guidance?” you asked, eyeing him warily.

“Oh, you know,” he said casually, waving a hand. “Channeling your energy, focusing your pull. You’d be unstoppable. You just need someone to show you how.”

It was tempting, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious. You’d struggled to control your powers for as long as you could remember, and Vox seemed to know what he was talking about.

Reluctantly, you agreed to let him help.

At first, Vox’s guidance seemed harmless, even helpful. He taught you techniques to focus your energy, to direct your gravitational pull in specific ways. With his help, you learned to collapse objects into the void without letting it spiral out of control.

But it didn’t take long for his true motives to surface.

One day, he brought you to a massive, abandoned industrial complex on the outskirts of Hell. The building was filled with ancient, malfunctioning machinery, wires sparking and screens flickering.

“What is this place?” you asked, your voice echoing in the cavernous space.

“My latest project,” Vox said, his grin widening. “With your powers, we can turn this outdated junk into something revolutionary. Imagine it—a network powered by the energy of a black hole. Limitless potential. Infinite connectivity. Hell would never be the same.”

You hesitated, a pit forming in your stomach. “I don’t know… this feels dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Vox laughed, the sound sharp and buzzing. “Come on, [Y/N]. This is progress. You’ve got the power to change everything, and I’m giving you the chance to do it.”

Against your better judgment, you agreed to help.

At first, everything seemed fine. Vox guided you through the process, teaching you how to harness your energy to power the massive machinery. The complex came to life under your touch, screens flickering and wires sparking as your gravitational pull fed the network.

But it wasn’t long before the strain began to show.

Every session left you more exhausted than the last, your body trembling with the effort of maintaining control. The void inside you grew louder, its pull stronger, and you began to feel like you were losing yourself.

“Vox,” you said one day, your voice weak and trembling. “I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

He waved you off, his attention focused on a screen displaying the network’s progress. “You’re fine,” he said dismissively. “Just a little more, and we’ll be done.”

But you weren’t fine. The pull of the void was becoming unbearable, and you could feel yourself slipping closer to the edge with each passing moment.

One day, as you powered the network, you lost control. The void surged outward, consuming everything in its path. Machinery collapsed, screens shattered, and Vox barely managed to pull you back before the entire complex was swallowed.

When you reformed, trembling and barely conscious, he knelt beside you, his usual smugness replaced by something almost like concern.

“[Y/N],” he said, his voice unusually soft. “Are you okay?”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t do this anymore, Vox. It’s killing me.”

For the first time, his grin faltered. He stared at you, the realization of what he’d done hitting him like a punch to the gut.

Vox wasn’t used to feeling guilt, but as he looked at you—exhausted, broken, and barely holding yourself together—he felt something twist in his chest. He had pushed you too far, all for his own gain, and now you were paying the price.

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Why did you do it, Vox?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, his screen flickering with static. “At first? It was about the power. Your abilities… they’re incredible, and I wanted to see how far we could push them. But somewhere along the way…” He trailed off, his screen dimming slightly. “Somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about that.”

“What do you mean?”

He met your gaze, his crimson eyes unusually soft. “I mean I care about you, [Y/N]. More than I realized. And I hate that I’ve hurt you.”

From that day on, Vox changed. He stopped pushing you to use your powers for his projects, instead focusing on helping you recover. He still had his sharp tongue and cocky demeanor, but there was a gentleness to him now, a willingness to put your well-being above his ambitions.

“Guess I’m not such a heartless bastard after all,” he joked one day, his screen flickering with a sheepish grin.

You smiled, feeling a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Guess not.”

Though it wasn’t easy, the two of you began to rebuild—your trust in him, his understanding of you, and the strange, unexpected bond you shared.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t facing the void alone.

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 10)

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: sexual content, language, angst, etc. Poppins has come to an end my lovelies, but I’ve an epilogue in store for you, so don’t despair. Also, I’m so sorry for the wait, your patience and understanding means so much to me and I appreciate and adore you all xoxo❤️

“Just ignore him,” Josh breathes unsteadily, lapping against your neck like he can’t stand to exist another second without the essence of you blazing a languid path over his tongue. “He’ll go away.”

A louder, more insistent knock sounds out, as if in argument. As if to say, ‘that’s what you think! I’m not going anywhere!’.

“Oh my god,” you squirm beneath him, but not in the way he would like, not the way you were just moments ago. “It’s like you two have some sort of bat signal for interruption.”

A sharp laugh sounds out of him, open and honest. Beautiful, and so very Josh. “I can assure you, sweetheart, the last thing in the world I want right now, is my fucking brother at the door. Lemme get rid of him.”

He rises reluctantly and walks backwards, fingers fumbling to fasten his pants and adjust himself, eyes on you while you slide up into a more presentable position and attempt to smooth your hair.

“It’s no use, love…” he flashes that blinding grin of his, pairing it with a wicked wink, “he’s going to know you’re wet and up to no good. You look gorgeously desperate.”

You feel your cheeks color further as you contemplate running off to hide in the kitchen. He’s obscene, and the effect that it has on you is concerning. Your entire body is wired up tight and thrumming. You’d crawl to him, should he hook a finger in your direction.

Your traitorous brain conjures that image - you, on your hands and knees, making your way closer to him, to his cock. You want him in your mouth. You want him to press into your throat, to make you gag, to shape you into something filthy for him. Something pretty on her knees ready to give without thought, should he ask.

The knock sounds out again, snapping you out of your salacious daydream. You’re reluctant to leave it, but bid farewell anyway.

“Shut up!” Josh shouts, slipping effortlessly into sibling mode as he twists the locks and cracks open the door.

He’s gearing up to tell his twin to fuck off, it’s evident in his stance and by the way he wedges his foot against the wood, like Jake might decide to push his way in - but in a breath, he swings the door open wide.

“Hey, baby,” the affectionate greeting tells you all you need to know - Jacob isn’t alone. “What are you doing up so late?”

Jake saunters in, winding around Josh, with a wide awake Lily on his hip - who is barefoot, dressed in a frilly, purple princess nightgown, and clinging to her beloved uncle. She shrugs and drops her head to his shoulder.

“Mom told me not to let her fall asleep on me,” Jake runs a soothing palm up and down her tiny back. “Said she’d wake up as soon as I tried to put her in bed. I’m tired of that woman constantly being right about everything.”

“Wanted to come home.” Lil hushes in her soft little girl voice, “I didn’t want you to be all by yourself.”

“Ah,” Josh waves off her concern and leans in to sweep a kiss onto the crown of her head, “you don’t have to worry about daddy, Lily-bit. I’m tough as nails.”

Jake’s eyes are locked in on you over their exchange, flashing with gleeful accusations. Josh is as right as his mother always seems to be - Jake knows exactly what he’s walked in on, and he is delighted to have stopped it in its tracks.

“And just look, lil…” he grins, clearly enjoying himself, as well as your furious blushing, a great deal. “Daddy’s not all by himself, Poppins is here to keep him company!”

She swivels her head around lightening fast, eyes thrilled and round with surprise.

“Hi!” Her greeting comes as a squealing chirp as she scrambles down out of Jake’s grasp in order to hustle into yours.

“Hi, Lil,” you gather her up into your lap and finger comb her tangles, while she settles in, smelling of no tear shampoo and sleep. “What are you doing out on the town at this hour, you little party animal?”

“Jakey drove me,” suddenly her face is close to yours, nose to nose, as she confides, “he turned the radio up loud like I like ‘cause I promised not to tell Daddy.”

You’ve yet to meet a child who possesses the ability to properly whisper, and Lily is no different.

“Jake,” comes Josh’s stern admonishment.

His brother cuts him off at the pass, “The Shining, man, you let my angelic, perfectly innocent niece watch the Shining.”

“I didn’t let her, I—“ he interrupts himself with a huff of irritation. “Thank you for bringing her home.”

At the faint hint of a goodbye, Lily is clambering off your lap as quickly as she arrived. “No, uncle Jakey, stay stay stay!”

When her tiny hand tucks itself away within his own, every heart in the room knows the battle has been lost.

“Alright, girly,” he crouches down and cups her chipmunk cheek. “I’ll stay, but you have to promise to go to bed. You need your sleep so you can rest that big, bright brain and wake up ready to learn brand new things tomorrow.”

He could have so easily reminded her of ‘beauty sleep’, but he chose to emphasize her insatiable thirst for knowledge instead, and you love him for it.

“I’ll try,” she shakes her head solemnly, “but I dunno, I’m pretty awake. Feels like morning.”

Your eyes have wandered to Josh, watching him as he watches them. There is that completely laid bare devotion that you’ve always seen, but also, something new…or at least, something you’ve never noticed before.

Wistful indebtedness is the only way to describe it, though even that seems to fall short. He is beholden to them both - unflinchingly, and for very different reasons.

Likely, it isn’t new at all…maybe you’ve just never looked hard enough.

He has told you as much before, but now you are seeing it unmasked for the very first time; he would lay down his life for his brother, without thought. He looks at Jake as though he blazed the sun to life with his own calloused hands - and when you think about it, that is exactly what he did for Josh all those nights ago, when they stood shoulder to shoulder, staring through the nursery window. Jake had given Lily to Josh, and lit up his whole world, bright as the sun.

Tears are clutching at your throat, but you shake them off and extend a hand out to Lily to make her an offer she can’t refuse “How about a princess bath, Lily-bit?”

Jake is forgotten in an instant at the promise of a princess bath, and she scurries over to grab your hand with the ardor only a child flying high on their second wind seems to be capable of. “Can I have bubbles and flower water?”

“Of course,” you promise, as though it should have been a given, silently praying that the little amber bottle that lives in the medicine cabinet is full of the lavender drops that will turn ordinary tap water into flower water.

A princess bath is reserved for very special occasions, and certainly, being awake so late into the night after an unexpected drive through the sleeping streets of town with the radio cranked up way too loud, ranks a special occasion.

“C’mon, daddy,” she grabs his hand as well, trudging through the room, on a mission to be pampered…and you catch sight of Jake settling down onto the couch to wait, over your shoulder.

It feels like abandonment somehow, leaving him like this. Alone.

But Lily is chattering on, and your attention is quickly refocused as you work alongside Josh to make her happy. More importantly, to relax her enough to wrangle her into bed and lull her to sleep with a story.

~

It takes less effort than you had originally feared it might, and soon you’re creeping from her wildly chaotic bedroom while he quietly reads her a story - complete with changing character voices and much enthusiasm - stepping carefully over dinosaurs that rest, reptilian feet and winding tails stretching toward the ceiling, next to half dressed baby dolls and toppled towers of blocks.

Josh is adamant about instilling responsibility, and while she is given regular tasks and age appropriate chores, he insists her space is her own, and has never once, in your presence, ordered her to pick up her toys from her own floor. The living room floor? Daily. But he never dictates her space.

The way he sees her as a person is one of your most beloved ways to watch him parent. So many forget that children are people with thoughts and feelings, who are lacking the skill set to navigate the world properly…that they need guidance, not policing. Josh never forgets that. Josh sees Lily.

There is a soft smile ghosting over your lips listening to him read to her when you step into the hall to find Jake leaned against the wall like some long-haired James Dean minus the popped collar and casual cigarette.

He cocks his chin in the direction of the backyard and then pushes off with the heel of his boot to swagger down the hallway “Come have a look at the stars with me, babe.”

You follow behind him, feeling a little like a lost puppy, but damned if you know how to do anything but follow these two men - so beautifully alike, yet so achingly different.

“What were you smiling about back there, pretty girl?” He asks, rasping words into the night the second the two of you settle onto the framed porch swing that graces the deck.

“He’s so good with her,” you’re smiling again, remembering. “I don’t know, it makes me smile. I want her to be happy and loved. Strong and fierce. He’s going to make sure that happens. It just…” you offer a little shrug as his hand finds yours in the dark, “it makes me smile, that’s all.”

His head lulls to the side in your peripheral vision, watching you “You love her.”

“I do.” You confirm with a slight nod, not trusting yourself to look at him. “Very much.”

“I love her, too.” He whispers, and finally, you turn to catch his eye.

“I know, Jake.

“You love him.” He’s no longer whispering, his words come fainter .

Your response squeezes painfully out of your tightened throat, “I love you, too.”

His reply mirrors yours that came before, “I know, poppins.”

It is silent for a long stretch before he breaks it, “Did he tell you? How all this came to be?” A soft chuckle precedes the joke he makes to lighten the heavy, “the tale of the Kiszka Twins and the fucked up ways we fuck up?”

You ignore his joke, and address it for what it was: something serious masked as frivolity “Do you think you fucked up, Jake? What you did? Do you regret it?”

Again, there is a pause, and you allow him all the time he needs.

“Sometimes.” He takes a deep breath. “I love her so much it feels like something separate from myself. Some sort of being in and of itself. Like there’s me over here, and then my love for that little girl over there. Because it’s just so great that there isn’t room inside my body for it all, you know? Does that make sense?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, “Yeah, sometimes I get selfish and regret it a little. Sometimes she looks at me with such adoration, such fucking complete devotion and all of a sudden, I want her all to myself. I want to grab her up and run away with her in my arms. But it always goes away just as fast as it comes, that selfishness…he’ll walk in the room and her eyes will light up. Or they’ll share some silly inside joke that I don’t get. Or she’ll ask a question and he’ll see it as a moment to teach her, where I would’ve just answered it…he’s her father and that’s the way it should be. He was always meant to be her dad.”

You’re cradling his hand in both of yours now, soothing your thumbs across his knuckles “You think? Like an everything happens for a reason kind of thing?”

“You look at those two together and tell me what happened didn’t happen for a reason.”

You raise his hand and press a kiss to the back of it, before sweeping your cheek against the knob of his wrist, “I don’t know how to handle all of this. Or what to do with you two. It’s like I can’t separate you in my head. I don’t want to choose. I won’t.”

“Now who’s selfish?” He laughs lightly, wiggling his fingers that are still laced and wound around yours.

“I’m sorry.” A gentle sob shakes your shoulders, and for a moment you wonder how you ended up here. How strange.

“Don’t be sorry, Mary Poppins,” his foot kicks out, swinging you both back and forth in the moonlight, “I’m not sorry, and I won’t make you choose. Can I tell you a secret?”

Lifting your head away from his hand, there is reluctance - his skin feels right pressed against your own, and you hate to part from it “I don’t know that I can handle any more Kiszka secrets.”

A laugh, much too loud for the hour, bubbles out of him “Sure you can, babe. I’ve already decided for you. I won’t leave tonight, because I promised girly I’d stay, but I’m gone in the morning, and I’ll see you when I see you.”

“What?” Is it that you really don’t understand his meaning, or that you don’t want to understand it?

He hums a little tune and rests his head on your shoulder, hushing soft lyrics into the air as he swings gently, “Bye bye, baby, it’s been a sweet love…”

“Jake—“

“Isn’t that what you called me? Free bird?” His beautiful face tilts up and then there is his nose, nuzzling your cheek tenderly, his touch far more innocent than you’ve ever known it to be before. “It’s time for me to go, and it’s time for you to stay.”

You’re prepared to fight, but for what, you’re unsure, “I know what you’re doing. You’re choosing for him just like you did with that goddamned band you guys had.”

Now it’s his turn for confusion. He sits up in order to get a good look at your face and prods you along with raised eyebrows.

“Your mom told me. What you did for Josh because you knew music wasn’t what he wanted. How you gave it up to make him happy.” You’re spinning out of control just a little, but you can’t be sure why. Isn’t this what you wanted? An easy solution?

It just suddenly so seems tragic. He’s given so much to Josh, and here he sits, giving still.

“Fuckin’ Karen,” his laughter is quieter still, and blurred sadly around the edges. “She’s got a big mouth, that one. She’s right though, I did give it up for him. You, on the other hand, are wrong.”

You so badly want to reach out and stroke your fingers through his hair, he feels like mist, like a ghost who is already gone. A memory who sits before you. But you think it’s best to let him speak, and so you do.

“I’m not leaving for him. I’m leaving for her.” As if he can read your thoughts, his fingers card through your hair. “You love me and you love him and both of us love you back and it’s this convoluted fucking disaster, but none of that matters. She matters. And honestly, babe, it’s not even that hard to walk away because it’s for her. She deserves someone who thinks of shit like princess baths, and someone to fix her hair pretty for her first day of school. Someone who’s going to know what to say to her when she doesn’t feel good enough, or smart enough. Someone who won’t get flustered and weird when she starts her period, or needs her first bra,” he shudders a little at that and it makes you smile. “Someone who will know how to make her heart hurt a little less the first time some idiot boy makes her cry. Someone who will know what to do in a million other moments that I can’t even name because I’ll never be that person for her, and neither will he. She needs a mom. She needs you.”

“Don’t you think you’re putting the cart before the horse, Jacob?” You ask, though you don’t feel the conviction you’re desperately trying to color your words with.

“No, I don’t.” He’s never sounded so sure of himself, and that is a feat, as Jake is almost always sure of himself. “Not at all. You belong here. With her. With him. And I belong god knows where, playing for pretty girls who will never be you.”

“I love you, Jake.” You’ve said it already tonight, out here amongst the crickets and the dewy grass that could use a trim, but this devotional feels like the last.

His arm stretches out to pull you in “But you love him, too, don’t you, babe?”

“Yes,” And that is the truth…

He presses a kiss against your temple “And you love her?”

“More than both of you combined. More than myself.” And that is the truth, too.

“Well, then, Mary Poppins,” he sighs as you sway in the swing, the muted creak of its chains keeping time. “It seems we’re on the same page.”

“Will it really be so easy for you to walk away?” You can’t help but hope there will be at least a hint of melancholy in his tone…but there is nothing but content in his reply.

“For Lily? Yes. The easiest thing in the world.”

~

When you wake, it is with Josh curled up warm and snug around you. He soothes your soul like a security blanket. And even given the events just hours before, you feel serene…like you’re floating through calm, perfumed waters with tranquil skies overhead.

You hear him, of course you do, his voice will always perk your ears, you suspect - and maybe that’s okay.

Yes, you hear him. Speaking to her gently, giggling with her, singing to her, telling fanciful stories of what he’ll get up to on the road.

You listen to him remind her of how smart she is, how grand her heart is. He makes her promise to call him all the time, and to give uncle Sammy grief every chance she gets.

He says, “Listen to your daddy, girly, and make Poppins laugh at least once a day, just for me.”

…and then, with a click of the front door, he is gone.

Tears threaten in your eyes, but then there she is, climbing up onto the bed with Josh’s mangled maroon shirt clutched dutifully at her side.

“Can you make me pancakes?” She asks, crawling through the sea of blankets…and you smile, because you can make her pancakes. Of course you can.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @gvfpal @gretavangroupie @starcatcher-jake @demolitionndann @hugorobinson @jaketlove

[pjisskullourful]

𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗠𝗮𝘁𝗰𝗵

🔒 Thomas × reader [sequel to DISTANTLY LONGING]

NSFW 🔥 filth& feels smutty play

° Thomas Raggi/female reader insert ✨ cameo by: Damiano David

wordcount::: 5,369

° you're hanging out with måneskin on tour for a few days, but somethings got thomas feeling territorial over you

° commissioned by my absolute most beloved jace(@punk-gremlin)💋[requests are open but commissions get priority- there are 2 fics in cue, secure your own spot right here]

° [ITA:] cucciolo: puppy - principessa: princess

“What do you mean that you don’t know how to whistle?” Damiano asked, extra animated. You didn’t know why this would matter so much to him.

But you weren’t about to dismiss someone so important to your boyfriend. This time joining Måneskin’s tour was the time to bond with Thomas’ closest friends. You had spent plenty of time with them before but you couldn’t turn down an opportunity to make a good impression.

“I can never do it right.” You said.

You and the lead singer were sitting on separate sofas, chatting to kill time before the band were due to begin their set for this festival. Elsewhere in this common area, Thomas was playing pinball. You thought he was within earshot, but he wasn’t going out of his way to include himself in your conversation, he didn’t need to.

Damiano’s feet were planted on the ground, his arms rested on his legs as he leaned in toward you. He was wearing a friendly smile as he had been the entire time you had been talking.

“Come on, you must know how- you just put your lips together and blow.” He said.

The smile was still splashed across his features as he formed his mouth into a tight circle. It wasn’t a pout as if he were about to pose for a photo. As you started to copy him, Thomas came into your field of vision - standing instead of sitting with you.

“Yeah, I know what I’m supposed to do, but the wires in my brain are crossed or something. ‘Cause I don’t blow the air out, I suck.” You earnestly explained and Damiano’s eyes lit up. You further made your point by demonstrating your lacklustre whistling skills.

It sounded so terrible that it looked like he was about to start laughing, a reaction that didn’t surprise you. Your whistling was quiet and breathy, you didn’t know how to adjust the pitch. You ran out of air too fast to be able to carry a tune. You knew it was silly to hear.

“Wow. I hope you’re better at sucking than you are at blowing.” He joked, still smiling in that non-condescending way.

Suddenly and unprompted, Thomas offered you his hand to hold. It was automatic for you to put your hand in his, even though you didn’t get up immediately. You still had something to say to Damiano.

“Yeah, I can blow up a balloon. Unlike this guy.” You said and you pointed to Thomas. “It’s only whistling that-”

He cleared his throat rather loudly. “Can I please talk to you for a moment?”

You looked away from Damiano and found a strange expression on your boyfriend’s face. You began getting to your feet, none too worried about this conversation coming to an end.

“Of course.” You said and he didn’t wait to start walking, heading towards the door to his dressing room with you in tow.

“See ya later.” Damiano sang out after you and you waved to him over your shoulder.

It appeared that Thomas was displeased, annoyed even. It wasn’t often that you saw him like this. It was a palpable attitude that surrounded him and his shoulders appeared broader at this moment.

You tried to think quickly, were you being oblivious to something that everyone else had picked up on? You had spent the whole day with him and you hadn’t noticed this mood at any earlier point. According to your recollection, there were no causes for concern.

The door to his private dressing room stood mostly open. You followed him into the unoccupied space with him letting go of your hand so that he could shut the door entirely.

You didn’t feel comfortable enough to sit down on the sofa, or even lean against a wall. “Is something wrong, cucciolo?”

He wasn’t quite making eye contact as he stood separate from you. He rested his ass against the vanity table and held his arms folded over his chest. “Why haven’t you called Damiano out, or told him to knock it off? He’s been unbearable all day, but you have just been letting him get away with it.”

Your throat felt thick because here it was: the evidence that you were ignorant to a fault. You were beginning to get embarrassed because you didn’t know what he was talking about, even though it seemed like you should.

“Get away with what?” You asked in a quiet voice.

“Flirting with you. Basically everything he’s said to you today has been innuendo and you haven’t tried to discourage him, not even a little bit.” Thomas said.

You paused, your brow furrowed as you attempted to assess the day from this new perspective. No clear examples came to your mind. “He’s been flirting with me?”

“Yes. You didn’t notice that comment he made about not caring if you accidentally saw all of the nudes on his phone?” Thomas asked.

You could remember that joke but you had laughed it off, before being distracted by the photos and videos of his cats, that was the reason his phone had been in your hand to begin with.

“Why would he flirt with me?” You asked, feeling strange and unsettled now.

“‘Cause he thinks it’s funny, especially if it bugs me.” He said.

“I thought that’s all he was doing: trying to be funny and that’s why he was smiling at me so much. But I didn’t think anything he was saying was all that funny. But I wasn’t gonna be rude and tell him that he shouldn’t quit his day job to become a stand-up comic.” You explained.

As you were talking, the look on your boyfriend’s face had started to change. You were less sure which emotion he was feeling now, but he was meeting your eye more.

“You didn’t know?” He asked.

“No, I really thought that his sense of humour was a little weird, just different to mine, which has happened to me before.” You said.

“I thought you had been playing along this whole time.” He said, you were positive that his bad mood had run its course. Now he just seemed deflated, maybe a little embarrassed - like you.

“I was just trying to be friendly.” You said.

“And you were, you were being really nice and social.” He said, starting to cross the floor over to you. “I’m sorry for this, my whole reaction.” You offered your hand to hold this time and he took it. “I’m sorry if I sounded like- if you thought I was angry at you. I never want to be angry at you, principessa.”

You placed your other hand to his cheek, cupping it as you looked into his light eyes. “I never want to make you angry. I don’t know what I did, but I wish I could take it back.”

“No, no, you did nothing wrong.” He said then he moved in closer to give you a kiss just beside your lips. “You were just having a conversation, you didn’t know he was teasing me.” He kissed you on the cheek. “It’s my fault for assuming you were in on the joke.”

“I didn’t even know there was a joke.” You said.

He gave you a quick kiss on the lips. “That’s nothing you have to apologise for, okay?” He wrapped an arm around your waist, you were pleased to feel the physical connection growing. “I’m the one who needs to apologise. And Damiano, I should make him apologise.”

You looked at him with your brow furrowed. “Was he making fun of me?”

“No, no, no.” He said, giving you a couple of kisses on the cheek. “He was teasing me. He knew it would annoy me if he flirted with my girlfriend.”

You still didn’t fully understand this situation, but it didn’t seem like it would give you reason to be upset now that the two of you were talking it out. “I don’t need Damiano to flirt with me, I don’t need anyone to flirt with me. I’m yours.” You initiated the kiss this time, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He leaned into you and your mouth parted a little for him. “You know that, don’t you?”

He kept his forehead resting against yours, the distance between the two of you dwindling. “Yeah, I know it. But sometimes logic gets lost and these stupid insecurities happen, I-”

You cut him off by placing a firm kiss onto his mouth. He didn’t resist, not needing to finish making that point. As he kissed you back, he wrapped both of his arms around you, his hands gripping your lower back. The earlier worry was transforming into a different kind of energy: adrenaline. If he wasn’t already feeling it with you, you wanted to get him there.

“You don’t need to be, but…” As you talked, you dragged your fingers up the nape of his neck. “It’s hot when you get jealous.”

“Hot?” He repeated, eyebrows lifting in intrigue, rather than judgement.

“Yeah, you can be territorial about me anytime.” You said as you twirled his hair around your finger.

He was smiling as he started to kiss you more. You could have said more - you could have spoken about knowing exactly how jealousy felt. You could have told him how flattering it was that he thought you were worth any jealousy.

But you didn’t stop kissing him. This seemed like the most direct way for the two of you to get in sync with one another again.

The hem of your loose dress was lifted when he moved both of his hands under the material. You gave his top lip a suck as he began moving his hands up your back. On the path down again, he applied his fingernails to your skin. They weren’t sharp or especially long, but as he used the right amount of pressure, you felt a pleasant stinging. Keen tingles moved through you and you sucked harder on his lip.

He dragged his nails up your back and you couldn’t help thinking back to instances when he had left scratch marks on your skin. You had savoured wearing his marks, carrying the signs of his lust on your body for days. You would be flattered to have more - the ultimate, personalised accessories. 

As your heart consistently picked up speed, you applied your teeth to his lip. It was firm without being an actual bite, enough to show him the hunger coursing through your veins. Even though you liked the idea of being the reason his lip got swollen.

“I love you.” He said between kisses.

“I love you too, cucciolo.” You said.

You tightened your arm around him and tilted your head to allow for a deeper kiss. You moved your tongue forward, touching his as you invaded his mouth.

He raked his nails down your back, then kept going lower, just using a firm caress. He passed his hands over your butt, moving down to reach the backs of your thighs.

When he squeezed, you felt a new burst of endorphins. This time it came from pain because he had just grabbed you over a fresh bruise. It had been spotted by him this morning when you had been dressing, getting ready to leave the hotel.

It had been easy to figure out the cause: the chest of draws that he had guided you to instantly upon getting to your hotel suite. The two of you had embraced your new privacy with him pushing you onto the top of this furniture, fucking you there.

You quietly hissed as you drew back from him slightly. “You’re right on the bruise there.”

“I know.” He said, showing you a smile before he kissed you again.

“You’re just admiring your handiwork, are you?”

“Something like that.”

You tightened your arms around his neck, arching your back into him as he continued to press his fingers into the bruise.

“We have time.” You told him, referring to the hours left before their set started.

“We have time and I have a need.” He said.

“I’ve got a need, too.” You said.

“What’s your need?” He asked, his voice huskier than usual.

“To prove to you how much, totally and completely, I’m yours.”

You further emphasised your point by eagerly pushing your lips against his. Instantly he matched the energy of this kiss. It was swiftly followed by more, until you were getting short on breath.

“Please tell me you have a condom.” He said.

“Yeah, in my purse.” 

“I’ll check that I did actually lock the door.” He said, releasing you from his secure hold.

While he went to the door, you retrieved your bag from beneath the vanity table. You tended to carry a lot with you, packing things into the bag with the mentality of I might need this. Amongst the rest of your thorough inventory, you found the wrapped condom.

You turned around to see him sitting on the sofa, having already shed his T-shirt, shoes and jeans. You handed over the condom and, with a smile, you reached for the bottom of your dress. You pulled it up and over your head, not hesitating to remove your bra too.

He beckoned you closer with a curling of his index finger. “Get over here, I wanna enjoy that body that was made for me.”

You held his cheeks in your hands as you moved in to kiss him. He grabbed you firmly, bringing you to where your chests could be pressed together as he wrapped his arms around you.

He used his hold to move you, redirecting you closer to the sofa, the side of your leg bumping into this soft surface. You didn’t need to part from his lips for him to tell you what he wanted, you knew what to do. You climbed onto the couch, planting your knees on the pillow as you remained in his embrace for a few more wonderful moments.

He twisted his body around so that he could face you as he brought the kiss to a gradual end. “Lay down for me, on your back.”

You readjusted and laid back, finding the lounge to be comfortable. It wasn’t covered in leather that made horrendous sounds with every movement, nor was the soft material itchy against so much of your bare skin. With your head at the opposite end of the sofa to his current position, you could keep him in your sights. You watched him remove his dick from his underwear and take the condom out of its wrapper.

“Look at that wet patch.” He said, his eyes on your purple panties. “You weren’t lying about that whole jealousy thing turning you on.”

You kept your legs parted, your knees raised, because you didn’t want to hide something that he deemed worthy of admiration. “It’s not just the jealousy, it’s so much more than that. It’s the way that you do stuff like scratching my back and I don’t even have to ask, you just know to do it.” You watched him covering his erection with the latex. “I don’t need- I would never want anyone but you, Tommy. You’re the only one who can make me feel so good.”

Once the condom was in place, he started to move toward you. On top of your body, he crawled closer. As he did this you noticed that there was something changed in his smile, it looked slyer now, this wasn’t the way he would smile when posing for a photo. You knew that this smile was just for you.

You also knew that he could never sneak innuendo past you. With all of the time you had spent looking at him and getting to know his facial expressions, you were able to read him well enough that you could tell when he was building up to something sexual.

“I can make you feel so good right now.” He said, settling his body on top of yours as your faces got to the same height.

“Yes, please.” You quietly moaned as you draped your arms around his shoulders. “I’m yours and that’s the only way I want it. I don’t want anyone else.”

He began pulling your underwear down. “Not even pretty boy singers?”

Immediately you remembered Damiano saying that of himself a few hours earlier. It had been while you were mucking around with filters on Snapchat and you had found one that claimed (with just a face scan) it could reveal the compatibility of two people. You and Thomas had been rated only 35% on this scale.

Damiano had wanted to see what results he could get. Holding his cheek to Thomas’, they had gotten 50%. Then he had sat beside you, and what you knew had to be randomly generated numbers appeared on the screen: 92%. And he had been ready to remark that perhaps you would be better suited to a ‘pretty boy singer’. You had joked about the scientific accuracy of anything coming from Snapchat, moving on without much thought.

Seemingly it had earned more thought from Thomas, and you would love to help lay the whole thing to rest. Then the two of you could move on together, neither left behind.

“Definitely not pretty boy singers.” You assured him.

He was pulling your panties down your legs as he started to kiss you again. You moved one of your feet from out of its leghole, then the other. He pushed his body firmer on yours, the increase in pressure delighting you. You held your arms tighter around him, wanting to feel every part of him on you.

“Gimme your leg. Where’s that bruise?” He asked.

You smiled as you lifted your leg for him. At the same time you were now feeling his hips on yours and his cock lined up with your ready pussy.

He grabbed your thigh, he didn’t actually need to be reminded of the spot. His fingers created indents in the soft area as he held on, his digits on top of the minor injury.

As he gripped you experienced refreshed stinging and you arched your back, revelling in it. He didn’t ease off and you loved it, loved getting to enjoy more of it. Settling into the sensation, you found that the pain dulled out everything else. You could let go of earlier thought cycles, taking this situation at face value that he was no longer upset. At once you were given clear and impactful intensity.

“You like that, principessa? Yeah, I know you do.” He said and you felt a new pressure at your entrance, his head in exactly the right spot. “You fucking love it.”

He pushed into your wet cunt, gradually letting his inches disappear inside of you. You parted your legs further for him, appreciatively moaning as you felt him going deeper.

Your chest rapidly rose-and-fell and you could feel his cock twitching within you. The excitement climbed even higher and you were grateful to reaffirm your connection to him in this way.

You moved your hand up into his hair, gripping the shaggy locks between your fingers as he grinded forward. At this depth, he began to work his hips, plunging into your pussy.

He found a rhythm, consistently stroking his length into you. He released his hold on your leg and you let out a shaky sigh, feeling the intensity in different (but equally pleasing) places now.

He moved his hand to your hip, gripping you here as you moved to begin matching him. You copied his speed, dedicating your energy to this synergy. The extra movements encouraged more tingles into your body, the lust swelling up, demanding almost all of your attention.

“Claim me.” You said, the current effort made your voice strained, but your words carried the intended determination. He looked at you, focused even though his lids appeared heavier than usual. “Fuck me hard, Thomas.”

His next rut into you came with more power, the impact having greater effect. He didn’t hesitate to follow this up with a second one, letting you feel even more of his strength. He continued at this vigorous speed, going faster than you as you were feeling the marvellous aroused heat spreading through your entire system.

Your hold on his hair had gotten so tight that it was pulling a little. But you didn’t release it, relaxing anything right now didn’t feel like an option.

“Your princess needs it.” You told him.

He maintained this new impassioned tempo and you started to think that you could match him again. Your body was full of tension as you resumed your movements, snapping your hips in time with him, quick and excited. You shut your eyes as you clung to him, not needing to know anything beyond the collisions of your bodies.

Endorphins rushed you and you were desperate to keep going. Your inner-walls clenched around him as your sensitivities increased, making each jerk from his cock feel better than the last. The effects were only getting grander, building to something that could surely ruin you.

In addition to how he didn’t stop driving into you, he gave your clit some attention too. This came in the form of him slapping his fingers against the swollen hood. You jolted, unprepared and a little daunted by this sudden intensity.

You buried your face into the curve of his neck as you struggled to cope with the way these new sensations rocked you right to the core of your being. They were incredible, only adding to the ecstasy inside.

There was no opportunity to regulate yourself because he was soon applying more spanks to your clit. Your breath stalled and you wondered how much more you could truly take. You pressed hurried kisses onto the side of his neck, but it didn’t take long for this to progress to sucking at one spot. Your whimpers became muffled by his skin as you attempted to brace yourself.

“Are you trying to leave a mark of your own? Is my princess wanting to mark her territory now, hm?” He asked.

That sounded enough like encouragement to you. You sucked on this section of his skin harder, even briefly letting your teeth press against what was in your mouth. He continued to allow this, just moaning as he kept fucking into you with the same strength.

“You can give me a nasty hickey as I claim you- yes, you can, yes, yeh-mm.” He said.

As you kept sucking, he slapped your clitoral hood more. It didn’t sync up with his thrusting and so you were left at the mercy of surprise. The adrenaline continued to rule you.

You released his skin from your mouth as you felt a new peak achieved - one that really daunted you. “Ah, I’m- you’re getting me so close.”

He sounded cocky as he replied. “Yeah, it was starting to feel that way.”

He gave your clitoral hood another series of firm taps, making you feel like you could burst. You let out your loudest whimper, riding too high to feel even a hint of self-consciousness.

“You can come, princess.” He said, his voice so sweet. “You don’t have to wait for me. You can- oh, I want you to come.”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” You repeated under your breath as your grinding against him got truly desperate.

All that you wanted to do was surrender and let the pleasure totally take you over. This urge only got stronger with each powerful pump from his body.

When he spanked your clitoris a few more times, all of your effort went to jerking up into him. You lost your synchronisation with him. But you gained his tip crashing into your g-spot and it was so perfect that your fate was almost instantly sealed. You let out little cries as you held on.

The hot tension gripped your entire body as you stayed levitating above the sofa, remaining so close to him. You writhed as his every pump ended at your g-spot, taking you further than what you had known before.

You grinded until you captured your orgasm. The tension burst all through you while your pussy wildly spasmed, drawing out these sensations.

“Thomas… ah… mm’migod…” It was a jumble of sound until you altogether let go.

It was a total overload to your system, everything else entirely over-shadowed. He was all that you knew, the few coherent thoughts that you had were about only him.

It was a lovely way to exist, so you didn’t feel any need to rush back to reality.

The way he was still thrusting into you kept you riding your high. You rocked your hips with less vigour, but wanting him to get more of that pleasing friction. You dragged your fingernails over his scalp, steadily beginning to get your breath back. His remained consistently short, his energy going to the more important task at hand.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as you heard him quietly repeating your name. It was as if this was the only word that he knew. You murmured your encouragement, louder than him to ensure that you were heard because you were so eager to watch him come undone.

It wasn’t long before his movements began to lose their style. It wasn’t about maintaining a tempo, now it was about keeping his dick stimulated. He had his mouth hanging open, but that wasn’t helping him catch his breath, not even a little.

“Fuck, fuck.” He whined.

His eyes flashed open, seemingly facing his own surprise. Looking into his wide eyes, you didn’t think there was a single thought plaguing his mind, no concerns to slow him down as the orgasm thoroughly took him down.

He tossed his head back and you got to watch the muscles in his neck as he remained buried deep in you. The after effects of your climax continued to play through you, your cunt still fluttering and spasming around him. It was something that he didn’t want to stop enjoying, making no adjustments to pull out of you.

He exhaled heavily as he planted both hands on the couch, bracing himself as he rocked his body weight back slightly. You licked your lips, watching his ongoing effort to get his lungs back to full. You were fascinated by how he settled himself after the climax. You made mental notes, wanting a clear image for when he was so far away that phone sex was the only option.

He gently rocked toward you again, looking down. The first thing that you noticed was his smile and it made you smile too. Then you saw the way his eyes appeared to be half shut, the lids so heavy again. He was a sight that you loved to behold, seeing him with absolute clarity.

“My princess…” He said as he gazed down at you.

“I love you.” You said, lifting yourself up so that you could secure a kiss from him.

As he kissed you back, he drew in closer to you, filling your pussy a little more. Gradually he rocked back and a steady tempo was introduced for him to get in some more strokes. You were content to stay so close to him, your tongue gliding into his mouth.

You felt your orgasm slowly fade out as you continued to bask in this intimacy. The tremors lost their power until they could no longer be noticed at all. There were less moans and whines coming from him, now it was mostly sighs as he went on with his lazy back-and-forth.

He broke the kiss to coo out your name. At the same time he aimed for maximum proximity, rubbing the front of his body on yours. His eyes studied your expression and you studied his face as well.

“That’s hotter than jealousy.” You said.

“What is?” He asked.

“When you’re all happy and calm and pleased with yourself after sex. Just stay like this for as long as you like and I’ll keep admiring you.” You said.

“Stay like this?” He asked, he was getting even slower without fully stopping yet.

“Yes, it’s actually perfect ‘cause being in a hotel and on the road, I don’t have my weighted blanket. I miss it, not so terribly. But now it’s like I have an even better weighted blanket.” You said.

He brushed your hair back from your forehead. “I love being exactly what you need, and if what you need right now is a weighted blanket then here I am…”

You felt extra cosy when he let all of his body weight rest on top of you, not holding back or trying to support himself in other ways. Beneath this pressure, you were wonderfully grounded. He stopped his rocking, now just lying with you. You felt like there was no unwinding left to do as he got comfortable, laying his head next to yours on the sofa.

It was quite simple how good everything felt, your deep breathing falling into time with his. You didn’t need to speak, you could tell that he knew how you felt.

When you looked at him, he would show you a natural smile. There were a few kisses exchanged, but they didn’t need to build to anything more.

“Couldn’t you just stay like this forever?” He asked.

“Yeah. Except I, um, I have to go to the bathroom.” You said and it was almost laughable how one sentence could ruin the mood. But the calm in your mind had given you time to recognise the beginnings of a discomfort. “Sorry, Tom.”

He readjusted, lifting his body away from yours, his cock finally coming out of your cunt. He pushed himself against the sofa’s backrest, giving you the necessary space to get up. “That’s okay. I literally could have fallen asleep like that, which would be a bad idea.”

You kissed him before getting up. “Do you want me to get you a Red Bull from that other room?”

“Yes please, principessa.”

As you pulled your clothes back on, he remained on the couch, laying out flat and looking comfortable. You knew he wouldn’t rush to get himself covered up, so you grabbed your own jacket. You laid this over his butt, giving him a bit of modesty if someone checked in here while you were gone.

Before heading for the door, you checked yourself quickly in the mirror. You were pleased with your earlier decision to not apply lipstick. So far as you could tell, your appearance wasn’t too different from when you and Thomas had come in here. You didn’t carry any obvious signs of being dishevelled.

You opened the door and stepped out of the privacy. Everything seemed exactly the same and you could quickly go toward the bathroom. There weren’t many people around, and those who were hardly paid attention to you passing by.

Then you went to the fridge, starting to feel like you were going to get away with this secret. You grabbed a can of energy drink, ready to rejoin your boyfriend.

When you turned around you found that Damiano was now standing in the room with you. His eyes were wide as he looked at you and it didn’t appear that he was on the verge of making a comment, as he typically would.

You remained where you were, heart beating a little faster because you worried what he might say if given the chance. You were getting the sense that he knew. He could probably see the clues and put it together that you were freshly fucked. There was something different about how he was looking at you, as if he was seeing something different.

You didn’t give him the chance to say something cheeky, or something that could magnify this awkwardness. You didn’t give him an excuse to pick apart. You just walked away, not saying anything.

»»————-　♡　————-««  

The secret remained secure, until you reached for the dressing room door and he broke the silence. “Hey, don’t use up all of his energy. He needs at least a little for the set later.”

PART THREE HERE

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[armiliadawn]

Armilia I'm SO sorry, I couldn't help it!!!! They're just so cuteeee!!!

--------------III LEMON PIE III-----------------

Dawn walks into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of the lemon pie Killer just finished baking. With her headphones blasting music, she notices that the recent carpentry work isn’t done yet, leaving only one table available in the entire dining room. A table with just two benches, with enough space for four people—or three, if they’re particularly big, which is definitely the case.

Three enormous men are hovering over the freshly baked pie. Wire, with his usual manspreading, occupies the entire bench on one side. Facing him are Killer and Kid’s, their massive backs turned toward Dawn. She approaches the table, her pretty brown eyes going from the cake that Killer’s starting to cut, to the small, ridiculous space left on the bench next to Wire. The tall man glances at her without a word, doesn’t budge, and holds his plate out to Killer for a slice.

Dawn says nothing. She just sighs and turns around, patiently waiting for the next round of seating.

“Where the hell do ya think ya’re going?” Kid’s grumpy voice growls behind her.

Dawn pulls one of her headphones out, not entirely sure she heard right.

“There’s no place to sit, Captain,” she responds seriously.

Silence falls over the kitchen, and without even turning around, Kid swings one of his massive legs out from under the table, extending it exaggeratedly to expose his thigh.

"I see a spot right here."

Dawn isn’t used to Kid's bluntness yet. She is about to politely decline when she catches Killer discreetly motioning at her, practically begging: Please just sit on his thigh. Don’t leave us to deal with the crap mood he’s gonna throw if you say no.

Sighing, she approaches Kid, who’s as still as a statue, and with a little wiggle of her ass—something Kid catches out of the corner of his eye—she settles onto the warmest, firmest thigh she’s ever touched. Killer immediately serves her a slice, and Dawn starts eating in silence, balancing the plate on her lap. The three friends begin chatting and arguing, laughing and pounding their fists on the table while Dawn’s body stays rigid, too tense to move even an inch. Noticing her tension, Kid’s hand finds its way to Dawn’s waist, giving her a little squeeze as he murmurs without looking at her, “Don’t be so tense.”

Dawn blushes and stiffens even more, and her defense mechanism kicks in: she cranks the volume up to max and focus on the beat of the music. She rushes to finish the delicious lemon pie, and just as she’s grabbing the last crumb, Killer serves her another huge piece without asking. Resigned to eat a bit more of the fantastic cake, she brings the spoon to her mouth, and at that exact moment, an unexpected, treacherous wave rocks the boat violently.

The plates on the table shift, the lamp hanging from the ceiling swings, and although Kid’s leg remains solid and stable as a rock, the slice of pie slips on Dawn’s plate. Dawn sways to keep it from falling, and her movement, combined with the boat’s rocking, throws her off balance; the spoon slips from her hands, her legs lift, and her back falls toward the ground.

With lightning speed, Kid spins in his seat, immediately stretching his metal arm around Dawn’s shoulders, catching her just before she hits the ground. Dawn’s tightly shut eyes open wide in shock, and what she finds is a spoon floating suspended in the air, and the ***MOST*** smug, self-satisfied, shitty grin she’s ever seen.

“Hold on tight, lass…” she hears, cursing that at this exact moment, a cheesy romantic song starts playing in her headphones.

OK, so. It’s the end of my workday, I’m taking the train back home. I open Tumblr, I see a notification. Oh! A message from my beloved @jintaka-hane ! I click.

Reaction #1: I let out a little squeal that catches the attention of the people sitting next to me. I cover my mouth to muffle the sound.

Reaction #2: I start reading and smiling like an idiot, giggling like a fangirl. The woman across from me sees my face and smiles at me. I think she saw the stars in my eyes! ✨

Reaction #3: I see the word "lass" 🤩 and at that point, I lose control!!! I seriously thought the passengers were going to have to call an ambulance to revive me! LOL!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA !!!!!!

It’s so cute! Adorable! Sweet! JINTAKA, I love it!!!!! I love you!!!! 💕

You’re so wonderful, and never apologize for writing about Dawn, you do it so well! Her reaction of turning up the volume on her music is exactly what she would do in that situation!!!! My gosh! I’m going to cry tears of joy 😭😭. You just brightened my day, you have no idea how much! 🥹🫶🏻

You’re all incredible here! Tumblr friends, I adore you! 🫶🏻

[bonnymori]

Captain's food rolls

A/N: This is me trying out writing again, seeing the scene where Kid and Luffy eat a bunch of mochi in Udon gave me an idea. This work feels very goofy for me lol, this whole post is silly, including the pics, I think I'm gonna use this format for now

Word count: 1,3k

Contents/Warnings: Silliness ahead, two lovers being silly. Next up is a law draft ig, either law or killer or heat

The sand under your boots is a comforting contrast from the crass waves of the sea, rumbling and coming near your feet - but not reaching quite yet.

It's unusual, but today is a great day, after a great battle against many marine ships, that you honestly wouldn't dare count, the Kidd pirates share a feast and drinks in a pacific island (even though Kidd scored the secluded place with no 'pacific' methods).

What is unusual, you would ask? Well, normally on the day-to-day of the Kidd pirates, meals are fulfilling, but not so much as to be bloated after eating. Of course, the massacre soldier – and crew's chef – Killer goes great lengths to make sure every member eats well and has a chance of asking for more, but still, in the sea you can ever eat so much, food needs to be watched so the ship doesn't run out again.

In a banquet, though, it's highly different.

The other pirates were kind – terrified – enough to make the beach look very presentable, placing up lighting upon the coconut trees and laying out tables for your friends to enjoy. It looks like some sort of luau, an illuminated beach next to the pitch black ocean, with lots of barbecued meat and endless pitchers of beer. The crew is scattered over the place, most of them are still eating, a few went down the city to find a pretty face to sleep with, and some of them who've had enough of eating are busy playing cards, such as Heat and Wire – you can always observe how they finish eating together, and go kill time together, it's a heartwarming friendship (or more?) between pirates, very similar to the captain and his right hand man.

Speaking of which, during these celebrations, the captain's table is always at the center, a big round table where he can lay down plates and food to scarf down as the night goes on. You observe the captain, aka your lover, fill his belly with delicious meat and booze, a small smile forming on your lips as you know what to expect when the party ends.

It's when something unusual happens, and you can't help but feel giddy.

"Your social energy has ended already, Y/N?" A pair of crewmates join your table, more specifically Hip and Emma, who also seem to huddle together whether to dance or eat during the feasts.

"I guess yes, you always come to a more far away table when you get tired of partying around." Emma answers Hip's query herself, bringing her beer mug to toast with yours, which differently than hers, is almost empty. She observes the small grin plastered on your face and chuckles, "I bet you were looking at the captain just now."

"My, you caught me red-handed." They both giggle at your comment, and you prop your chin on your hand, thinking of a good response, "You know I can't help it, he always looks pretty cute and round after eating so much."

"Yeah, when that happens he can't be rough around the edges anymore, afterall he won't have any edges!" Hip exclaims then covers her mouth to laugh, pulling Emma with her to Wire's table, "We're gonna gamble too, see you Y/N!"

You wave bye-bye to the duo, they are so very sweet.

As they walk away, you glance yet again at your beloved Kidd only to see that he has given up eating to chug on a few pitches of beer, excitedly talking to Killer in the process. Since you don't like approaching while he's eating – it's so messy he's akin to a piggy – you decide to go see him now, just because you'd like to kiss him bye-bye before you retire to the ship.

He doesn't seem to notice when you appear, planting a kiss on his goggles-free forehead, "Hi Kiddo, having fun so far?"

"Heck yes babe, I'm stuffed, and not even done yet." The redhead doesn't even mind the affection, too buzzed and full to protest. You look down, and it looks like he's already displaying a little belly.

You gasp lightly when his arm loops around your waist, your own arms embracing his shoulders and bringing his head closer to give him another kiss, this time in the top of his head – which he happily leans into, after all his hair is a soft spot.

To think about it, from this angle above, his hair really looks like a tulip.

He seems to indulge in your kisses, the alcohol making him loose to public displays of affection.

"Okay okay," You say while pulling him off from you, his arm is bulky but he's weaker from the beer, "I came to tell you I'm heading to the ship to take a short nap. See you later lov."

His eyes blink open, staring at you for a short moment where he lets you go with a 'okey' – you think he got the memo just fine.

Your trek to the ship is quickened by your jumpy strut.

Nap well taken, you've decided to wait for your lover on the deck, knowing very well most of the crew must be passed out on the beach, whether it be the sand or upon the tables or chairs, some would even sleep over the grill so as not to lay on the ground – you can think of a few that would be laying on the tables as well. The point is, nobody really could bother you both at this moment.

Oh lawd he's coming, is your first thought, spotting a big red dot far from the ship, walking with no difficulty yet swaying nonetheless, you just know Kidd is going to have a killer hangover tomorrow.

It's unusual, only happening during the days he feels famished enough to eat for three people in one sitting, his tough muscles disappearing under the new gained weight, how he does it, you cannot know.

But every time you think, he looks so cute.

Your big, angry boyfriend now turned into a big, round boyfriend climbs the plank ladder that leads up on the deck, stopping only once he is a few steps away from you.

There, he flops on the floor, sitting as he looks at you expectantly, knowing damn well that you like his softness when he's chubby like this.

"It's fucking weird the fact you think I look… nice like this." Eustass is the first to break the silence, avoiding the word 'cute' as he huffs at you. It seems his angry act is back, now that he might be a little sober.

Kid groans at your giggle of amusement.

"You look so squishy and soft, I can't help but love your rolls." You walk over to him and make yourself comfortable at his side, resting your head on him but not your weight, or else gastric reflux could a bitch about it at any moment.

He rolls his eyes and looks away with a small blush, his arm looping over your waist much like in the party – at this point, this action feels so familiar to you, you can almost feel it when it comes next. "Satisfied?"

"Very much." You chuckle at him, and silently, sneak your hand up to squeeze one of his chubs.

The big red lets out a yelp caused by the unexpected action, glaring angrily at you. "Hey!"

Even though his tough act, on the inside, Kidd was actually happy to receive free affection, being the selfish bastard he is. At the same time, he couldn't be more relieved, knowing that you could have reacted the opposite of this, and thankfully, you had not. And he loved you for it. But of course, he'd never say that even in a million years.

Eventually, the both of you stilled, the playful bicker coming to an end as the sea waves filled in the silence.

Now there are only two lovers, sleeping soundly side to side.

And content smiles on their faces.

[spell-cleaver]

Portrait of an Empire

Angstober

Day 24: Dark Sunrise

Sheev awoke in the night to the steady rasp of a respirator over his bed. It was the Force, accelerating around him, that brought his hand up to halt the lightsaber driving down at him. The blade warped and spasmed, blindingly bright, inches from his face.

It was so like Vader to not even give him the dignity of a good death. He could have aimed for his neck and been just as deadly. Instead, he sought to carve his face up and split his skull while he was at it.

Sheev rolled to the side, kicking up the covers of his bed as he did to disguise where, exactly, he was. Vader’s roar when he realised his attempt had failed was too much for his vocoder to express, and it shorted out with the fury of it. But by now Sheev was on his feet, his own lightsaber in hand.

He didn’t light it. Not yet.

“Assassination in my sleep?” he mocked. “That is not your style, Lord Vader.”

Vader didn’t rise to his bait. He slashed out, his motion wide and graceless. Sheev stepped back before it sank into his chest. His nightgown smouldered slightly, a few threads on his chest caught in the heat.

Before Vader could recover, Sheev stepped forward and jabbed his saber at Vader’s armour, his weak points—the chest, the joints, the groin. Vader blocked each blow and snarled, lashing out right back. Sheev had to retreat, until he was away from the bed and into the centre of his bedroom.

It was pitch dark in the room; it was the middle of the night. Vader had night vision in his mask, and Sheev refused to give him that advantage, so he waved his hand and the curtains on his broad windows flew open with a squeal. Coruscant was never dark. The city lights streamed in, revealing the lay of the land. His large bedroom. The four-poster bed with the carvings on the wood. The ensuite refresher just behind his bed, and the thick carpet under his feet. His bare toes sank into it, steadying himself.

Vader stood tall. He loomed among it all like a statue. And though Sheev could not see his eyes behind the mask, the Coruscanti lights glittered on his eye plates and gave them a malicious gleam.

“You are desperate,” Sheev realised, disguised his own shock with disdain. “You are truly desperate to sink this low.”

“I will not allow you to harm my son!”

Strange words. Not new ones, but—“What makes you think I will?” Sheev slowly circled away from Vader. He could defeat him. Probably. But he didn’t like to fight fair when there was any doubt involved. “He is my beloved grandson.”

“I traced the assassin who failed to kill him. You ordered it.” Vader raised his lightsaber. “You won’t get another chance!”

Sheev blocked his next few blows, thinking hard. This was problematic. He thought he’d buried that evidence deep. Vader was going to kill him.

A quick survey in the Force revealed that all his red guards were gone. Vader had slaughtered them first. There was no one coming to help him.

“You’re mistaken,” he said evenly. Vader, despite all his power, still could not tell when he was being lied to. “I would never do that. Luke is too important to me—to my plans.”

He had to add that last part. Vader would never believe sentiment. Not now.

His response was another attack. Sheev backed away farther, heart racing. Panic set in.

“Luke loves me,” he said. “Why would I waste that, you fool?”

“You are the fool!” Vader thundered. “Luke has not loved you for a long time. When you are dead, I will tell him all I have learned. He will hate you as you deserve.”

With a shout, Sheev unleashed his lightning on him. The anger that coursed through him was nothing like he’d ever felt. Vader flew back, not expecting it, and hit the wall.

Luke didn’t know, yet. So it wasn’t too late.

He ran forward with a roar of his own and, striking down, took off Vader’s right hand at the wrist. The wires sparked and hissed. His lightsaber rolled away. Sheev doubled his effort on the lightning, until he heard Vader’s vocoder fritz and give out, until the flicker of lights in his eye plates betrayed the thousand warnings he was receiving, until his life support was on edge.

He would kill him. He would kill him before he took Luke away—

But how would Luke react to his father’s death?

Sheev stopped. The lightning fizzled out.

What would he tell him? Vader was right that Luke distrusted him more and more. What would he think of this?

Sheev summoned a comm to his hand from his bedside table. “Medic. My quarters. Now.”

Vader would stay loyal. An attack dog who’d been kicked too hard. He knew how to pull his strings, and he would find a way to keep him in line. Even if he would always yank at his lead. Even if one day he would kill the hand that fed him.

He needed time. Time to solve this. Time to decide how he wanted this to go.

“Be swift,” he reiterated. “Or it will be one of you who dies.”

[queenendless]

❤️‍🩹Lost in a Moment (AU!Adult!Gojo Satoru x Adult!Geto Suguru)❤️‍🩹

A/N: Listening to Lost In A Moment from Stray Gods the Role Playing Musical helped put me in an emotionally wrecked state.

Yet watching yesterday's new episode ... that topped it. 😢🤧

CW: DEFINITE ANIME SPOILERS; UP TO S2 E9 NOW! AND YEAH IMPLIED MANGA SPOILERS BUT NOT IN MUCH DETAIL! Angst, hurt/comfort, reincarnation into modern age AU with retained memories of canon lives, cliche corny cheesy sappy lovey dovey feels, and yes Imma make more for this AU with the rest of my JJK babies ... and put in some x Reader soon. When the next episode drops... cause God that's gonna be a ride. OF FEELS! 😭

Credit for JJK goes to Gege ... despite all the madness they've put our babies through!

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

More JJK content coming as daily as this season runs. I hope you enjoy.

So much blood shed.

So many lives lost.

Panic and disgust at all that carnage yet enjoyment enacting violence against those special grades.

Roughly a thousand transfigured heads rippled through the blood-soaked station, trapped in his Infinite Void, within two tenths of a second.

Then came the Prison Realm.

The cube swishing open to take its true form.

Its wrinkly red skin stretched out into an X, wires stretching out its shrunken warm colored eye dripping with blood.

His instincts screamed to turn tail and get away.

"Yo Satoru."

That waving, closed eye smile sent unsettling, too trusting tremors through him.

"Huh?"

"Long time no see."

A fake?

A transformation technique?

No … the Six Eyes burned it onto his brain.

It all came flowing into him.

Three years' worth of his youth.

Smiling at that face.

Eyes full of hope.

Taking a minute to unfold in his head.

Enough time for the Prison Realm to merge with him, jutting out of him, keeping him hanging and pinned.

"You shouldn't lose yourself in thought, in the midst of battle, Satoru."

I can't sense any cursed energy. I can't get my body to move, either. This is checkmate, huh?

"So, who the hell are you?"

"I'm Suguru Geto. Don't you remember me? How sad."

"Your body, your cursed energy … all the information provided by these eyes is telling me you're Suguru Geto. But … my soul is rejecting all that! Now answer me already! Who the hell are you!?"

"Creepy." Pulling on that near invisible thread. Lifting the top half of his head off. Revealing the mouthed alien brain; juices dripping down his face, his wide ass toothy smile pissing him off. "How could you tell?"

"That's my technique you see. I can pass from one body to another by replacing its brain with myself. Of course, I'm also able to use that technique etched into the body I inhabit. I really wanted this man's Curse Manipulation and this situation, too. You didn't have Shoko Ieiri handle the disposal of Suguru Geto's body that day, did you?"

He couldn't … he just couldn't bear it.

Watching his one and only best friend being buried … or even cremated … after all those years spent apart on opposite sides … his selfish grieving heart had to keep him.

Plopping that head cap back on, squelched noises were made, it all churned Gojo's guts.

"That was an odd time for you to show consideration. But thanks to that, I was able to obtain this body with ease."

Pulling the thread to hold its creped hold back in place.

"You needn't worry. I'll release your seal eventually. A hundred… no … maybe a thousand years from now? You're just too strong. And you're in the way of my plans."

"Hah! Have you forgotten? Who was it that beat the crap out of that body before I killed him?" His stubborn pride and confidence in his distant relative turned aspiring pupil knew no bounds.

"Yuta Okkotsu, huh? I just don't see as much appeal in that boy as you do. Copying techniques without any conditions, and a bottomless well of cursed energy … both of those were just effects obtained from binding the soul of his most beloved with a pact. Sorry to say this, but Yuta Okkotsu can never replace you."

False Geto …

No ….

Kenjaku.

Damn him.

"Goodnight, Satoru Gojo. We'll meet again in the new world."

His pleading hopes that his one great weakness – his greatest strength – would respond to his desperate cries to come back and end the madness were all dashed.

Betting all his hopes that Suguru was still in there somewhere, trying to break free like himself, and that someway, somehow, something blessed would arrive amiss all this cursed madness.

Yet, even as the instincts of keeping him safe ingrained in the overtaken body of his best friend surfaced just to choke his hijacked being, it was a lost cause.

Lost in the moments of the times he missed most of all.

Lost in the song of their laughter, their fights, their banter, when they could be kids and nothing else.

Being each other's strength.

Making up for what the other lacked.

Each other's missing piece.

And to have that cursed Kenjaku make him relive the hell of a life failing Suguru. Tainting his entire being. Not even in death could the suffering end for his lost and lonely other half; matching Gojo's inner suffering for over a decade long in a world without Geto.

The strongest one, the honored one, defeated by the greatest curse that is love.

Failing his moral compass, his one and only friend, who needed someone in his time of need when he fell apart over his struggling morals after witnessing the cruel truth of their world. Expected to protect those that don't deserve it. Losing those that are too pure for that horrific reality.

Unable to protect his students, allies, and friends from the onslaught of hell that came for them that bloody Halloween night.

Unable to resist the moment that monster greeted him in Suguru's voice.

Unable to save the one he loved most of all.

Three years spent trapped.

Trapped in isolating hell.

Swallowed whole in suffocating, soul crushing darkness.

The muffled voice of someone pulled him out of the murky pulls of deep slumber. The jostling shake in his being, the solid digging of fingers in his shoulders, the overwhelming heat shoving back the freezing sunken teeth of the nightmare.

The muffled sound became clear out in the open as the most familiar voice of all was yelling out his name desperately.

"Satoru!? Wake up! Come on, please!"

Rescuing him from that insufferable reality.

Awakening him in a new one.

Blinking his eyes up several times, heaving and catching his breath as he broke out into a sweat.

Non vibrant eyes darting all over as he took in everything. Late at night. The AC humming in the background. Streams of moonlight creeping in through the skinny gap of the curtains. Trickling along the hunched form of Geto over him in their shared bed, wearing a long-sleeved charcoal sleeping shirt, an all-knowing concern written all over his face.

"What was it this time?"

No stitched-up forehead.

No more lies.

Looking into those enriching, trusting eyes.

Gojo shakily breathed out, draping an arm over his eyes. "Me being sealed away."

It is him.

Really, truly, his Suguru.

Breathing.

Safe.

Free.

Gojo felt his walls collapsing.

His vulnerability surfacing.

"The price a do over gives us." Geto murmured somberly.

"Yeah." His throat constricted, his eyes watered up, gritting wrecked grunts left him as his hand enclosed in a shaking veiny fist. Trying to keep it all in, not wanting Suguru to see him falling apart over a bad dream. But the contents of said dream made him want to behold to hold Suguru and never let him go again.

Alarmed by panic, Geto leaned down immediately to lay right atop him, embracing his emotional love with his own tightening grip, shushing him insistently as his hand brushed through those lovely white locks. "It's okay. I'm here. We're both here."

Recollections of their past lives flaring up in dreams is but one of the few downsides to reincarnation in this new modern age. But shouldering that burden with another makes it less of a struggle.

"This better not be a dream." Gojo lifted his arm, revealing the pain flashing in those emotionally teary blue eyes which tore at Geto's heartstrings. "Or I swear to God," Gojo sobbingly hiccupped as he clawed at Geto's clothed back, distraught battling relief within himself as his face nuzzled into Geto's strong neck.

"It's real. All of it. And this." Geto's tender, warm firm lips pressing to his cheek felt too good to be true. "I'm real, Satoru. As are you."

Breathing in Suguru's scent to calm his irrational state of mind, easing down just hearing his name spoken in that cozy voice from the genuine article. "This is real." Whispering that mantra over and over slowly kept Gojo grounded in the here and now as it did with Geto.

Gojo's next words struck a chord within them both. "I … I'm sorry Suguru."

"What?" Geto pulled back enough to look into those normal yet breathtaking blue eyes.

"For everything. For ignoring your pain all those years. For not letting you go when I … I killed you. If it weren't for me, that bastard wouldn't have taken it over and everyone … everything … wouldn't have turned out so wrong. I ... I was never the same without you." Gojo's voice cracked, braving himself to look him right in the eye even in this harried sorry state, when a gentle peck to his lips halted his words.

Geto's almond eyes narrowed as they became murky with lament. "Don't blame yourself. I'm … sorry too. For leaving you. For not divulging all my troubles to you. I just … the weight of the world was already on your shoulders. I believed I alone could find a solution to my problems … and that of our world … even if it meant becoming the worst curse user of our age. Yet after all that time …" His smile had Gojo at a loss of breath as Geto's other hand cradled his tear-stained cheek, rubbing calming circles with his thumb. "You still trusted me to the very end. After all the damage I had caused. After I hurt you … envying your power over seeing you for the person I always knew you to be deep down inside." Geto shut his eyes, letting his own tears trail down freely, sparking from the sliver of moon beams hitting them, mesmerizing Gojo.

To him, Geto Suguru never looked more radiant.

Gojo dug his fingers in Geto's back to pull himself up enough for their faces to be a mere inch or so apart, wiping away his tears in kind. "We've both suffered. All of us did. Doomed in that world from the start. Trying to change it all our own way. Prepared to lay our lives down for that dream. And yet, here we are."

Geto chuckled in wry amusement, resting his forehead against Gojo's. "The irony of it all."

Both ready to welcome death when their times came. On the same day. Their anniversary. Only to reawaken in a whole new world, one with no cursed energy at all. No cursed spirits, no sorcerers, nothing. With everyone else coming along for the ride. And all the memories attained from their past lives. Whatever higher power intervened to bring it all to fruition, neither knew at the time whether to be thankful or resentful.

And yet … finding their grown-up selves seeing each other again in the flesh … instinctually running to each other, collapsing in each other's arms, heart ruled over reason ever since.

Such as now.

Sitting up on their legs and calves, their embrace was as cathartic as the first one shared in the pure light of a new venture. Looking into each other's eyes, the sparks of hope reigniting.

"I forgive you, Satoru." Geto gently rubbed his nose against Gojo's.

"I forgive you too, Suguru … my one and only." Gojo's endearing grin had Geto laughing softly.

"Same old Satoru."

"Of course. It's still me, after all." That cheeky smirk says it all.

"How I have missed that sight …" Geto's gaze gleamed with amour that made Gojo's heart soar. "We have a second chance. We all do."

"Let's not waste it, then." Gojo's sculpted strong hand weaved through those silky raven locks, cradling the back of Geto's head. "I'm willing to fight for this life if you are. Nightmares, memories, and all." The conviction rose to meet his newfound dream.

"I'm not going anywhere. If I must live again, I'd rather live a long life worth living … as long as it's with you." Geto's own firm resolve gave him the urge to just come out and say it.

"We are the strongest duo, after all~!"

Geto's free hand playfully wacked Gojo's white long-sleeved shoulder, chortling, "Idiot."

"You love it, though." That drawn out kiss lingered between them as their half-lidded eyes stayed connected. "Admit it."

"I do." Geto's warm breath made Gojo want to kiss him again, longer, deeper, relishing his taste.

Drowning in the overwhelming pleasure as he pulled Geto even closer by the head, wrapping an arm around his body, meshing perfectly together.

As their tongues battled for dominance, Geto pushed Gojo to lay fully down in their big welcoming bed, laying down atop him once more, parting their panting mouths, connected by a line of their saliva, burning puffs hitting each other's mouths. "I love you, Gojo Satoru. All of you."

His soul told it to be true.

"And I love you Geto Suguru … I always have. In our old life… in this one …. if it's with you, that's the only place I want to be."

"So sappy. Even for you." Geto teased.

"Hey, you're stuck with me for life. Deal with it." Gojo stuck his tongue out, feigning annoyance.

"Like I have any other choice," Geto sighed, resigning to his fate, but his smitten grin displayed how fine he is to it all. The loud yawn released from his taller lover had him cup his cheeks to give a goodnight smooch, moving to lay on his side, cozying up to Gojo. "Good dreams should await you now."

"Having you here with me is a dream come true~" Gojo purred, intertwining their legs together as he wrapped his arms around Geto's shoulders.

Geto rolled his eyes, exasperated. "God the corniness."

Gojo laughed mirthfully before kissing Geto repeatedly, speaking in between the breaks. "I mean it. I do."

Wrapping his own arms around him, Geto could relax completely knowing his dear Satoru was so happy. Thanks to him. Because of him. Return those kisses in kind, humming at how good it felt. "Well, I do too."

Embracing each other under the sheets, lulled by each other's warmth, their even breathing and synchronized heartbeats became the telltale signs that they both fell fast asleep.

The catharsis was profound.

For that night would be followed by many others.

Where dreams come to fruition.

When living peacefully was possible.

Waking up to the early morning sunrise and seeing themselves in each other's arms brought sleepy smiles to their faces, kissing soundly before snuggling even closer to each other, falling straight back to dreamland.

Lost in a moment.

Lost in a song.

Their moment.

Their song.

Of a new beginning.

Together.