#and then your eyes are stinging cos they're warm

[avonne-writes]

For the Situations ask, I'd love to see Reverse Amnesia if it inspires you!! ♥️

Thank you, dear! 💕 @middlingmay also requested this one 😊

6. Reverse amnesia (everyone else has no memory/recognition of your character)

Bucky saunters over to their makeshift baseball field at Thorpe Abbotts, eager to participate in the game the guys are about to set up. It’s a pleasant, sunny day, no mission planned. Being alive doesn’t feel like an illusion for once, and Bucky's smile comes quick and easy like it used to before the war. He’s grinning behind his sunglasses as he reaches the group and claps Curt on the back.

"Hey, boys. Beautiful day for a game, huh?"

He nods at Douglass and Murph, but their nod back is hesitant. The others glance at each other as if Bucky has just broken some unspoken rule he wasn’t aware of. A frown tugs at Bucky’s eyebrows, but he tries to shrug his unease off.

"Can I join?"

When Curt pulls away from him, he knows that something is very, very wrong.

"Uh, sure, why not." Curt says awkwardly, but with his natural friendliness shining through. He has a tentative, crooked smile as he looks Bucky up and down. "Blakely, you got a spot for the big fella?"

Bucky's smile fades into a baffled expression. He takes his sunglasses off and looks around to see if a mouth twitches or if eyes squint in mischief at the prank they're trying to pull on him, but they all look serious. As if they’ve never met him.

"I s'pose." Blakely drawls, then steps forward and offers Bucky a hand to shake. "Ev Blakely."

Bucky accepts the hand numbly, but he continues looking around, waiting for everyone to double over laughing. But they don’t. They stare at him as if he was a stranger. An intruder, even. An impostor.

"Is this a joke?" Bucky asks, directing his question at Curt, because Curt is his best friend after Gale, and if anyone’s going to notice that this stopped being funny to Bucky, it’s going to be him.

But Curt just shares a look with Blakely and gives Bucky a confused smile. "What?"

Fear grips Bucky's heart with its icy fingers. "Okay, very funny. You know who I am."

"Our new CO?" Someone pipes up, and the boys laugh.

"Must be a replacement." Brady tells Curt, his cool eyes unimpressed as they glance at Bucky.

"Right." Curt says as if a lightbulb lit up in his head. "Sorry, man, forgot your name. Did we meet at the pub?"

"Quit it already." Bucky puts his hands on his hips, displeased. "Come on, you wanna stand around wasting time with your little prank or you wanna play?"

Curt turns uncharacteristically serious. "Look, we don’t know you, okay? No idea what you're yapping about."

Bucky raises a hand to his forehead in disbelief. His dread starts to spread through his body as panicked questions pop in his mind. He could be dead, and this might be his ghost possessing another body. He could be lying in a German field unconscious, the future of his memory playing behind his eyes. Once a man is shot down, he’s forgotten. His name nothing, his bed, his friends, his plane taken over by new faces, and nobody cares. There’s no legacy. No remembrance.

He's dead.

Dead, dead, dead, dead -

Bucky wakes up with a racing heart and a stinging pain behind his eyes that signals the rapid buildup of tears. He tries to breathe through it without letting the wetness spill and reorient himself. It’s the crack of dawn, and he’s warm under a thick, decidedly not army-issued blanket. The sweet, familiar smell of home lingers in the air. His pillow cradles his head with gentle comfort. And beside him, on his left, Gale sleeps peacefully curled up. His hands are wedged under his pillow, and there's a serene expression on his face that Bucky is able to make out even in the dim light.

The war has been over for years already, Bucky remembers now with complete clarity. It’s not him who's dead, but Curt, his dear friend, who lived with more life and soul than anyone else Bucky had known. And Bucky... He made it. He did, he’s sure. Still - he was just as certain of his existence in his dream as he is now. What if this is his nightmare continuing?

He hates himself for it, but he reaches over the space between them and shakes Gale’s shoulder.

He can tell that the very first touch is enough to wake Gale. He used to be a soldier trained to be alert at the slightest change, and it's not something you just shake off, even in the safety of your home. But, after years of living away from danger, Gale has developed the ability to fall back asleep just as fast if he decides that there's nothing pressing that demands him to get up. It almost makes Bucky smile, the way Gale’s breathing stops for that moment of clarity, then evens out again in blissful rest. He doesn’t even move a muscle or crack an eye open to look at Bucky.

Bucky shakes him again. "Buck."

The faintest of grunts answers him.

"Do you know who I am?"

Gale breathes in and out slowly, body and face still slack, one step away from sleep. "Who?" He mumbles.

Bucky purses his lips, his distress rising. "It’s not a rhetorical question!" He whispers with more emphasis. "Do you remember me?"

Gale squints at him for a moment, then unfolds and wraps his arm around Bucky’s chest to slot his body against Bucky's. He presses a dry, uncoordinated kiss to Bucky's jaw and goes boneless again. The weight of his arm is comforting. Bucky finds himself breathing easier under it. He puts a hand on Gale’s forearm and strokes it.

"Go to sleep, John." Gale mumbles and follows his own advice immediately.

Bucky loves him too much to be jealous of that ability. He closes his eyes and lets his relief wash the tension out of his body.

[estellan0vella]

I'll Take Care of Everything ❀ Toji Fushiguro Masterlist HFBU

The midday sun filters through the windows of your office, casting a warm glow on your desk as you try to focus on the task at hand. The soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clatter of keyboards provide a familiar backdrop to your workday. You're typing up a report, your fingers moving methodically over the keyboard, when you feel it coming—the hazy fog that signals an absent seizure.

Your vision blurs and the world around you fades into a muted blur of colours and sounds. You stare blankly at the screen, your mind drifting away. These moments, though brief, always leave you feeling vulnerable and exposed. You know it's only a matter of time before your boss, Mr. Tanaka, notices.

Sure enough, just as you start to come back to yourself, you hear his sharp voice cutting through the office chatter with a sharp snap of your name.

"Are you even paying attention to what you're doing?" Mr. Tanaka's tone is harsh, and you can feel the eyes of your co-workers on you as he approaches your desk.

You blink rapidly, trying to shake off the remnants of the seizure. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tanaka. I was just—"

"Just spacing out again, I see," he interrupts, his face twisted in a scowl. "This isn't the first time. How do you expect to keep up with your work if you're constantly daydreaming?"

His words sting, each one like a sharp slap to your self-esteem. You want to explain, to tell him about your condition, but the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak. Instead, you look down at your hands, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, but it's clear that your apology does little to appease him.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," he snaps. "If you can't stay focused, maybe you should consider finding a job that's more suited to your... abilities."

The humiliation burns hot in your chest and the tears you've been holding back start to spill over. You stand up abruptly, mumbling an excuse as you rush out of the office. You can't bear to stay another moment under his scornful gaze.

You make it to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall, your body trembling with silent sobs. The walls feel like they're closing in, and the cold, clinical light only heightens your sense of isolation. You lean against the door, taking deep, shaky breaths as you try to calm down.

After what feels like an eternity, you manage to compose yourself enough to leave the bathroom. You grab your bag and head for the exit, not caring that it's still the middle of the day. You need to get out of there, to find a place where you can breathe without feeling judged.

The walk to your apartment is a blur, and by the time you reach your front door, you're emotionally exhausted. You fumble with your keys, your hands still shaking, and finally manage to unlock the door.

Inside, the familiar scent of home greets you, and you collapse onto the couch, burying your face in a cushion. The tears come again, harder this time, as the weight of the day's events crashes down on you.

It's in this state that Toji finds you when he comes home a short while later. His sharp eyes take in your tear-streaked face, the way your body trembles with each sob, and his expression softens.

"Hey," he says gently, sitting down beside you and wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders. "What's wrong?"

His voice is a soothing balm, and you lean into his embrace, feeling a flicker of comfort amidst the storm of your emotions. "It's my boss," you manage to choke out. "He... he yelled at me after a seizure. He doesn't understand. He thinks I'm just... lazy or something."

Toji's jaw tightens, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "He said that to you?"

You nod, sniffling. "He humiliated me in front of everyone. I couldn't stay. I just... I couldn't."

Toji pulls you closer, his presence a solid, reassuring anchor. "You did the right thing by leaving," he murmurs, his voice low and steady. "You don't deserve to be treated like that."

You cling to him, as he gently strokes your hair. "I just... I hate feeling like this. Like I'm broken."

"You're not broken," he says firmly, tilting your chin up so you're looking into his eyes. "You're strong, and you're doing your best. Don't let that bastard make you feel otherwise."

His words are a lifeline, and you feel a spark of hope igniting in your chest. "Thank you," you whisper, resting your head against his shoulder.

Toji holds you until your sobs subside, his presence a calming force that helps steady your racing heart. "You need to rest," he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Get some sleep. I'll take care of everything."

You nod, too exhausted to argue. He helps you to your feet and guides you to the bedroom, where you curl up under the covers, the familiar scent of the sheets offering a small measure of comfort.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel Toji's hand gently stroking your hair, and the last thing you hear before you succumb to the darkness is his whispered promise.

"I'll make sure he pays for this."

The next morning, you wake up feeling drained but a little more composed. The events of the previous day still weigh heavily on your mind, but you try to push them aside as you get ready for the day. You have no intention of going back to the office just yet, but you know you can't avoid it forever.

As you sip your coffee, you hear the front door open and close. Toji appears a moment later, looking calm but with an air of satisfaction about him.

"Morning," he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," you admit, though your voice is still a bit shaky. "Did you... did you go out?"

"Yeah," he says nonchalantly, but there's a hard edge to his tone. "Had a little chat with your boss."

You blink, a mixture of worry and curiosity bubbling up inside you. "What did you do?"

Toji smirks, but his eyes are serious. "Just reminded him that treating people like shit has consequences. And treating my girl like shit has consequences his tiny dick, small pea brain can't even begin to imagine. He won't be bothering you again."

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, but you can't deny the sense of relief that washes over you as you giggle at his wording. "Thank you," you say softly, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

"Always," he replies, his grip warm and reassuring.

Later that day, as you try to relax and recover, you receive an email notification on your phone. Your heart skips a beat when you see it's from Mr. Tanaka. With a deep breath, you open the email, bracing yourself for whatever it might contain.

To your surprise, the tone is entirely different from anything you've ever received from him before.

Subject: Formal Apology

Dear Y/N,

I hope this message finds you well. I am writing to offer my sincerest apologies for my behaviour yesterday. My actions were unprofessional and unacceptable, and I deeply regret the distress I caused you.

I have taken some time to reflect on the situation and realize that I need to be more understanding and supportive of my employees' needs. Effective immediately, I am offering you a significant pay raise and a bonus as a gesture of goodwill. I hope you will accept this as a token of my remorse and commitment to creating a better working environment.

Please let me know if there is anything else I can do to support you.

Sincerely,

Mr. Tanaka

You stare at the email in disbelief, reading it over several times to make sure you're not imagining things. A mix of emotions churn within you—relief, vindication, and a lingering trace of anger.

Toji notices your expression and raises an eyebrow. "Good news?"

You hand him the phone, and he reads the email quickly, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "Looks like he got the message."

You can't help but laugh, a sound that feels foreign but wonderful after everything that's happened. "Yeah, it looks like he did."

Toji pulls you into a hug, and you melt into his embrace. "You're amazing," you whisper against his chest.

"So are you," he replies, kissing the top of your head. "And don't you forget it."

After breakfast, you find yourself lounging on the couch, scrolling through social media and chatting with Toji. His gruff exterior and no-nonsense attitude often contrast amusingly with his tender, loving moments with you. Today, you decide to push that contrast to the next level.

"Hey," you say, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

"Hmm?" he replies, not looking up from his book.

"How do you feel about a little pampering session?"

He raises an eyebrow, his attention finally shifting to you. "Pampering session? What do you have in mind?"

You grin and head to the bathroom, coming back with a couple of face masks and some other skincare products. "I was thinking we could do face masks together. It'll be fun!"

Toji eyes the colorful packets warily. "Face masks? Seriously?"

"Seriously," you say, holding up a pink packet adorned with cute cartoon illustrations. "It'll be good for your skin, and besides, it's relaxing."

He snorts, but there's a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Alright, fine. But only because you asked."

You sit him down on the couch and start explaining the steps. Toji listens with an exaggerated look of scepticism, which only makes you giggle more.

"First, we need to cleanse your face," you say, handing him a bottle of cleanser.

He grumbles but follows your instructions, and soon enough, he's got a clean, damp face. You apply the mask next, gently smoothing the cool gel over his rough, handsome features. He twitches slightly at the sensation but remains still, his eyes fixed on you with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"How does it feel?" you ask, stepping back to admire your handiwork.

"Cold," he says, deadpan. "And slimy."

You laugh, applying your own mask quickly before sitting beside him. "Now we just let them sit for a while. It's supposed to be good for the skin, remember?"

He sighs dramatically but leans back, closing his eyes. "If you say so."

You both sit there in comfortable silence, the minutes ticking by as the masks work their magic. The sight of Toji with a bright pink face mask is both endearing and hilarious, and you can't help but sneak a few pictures on your phone.

When the time is up, you carefully peel off the masks and wash your faces. Toji's skin looks noticeably brighter, and you can't resist teasing him about it.

"See? I told you it would be good for you," you say, gently patting his cheek.

He rolls his eyes but smiles. "Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I love you."

You spend the rest of the day cuddling, watching movies, and just enjoying each other's company. Toji's unwavering support and willingness to step out of his comfort zone for you make you feel cherished and adored. As the afternoon sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow over your home, you realize just how lucky you are to have someone like him by your side.

In the evening, you cook dinner together, laughing and teasing each other as you chop vegetables and stir pots. Toji's culinary skills might be a bit rough around the edges, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm and a surprisingly good sense of taste.

After dinner, you curl up on the couch once more, this time with a cozy blanket and a favorite movie playing. Toji wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You rest your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

"Thank you for today," you murmur, your eyes growing heavy with contentment.

"Anytime," he replies, his voice a soothing rumble as he holds you a bit tighter. "I'll always be here for you."