#he’s gone through a lot but is happy now

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 10

Added dividers because I felt like the time skip/scene change would become confusing without any indication of it.

I really need an answer on how y'all feel about Immortal x Dupli-kate cuz depending on the popular opinion stuff will change 🤐 I'm willing to split a lot of people up for the drama and/or miscommunication nonsense

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 10 >>next

Some place where the supernatural meets the normal, a little place called The Oblivion Bar, John Constantine simply sat shocked at the words he managed to hear and process through his mushed brain. Bobo closes his hung jaw, drinks his whiskey, and pats his friend’s shoulder as the man mumbles a sobering spell, cringing at the effects. “I should go. Good luck, John.” And so, the chimpanzee quickly makes his exit, leaving the Laughing Magician and Death of the Endless to their business.

“I need you to walk me through this again, luv- wasn’t quite paying attention.” Constantine shook his head as he fully turned to face the smiling entity. “You and who did what?!” He hissed, voice barely above a whisper as he tried not to bring attention to what they were saying. This was bad. Really bad.

“Lady Gotham and I took a liking to Batman’s youngest daughter and-“ John quickly interrupted her. “And gave her magical powers beyond my comprehension and immortality- yes, I heard that, did you?!” The man rubbed his face, the thought was making him want to get drunk until he dropped. ”Have you gone mad? Giving a mortal immortality is more of Dream’s style you should know better-“

Death only smiled at him, amusement filling her eyes as she gently laid a hand on his shoulder making him tense up. “She was lonely, she deserves every happiness those powers and eternity are bound to give her. You’ll understand once you see her.” And boy, did John laugh his gut out at that as he shook his finger. “No- no, no, no- there’s no way I insert myself into that mess- Bat’s family is already a mess and reeks of you without magic- No- There’s no way- that’s bonkers-“

Death gets up with a bright smile. “Thank you, John.” Her words make him stutter almost choking on his breath at the audacity. “Don’t thank me ya loon! I’m not going to help her, I’m not even going to see the moppet!” He can only yell and cuss as she leaves.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

 “Alright, Cecil-“ The old man immediately interrupted you, the little communication device in your ear buzzing with life as he told you to not use names. “… Dude… I’m miles in the air, first of all! Second, that was like a really common name once. it’ll take a while to find you specifically, and I doubt anyone could anyway- you seem like the type that would erase himself from the gov’s documents.”

“Anyway-“ You didn’t give him time to say anything else. “What house am I supposed to go to again? And why?”

The old man sighs at your antics, rubbing the side of his forehead as he feels the headache coming while he gives the address once more. “Your brother’s teacher, Mr. Hiles, has been the mall bomber. It took us a while, he was smart about it, kept his search into biological bomb-making off the internet but he wasn’t that thorough about his paper trail.”

“Be prepared for anything and a confrontation.” The older man cleared his throat. You always made him nervous; you were an unexpected equation in everything, something he couldn’t control without risking Earth. Donald and everyone else just took his weariness and suspicion as him being overly cautious, but Cecil could tell something was clinging to you that just gave him nightmares.

“And thank you- usually I would have sent someone from the Teen Team but…uh-“ His eyes followed the action on another screen. “They’re busy. Your brother and father are helping them.”

“You’re nervous. Yapping again. Chill, I’ll take care of it. Just because I don’t want to be your little puppet doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep people safe.” You found the man irritating, but for now, he was being sane, actually doing his job, so you couldn’t complain. “Getting closer to the target. Going dark.”  Was the only warning the man got before the com was powered off.

Finally ready to land you politely greeted the man, walking through the training both Cecil and Nolan provided at the start of your vigilantism. “I didn’t expect to get caught quite this early, and I certainly expected… more conventional authorities when the time did come.” Professor Hiles just sighs and welcomes you in by your birth name. “How did you-“

“Are you kidding me? Mark is unable to shut up about you. And you forget to wear your hood more times than you do wear it.” The man said as he took off his sweater. “Follow me, I’ll show you to the fourth missing student. I assure you, I have no intention of resisting.” Well… This was easier than expected.

As he started to confess about how he started doing this, he led you to his basement. “Mr. Hiles, while I understand the loss of a child to suicide, a divorce, and the loss of a job ruined you until you hit rock bottom, avenging your son like this-“

“I’m not avenging the death of my son. That would be far too cliché.” Your eyes landed on the teen strapped to the table once he turned on the light, breath hitching as you saw the skin of his arms merging sloppily with the metallic torso the professor modified. “It’s the destruction of my life that has me seeking revenge.”

“The domino effect of pain and sorrow that these monsters create. Children who spend too much time at the mall, attend parties, consume alcohol, and play sports when they should be studying and doing homework.”

“I understand your ire, I’m not one for parties or drunks, but not all kids who do that stuff go to extremes, that’s a flawed logic- it does not give you the right to play god and do-“ You tried to placate him, keeping your tone soft and even, to try and make him see reason. “What I did to all of them, turning them into living bombs, an instrument with which to exact my revenge… my crusade to end the pain and sorrow by these- ‘popular’ kids… I feel no guilt for.”

“I can’t think of a more appropriate end to my crusade-” Mr. Hiles ripped open the shirt he was wearing, revealing the same mechanism the unconscious teen had. “-than the death of a superhero!” You quickly acted, not letting him talk more beyond that as the timer set to 50 seconds started trickling down while you grabbed him, breaking through his ceilings and roof and flying high in the air.

“Is this really how you want to die? Suicide bomb? You still can make this right- you don’t have to die like this just tell me how to deactivate it!“ Your eyes remained on the clock. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen. The man just chuckled a dry, humorless laugh. “Do it. There is nothing for me anymore.” Five, four, three.

You couldn’t tell if what you felt was sorrow or shame, but you knew you were defeated. The man was going to get one final death, but it won’t be yours. As your flight came to a stop well above the clouds, you threw the man higher in front of you as the clock struck one second, and as it hit zero, the bomb detonated, the range and heat of the explosion destroying any remains while pushing you back a bit.

Your eyes remained on the cloud of smoke it created. If the cops found him before you did, the bomb would have wiped out the neighbors, too. That’s what hero life was, what it is. Sacrifices left and right that only made you feel more at odds with this job than before.

As you went back to the house, you activated the com, putting it back into your ear. Cecil immediately informs you that the police are en route as well as his clean-up team. “Get an explosive ordnance disposal technician, too. There is a teen in the basement, the bomb doesn’t seem active yet, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’ll send a report of what happened soon.” You stayed until Cecil’s people showed up, just to be sure the boy was still breathing and that the bomb wouldn’t activate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Helping Brit and the other heroes clean up the rubble from the alien attack helped keep your mind off things. The Brit enjoyed talking about his kid and wife, yapping until he needed to take a breath and then starting again keeping a smile on your face.

You enjoyed helping clean up, especially when there were no casualties, today wasn't that type of day. But it had become the easy, relaxing part of the job, pick big rubble up, place it into the waste trucks, pick another piece up, make sure to not hit the man in the trench coat, put it in the waste- wait…

Your head snaps back to the man, squinting as your eyes meet. You each take a second to take each other in before your eyes widen in surprise. “Hello, luv. I’m-“ You couldn’t help your excitement as recognition finally settled into your brain. “I know you-“ Your words made John cringe and tense up. When others said that it never ended well for him. “You’re Johnny Con-Job, the lead singer for Mucous Membrane, dude, your band got me into the punk culture.”

That… wasn’t what he expected. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud of that or fight back the mental breakdown that was creeping up his spine. “You’re a bit young for that slop, no?” You just shrug. “Your songs got me to finally put myself first, to get the courage to sneak out, see other stuff beyond the walls of my first house, help others, and leave my neglectful family before they could seriously hurt me.” Her words worried him. John never took Bruce as the “lock his kids up” type, but the man was as paranoid as they came, he wouldn’t put that above him.

“It may be slop and shitty vocals, but it’s what I needed to hear.” You teased him while putting the rubble in the waste collector. He watched as you approached him with a soft smile and sparkling eyes. He could see what Death meant. “I need to talk to you. I’m not quite sure about what luv, but I think it’s about Batman-“ He didn’t get to finish, as soon as the name left his mouth, he was grabbed by the throat and lifted well above the clouds, way too close to the ozone layer. “Did he send you?” you hissed, giving his neck a warning squeeze.

Yup. He definitely saw what Death meant as your eyes glowed a Lazarus green. “Nno-“ He choked out. “Did Bruce Wayne send you?” her question was met with the same answer. Your grip softened, grabbing him by his coat instead of his neck as you brought him closer. “Then why are you here?”

“We need to talk in private…” He whispered as he realized the situation.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

This was a whole mess that John Constantine knew he should have stayed out of- he knew! From Bruce to the whole family basically ignoring the kid, not even telling her about the vigilantism, to the rogues taking her in and doing a better job of raising her to her running away and getting adopted by another hero- a hero that John knew wanted to conquer the world, the whole fucking race wanted to, the fucking demons had a problem with that and wouldn’t stop complaining to him like he can fix it- he takes a deep breath in. “Why are you telling me all of this?” He whined, rubbing his face as he sat on the edge of some skyscraper with you.

“I’m not hiding my past, I’ll happily snitch and tell a reporter that Bruce Wayne is a shit father, they all just assume I’m Nolan’s actual kid that was in the hospital for a deadly something or whatever.” You shrug. “Please don’t- not because I care about the bellend- I just don’t want to deal with… Huh. Now that I’m thinking about it, that may be great blackmail.” His words only made you snicker.

He didn’t know where to begin. Did she know about the Viltrumite? Was she in cahoots with him? Should he tell her any of that? Would she even believe his ass? Maybe he should get the JL involved...

The scruffy man shook his head. “Not why I’m here. You said your hero name is Sorceress? Great, so you know you have magic powers, that makes it easy-“ John took in your shocked expression. Of course, it wasn’t that easy, it never could be. “If this was another world, I’d call you crazy.” You told him simply. “But Midnight City is cursed, and I guess that makes sense… Is that why I can hear the shadows speak?”

John nodded before doing a double take, asking you to elaborate on the shadows speaking part.  “They just speak, whisper, giggle the whole thing. They can also emit what they feel. They’ve always been present, they’re not as strong here, but I think that’s because they’re more tied to Gotham and Midnight City… or just- where there is more darkness.”

“Well, you’re not far off there, love.” The man nodded in agreement as his eyes drifted to the dark dome around the cursed city. He knew where to start. “This is going to be a long explanation, you better strap in, hen, and let me finish before you ask questions.”

“You remember the painting and murals you made of gods and other entities, demons, angels, the whole sort, in Gotham and here? Yeah, they brought the attention to you from the entities you drew. Some of the moppets took them as a higher form of offering than others, a few of them decided to stick around you.”

“Those have also decided to- ‘bless’ you with a few gifts, I’m not sure of all of them, but I know specifically that Lady Gotham offered the shadows as a companion and protector, and I know that Death of the Endless has blessed you with… well, immortality.” There was no way of walking around that fact. “I don’t remember if any of these two also gave you your powers, I was quite sloshed, but someone did.” John looked at the kit, taking in her shocked expression before he nudged you a bit. “Come on, kid, say something. You got me all worried here.”

“It’s all just- a bit much.” You mumble. “Yeah, I get it. A lot for you to shoulder, but I’m sure you’ll power through- oh, thanks love… Wha- How-“ John’s eyes moved from the beer in his hands to the energy can you were looking at. You just shrug. "I wanted to know if I could, thought…” You narrow your eyes at the can in your hands. “I’m not sure if this is made out of thin air or just- teleported or something.”

Constantine just slowly looks back at his beer mug… She was taking this better than most. He hoped it was because the shock hadn’t worn off yet. Well, he’s had worse things in his mouth, he's sure, so with a shrug, he takes a sip, humming with delight at the taste, muttering something about this being real beer. “You’re here to help me, right? Like- with my powers… I- I think I need help with this whole worshipping gods and demons- entities- thing, too.”

He knew the easy way out would be to say no, to just leave, she had done just fine without him… But that isn’t what came out of his mouth. “Sure, poppet. Just keep on giving me this fine beer.” Given his track record with people and magic, he shouldn’t feel this accomplished at your happiness, but he was always quite selfish, so he returned your hug, even if he was a bit stiff.

“Now- usually the normal thing is to go from small stuff to big, teach the basics, but I’m not one for rules. Have you ever wanted to teleport via portals?” The big mischievous smile you gave him was all the answer he needed.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You came home at the same time as Nolan and Mark, everyone’s first stop after greeting Debbie was their bedrooms to refresh themselves before going back to the dining area. “I’m going to be honest, Nolan, the longer hair and full beard fit you better than the silly mustache. Right, mom?” You couldn’t help the teasing as the whole family ate. Debbie looked at Nolan with a scrutinizing eye, before sighing and giving an amused smile. “I’ll definitely miss the beard.”

Mark snorted at the teasing as Nolan pouted, brows furrowing. “It’s not silly- it’s a rite of passage into manhood by the Viltrumite culture-“ you couldn’t help but interrupt. “It’s still a silly-looking mustache. What does the Viltrumite rite of passage for women look like?”

Nolan’s momentary displeasure at the mustache comment was overlooked as the inquiry about the Viltrumite women was brought forth. “Huh… I’m not sure, I never really paid attention to that. I think some cut their hair.” A puff of air escaped you in amusement before deciding to tease him some more. “Well, you clearly weren’t planning for a daughter that’s sure.”

Debbie just took in the chatter. She enjoyed the easy atmosphere, the laughter of her kids. “So, how was everyone’s day?” She asks once the chatter stops. “Oh, I met the Teen Team and helped them with the Flaxan attack, dad got kidnapped by them while I was trying to gather up survivors, made friends with Atom Eve, and met an alien called Allen who apparently got the wrong planet.” Mark shrugged.

“I spent the last eight months enslaved by an army from an alternative dimension, although it seems much less time has passed here. About a week ago, I led a revolt against my captors and regained control of my powers. Today, a team of scientists from the rebellion found a way to get me home.” Nolan lied as easily as he breathed.

“One of Mark’s teachers was turning his classmates into organic bombs in order to take revenge on kids he felt were like the ones who led his son to commit suicide. He turned himself into a bomb also and tried to take me out with him but clearly, it didn’t work in his favor. Helped clean up after the Flaxan mess, and met the lead singer of Mucous Membrane who apparently is a mage. He was here on behalf of Death herself to help me and tell me that my powers aren’t because I’m a meta, they’re magic. Oh, and also, I’m allegedly immortal.” You took a sip of water. “Lex also wants to know if anyone would be interested in attending one of his rich folk parties.”

At the quietness of the room, you lifted your eyes from your plate to look at everyone’s shocked glance. “What?” you ask with a mouth full of food.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That night, the teens wanted to sleep with their parents, both needing reassurance. Debbie and Mark were already gone, sleeping deep and peacefully. “Dad… You awake?” your question was whispered as your head lay on Deborah's shoulder. He answered with a warm hand squeezing your shoulder and a quiet hum. “...How do you move past people you can’t save or the people we have to sacrifice?”

Nolan wasn’t sure how to answer that, he’d never felt anything for the people he couldn’t save. He knew that if he had to save earth’s people or his kids and wife… Well… Earth can be populated again. “You look at the people who you did save. We can’t always save everyone, that’s the sad reality. It’s… painful. But it’s a truth all heroes have to come to terms with. Even I can’t save everyone.” Nolan wrapped his arms around his girls and son tighter, pulling everyone closer. “If all you could save was a person, you still did everything you could. If you couldn’t save anyone, you just have to keep your head high and try again.”

You snuggled closer into your mom, feeling her arm instinctively wrap around you as you draped yours over her and Nolan’s stomach, your fingers laying on Mark’s wrist. The sad reality of being a hero...

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

I'M REALLY SORRY IF I FORGOT SOMEBODY- MY DOC SOMETIMES FORGETS TO SAVE AND I HAD TO READD PPL

[sturnschris]

LET ME TAKE CARE OF U.

pairings : smart!gg!reader x bf!chris

content: reader shows up at chris‘s house in the middle of the might and things quickly lead too sex

warnings: PRAISE. PRAISE. PRAISE. (can u tell this au is au comes with a loooooot of praise), established relationship, A LOT OF SMUT, smut without real plot,unprotected sex (do not do), cream pie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, from the back, fingering, softdom!chris x sub!smart!goodgirl!reader, etc……

a/n: this is in my old theme | this took super long too write and im still not happy w it but here you go + it doesn’t rlly have an ending 😭

too lazy too count words rn maybe ill update this.

love ya!💋

“who the fuck is that?” chris muttered to himself, getting up from the couch. nick and matt had gone to sam’s house, but chris had stayed behind, wanting some alone time with you. of course, he’d completely forgotten you had an exam to study for, so here he was, alone at 4 a.m., mindlessly scrolling through youtube. he opened the door and blinked in surprise. “baby? what are you doing here?” you looked up at him, shivering slightly. “can i come in?” “of course, my love. come in,” he said quickly, stepping aside to let you in. his brows furrowed in concern as he closed the door behind you. “are you okay? what happened? i thought you were at home studying.” you sighed, stepping out of your wet shoes and wrapping your arms around yourself. “i was, but then i couldn’t concentrate, so i went to the library. but it started raining, so i decided to wait until it stopped. except now it’s 4 a.m., and it still hasn’t stopped.” chris smiled softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “why didn’t you ask me to pick you up, hmm?” you frowned, looking away. “i don’t want to rely on my boyfriend all the time.” he chuckled, the sound warm and soothing, before leaning in to kiss your forehead. “you don’t have to, baby. but let me take care of you, okay? you can always call me.”

you nod and lean up to place a soft kiss on his lips. he smiles against your mouth, his hands gently settling on your waist, pulling you closer. “you’re freezing,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. “let’s get you into something warm, baby.” without waiting for a response, he’s already guiding you toward his room, grabbing one of his hoodies from the back of a chair. “here,” he says, holding it out for you. “take off those wet clothes and put this on.” you slip out of your damp clothes and pull the hoodie over your head. it’s big on you, the fabric enveloping you in warmth, and the scent of him clings to you like a comforting embrace. chris steps closer, his eyes scanning you with quiet intensity. “you look good in my brand,” he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. “perfect fit.” he pulls you closer, his lips pressing against yours in a slow, deep kiss. his hands move lower, gently gripping your thighs as he backs you toward the bed. the kiss grows deeper, more urgent, and you can feel the heat radiating between you. “let me take care of you, baby,” he whispers against your lips, his hands sliding up to your waist as he pulls you closer, guiding you towards the bed.

he sits down on the bed and pats his thighs, motioning for you to come closer. you climb onto his lap, straddling him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. his hands find your waist, steadying you, his touch warm and firm. “you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his other hand rests at the small of your back, keeping you close. your cheeks heat up at his words, and before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss. his lips move against yours with a soft urgency, and you can feel his fingers pressing gently into your skin as if anchoring you to him. your arms wrap around his neck instinctively, pulling him even closer, your body melting into his as the kiss deepens. his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, and you part your lips for him, he chuckles, the sound low and teasing as his lips hover over yours. “so eager, huh?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. he kisses you again, slower this time, savoring every second. “need you, chris,” you whisper, your voice soft and pleading, a slight pout forming on your lips. his eyes darken at your words, something shifting in his expression as he stares at you. “yeah?” his voice drops, low and smooth. “how bad, ma?”

your face flushes instantly, heat creeping up your neck as your gaze drops to avoid his intense stare. your shyness takes over, too embarrassed to say anything, and he notices, his smirk growing. he gently lifts your chin with his index finger, forcing you to meet his eyes again. “c’mon, baby,” he coaxes, his voice laced with both dominance and softness. “need to hear you say it. hm?” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his tone dropping even lower. “you gonna be my good girl?” you nod slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “i need you s’bad, chris.” his smile grows, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “atta girl,” he murmurs, his voice warm and dripping with approval. his hands slide up your thighs, gripping just enough to make you shiver as he holds you steady in his lap.“that’s all i needed to hear,“in one swift movement, he flips you over, pressing you into the bed so you’re face down, ass up. a gasp escapes your lips, but it quickly turns into a soft whimper when you feel his hands firmly gripping your hips, holding you in place. he tugs your pants down with ease, your underwear sliding off with them in one smooth motion, leaving you exposed to him.

his warm hand trails down the curve of your spine before sliding lower, his fingers teasingly running through your folds. you let out a quiet, shaky whimper at the contact, your body instinctively arching into his touch. he grins behind you, his thumb brushing lightly over your clit as his fingers explore. “so sensitive,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “you like that, baby?” you nod, your breaths coming out in uneven gasps, your body already responding to him in ways you can’t control. “yeah, you do,” he says, his tone full of pride, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring how easily you fall apart under his touch. “so fucking good for me.”he slowly slides one finger into your soaking cunt, his movements deliberate as he thrusts it in and out, letting you feel every inch. a soft gasp escapes your lips, and your back instinctively arches, pressing yourself closer to him as he stretches you out once again.

“so tight, baby,” he murmurs, his voice laced with approval as he watches the way your body reacts to him. his free hand grips your hip, holding you steady as his finger pumps in and out of you, curling slightly to hit just the right spot. you whimper, burying your face into the sheets, your body trembling with every slow, deliberate thrust of his finger. “chris,” you breathe out, your voice barely audible, but he hears it loud and clear. “that’s it,” he says, his tone dark and full of praise. “take it, baby. let me stretch you out. you’re doing so good for me.” he adds a second finger, easing it in slowly, and the stretch makes you gasp again. his fingers move in sync, curling and thrusting deeper, drawing soft moans from you with each motion. “your so perfect,” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to the small of your back.

you clench around his fingers, your body trembling, signaling that you’re close. but just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty. “n-no,” you whimper, turning your bright red face toward him, your lips trembling. “i-i was so close.”he grins, his confidence radiating as he brings his slick fingers to your lips, brushing them against your bottom lip. “i know, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “but i want you to cum on my cock, okay? can you do that for me?”your cheeks burn even brighter as his words settle over you, and you nod shyly, your voice barely above a whisper. “y-yes, chris.” “goooood girl,” he coos, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. his hands grip your hips, positioning you exactly how he wants, his touch firm yet careful. “gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

he grips your hips, guiding you to arch your back just a little more as he presses his body against yours. you feel the weight of his cock against your folds, and it makes you whimper softly, your thighs trembling in anticipation. “look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride as he teases your entrance, sliding his tip through your slick. “so wet for me, baby. you want it that bad, huh?” you nod, biting your lip, your face still flushed. “please, chris,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. he chuckles darkly, leaning over you so his chest brushes your back, his lips brushing against your ear. “don’t be shy now, ma,” he coaxes, his hand sliding up your side to cup your cheek gently. “tell me what you want. i wanna hear you.” you swallow hard, your voice trembling as you manage to whisper, “i want you… i want all of you, chris.” “that’s my fucking girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before slowly pushing into you, inch by inch, his hand never leaving your hip as he keeps you steady. the stretch makes you gasp, and he pauses, letting you adjust. “you’re so pretty,” he whispers, his tone softer now, full of adoration. “taking me so well, baby.”

he starts thrusting slowly, his movements deliberate as he watches the way your body reacts to him. your eyes roll back, a soft moan slipping past your lips, and your back arches instinctively, craving more. “faster, please!” you cry out, your voice desperate and trembling. he chuckles darkly, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek, the contrast between his soft touch and rough pace making your body shiver. “so polite, hmm?” he teases, his tone dripping with approval as he picks up the pace, his thrusts growing faster and deeper. your fingers grip the bed sheets tightly, your knuckles turning white as the pleasure builds with each movement. you bury your face into the pillow, muffling the loud screech that escapes you as he drives into you harder, your body trembling under his control. “that’s it, baby,” he growls, his voice low and full of praise. “take it all. take everything i give you.“ his grip on your hips tightens, holding you firmly in place as he keeps up his relentless pace, each thrust pulling more sounds from you.

the pleasure in your stomach builds embarrassingly fast, and panic settles in as you realize how close you are after such a short time. how do you tell him? you can’t. you’ll just hold it—you have to. but of course, you should have known better. the second you clench down around him, chris lets out a low groan, his pace faltering for just a moment before his grip on your hips tightens. “you gonna cum, princess?” his voice is low, teasing, laced with amusement as he watches your body betray you. you shake your head vigorously, your face burning with embarrassment. “n-no— mmm- agh,” you manage to choke out, your words dissolving into a mess of moans as he thrusts even deeper, pushing you closer to the edge you’re desperately trying to avoid.

“no?” he repeats, a teasing edge to his voice, before snapping his hips harder, the force making you cry out. the sudden intensity sends a shockwave through you, and before you can stop it, your orgasm crashes down on you, ripping a loud screech from your lips. your body trembles violently, your walls fluttering around him as waves of pleasure roll through you, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. his grip on your hips tightens, holding you steady as he continues thrusting, riding you through your high.

but he doesn’t slow down, his pace relentless as the overstimulation starts to overwhelm you. your legs are shaking uncontrollably, and your toes curl as another whimper escapes your lips. “s‘too much,” you cry out, your voice trembling, tears threatening to spill from the intensity coursing through your body. chris leans over you, his hand wrapping around your neck—not hard, but firm enough to make you listen, grounding you in his control. “c’mon, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough but steady, his lips brushing against your ear. “you can take it. i know you can. you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” you let out a shaky sob, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin, but his words are enough to keep you from breaking entirely. his grip on your neck tightens slightly, his thumb brushing your jaw in a gesture that somehow feels both tender and commanding. “just a little more,” he growls, his thrusts growing harder and more erratic as he starts chasing his own high, your body clenching and trembling beneath him. “give me one more, princess. i know you’ve got it in you.“

your eyebrows scrunch together, and your head falls into the pillows, your screams muffled as the pleasure overwhelms you. “gonna cum, baby,” chris growls, his voice strained. “where do you want it?” but his words barely register—you’re too lost, too busy chasing your own high to answer him. his hand tangles in your hair, gently pulling your head up as he taps your cheek, his touch both commanding and grounding. “c’mon, ma, listen to me,” he urges, his tone firm but soft enough to pull you back to him. you manage to nod weakly, still trembling, but he needs more. “where—fuck—where do you want it?” your mind is a blissful haze, thoughts incoherent as your body writhes beneath him. thinking feels impossible, but somehow, you manage to squeeze out the words through broken moans. “i-in me… ah—mmh—” his lips curl into a smirk, his movements faltering for just a moment as he takes in your response. “fuck, i love you,” he groans, his voice heavy with both affection and raw desire. his thrusts grow rougher, deeper, chasing his release as your walls flutter around him, pulling him closer to the edge.

he lets go of your head, letting it fall back onto the pillows as your body trembles beneath him. without missing a beat, chris reaches down, his fingers finding your swollen clit, massaging tight circles that send shockwaves through your already overstimulated body. the sensation is too much, your back arching as a broken scream escapes your lips. your walls flutter and clench around him, your orgasm crashing into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. your vision blurs as your body goes limp, completely at his mercy.“fuck, that’s it,” chris groans, his movements growing erratic as he chases his own release. the way you grip him, tight and trembling, sends him over the edge. with one final deep thrust, he lets go, thick ropes of his release spilling into you as his hips stutter. he collapses over you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he presses soft kisses along your shoulder and back, his hands gently soothing over your trembling body.

“you did so good, mama,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of affection as his hands continue to gently rub over your sides, grounding you. your body is still trembling slightly, but his touch soothes the aftershocks. you hum in response, too blissed out to form proper words, your cheek pressed into the pillow as your breathing begins to steady. his lips brush against your shoulder, leaving lazy kisses in their wake.“my smart girl,” he praises, his voice dripping with pride, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “always so good for me.” his words make your heart swell, and you manage to mumble a quiet “all for you” before your body completely relaxes into him.

there will be a pt. 2 which will be the after care and it will be based on THIS ask!

all dividers from. @issysh3ll

@delooshunalhoe @chrisdollete @christophersturnn @sturniologirlzz @sturnxies @lov3bug @mattsside @emely9274 @sturnlovematt22 @sophand4n4 @sfoiasturn @blahbel668

[yikesdrama]

for one perfect moment 🩵 (ii) — Bucky Barnes

summary: bucky's birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa....

word count: 7k

warnings: fluff, kisses and lots of cuteness

a/n: please comment, like & reblog with your thoughts. this is the second part, there’s one more coming up next weekend!

masterlist | part 1 • part 3

previously— Winnie's gaze snapped to yours, her eyes narrowing slightly. "How do you know all of this? You've never told me who you are, or why you care so much about my James." You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. For the first time, you looked unsure, as though the question had caught you off guard.

But then you straightened, your gaze meeting Winnie’s with quiet determination. “I care because he deserves to have someone care. And I know because… I’ve seen him. I’ve spoken to him. I’ve seen how much he loves his life now, how hard he’s fought to be free of what they did to him.”

Winnie studied you closely, searching for any hint of deception. But there was none. Whoever you were, whatever strange circumstances had brought you here, you believed every word you said. And somehow, impossibly, so did Winnie.

“Why didn’t he come himself?” Winnie asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “If he’s alive, if he’s free… why hasn’t he come home to me? You came from the future, why couldn’t he?”

Your expression shifted, a flicker of sadness crossing your face. “I think… I think part of him doesn’t know how. After everything he’s been through, it’s hard for him to believe he deserves that kind of peace. And part of him is afraid—afraid of how much he’s changed, of what you might think of him now.”

“Think of him?” Winnie’s voice rose, trembling with emotion. “He’s my boy. My James. There’s nothing he could do, nothing he could have gone through, that would make me love him any less.”

You smiled faintly, a hint of relief softening your features. “I know that. And deep down, I think he does too. But it’s hard for him to see it sometimes.”

Winnie let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table. “He was always stubborn,” she murmured, her voice tinged with affection. “Even as a boy, once he got an idea in his head, you couldn’t talk him out of it.”

You chuckled softly, and the sound was warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Yeah,” you said, your tone fond. “He’s still like that.”

For a moment, you both sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between you. Then Winnie straightened slightly, her gaze sharpening as another thought struck her. “You said Steven is alive too.”

You nodded. “He is. He and James are living together now, in Brooklyn.”

“In Brooklyn?” Winnie echoed, her brow furrowing. “You mean to tell me those two fools survived everything they went through and still ended up back here?”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “I guess they couldn’t resist coming home.”

Winnie shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite the tears still glistening in her eyes. “Of course they did. Those two were always thick as thieves. If there was trouble to be found, they’d find it together.”

“They still do,” you said, your smile widening. “But they’re good now. They’ve made a life for themselves—a real life. They’re happy.”

Winnie’s chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. It was too much to process, too much to believe, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to doubt it.

Her boys. Alive. Together. Safe.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

You reached across the table, your hand warm and steady as it covered Winnie’s. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

Winnie’s fingers tightened around yours, gratitude and hope flooding her chest in equal measure. But before she could speak again, your expression shifted, a hint of nervous energy creeping into your gaze.

“There’s… something else,” you said slowly, as though choosing your words carefully. “I’ve been thinking about James. About what he’s been through, and what he’s lost. And I was wondering…” You hesitated, your eyes searching Winnie’s face. “Would you want to see him?”

Winnie froze, her breath catching in her throat. “See him?” she repeated, her voice barely audible. “You can do that?”

Your grip on her hand tightened slightly, a spark of determination lighting your eyes. “There’s a way. It’s… time travelling just like I did, and it might sound crazy, but I can bring him back here. Just for a week. For his birthday.”

Winnie stared at you, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. “You mean… you could bring him here? From the future?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady. “It wouldn’t change anything in the timeline—he wouldn’t be able to stay permanently—but it would give him a chance to see you. To have that time with you.”

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of the offer pressing down on Winnie like a physical force. Her heart raced, her thoughts spinning wildly as she tried to comprehend the enormity of what you were suggesting. To see her boy again. To hold him, to tell him everything she’d held in her heart for so long.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’m sure,” you said firmly. “But only if you want it. If it’s too much, I understand.”

Winnie shook her head, fresh tears spilling over as a trembling smile broke across her face. “Too much? No. It’s everything. It’s more than I ever dared to hope for.”

You smiled, relief and warmth radiating from you like a beacon. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

Winnie let out a shaky laugh, her hands clutching yours as though you might vanish if she let go. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

For the first time in several months, hope blossomed in Winnie’s chest, a fragile but undeniable light cutting through the darkness. Her James was coming home. Even if only for a week, it would be enough. It would be everything.

As Winnie sat back in her chair, clutching her teacup as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Across from her, you watched her with patient, steady eyes, your hands folded neatly on the table. For all the warmth and kindness in your expression, there was a subtle alertness about you, as if you were bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

“So,” Winnie began softly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her, “when are you bringing him here?”

You hesitated, your lips pressing together before you answered. “It won’t be immediate,” you said gently. “I still have to take care of a few things back home. Time travelling needs to be done very carefully.”

Winnie nodded slowly, turning the words over in her mind. “I see,” she murmured, though the concept was as baffling as everything else you had told her that day. “And it’ll be both of them? James and Steven?”

You tilted your head slightly, your brows knitting in mild confusion. “You want to see Steve, too?”

“Of course I do,” Winnie said, her voice firm now. “That boy… he was as much my son as James was. They were inseparable. Always running off together, getting into trouble. Steven was smaller, quieter, but oh, the mischief they caused.” She let out a soft, wistful laugh, her eyes shining with memory. “When James wasn’t pulling some prank, it was Steven. And when they weren’t eating me out of house and home, they were convincing Rebecca to smuggle cookies from the pantry. Those boys were mine, y/n. Both of them.”

Your face softened, your gaze warm with understanding. “I’ll bring Steve,” you promised. “He’d want to see you, too.”

Winnie leaned forward slightly, her expression serious. “You tell him he’d better show his face. I may be older now, but I can still box his ears if he’s too stubborn.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that felt less like avoidance and more like a quiet acknowledgment of everything they’d shared. Winnie sipped her tea, her mind racing with thoughts of James and Steven, of how different they must be now, and yet still the same in ways that mattered. She wanted to ask more—so much more—but she didn’t know how much more she could take before he brain began hurting.

You cleared your throat softly, breaking the quiet. “I’ll leave you something to help,” you said, pulling a small, unfamiliar device from your pocket. It was sleek, metallic, and fit neatly into the palm of your hand. You placed it on the table between you, your expression thoughtful. “This will let you know when we’re coming. It’ll turn green when we’re on our way.”

Winnie stared at the strange object, her fingers twitching with the urge to touch it. “And I’ll know it’s them?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “When it lights up, you’ll know we’re coming in less than 2mins. But until then, it’s important that you don’t tell anyone about this. Not even Rebecca.”

Winnie nodded, though the request gave her pause. “Why not?”

“It could change things,” you said carefully, your tone deliberate. “The timeline is… fragile. Even the smallest change could ripple out and affect the future in ways we can’t predict.”

Winnie frowned but didn’t press further. She trusted you, even if your explanations left her head spinning. “I’ll wait,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Whenever you’re ready to bring them, I’ll be here.”

You smiled, relief flashing briefly across your face. “Thank you.” You rose from your chair, smoothing your hands over your strange, unfamiliar clothing. “I should go,” you said softly. “But I’ll be back soon. But please… don’t tell anyone else about this. Not until it’s time.”

Winnie nodded, though her mind lingered on the odd tension in your words. “I won’t,” she promised. “And thank you… for everything.”

As you stepped toward the door, you paused, “I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Barnes,” you said quietly before slipping out the door.

Winnie watched you go, the strange little device still sitting on the table, its metallic surface catching the light. She didn’t understand everything—perhaps she never would—but one thing was clear. You cared deeply for her son, in ways that went beyond mere kindness or duty. And while Winnie couldn’t quite put her finger on it, she had a feeling there was more to the story than you were letting on.

With a quiet sigh, she picked up the device, turning it over in her hands as a small smile tugged at her lips. Her boys were coming home. And no matter what secrets you might be hiding, Winnie would be ready.

The first thing Bucky became aware of was warmth—a soft, familiar weight pressed against his waist, accompanied by a flurry of something tickling his skin. His brows furrowed as his body stirred, torn from the haze of sleep by what felt suspiciously like lips pressing against his face. Again and again. Across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and down along his jawline.

“Doll,” he grumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. “What’re you—?”

Before he could finish, another kiss landed on his chin, followed by a soft giggle that melted whatever protest he’d been trying to muster. He cracked one eye open, his gaze greeted by you perched on his waist, your legs folded neatly on either side of him, and face lit up like you’d just won the lottery.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” you chirped, leaning down to plant another kiss on his forehead. “Time to wake up.”

Bucky groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “It’s too early for this,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

“It’s never too early to kiss your grumpy face,” you retorted, your voice dripping with mischief as your trailed kisses down the side of his neck. “Plus, I made you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” he repeated, cracking his other eye open now. His arms moved instinctively to settle on your hips, steadying you as he shifted slightly. “What kind of breakfast?”

“Only the best for my birthday boy,” you said grinning. “Chocolate chip and caramel pancakes, strawberries, and an Americano. Your favorite.”

Bucky’s lips parted slightly, his mind catching up to her words. “Birthday boy?” he echoed, groaning again as the realization hit him. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“Close enough,” your voice sing-song as you leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “It’s your birthday week, Buck. So, get used to it.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as his arms tightened around you. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Insanely in love with you,” you quipped, tilting your head to press a longer, slower kiss to his lips.

Bucky sighed into the kiss, his initial sleepiness melting away as he pulled you closer. One of his hands moved up your back, his fingers tangling lightly in your hair as he deepened the kiss, savoring the warmth of you against him. When you both finally broke apart, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

“Morning kisses are dangerous,” you teased, nipping lightly at his bottom lip before sitting back on his lap.

“You started it,” he countered, smirking. “Don’t blame me for finishing it.”

Your laugh was soft and musical as you traced fingers lightly over his chest. “Come on, lazybones.”

Bucky groaned in protest but sat up, leaning back against the headboard as he adjusted you so you stayed steady on his lap. He glanced around for his T-shirt, his brow furrowing when he didn’t see it where he’d tossed it the night before.

“Where’s my shirt?” he asked, leaning over slightly to check the floor beside the bed.

When he looked back up, he froze mid-sentence, his lips parting as he took you in fully. You were sitting there, looking as sheepish as you were smug, wearing his shirt. The fabric hung loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long, and the hem brushing against your bare thighs. It was unmistakably his, and you looked too damn cute for your own good.

“Doll,” he said, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Did you steal my shirt?”

You gave him an innocent smile, tugging lightly at the hem as though to draw attention to your handiwork. “Maybe.”

“You little thief,” he teased, narrowing his eyes as a playful grin tugged at his lips.

“You left it lying around,” you shot back, tone matter-of-fact. “And besides, it’s comfy. Smells like you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to tug gently on the sleeve. “You’re lucky you look so damn cute in it.”

“I know,” you said, grinning triumphantly.

He leaned forward suddenly, his arms wrapping around you, as he flipped you both over onto the mattress. Your squealed in surprise, your laughter spilling out in a way that made his chest ache with how much he loved you.

“Admit it,” he said, pinning your wrists lightly above your head as he hovered. “You’re obsessed with me.”

You grinned up at him, utterly unrepentant. “Guilty as charged.”

Letting out a soft laugh, Bucky released your wrists so he could cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Good,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Because I’m pretty damn obsessed with you too.”

Your smile softened, eyes shining as you reached up to pull him down for another kiss. This one was slower, sweeter, a quiet promise exchanged. When you both finally pulled apart, you gave him a playful shove.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you said, sitting up and smoothing your hands over his shirt. “Let me get your breakfast before it gets cold.”

As you moved to get up, he caught your wrist, tugging you back toward him. “Wait,” he said, nodding toward the wardrobe. “If you’re going out there, grab me another shirt.”

Your brows raised, a mischievous glint sparking, “Why?”

“Because I’m not walking around half-naked,” he said, his tone dry.

You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you gave him an appraising look. “Why not? You’ve got a drool-worthy body, Buck. Let me enjoy the view for a little longer.”

Bucky groaned, running a hand down his face as he tried not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you countered, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead before darting out of the room.

When you returned a few minutes later, balancing a tray of food, the smell of coffee and pancakes wafted through the air. Bucky’s stomach growled at the sight of it, and you grinned, setting the tray on the bed between you both.

“Breakfast in bed,” you announced, settling cross-legged beside him. “Made with love.”

Bucky gave you a soft smile, his heart swelling at the way your eyes lit up. “Thank you, doll.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you teased, picking up a fork and spearing a piece of pancake before holding it out to him. “Try it first.”

He raised an eyebrow but leaned forward to take the bite, his eyes widening slightly as the flavors hit his tongue. “Okay, that’s good,” he admitted, his tone slightly muffled.

“Told you,” you said smugly, popping a piece of pancake into your own mouth.

You ate together like that, trading bites and teasing each other in between sips of coffee. At one point, Bucky fed you a strawberry, laughing softly at the way you wrinkled your nose when the juice dripped onto your chin. You were radiant, completely in your element, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by how much he loved you.

“So,” he said finally, setting his fork down as he leaned back against the headboard. “What’s the plan for today?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why do I feel like I should be nervous?”

“Because you should be,” you teased, leaning over to steal another kiss. “Now, finish your breakfast so we can get started.”

He rolled his eyes but did as you asked, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Whatever you had planned, he knew it was going to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his day—and his life—with you by his side.

A hour later Bucky was leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping on the last of his coffee, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges from the shower. He was still trying to piece together why you had been so hyperactive all morning. Sure, it was his birthday week, but you were practically vibrating with energy, flitting from one room to the next like a woman on a mission. He’d never seen you this focused—and that was saying something.

“Bucky!” you voice called from the bedroom.

He pushed off the counter with a soft chuckle, setting his mug in the sink before making his way to you. “Yeah, doll?”

As soon as he stepped inside, you turned to him with those big, sparkling eyes that always managed to undo him. You were standing on you tippy toes, pointing toward the upper cupboard above the closet. “Can you get the suitcases down for me?”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Suitcases? Why do you need those?”

You shot him a grin, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We’re going on a trip! For your birthday.”

That made him pause. “A trip?” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly as he stepped toward the cupboard. “What trip?”

“You’ll see,” you said, clearly enjoying his confusion. “But Steve’s coming too.”

Bucky froze, halfway through reaching for the suitcases. He turned back to look at you, an incredulous expression crossing his face. “Steve’s coming? Why is Steve coming on my birthday trip?”

“Because he’s your best friend,” you said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And it’ll be fun.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement. “You’re planning a trip for my birthday… and you invited Stevie?”

“Yes, Do you have a problem with that?” you asked, hands on your hips.

“Not exactly,” he muttered, grabbing the suitcases and setting them down on the bed. “But it’s a little weird, doll. Most people don’t bring a third-wheel on a romantic getaway.”

You rolled your eyes, already unzipping one of the suitcases. “Who said it’s a romantic getaway? Maybe it’s a fun getaway.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re up to something.”

“Maybe,” you said coyly, grabbing a stack of neatly folded clothes from the dresser and dropping them into the suitcase. “Now stop asking questions and help me pack.”

Bucky sighed but couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

He stepped closer, pulling open the drawer with his T-shirts and folding a few into the second suitcase. As he worked, he watched you out of the corner of his eye, the way his brows furrowed in concentration and the little hums you let out as you double-checked your packing list.

“What’s with all the jewelry boxes?” he asked after a moment, nodding toward the growing pile of items you was slipping into a side pocket.

“Accessories,”

“And the electronics?”

“Essentials.”

He raised an eyebrow but decided not to push. You was obviously on a mission, and he wasn’t about to interrupt the flow.

By the time you added a small bag of expensive makeup to the pile, he couldn’t help himself. “Doll, are we going to a luxury fashion show or something? Because this is starting to look like a lot.”

You shot him a playful glare. “It’s not a lot. It’s exactly what we need. Now hush and fold your socks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his drawer. “Yes, dear.”

A few minutes later, Steve wandered into the room, followed by Sam, who was munching on an apple and looking entirely too amused by the situation.

“What’s all this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the suitcases.

“Packing,” you said brightly, tossing another pair of jeans into one of the bags. “We leave tomorrow.”

Sam’s brows lifted, and he exchanged a glance with Steve, who grinned knowingly. “You didn’t tell him yet, did you?” Steve asked, his tone almost gleeful.

“Of course not It’s a surprise.” you said.

Bucky crossed his arms, leveling everyone all with a suspicious look. “You three are up to something. I can feel it.”

Sam snorted. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky muttered, though his lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth settle over him. The easy banter, the laughter, the way you kept sneaking glances at him as though you couldn’t help yourself—it all felt so… normal. And for someone who’d spent decades trapped in chaos and darkness, normal was a gift he didn’t take lightly.

“Alright,” you said finally, zipping up the last suitcase with a triumphant flourish. “I think we’re good to go.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You didn’t pack the kitchen sink yet.”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped closer to poke him in the chest. “You’re lucky I love you, Barnes.”

He grinned, catching your hand and pulling you into his arms. “I know,” he murmured, his voice softening. “And I love you too.”

Your smile brightened, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. It didn’t matter where he was going, all that mattered was you—the way you looked at him, the way you loved him, the way you made him feel like he was finally, truly home.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Sam called, breaking the moment with a dramatic sigh. “Save the mushy stuff for the trip.”

Bucky shot him a mock glare, but his hold on you didn’t loosen. Instead, he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your temple before turning back to the suitcases. Whatever you had planned, he knew one thing for sure: with you by his side, it was going to be perfect.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t a fan of surprises, but he was even less of a fan of being blindfolded, especially when it involved Steve holding his hand like they were reenacting some 1940s screwball comedy.

“Stevie,” he grumbled, his voice muffled by the blindfold. “If I trip and fall on my face, you’re paying for my dental work.”

Steve snorted, his grip firm as he guided Bucky down what felt like an endless corridor. “Relax, Buck. I’ve got you. You’ve been blindfolded for what? Five minutes?”

“Five minutes too long,” Bucky shot back, his tone dry. “I’m a trained assassin! I could probably tell you how many steps we’ve taken, what direction we’re headed, and what Sam’s chewing on back there.”

From behind, Sam made an exaggerated crunching sound. “It’s gum, genius. Cherry-flavored. Want some?”

“No,” Bucky growled, trying to keep his balance as Steve tugged him forward again. “What I want is to know what the hell is going on.”

“You’ll see soon enough,” your cheerful voice piped up from somewhere ahead. “Stop being so grumpy. It’s your birthday trip!”

“Grumpy is my default setting,” Bucky muttered, though his lips twitched with a small smile. It wasn’t like he could stay mad—not when your voice carried that spark of excitement, like you couldn’t wait to share whatever scheme you’d cooked up.

“Just keep walking, Barnes,” Steve said, a smirk evident in his tone. “You’ll thank us later.”

Bucky let out a long-suffering sigh but kept moving, his enhanced hearing picking up the faint hum of machinery in the distance. The sound grew louder as they walked, and he could feel the air shift slightly, the faintest vibration underfoot giving away their location.

“We’re headed toward the back of the compound,” he muttered.

“Man, can’t get anything past you, huh?” earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Nope,” Bucky deadpanned, though his focus sharpened as they came to a stop. He could hear Tony’s voice now, low and clipped, exchanging words with you. Something about suits?

“Here you go,” Tony said, his voice dripping with his usual snark. “Try not to break my suit, lovebirds.”

“Suit?” Bucky repeated, his brow furrowing beneath the blindfold. “What suit?”

“Hold still, Buck,” you said sweetly, and before he could respond, he felt something cool and metallic snap onto his wrist.

“What the—?” He flinched as the sensation spread, a sleek, nanotech suit wrapping around his body in an instant. It clung to him like a second skin, and he had to fight the instinct to rip it off. “Why the hell do I need a suit?” he questioned.

“Because you’re going to need it,” you said cryptically.

“Need it for what—”

“Goodbye, Nat!” you called, cutting him off as you waved toward the direction of Natasha’s voice.

“See you back in a jiffy,” Natasha replied, her tone amused.

Bucky froze. Jiffy? His enhanced brain worked through the context in seconds, piecing together the sounds, the cryptic comments, and the tech now covering his body. His heart stuttered.

“Doll,” he said slowly, his voice low and worried. “Are we—”

Before he could finish, the ground shifted beneath him, and his words were swallowed by the rush of noise and light.

The Quantum Realm.

The pull of it was disorienting, like being dragged through a vortex, the world around him blurring into streaks of color and sound. He instinctively tightened his grip on Steve’s hand, though he silently cursed the situation. Why did Steve get to hold his hand? He wanted it to be you.

Seconds—or maybe mini seconds—later, the chaos abruptly stopped, and Bucky felt himself thrown forward. He landed with a thud, groaning as the impact knocked the breath out of him.

“Get off of me, Buck,” Steve grumbled from beneath him.

“Not my fault you’re always in the way,” Bucky muttered, rolling off of Steve just as you collapsed onto both of them in a fit of laughter.

“This is the best thing ever,” you declared, clearly unbothered by the pile-up. “We did it!”

“Yeah, great,” Bucky said, sitting up and rubbing his head. “Where the hell are we?”

You scrambled to your feet, practically bouncing as you grabbed his hands and tugged him up. “You’ll see. Ready?”

He raised an eyebrow, his suspicions deepening. “Not until you tell me—”

“Nope!” you interrupted, reaching up to untie his blindfold. “No spoilers. Just… trust me, okay?”

Bucky sighed, his irritation melting under your excited voice. “Fine.”

As the blindfold fell away, the world came into focus, and Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat. His surroundings were achingly familiar—the cobblestone street, the faint smell of fresh bread from the bakery two doors down, the little white house with blue shutters and a squeaky front gate.

It was home. His home. The one from the 1940s, where his ma had lived with his sister.

He stared, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Every detail was perfect, from the worn brick chimney to the hydrangeas blooming by the front porch. It was as though he’d stepped back in time, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Doll,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Is this…?”

“Happy birthday, Bucky,” you said softly, your eyes shining with love. “Welcome home.”

His knees nearly gave out, the weight of the moment hitting him all at once. He turned to you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. But there were none. What could he possibly say to this? To you?

Instead, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as his chest heaved with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. You wrapped your arms around him without hesitation, your head resting against his shoulder, holding him just as firmly.

“Thank you,” he choked out after a long moment, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, doll.”

Your smile was soft, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you pulled back to look at him. “You deserve this, Buck. All of it.”

For the first time in a long time, Bucky believed that. And as he turned back toward the house, his heart felt lighter than it had in decades.

The tiny gadget sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, its metallic surface catching the morning light streaming through the window. Winnie Barnes had made a habit of glancing at it every time she passed by, though she’d tried not to obsess over it. It had been a month since the young woman, with a quick smile and a strange, unworldly confidence—had appeared in her life, promising something that felt too impossible to believe.

But today, when Winnie glanced at the device, she froze. The tiny light on its surface was glowing green.

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as she set down the towel she’d been folding. Her fingers hovered above the gadget, trembling slightly, before she pressed it, feeling the faint warmth of the metal beneath her touch. It had turned green, just like you had said it would.

Her boys!

Winnie’s chest tightened, her heart racing as she stared at the device. You had promised—you’d promised to bring Steve & Bucky home, even if only for a little while. And now, after weeks of waiting and wondering if she’d been foolish to believe, it was happening.

A knock sounded at the door, sharp and purposeful, and Winnie’s breath hitched. For a moment, she couldn’t move, her legs frozen beneath her as her mind raced. Then, as if on instinct, she grabbed her apron and wiped her hands, hurrying toward the door. Her heart pounded with every step, anticipation and disbelief swirling together in a dizzying mix.

When she opened the door, her breath left her in a rush.

There he was. Her James.

He stood on the stoop, taller than she remembered, broader too, with his hair cut shorter than the boyish waves she’d last seen. He looked like a man now, with a shadow of a beard and eyes that carried a weight she couldn’t begin to imagine. But those were his eyes, her boy’s eyes, and they softened the moment they met hers.

“Ma?” Bucky said, his voice low and tentative, as if he were afraid to break whatever spell had brought him here.

Winnie’s hand flew to her mouth, tears already blurring her vision. “James,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Oh, my sweet boy…”

Before he could say another word, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. He stiffened for a moment, as though startled by the embrace, but then he melted into her, his arms coming up to hold her tightly. She felt his chest heave, the soft hitch of his breath against her shoulder, and she held him even tighter, as if letting go might make him disappear.

“You’re real,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Ma,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here.”

It was only then that she realized they weren’t alone. Just behind him, standing a step lower on the stoop, was another familiar face—Steven Rogers. He looked much the same as she remembered, though his shoulders seemed broader, his stance steadier, and there was a kindness in his gaze that she remembered and it made her heart ache.

“Steven,” she said, her voice breaking as she reached for him.

Steve smiled softly, stepping forward to wrap her in a hug that was just as firm, just as full of love. “Hi, Mrs. Barnes,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Stevie,” she said, pulling back to look at him, her hands cupping his face. “You look well.”

“So do you,” he said with a smile.

Her gaze flicked back to James, and she shook her head, tears streaming freely now. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re both here.”

James reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek, his hand trembling slightly. “It’s real, Ma. We’re here.”

Her gaze darted past them, searching for the one person who had made this miracle possible. “Where’s y/n?”

“Right here, Mrs. Barnes,” you called, stepping out from behind the boys with a wide grin. You were carrying a small backpack slung over one shoulder, your eyes sparkling with the same enthusiasm Winnie had seen the day she first met you.

Winnie let out a soft laugh, her hand pressing to her chest. “You did it,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. “You brought them home.”

“I told you I would,” you said, grin widening. “Happy early birthday to Jamie.”

James turned to you, his expression a mix of awe and gratitude. “You… you planned this on your own?”

You shrugged, your smile turning a bit sheepish. “Well, Steve and Sammy helped, but yeah. I thought you might like to see your mom again.”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug, his grip firm and unyielding. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. “Thank you, doll.”

Your arms wrapped around him without hesitation, your head resting against his chest as you smiled softly. “You’re welcome, Buck.”

Winnie watched the exchange, her heart swelling as she took in the sight of her son standing there, alive and whole, surrounded by people who clearly loved him. It was more than she could have hoped for, more than she dared to dream.

“Come inside,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “Come in, all of you. I’ll make tea.”

James smiled, his arm still draped around your shoulders as he turned to follow her inside. “Tea sounds great, Ma.”

Winnie watched the three of them file into her modest kitchen, her chest so full it ached. James was here. Her James. He was alive, and standing right there in front of her. She’d spent so many months mourning the boy she thought she’d lost to the war, but now she couldn’t stop staring at the man he’d become. He moved like someone who carried too much weight on his shoulders, but there was something else in his posture, too—something lighter, steadier. A calmness she didn’t quite recognize but found herself grateful for.

“Ma, you don’t have to do all this,” James said, his voice soft as he reached for the teapot she was preparing. “We can handle it.”

“Don’t you ‘Ma’ me, James Barnes,” she shot back, swatting his hand away. “You just sit down and let me take care of my boys.”

Bucky blinked at her, clearly startled, before a small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And you,” Winnie continued, turning her attention to Steven Rogers, who was already leaning against the counter. “I’m not above putting you to work, Steven. You’ve got all that super-soldier strength—bring the bags in before your friend over there starts yelling.”

She nodded toward you, currently perched on the armrest of the couch, rummaging through a stack of photo albums you’d pulled from the shelf.

“I already yelled,” you said cheerfully, waving a hand toward the door. “You all just didn’t hear me. Stevie, come on, move those muscles. Make yourself useful.”

Steve rolled his eyes but pushed off the counter with a resigned sigh. “I liked you better when you were quieter,” he muttered, as he headed toward the door.

“You’ve never known me to be quiet, Rogers,” you called after him, your grin widening.

Winnie couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she turned back to the teapot. “She’s got quite the mouth on her, doesn’t she?”

“She always does,” James said, though there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone. His gaze followed you as you hopped up from the couch and began poking through a drawer, muttering to yourself about “how vintage everything is.”

“She’s… something else,” Winnie murmured, her lips curving into a small smile.

James smiled at that, his expression softening. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Ma.”

The words hit Winnie like a wave, her hands stilling as she poured the tea. She looked up at her son, her heart swelling at the way his eyes softened when they landed on you. It wasn’t just affection she saw there—it was something deeper, something that made her throat tighten with emotion.

“She loves you,” Winnie said quietly, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I can see it.”

James nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “Yeah. She does.”

There was something unspoken in his tone, something heavy that Winnie didn’t miss. She set the teapot down, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm. “And you love her.”

It wasn’t a question, but James nodded again, his gaze dropping to the floor. “More than I ever thought I could,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “She… she makes everything feel worth it, Ma.”

Winnie squeezed his arm, her heart aching with both pride and sorrow. She didn’t need to ask to know what he meant. She’d seen it in your eyes the day the you had come to her door, explaining everything James had been through—the torture, the brainwashing, the years stolen from him by Hydra. It was a kind of pain no mother could bear to imagine, and yet here he was, standing before her, whole and loved and somehow still her James.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I always have been.”

James looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thanks, Ma.”

The moment was interrupted by a loud clatter from the living room, followed by your unmistakable voice. “This drawer is just socks! Who keeps a whole drawer of socks?”

“They’re not just socks,” Winnie called back, her tone amused. “They’re darning socks!”

“Darning socks?” you repeated, appearing in the doorway with one of the socks in question draped over your hand like a puppet. “What even is that?”

Winnie laughed, shaking her head as she reached for the teapot again. “It’s what we do when socks get holes in them. You’d mend them instead of throwing them out.”

You blinked, clearly baffled. “You can… fix socks?”

“People in this era did,” Winnie said, chuckling at the younger woman’s expression. “Though I doubt you’re one of them.”

“Definitely not,” you said, grinning as you tossed the sock back into the drawer. “But that’s cool. Vintage socks. Got it.”

Steve chose that moment to reappear, a suitcase in each hand and an expression of mild annoyance on his face. “Happy now?” he asked, glaring playfully at you.

“Ecstatic,” you said, beaming at him. “You’re such a gentleman, Stevie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve muttered, setting the bags down by the door. “Just don’t ask me to do anything else.”

Winnie watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and affection. It was chaos, but it was her chaos, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time in what felt like forever, her house was filled with laughter and life and love. And as she looked around at the people who had made it possible, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Alright,” she said, clapping her hands together as she stepped into the living room. “Who’s ready for tea?”

“Me!” you called, plopping down onto the couch and kicking your feet up. “But only if there’s cookies.”

Winnie smiled, her heart full as she nodded. “There’s always cookies, sweetheart.”

James met her gaze from across the room, his expression soft and filled with gratitude. She nodded back, her silent promise unspoken but understood: they were home, and for as long as she had them, she’d make sure they never felt alone again.

To be continued….

[therosebookshop]

A Mate’s Special Touch

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Contains/Warnings: tiny bit of angst (his wings being gone, we all know he would’ve had them), clingy Xiao (self indulgent sue me), mentions of bird habits and mating

A/N: Saw a yt short about the difference between petting vs stroking ur birds and the meaning and I was suddenly inspired

Song this is named for: None

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

He didn’t let people get close to him. It was more a fear of contaminating them with his karmic debt then being antisocial, and that was what he told people such as the Traveler. It was the truth mostly, so he didn’t care.

But when you came around and you, like those other rare people, squeezed in through the barriers around his heart, he wouldn’t let anybody but you touch him. In fact, he tried to seek it out and ask for it in his own ways- light brushes of skin on skin, leaning against you, holding you a bit tighter when you wanted a hug. There was something special about your touch and he loved it. Craved it, even, after oh-so long of no touch, hardly any contact.

Anytime anybody- and he meant anybody- but you tried to touch him, even the Traveler, he would puff up like a bird and glare at them. He may not have had wings to puff up for intimidation anymore, but he sure tried. Even the slightest brush made him grumble indignantly and want to scrub his skin, but he wanted you to touch him, to stroke his hair or his back.

You could feel, under his clothes, hidden carefully, the stubs of wings. The broken bone, the still tender skin. He wishes he still has his wings to tuck you into. He knows you would’ve loved them, would’ve helped to preen his feathers into place, would’ve cuddled into them. But they’re gone now, taken from him cruelly.

You still love him despite the scars, the marks, the imperfections. And he adores you for it. He leaves you gifts, anything he thinks you’ll like, on the railing of your room balcony. Sometimes you’ll find him perched there at nighttime. He likes it more than the balcony most people look for him on, because you’ve decorated even the balcony.

When you speak even the first two letters of his name he’s there, already tucked under your arm. Your touch is like a soothing balm on his corrupted soul. Some nights he’s so worried about his karmic debt hurting you, especially with how much skin-on-skin contact you have with him. For hours he’ll struggle to keep himself away from you, from your touch and your cuddles.

But he eventually succumbs to the want to cuddle up and be content like a bird tucked under their mother’s wing. You stroke his hair, he likes that more then when you pet him like an animal- he tends to bare his little fangs at you when you do that, but he learned the hard way not to do that when you giggles about his ‘little teefies’ for several minutes.

And you don’t learn about this until you get a book about birds to learn more about his bird like tendencies, but birds only let their mates stroke them like that. Pets are platonic, but certain birds only let their mate stroke them all over. And then it clicks- the gifts, the baring of fangs when you tried to pat his head once, the happy little cooing noises when you run your hands over his back or sides, the clinginess. And when you take into account whenever even the Traveler or Mr Zhongli tries to touch him he’ll puff up and bare his fangs, but he’s always fine with your touch, it makes sense.

And now that you know what it means it’s utterly adorable. How could you not be charmed by that? That he only wants your touch? You love him even more, doting on him with kisses and more touches and making him almond tofu whenever. It’s never really official when you start dating, but the sudden appearance of lots and lots of bites and nibbles on your neck and the altogether too pleased look on Xiao’s normally emotionless face is enough for most of the people working at the inn to put two and two together.

[c4toru]

Make Villian Nanami as ur bf hcs ok byee *dies*

i love this reallll bad, i wrote him as a cursed spirit in this but i hope this still satisfies you :p

curse!nanami who was so intrigued by your presence, how you carried yourself so well. you must’ve been one of the good ones, at least that’s how he saw it in his eyes

curse!nanami who found himself purposely re-routing his day to accompany yours, in hopes of seeing your face. he looked forward to seeing how your hair looked, if your aura felt any different from the other 6 days he saw you, all unbeknownst to you,

curse!nanami who would do his daily routine imagining if you would enjoy doing them with him. would you enjoy the daily strolls he takes through his garden, would you stay up waiting for him late at night while he’s out hunting, would you even help clean his wounds after a rough battle?

curse!nanami who started mysteriously leaving wilted roses at your doorstep and workplace only to wait nearby to watch your reaction from afar. at least he’s trying..?

curse!nanami who finally started appearing in your daily life by showing up at the local flower shop you always stopped by, he just wanted to ensure that any other curses knew not to involve themselves with you

curse!nanami who enjoyed your company. he liked the way you rambled on about which flowers you thought smelled the best or even which ones brightened your mood the most. one could even say.. you were enjoying his presence a lot more than he could imagine

curse!nanami who after a full year of enticing you with romantic gestures, comes clean about his lifestyle. all of it, good and bad. you cut off all contact with him for months, begging him to leave you alone forever. . . and he did just that

curse!nanami who started wallowing in his own self pity, forcing himself to go out on multiple hunts per day to drown himself in his own misery. it all came to a halt when you appeared in front of him, sobbing and babbling on how much you miss him near you.

curse!nanami who promises to shield you away from his lifestyle, to only show you the good sides of himself. his chest hurts to see you in pain, wanting to drain all the negativity out of you and dwell in it himself.

curse!nanami who parades you around his garden during the day before setting off to fulfill his evil duties at night. he’s happy as long as you’re content with the life you live by his side, and you were! most of the time . .

curse!nanami who always apologizes first when you get into an argument, he doesn’t usually care for such little matters but he knows how emotional humans are. you’re so delicate, apologizing under any circumstances is the least he could do to make sure his pretty girlfriend is happy

curse!nanami who is now slowly assimilating to you. he wakes up early in the morning with you, gets ready for the day with you, bathes with you, even sleeping peacefully next to you.

it’s one of those nights where you sit comfortably in silence, embraced in each others warmth. you rest your head on his chest while he threads his thick fingers through your silky hair. “kento, i wish you could stay with me tonight.. don’t want you out there” you pout, rubbing circles with your pointer finger on his broad chest.

“i know, i know pretty. next time.” he replies as he shushes you to sleep, rubbing his thumb gently on your cheek. once you doze off, he’s up and gone but you always know he’ll be there in the morning, arms wrapped around you as you soak in his warmth.

a/n : writing this so late at night so it’s all just pure brainrot lol. ty guys for all the reqs, i’ll get to them soon i promise :p

[seoul-bros]

Jikook Week 61 Complete ✔️ (04/02 - 11/02/2025)

Jikook have finalized their 61st week in the military and it's time to look back at this week in 2022. It was an extremely complicated year for BTS. They knew well in advance that military service was coming and in the first six months of the year, continuing as if it was business as usual didn't sit right with them, as I think Namjoon and Jimin expressed very well in the Festa dinner.

They were all under a lot of pressure and I suspect that the company did very little to relieve that and may have even added to it especially for Jungkook who had been marked for glory since their debut.

"Jungkook wasn't very confident but I had a strong conviction that he had a lot of potential" Bang PD on BTS Monuments

BTS were on an extended break after their intense schedule in the US at the end of 2021. Jimin was admitted to hospital on 30/01 suffering from the double whammy of acute appendicitis and COVID 19 and was operated on the next day.

During his recovery period he sent various Weverse messages to reassure the fans including these on 03/02 (SK time) and on 05/02 the day he was discharged.

He spent the next few days resting at home. In the early hours of 09/02 (in SK) he watched The Notebook for the seventh time (still don't get what he sees in that movie - Nicholas Spark does absolutely nothing for me) and then apparently kept on going with another movie (Weverse message). Wouldn't it be perfect if that film turned out to be Like Crazy (getting inspiration for FACE even then).

The next evening after various exchanges with ARMY on Weverse he posted a cryptic, "I'm happy".

So it was rest and recovery all the way for Jimin but what was Jungkook up to this week? These were the heady days when JK was prolific on Instagram and his posts came in fast succession almost like a flow of consciousness.

As infant ARMY, everything was fascinating and everything had to be pored over and reflected on in great detail. Even so, I've never really come to any firm conclusions about what was going on - except JK was going through something and the way he processed it was, unsurprisingly, through music.

On 03/02, JK posted his cover of Hate Everything

Had a perfect picture in my head, With you in the most beautiful dress I look happy as ever How did I let you go again?

Now I'm standing alone in the rain. Like the kinda movie that we used to hate. Wish I could take back the time. But I know this time it's real.

Hate that I'm singing this song. I hate that I have to be strong. Hate that you're gone. I hate all my flaws. Hate that you love someone else Hate everything. Just hate everything. Right now

Then 05/02 he posted this dance video to these lyrics of Teyana Taylor's Bare Wit Me

On 06/02 he posted three sound clips on Instagram.

Roses by Finn Askey - "Hey, Rose I bought you five roses, won't you come to my show? Show you how to live life, yeah, you know you're fucking gold Give you all my time if you wanna take it slow Your soul is lovely, uh"

2. Too many feelings by Ruel - "I let out too many feelings, shit, I should've kept in. Probably should've left 'em all unsaid. Didn't wanna scare you, just wanted to be near you. Wanted you to hear what's in my head You know, I'll take it back if , You take me back too, too"

3. Audrey Nuna - Space - "Don't make me the one to say it Don't make me the one to say it 'cause I can't come down I'm only human now I just need some Space, space, space"

On 07/02 he posted Even Days by 03ohn - "Any of the days, any of the words, Even the day we said goodbye"

So he was posting a slew of break up songs 💔 one after another with regret combined with inevitability as the central theme i.e. "I love you but I'm feeling the pressure and I'm not sure I can be the lover that you want me to be".

On 08/02 he posted Never Change by Jeremy Passion with the lyrics "There is a place where both of us belong, But as of now we just have to be strong"

and he ended the week with the decidedly more upbeat Takes Two by Fiji Blue on 09/02 and the lyrics, 'Cause all I want is you, is you It takes two 'Cause all I want is you, is you It takes two"

Could this outpouring be related to jikook? Well if you believe they are together and have been for many years you could certainly ask yourself that question.

All long term relationships have their ups and downs and that is without having to deal with the spotlight of global superstardom, a kpop idol culture which requires stars to "appear permanently available" to their fans and the don't ask, don't tell approach to same sex relationships in SK. We know that Jimin was struggling at the time so perhaps it isn't too far fetched to think that Jungkook would also be struggling to help or to cope.

All I can say is that the next time we saw them together during the Seoul Permission to Dance concerts and in the BTS Monuments scenes filmed on the 13/03/2022 (according to Jimin's fridge) they appeared as united as ever.

So even if this was about them by mid March 2022 they had come to some agreement on how to move forward - together.

Post Date: 11/02/2025

[jellydrawsposts]

as a corvus fan i NEED his dad's lore. you said you had it GIVE IT TO MEE (foaming at the mouth) /nf

I HAVE AN ENTIRE 6 CHAPTER FANFIC HIDDEN IN MY VAULTS ABOUT THIS MAN AND CORVUS’S FAMILY YOU HAVE NO IDEA THE LORE STORM I GOT THIS IS YOUR ONE LONG POST WARNING

Cw: mentions of difficult pregnancies, life altering injuries, and death of loved ones (this ends happy i swear)

So, to start his name is Dionice.

He was born and raised in a small town in the borderland forest with his parents who were both in the military. They lived in a nice two story home and had a happy life.

When he was 12 years old his parents had been summoned on a mission, he had tried to ask them to stay but they promised they’d be back before he knew it.

Three weeks later he was greeted at the door by strangers who told him his parents died Heros. They hadn’t felt like heroes to him.

Dionice inherited the home and his parents money, regardless of course he had to fend for himself.

Because of that he grew resentful of the military, scowling when requiters were in town and vowing to keep his family far away from petty battles and disputes.

He took up a couple of hunting jobs and soon it became his profession, he learned how to set traps, make his own tools and weapons, and to sneak.

It was during one of his hunts that he met Soleil. She was a young woman about his age foraging however she had scolded him on his traps and gave him an earful being mindful of only taking what you need from the land.

She helped him with his traps and techniques and Dionice found himself curious about her. She wasn’t someone he recognized from town, and she seemed to be alone.

As the months went on they fell in love and that was when Dionice found out about her mother, a woman who didn’t seem to approve of him no matter what he did.

In the end her approval hadn’t mattered and he and Soleil married with them deciding to live in his home.

Dionice knew he wanted a big family and so did Soleil. They hadn’t wanted their children to grow up lonely like they had.

When Soleil was 24 years old and he was 25, they were preparing for their first child. She had choosen his name, Corvus.

However as time went on Soleil was finding herself fainter and weaker. She struggled eating and keeping herself upright. And the night Corvus was born she passed.

For a while Dionice struggled as a grieving widower and a new single father, of course he couldn’t leave Corvus alone when he went on his hunts but he had no one else to turn to. Until unexpected help came.

His late wives mother, Aimee. With her help the two raised Corvus for 7 years until one day Dionice met a cello player in town named Linet. They married a year later and had three more children: Letitia, Silas, and Mielle.

For a few years live was good and happy. Corvus was learning how to play the cello with his step mother, Aimee was finally civil with him and adored Corvus, his youngest children all played together, and the house he inherited was finally full and alive.

Then one hunt went wrong, he had traveled much closer to the border then he perhaps should have

He remembered startling awake to a thunderous roar, it was a dragon no doubt.

Perhaps it had a bad day or perhaps something had happened but regardless the sound shook the cave he had been resting in and it collapsed onto him, trapping his legs. It had took time but he had managed to free himself.

He spent weeks trying to return home, injured and malnourished. When he woke from a rest he found himself back home at last, and was told the news that he’d have a long healing journey before he is able to stand and walk on his own again.

They suggested walking aids from Evenere, but the cost alone on them was far too much not to mention the risk of travel. With him out of the job at least for the foreseeable future and his wife being a teacher at the time he knew if would be a rough patch.

One they could get through but not without some difficulty.

Corvus, now 15 years old, had insisted on helping. Searching for jobs in town, and taking up his hunting mantel.

One day when they both found themselves at the shops he had turned and spotted Corvus speaking to a ginger solider. He had rushed over in an instant, pulling away his son from the man. He made Corvus swear he wouldn’t enlist.

Despite the recited promise could see the look in his son’s eyes. It was one that would not waiver.

A few days later he woke to Letitia, his eldest daughter, who held a note from Corvus. It was an apology for the broken promise

He spent weeks trying to find his son he laid awake at night fearing a dreadful knock. One morning a message arrived at his door, from a General Amaya apologizing that Corvus had managed to sneak in under the false impression that he was an orphan.

She also explained although Corvus had deceived them, she’d be happy to train him and invited him to see Corvus offering to pay for the expenses.

When he and his family arrived they watched Corvus spar with his fellow peers.

He had came here ready to scold Corvus, ready to take him home but the smile on his boys face. The pride in which he carried himself as if this is something he had always wanted to do softened him.

Dionice remembered the times he trained with Corvus on how to use the weapon he made him, the nights they spent camping together and learning how to fend for himself, and his son’s brave and just nature.

With a heavy heart he allowed his son to stay and train.

Dionice now works with his wife and her new instrument shop. He uses a cane when he knows he’ll be moving a lot to help minimize the pain.

Though the years passed Corvus sent letters frequently, and despite them doing better Corvus always sent them a little of his pay. They could rarely send letters back since their son is always on the move or hiding.

Although it sounds as if things had been changing and perhaps soon enough Corvus will be settled down.

Dionice is happy at the thought of finally being able to send some of his words back to his son.

Mostly about how he is proud.

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[insertsona]

AFTER A MILDLY INTENSE WEEK OR SO OF DRAWING THIS MAN LIKE TEN TIMES A DAY. I HAVE FINALLY GOT THIS YELLOW ASSHOLE TO 1000 IMAGES.

more road to 1000 doodles under the cut !!

[tricoufamily]

oh i can just show a journey through beckett and connor to show you what i mean by i went through this awkward transition phase before. do you see what i mean

[sysig]

Betty’s Wish (1/?) (Patreon)

It’s definitely weird that Betty, with all her Magical abilities, never met a Wishmaster, right? I think so

[First | Prev | Next]

[kyouka-supremacy]

DELACROIX SPOTTED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

hang on are cougars like panthers

[oopey-doopey]

Spamton Neo battle but Susie and Ralsei never show up to help Kris fight Spam.

The soul can’t knock Kris into fight shape due to their fear. Spam is winning by land slide and is about to land the finishing blow on Kris but for a second either due to Kris’ weakened state or just another momentary flash in Spam’s delirium he imagines Kris as a younger version of himself.

Not projection but just straight up him before everything went completely wrong, battered and bruised and down trodden and stops the attack to heal Kris as he’s no longer seeing Kris as an obstacle or similar case to himself but a direct instance that he can “save” sorta how he wanted help and to be saved when he was in that position years ago. 

Whether the soul takes a back seat to watch or is just being stuck in a stalemate with whatever force is afflicting Spam, it’s just Kris and Spam and their odd kinship of feeling like empty shells left in that basement...

[sadthixx]

i feel like i'm in a happiness redemption arc like

SILENCE NEGATIVE FEELINGS!! I DO NOT WISH TO BE SAD ANYMORE!!

and since then i feel like my life has literally changed from going through traumatic shitty family drama to finally finding happiness after moving and having the freedom to do what i've always wanted to do when i was younger

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt Walter Abby friendship again. 💥💥💥