#hi fi setup

[ladelnet]

[eightiesfan]

Kenwood catalogue (late 80's)

[rinkmason]

TMY Projector, Upgraded 9500 Lumens with 100" Projector Screen Review

Are you tired of squinting at your tiny TV screen, longing for a larger, more immersive viewing experience? Look no further than the TMY Projector, Upgraded 9500 Lumens with 100″ Projector Screen. This incredible product is designed to bring the magic of the big screen right into your living room. With its high brightness, impressive screen size, and convenient features, the TMY Projector is here…

[darkbunnylove]

Task Force 141 walking in on Reader during their Self-Care Day

(this is just silly)

You’re in the middle of your routine, currently sprawled out on the couch in the living room. Hair in a towel. Face mask on. Cucumber slices ready. Oils and serums on your side. One of those silly little headbands with ears. Some lo-fi beats playing in the background. Maybe a lavender candle going. When suddenly, you hear the front door unlock.

Soap straight-up shrieks. “What the —oh, it’s just you, bonnie. You havin’ a spa day?” He then joins you on the couch five minutes later and asks a million questions about the products you’re using. Keeps pointing at bottles and guessing what they do like it’s some game show. Eventually starts ranking the scents, too. Definitely asks if he can use your jade roller sometime.

Gaz isn’t fazed at all. “You got one of those sheet masks for me, dove?” He’s already kicking off his boots, rolling up his sleeves. Chooses a watermelon-scented one and puts it on without using a mirror. It’s perfectly aligned. Spends the rest of the evening watching your favorite show and talking about his day as you both wind down.

Ghost just stares and then decides to say nothing. Probably too resigned to your antics to question them now. He simply proceeds into the kitchen. Could be judging you. Could just be tired. Hard to tell with him. Ten minutes later he comes back with tea and ends up in the armchair nearby. Doesn’t participate, doesn’t leave either, but accepts a little bit of the peach-scented hand lotion you offer him.

Price walks in, takes one look at the setup, and debates walking right back out. Then remembers this is his apartment too. Will sit down stiffly at the far end of the couch. When you catch him watching you out of the corner of his eye and ask him about it, he just says “nothin’, darling.” and looks away. Hands you some sliced apples and a glass of water, because that seems like the only thing he knows how to contribute at that moment.

[solifloris]

≡;-꒰ 𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒄𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ zayne x afab!reader | VALENTINE'S EVENT !

tags : established relationship, light kisses, hurt/comfort, angst with fluff, reader has a bad day, kinda slight references to 'hidden motive', it's like if the "youtiful" series had no smut LMAO, use of pet names "love" "sweetheart". ((also... unedited... i finished this at like 2:30am... AHFNNSNF))

wc : 3k (haha......)

an : so i have. been on a bit of writer's block since i recovered from my sick week, but i did somehow get the urge to write something a little angsty… so this was actually the perfect request to work on and i had sm fun with this!! TYTYYY FOR REQUESTING @deepspacenova ILY <333 (also i know canonically valentine's day is azure's echo day but… for consistency we'll stick with valentine's :D)

taglist : under the cut! (SIGN UP HERE)

ko-fi jar / commissions

Valentine's Day wasn't supposed to go like this.

When you woke up, the space beside you was empty.

The curtains were drawn, and the room had been left relatively dark despite the little rays of sunshine peeking through. Comforting, in a sense, but—your hand reached out to run through the sheets beside you, now cold and devoid of the warmth of his presence. He'd left it like this on purpose; you knew that.

And it was quiet without him.

The kind of quiet that was loud, the kind of quiet that was uncomfortable.

Your eyes drifted towards the clock on the nightstand, and your heart sank at the realization—you'd slept in, and completely missed seeing him off. On Valentine's Day.

You'd both known from the start that he wouldn't be getting a day off despite the occasion, and you'd accepted it, but you had promised yourself to be present for him in the morning. What kind of girlfriend would let him leave just like that, right?

There was a note on the stand.

You reached out to grab it, and something about the emptiness in the bedroom made you feel so small. Even though you'd always been fond of the neutral colors surrounding you, they looked drearier and gloomier than they'd ever been. Your arms twitched with the urge to reach out for a hug—

There was no one there.

Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well? I noticed you've been very tired lately, so please get some rest. Don't feel too bad that you didn't see me this morning. I'll be home in time for dinner, let me know when you wake up.

It was so sweet. So Zayne. Yet the heaviness in your heart didn't seem to lighten in the least, because the circumstances didn't change:

It was Valentine's Day. And you were spending it all alone.

In retrospect, you could never place the blame on your boyfriend. It had been this way from the start; you'd talked about it, accepted it, that with all of this came his busy schedules and the ever-present possibility that he would miss days like this without having much of a choice himself. You, yourself, weren't exempt to the setup, anyway—normally, your own work hours would have you out of the house in a similar manner. It was only that, this time… the mere prospect of having to spend a majority of the day alone with your thoughts had your skin crawling.

It had to be today.

It had to be now.

You could beg for a new work assignment to come in and save you from drowning, but you had been ordered to take a rest.

…Was this resting?

The air was stifling. You could breathe, but only barely.

You felt nailed to the bed, your head heavy, your body heavy, the tension in your shoulders nearly having you want to cry out if only you could muster a sound.

It had to be today.

It had to be now.

On Valentine's Day, the day of love. You would feel so pathetic, and needy, and so desperate to feel him next to you when you knew that it could not be so and you understood that this was simply the way things were. How they always have been. And it took every ounce of your energy to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill, because what kind of girlfriend would be like this, and why couldn't today be a day you felt normal?

You had to hastily wipe your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, and your hands reached for the phone next.

A simple good morning, a little how-are-you.

You would make yourself be normal today if you could help it.

So you did the only thing you could think of:

You redirected.

Pushing yourself out of bed was a task difficult enough to do, but you grit your teeth through it. Feet touched upon the soft carpet, footsteps padding across the room and towards the door. If you had the majority of the day to yourself, you could do something productive, couldn't you? You could still do that, couldn't you? You could still be the simplest, simplest form of a functioning human being… couldn't you?

A mantra repeated in your head as you made your way to the kitchen.

A list of things: you could clean, you could organize, you could read, you could play… You could cook something, maybe even bake, just so he could have some sort of surprise waiting when he got back.

It sounded like a good plan.

…

It was a difficult plan.

Deep breaths weren't enough to calm you down. Sure, every movement pulled you out of the rubble of your thoughts for a moment, allowed you to continue being for a moment. But a moment was merely a moment. And once that moment was over, then it was over. The wreckage dangling above your head would come crashing.

It was a terrifying, terrifying thing to be alone.

Every so often your eyes would drift towards your phone in hopes for a text; even a simple update, anything, anything—

You liked the quiet, but you liked it when he was around.

You liked the slowness of things, but you liked it when he was around.

On days like these, then only when all this empty space could be filled by the warmth of his presence… that was when everything else could be bearable.

And you stirred the cookie batter absentmindedly, only barely paying attention to what you were doing, when—

Ding!

Your heart jumped.

Immediately, you dropped the spatula back into bowl and turned towards your phone.

—heeeeyyyy, happy valentine's, bestieee!!! —hope you get to have a sweeeett, sweet time with your boyfie!

Ah.

Your racing heartbeat calmed down in slight disappointment; the last conversation you'd had with Zayne had been an hour ago, and you knew realistically enough not to expect another message so soon.

And, sure, you were disappointed, but… to Tara's defense, these texts still made you smile.

She sent a flurry more of messages; silly things, cute things, just a couple of somethings to leave in your chat log. You didn't know if she'd picked up on your own behavior being off at work, but you supposed that if Jenna had, then it was more likely that Tara hadn't overlooked it, either.

A thought rang suddenly in your mind, because you could spend the rest of your day with her. A glance at the time told you that it was only half past two in the afternoon, and you still had a couple of hours left before Zayne would be on his way home. If you were looking for a distraction, perhaps, a day out could have solved it, but—

Realization dawned.

You'd have to put on something pretty, spend a couple of minutes doing makeup. You'd have to speak with people, interact with them, seem normal to them… and then maybe, then, you'd be more conscious of the fact that you were blatantly masking in front of people you held close to your heart.

Vulnerability was a fickle thing.

Though you could desperately want to be so, it was difficult to know where to begin.

It was something to accept—you didn't have the energy to… be.

Not today.

Maybe Zayne was right; you did need to rest.

And the realization furthered in that really, truly, all that you wanted was to spend a moment curled up in his lap, maybe watch a movie, maybe sit in silence… Just enough to recharge, just enough to feel safe enough to be.

You wouldn't have had to think of anything else.

But, he wasn't… Here.

He wasn't here.

Hours passed by in a similar manner, then. A cycle of distracting yourself, and failing, and trying again, and failing… You had gotten a few things done, in your defense. The kitchen and the bedroom had both been cleaned spotless. Your newly-baked batch of chocolate-chip cookies sat to cool on the counter, a treat for your boyfriend, something to remind you of what day it was today. You were proud of yourself for it, of course; despite everything, you could still do a little something.

But the feeling in your chest, the heaviness of it, the burden you bore that you couldn't quite place, yourself… it was still there. Unmistakably, still there.

And then it was late.

Later than you knew his shift to be.

You glanced at your phone once, twice—thrice, and a few times more.

The message you'd sent had received no reply.

It must have been an emergency.

You understood; really, you understood. It was like this. He had no access to his phone when things were busy, and especially not when something had come up. You knew this. You knew.

And so you grabbed a blanket from the bedroom to drape over yourself, as you curled up on the couch.

You could wait.

You could.

You could.

…You could, right?

Surfing through channels proved easy enough.

Not that one.

Not that one.

No, not that one, either.

You huffed as each channel played a show that didn't particularly interest you, the sound of their dialogue merely causing you to be irritated rather than successfully distracted. You had little to no choice but to passively play on a show, lower the volume—and at this point, truly… it was difficult to take.

You curled up, drew your knees up to your chest.

The blanket smelled like him.

You could recall how often it had been like this; it had been busy at the hospital, as much as it had been busy at work… The two of you had barely any time to spend with each other these past few days, and undeniably it had started to take a toll on you.

Because it had to line up with the way that you'd been feeling.

Useless. Worthless. A little bit less like yourself.

Thoughts like these were easy to ignore when you had the capacity to, but you didn't anymore. Once again, the space around you was too big; too heavy; too much. It cemented on you all these feelings of helplessness, the way you were left in the middle of this cold, empty space with nothing to offer solace. It was pathetic to feel this way, you thought, but you no longer had the ability to rationalize it.

You didn't like it here without him.

You missed him—a feeling that had built up all these days spent away from each other.

And then the tears started to fall.

Silent tears, an occasional sniffle here and there… Your eyes glazed over as you continued to hug your knees to your chest, head resting upon them. You weren't focusing. The television remained what it was—white noise. You could barely remember what channel you had left it on in the first place.

Your phone lit up a couple of times.

You no longer noticed it.

—

A light shaking could be felt over your body.

It was a colder touch, you could feel it through even the blanket. Your eyes stirred open. Yet, truly, even before your gaze could focus enough on the figure next to you, you knew this touch.

Zayne.

He had his hand on your arm, having nudged you awake, and you could see the faint outline of a bouquet of flowers seated right next to him. Your favorites, no less.

In front of you, the television had been turned off, and a quick glance at your phone to the side showed several missed calls and texts from him. The time flashed as eight in the evening. You had fallen asleep. Your eyes were likely puffy, and you probably looked exhausted…

Yet, these things, despite how much you had noticed and despite how much you were still thinking—

They didn't matter anymore.

The moment of silence between you two, the way he didn't ask, the way he waited, the way he watched… A wave of understanding passed over the both of you before he pulled you into his arms, and that was it.

This was home.

It wasn't dark, and gloomy, and empty, and cold—

It was warm. Comforting. Full of his presence, just the way you had been longing it to be since you'd woken up. The smell of his cologne was one familiar enough to make you tighten your hold on him, make you snuggle deeper into his chest. It was secure. It was safe.

You'd missed him, truly.

And there was no need for words, not really. Instead, he stroked your hair, patiently, lovingly. A gentle kiss to the top of your head. A little reassuring squeeze of your hand.

"Zayne…"

"Mn. I'm here."

Another moment of stillness.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You could still hear the faint ticking of the clock on the wall, but this time, it didn't bother you. Not when you could just as well hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, not when his quiet words of reassurance could resound in your head like a lullaby.

And a stray tear fell.

Maybe, it was the relief of it. Maybe, it was how everything had bubbled up to crash into you like this.

But—

You lips trembled, and you cried.

You cried, and cried, and cried.

And it was such a stupid way to spend the day of love.

"You're… You're home, hic, I-I'm sorry, I didn't— hic— I fell asleep, a-and then—"

"Shh. It's okay, my love."

His voice was low. Soft.

"B-but I was… It's Valentine's Day, I should've…!"

"No, you do not owe me anything. On the contrary, I, too, have not been a satisfactory partner… I apologize, sweetheart. I wish I could have spent the day with you."

"It's… It's not your fault…"

"Then, it is not your fault, either."

He paused.

"You… feel unwell. You've been unwell. Haven't you? Aren't you?"

Slowly, gently, he coaxed your head up to look at him. His thumb raised, moving to wipe away your tears; to draw you closer by your chin and place a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose.

You sniffled slightly. "I… I didn't want to be needy… I know it's been busy at the hospital, and I thought I could manage, a-and I'm sorry, I know I should be more understanding! I-I should be better, be good, be someone who can give you the world like you deserve, be— something more worth of the comfort you give me, than this…"

The words flowed out before you could stop them, and, in the end, you appreciated that you could be vulnerable with him. But it still tore at your heart to have him listen. Because what if it was silly? What if it was stupid? In the back of your mind, even though you thought these things, you were hoping for him to tell you otherwise. And what would you do if he didn't? If he agreed with you? What if these words, these insecurities, would make him think less of you, or find it irritating, or…

You were spiraling.

You could see yourself drowning, reflected in the very window of his gaze.

But he gripped your shoulders—he wouldn't let you.

"I never asked for you to give me the world."

It was firm this time, and not necessarily gentle... Yet, the look in his eyes told you everything even before he spoke.

Slow, careful words, and his eyes never strayed from yours:

"All I've ever wanted was you."

Your breath hitched.

You waited, quiet, a little stunned; watched as he leaned in to give you a soft kiss. One to your forehead, one on your eyelids. Your cheek, the corner of your lips—

"I ask nothing of you, if only to know that you are okay. If only to know that you understand… that I will cherish you, and care for you, for as long as you are alive. Do you remember that?"

A memory stirred.

I should think about… how to live my life to the fullest. Because in this world, there's someone who'll like me for as long as I'm alive…

Those were your words.

A wave of warmth washed over you once more as he brought back memories from that day, one that, likely, was one that he thought of often himself.

"The moon…" he mumbled. Gently, he nudged your head sideways to allow you to glance out the window. He'd drawn the curtains back, and the night sky showed itself in full view to you. "Is beautiful tonight. Just as you are. Less than you are. Because you always shine brighter. And, to me… That is all of the world that I need."

"Zayne…"

"I bought you flowers, and I saw the cookies that you left on the table. However… how much you mean to me is not meant to be celebrated for simply one day of the year, and I don't plan to do that. I would celebrate it every day, every minute, every hour of my life. Besides… no matter how hectic things get, I will always want to see you."

This time, he pulled you back to him, gently easing his lips onto yours. A quick kiss, but a meaningful one. One that made the world disappear, your troubles disappear… at least, enough for you to focus on him, and all the love that he offered— to you.

"…Zayne?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

You snuggled into his chest, curling into his warmth.

It felt lighter, now. Perhaps, not to be completely freed from the chains you had put on yourself, but… it felt lighter. More bearable. No longer suffocating.

No longer difficult.

"I love you," you repeated. You would whisper the words, quiet as you focused on his heartbeat. "I love you, twice… thrice… and more times… Because saying it once wouldn't be enough."

"And I love you, sweetheart." Once more, he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. "Twice, and thrice, and more. And, for tonight… We can do whatever you want. My time is all yours."

And perhaps, you thought, he was your world just as much as you were his.

taglist: @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association @darlingdummycassandra @daturasflower @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @oharasmommymilkers00 @pikachuzhc @fackeraccount @rafayelsgf @iloveboysinred @rafslvr @spotted-salamander @venussakura @love-and-deepstrays @evilgojo @keioxo @Zaynes-jasmine @~Air_Heart~ @keymeadoww @rowazuhime15 @strwbrychffoncke

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[shuadotcom]

Strawberry Sunday (YJH & KMG)

->Summary: When your best friend is away, you and Jeonghan always find time to play. This time he invites his friend to play along and things get a little messy - in the literal sense. ->Pairing: Yoon Jeonghan & Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader ->Genres/Tropes/AUs: Smut, best friend’s brother, fuckbuddies (is this a trope???) non!idol au, pwp ->Rating: 18+ MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ->Words: 8.4k | ->Warnings/Content: profanity, threesome, dirty talk, oral (m & f receiving), handjob, unprotected sex, fingering, food play, nipple/boob play, begging, praise, teasing, cum play/body painting, biting/marking, pet names (sweetheart, baby, good girl, babydoll) and I think that's it 😮‍💨 ->Note: Written for the secret cupid event hosted by @ddeonghwa-s! Hiiiii @gyuhanniescarat, it's meeee I'm your cupid!! 🩷 Please enjoy this fresh freak nasty filth I’ve whipped up for you!! 👩🏽‍🍳💋 (and tbh for myslf too bc as a ShuaHannieGyu girly I very much enjoyed creating this hehe)

Thank you 37432987414 billion times to @shadowkoo for the perfect banner!!!! I'm still so obsessed with it! And thank you to my love @soongyeopsal for always being my favorite beta 🥰

The weekend. Easygoing Saturdays and lazy Sundays: the perfect way to end a stressful, fast-paced week.

You're halfway through your weekend and feeling wonderfully relaxed. On Saturday, you did some light cleaning that you were behind on and leisurely, at your own pace, ran a few errands, but most of the day was spent in your apartment, curled up on the couch with a book in hand.

Sundays are for sleeping in and when you do finally wake up, you take a long shower, complete with your favorite candles and a lo-fi mix as you scrub and relax under the warm spray. Once you’re in your comfiest lounge clothes and have taken the time to whip up a yummy brunch, you settle in on your couch, remote in hand. There are a number of dramas that are overdue for your attention, so you decide to pick one at random and get lost in it.

And you do manage to get lost in your show, cozy blanket, and your couch. Your brunch has been eaten and your eyes start to droop shut as you feel a midday nap coming on.

This is interrupted when you hear the chime of your phone from somewhere in your blanket cocoon.When you manage to fish it out, you see an incoming call from your best friend.

“Hey, Soo, what’s up?”

“Y/n! Please lend me your baking skills!” She sounds desperate and it makes you nervous.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Sooyoung sighs heavily over the line, the sound of the phone shifting is almost too loud and you have to ​​pull yours away from your ear a little bit.

“Are you busy? Can you come over? I’m trying to make cupcakes for Hyoseob for Valentine’s day, you know, but I fucked up the recipe because you know baking isn’t really my thing and now I’m panicking and don’t know if I’ll get them done by tomorrow and could really use someone who knows what the hell they’re doing in here, please?”

A small laugh leaves you at your best friend’s frazzled speech and you can hear the pout in her voice.You glance around you, taking in one more view of your lazy Sunday setup, before turning off the TV.

“Of course, I’ll get dressed and come over.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Y/n! I love you so much, thank you, thank you!!”

“Love you too. See you in a few.”

Once you hang up you sigh. You do enjoy baking and you always love spending time with Sooyoung so helping her won’t hurt. It’s not really the plan you had for today, but it could be worse, so you won’t complain. Not too much at least.

At least the drive to Sooyoung’s isn’t long and there wasn’t much traffic on the road which you’re grateful for. You get to the small house she shares with her brother and it only takes one knock to have her swinging the door open.

“Thank god, come in!” She grabs your arm, giving you enough time to at least take off your shoes, and parades you into the kitchen. As you pass the hallway, you can hear voices and the sound of a TV in the distance.

“Is Jeonghan here?” you ask, trying to sound casual. You do a great job at not making any indication that you’re actually hopeful that her older brother is here.

Yoon Jeonghan is the prettiest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of being around. And as of two months ago, he’s also the prettiest man who you’ve been lucky enough to have pleasured you.

It wasn’t on purpose, you always remind yourself. You just so happened to be over, drinking with Sooyoung and her brother as you all hung out on a Saturday night. Sooyoung drank a little too much and passed out. You and Jeonghan did your best to take her to her room and tuck her in.

Honestly, after that you’re not even sure how it happened, but you ended up riding Jeonghan on his bed and he gave you what you still think was quite possibly the best orgasm you’ve ever experienced in your life.

Since then, you and he have hooked up secretly here and there when given the chance, but nothing serious has come of it. He just has a pretty dick and knows how to fuck so who are you to say no when he offers?

“Oh, yeah sorry. He and Mingyu are here, unfortunately. Mingyu stayed over last night and wouldn’t you know, neither of them helped me at all!”

“Well, Jeonghan doesn’t really belong in the kitchen,” you joke. You also hide how you nearly choke on your spit when she mentions Mingyu’s name. You don’t know him that well, but he’s around enough that you can easily remember what he looks like (gorgeous) and how he’s built (like a greek god).

“Yeah, but Mingyu does! Remember he made that cake for my birthday last year! And the food he made at our housewarming. But when I asked, Jeonghan said ‘no they’re busy’ and dragged him away. They’ve been in his room all day doing whatever it is men do.” Sooyoung scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, that’s fine because now my bestie is here and is a better baker than all of us combined!”

You smile, genuinely appreciating the compliment, but also taking in the state of the kitchen. It’s a good size with a decent amount of counter space and great natural lighting. Said counter space now, though, is covered in ingredients and bowls and even some sprinkles and sugar and flour.

“So uh, what was the plan in here?” you ask, doing a slow lap around the room and eyeing two bowls of what looks like batter and fluffy, pink icing.

“Okay, so I wanted to make a batch of strawberry and a batch of chocolate cupcakes for Hyo, but then I burnt the chocolate cakes so those are a dud, and I ran out of sugar for the strawberry cupcakes and the chocolate frosting. I’ve been at this since I woke up at like 9 and all I have to show for it is a burnt tray and this mess you can see. The only thing I think I did right was the strawberry frosting.” She gestures to the bowl closest to you. You grab a spoon from the drawer and dip into the frosting, taking a small amount.

“Mmm. This is good.”

“Thank you! But now, I have to go to the store and get the missing ingredients and then try this again which is why I called you because if I go and get what I need and screw it up again, I think I’m going to have a full meltdown and cancel Valentine’s day.” Sooyoung lets out a huff, shoulders deflating as she sniffs.

You toss the spoon in the sink and rush over to hug your friend. You push away your thirsty thoughts for her brother and his friend and focus on her.

“Hey, it’s okay, girl! I’m here now, okay? I’ll help you tidy up, we’ll go over the ingredients you have left, make a list for the store, and get a game plan going okay? I’m here to help.”

With wide, shining eyes, Sooyoung pulls back and pouts at you. “You promise?”

“Of course! I got you.”

The brunette girl smiles at you, sniffling once more and then she lets you direct her to where to start.

It doesn’t take long to tidy up and get everything ready to start baking again. You toss the unfortunate batch of burnt chocolate cupcakes and place plastic wrap over the bowl of strawberry frosting, setting it aside since it’s the only success so far.

You help Sooyoung with the list of things she needs to grab for the chocolate cupcakes plus some extra ingredients just in case. After tidying up, you find out she has just enough of everything else for you to start the batter for the strawberry cupcakes while she’s gone.

“I shouldn’t take too long! I know the store closest to us is closed on Sundays, but there’s one like twenty minutes away so I should be back when the cupcakes are at least in the oven!”

You’re making sure you have everything in front of you that you need to prepare the batter so you nod, agreeing with her and saying goodbye. Once Sooyoung is gone, your borrowed apron is tied, you play some music on your phone, humming along, lost in your own baking world.

“If I had known there’d be a cute girl in my kitchen, I would’ve come out here to help a while ago.”

Jeonghan’s voice from the doorway makes you jump. You’d just added together the wet and dry ingredients and the sudden intrusion nearly makes you jump out of your skin.

You offer a wave as he and Mingyu file into the kitchen with Jeonghan coming to stand behind you.

“Well, your sister needed help and you didn’t come to offer a hand.” You hum, feeling Jeonghan’s hand ghosting over your hips and thighs.

“Yeah, but I’d much rather help you.”

“But what if I don’t need any help?” you shoot back, glancing over your other shoulder, seeing Mingyu hovering over the bowl of strawberry frosting on the kitchen island.

“Hmm, well I don’t know about that… It looks like you might need some help here.” As he speaks, his nimble fingers trail to the front of your jeans, ghosting over your covered crotch.

“Jeonghan,” you warn, “I have to get this batter in the oven while Sooyoung is gone. She’s gonna expect them to be baking.”

Normally, Jeonghan’s silky soft voice and skilled hands has your clothes off of you in no time. You and he had fallen into an unspoken kind-of friends with benefits thing. You don’t really talk for leisure over the phone or anything, save for a few flirty texts sometimes when you post something he likes online, but most of your communication is in person when you’re with Sooyoung or with each other’s tongues in your mouths when it’s just the two of you.

Sooyoung doesn’t know that you’ve been fucking her brother for the last two months, mostly because you don’t know how to even approach the subject. Plus, it’s just casual fun that you and Jeonghan have. It’s not like you’re dating or anything.

That’s not to say you wouldn’t date Jeonghan, but that’s an entirely other conversation to be had and feelings to unearth that you’d prefer to stay buried until that’s something you have the energy to dive into. For now, casually fucking him whenever you can will suffice.

“Hey, I’m not stopping you. Keep doing what you’re doing.” His voice is low, a smirk quirking at the corners as he places feather light kisses on your neck. His hands land on your hips, lightly squeezing as he brings the front of his body flush with you.

As best as you can, you finish adding everything to the bowl, grabbing the whisk a few inches away from you and starting to combine all of the ingredients. It proves to be more difficult than you thought when Jeonghan starts nibbling at the skin at the base of your neck, pulling your sweater collar aside to get to it.

A soft, breathy sound slips out of you when he bites down, the bowl almost falling out of your hand as you tilt it to get a better angle. Luckily it doesn’t, but you do spill some of the batter on the counter.

“Oops. You better be careful not to make a mess, sweetheart.”

He’s playing so dirty by dropping a pet name, and it immediately has your stomach clenching. Jeonghan reaches over you, his finger scooping up the splattered batter. He brings it up to your lips, waiting.

He doesn’t have to wait long, your mouth opening and the digit eagerly dipping inside, landing on your tongue. You close your lips and suck, eyes slipping closed both at the taste and the gesture itself.

“Good girl,” Jeonghan whispers and it takes everything in you not to turn and fall to your knees in front of him right then.

You and Jeonghan are lost in each other, you still lightly suckling on his finger while he peppers the side of your neck with kisses again.

“Um,” a third voice clears from behind you both and your eyes shoot open, letting go of Jeonghan’s finger. You had completely forgotten that Mingyu was less than a foot away.

You straighten up, focusing on the task at hand again, whisking the sweet concoction and trying to calm your wild heartbeat.

Jeonghan turns to Mingyu with an eyebrow raised, both hands resting on your hips. “What’s up?”

Mingyu lets out a nervous chuckle, hand moving up to push back his dark locks. “I mean… Bro, I’m standing right here.”

“So?” Jeonghan challenges. “What’s a little fun amongst friends? I’m always down for fun. What about you baby, do you like to have fun?” The latter part is for you, your eyes darting over your shoulder to Jeonghan, to Mingyu, then back to Jeonghan.

Is…is he saying what you think he's saying? Is he proposing you hook up with him and Mingyu? You don’t want to say it out loud, scared you’re reading the room incorrectly. You hold Jeonghan’s gaze for a few seconds, his smile softening just a little and eyes twinkling as he blinks.

“Y-yeah. I like to have fun.”

“See!” Jeonghan immediately says, reaching out to pinch your waist. “Baby is always so nice to me and she’ll also be nice to my friend.” A shiver runs through you at his words and it takes real work and concentration to focus on making sure you don’t fling cupcake batter all over.

Jeonghan uses the beat of silence in the room and your concentration on your work as an opportunity.

Soft hands are back at your waist, rubbing and squeezing lightly before his fingers practically dance to the front of your jeans. He plays with your zipper for a few seconds before pulling the metal down and easily undoing the button.

You can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat when he slips his hand into your pants, fingers immediately finding your covered clit. A squeak comes out of you as Jeonghan applies light, casual pressure, humming in satisfaction. Your mixing is paused as you close your eyes, relishing in the slow, meticulous circles he makes.

“Make sure you concentrate, sweetheart. Didn’t you say you have to finish this by the time my sister comes back?” His tone is teasing and he chuckles at the way you flinch when he reminds you that you’re on a timer.

It takes all of your resolve, but you do hone in on the bowl in front of you, finally deeming it smooth enough to be baked.

Jeonghan’s fingers stay pressed on the outside of your underwear, but he gives you enough room to reach over to grab at the cupcake pans that have been greased and sat waiting nearby.

Mingyu is now standing closer than before, not close enough to touch, but close enough that his eyes can see where Jeonghan’s hand is.

With shaking hands, you begin pouring the batter into the cupcake slots. It’s truly a feat as his fingers are still working at you. The task suddenly becomes almost impossible when said fingers finally slip into your panties, slender digits rubbing against your already wet folds.

A yelp comes from you which makes Jeonghan coo at you. “Look at you, baby. Already wet just from some teasing.”

“I - it’s your fault,” you manage to sigh out, faux annoyance in your words which Jeonghan already knows is a front.

“Not my fault you want my fingers inside you so bad. That is what you want, isn’t it?” His lips ghost over your neck again and you feel him hover so close to your entrance, but not actually making a move to enter you.

“Fuck, you know it is, Hannie.”

Jeonghan grins ear to ear - you only bring out his nickname when he’s making you feel good.

“Wanna hear you say it, baby.” The tip of his finger is right there - all he needs to do is crook his finger and he’ll push his way into your hole.

“Hannie,” you beg, “please, please, please put your fingers in me? I need you,” The words are breathy and your hands have stopped working, gripping the half empty bowl as you await his next move.

“Since you used your manners and said please, I suppose I can. Just make sure you finish your batter,” his hair tickles your neck as he leans down to kiss your neck again and he finally slips a finger into your pussy.

“A-ahhh!” You let out a breathy moan as he finally gives you what you want, immediately pulling you closer to his chest while you pour the batter, every single inch of your brain struggling not to fuck it up.

When you finally get the cupcake pan filled, Jeonghan has slipped two fingers into your cunt, his fingers working you slowly, the sounds of your own wetness mixes with the music you still have playing on your phone in the background.

“Hannie,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering closed as he finds your g-spot, massaging it with gentle strokes.

“Yes, baby?”

“I - the oven. I need to p-put these in,” the sentence is a struggle and Jeonghan chuckles, loving the way you go almost braindead when he’s touching you.

Jeonghan slips his fingers out of you and you whimper at the loss. He finally backs away, allowing you room to open the oven. Everything is quiet save for your music and your rapid breathing.

Once the mini cakes are in, the timer is set, and oven mitts are placed aside, Jeonghan strikes.

He spins you around, letting your ass hit the counter as he cups your face and leans in to kiss you finally. Soft lips work expertly over yours, drawing little sighs out of you. Jeonghan’s an excellent kisser, in addition to an amazing lay, so kissing him always sets your body alight. His hands eventually drift from your face, one inching up to the back of your neck to wrap around the base while the other slips down and behind you to grab a handful of your ass, pulling your body flush against his. You can already feel his half-hard erection poking against you and you clench your thighs together.

You and Jeonghan make out sloppily, the kiss nothing but teeth and tongue and little noises you both make. Eventually, he pulls away, both of you panting. He turns his head and gestures for Mingyu to come closer.

You shamelessly eye the very tall and very wide man that approaches. His black long-sleeved shirt hugs his chest in a sinful way and his loose fitting pants do very little to hide his obvious arousal.

“Mingyu already knows that we sometimes like to spend time together. I figured that since we’re all here and we have a little time, you can show him just how good you can be. I think you want to anyway.” Jeonghan pulls you away from the counter and maneuvers you into Mingyu’s surprised hold.

His arms wrap around your middle, loosely hanging there but making no move to let you go. Your hands land on his chest and you can’t hold back from squeezing the firm muscle underneath. He blinks down at you, eyes boring into yours in mild shock. He effortlessly recovers from his shock of suddenly having you in his hold, a smirk replacing the ��o’ shape his mouth had taken.

“I’d love to actually,” you whisper out finally, gulping audibly when you finally catch a whiff of Mingyu’s warm cologne. “But your sister is only going to the store for a few things so we don’t have time.”

As if forgetting that you’re only this close because of her absence, Jeonghan pauses next to you, and feels the pockets of his sweats for his phone.

“Damn, I think I left my phone in my room. What time is it?”

“Check my phone,” you jerk your head towards the counter, directing him to where your phone lays charging a few inches away. You’re still leaning against Mingyu’s firm chest as the man rubs circles into your lower back that have your knees feeling like jelly at just how warm and gentle and big his hands are.

Your eyes are staring at his lips as he looks between yours and your eyes. It’s clear you’re both wanting to do something but are waiting for an update on the timing you have.

“Well will you look at that,” Jeonghan starts as he looks at your phone. He brings it to you, showing you a notification on your lock screen from Sooyoung. The words start with ‘I fucking hate traffic…”

Reluctantly you move one hand from Mingyu’s chest to take your phone and unlock it.

Sure enough, when you get to the messages, there’s a few texts from Sooyoung, complaining about traffic and an accident that’s taking so long she hasn’t even made it halfway to the store yet.

You send a few texts back and forth and she says she isn’t sure how long it’ll take to get there and back now, but she’s not going to give up. You reply that the cupcakes are in the oven now so everything is still on track and encourage her not to let the traffic win. You remind her of her boyfriend whom she’s doing all this for and how happy he’ll be to receive handmade edible gifts from her. You think it’ll give you enough time.

You make sure your ringer is turned on and tell her to update you along her journey and she agrees. Handing your phone back to Jeonghan, you fill him and Mingyu in on Sooyoung’s current location and the status of the trip.

“So…what does she think, she’ll take more than half an hour?” Mingyu speaks up, finally uttering more than a few words.

“Probably,” you guess, both hands now back, firmly planted on the man.

“If you ask me, I think that’s enough time for some fun,” Jeonghan offers, fingers playing with the tie on the back of your apron.

“I think you’re right,” you agree. It’s all you need to say before both men start to move.

Mingyu finally leans down and captures your lips in a rough kiss. His tongue immediately darts out, licking at your lips, begging for entrance. You allow him in, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste every part of you.

Behind you, Jeonghan manages to untie your apron as his hands move to the waistband of your jeans and easily slide them down your legs. His fingers, a little cold, trace the front of your panties before he’s yanking those down too and helping you step out of them. Your body jumps at the sensation of being exposed like this, but Mingyu moves from your lips to your neck and that’s what your attention is diverted to.

Jeonghan’s hands caress your ass, kneading and handling your cheeks slowly but roughly.

“Sorry, Gyu, but I need to see her,” he warns before pulling you away from Mingyu and turning you so you can lean your upper body on the counter.

You let out a yelp at both the sudden turn and at the fact that you’re bent over the kitchen counter, naked ass and cunt on full display for them.

“Fuck,” Mingyu hisses before you feel a hand land a surprising smack on your ass.

“Right? She’s already fucking glistening, isn’t she,” Jeonghan agrees and you can’t help the embarrassment that heats up your spine, knowing your wetness is evident and being observed. There’s a moment of shuffling before you feel soft hands on you again, pushing apart your legs more. “Can you make room for me, sweetheart? Gotta show Gyu how good you look.” Of course you oblige, opening as wide as is comfortable and resting more on the counter.

“Just like that,” Jeonghan praises before he goes in, sinking two fingers back into you, a small, but audible whoosh of air is heard from both men.

Jeonghan, having been between your legs numerous times at this point, knows exactly where to apply pressure and the angle to piston his fingers to have you a moaning mess in his hands.

“Mmph, fuck, Jeonghan!” You can’t help the yell of his name, your knees shaking as he fucks you faster with his fingers. His other hand brushes upward, over your ass and up your spine until it wraps around the back of your neck. He applies the lightest of pressure to the sides of your neck then pushes you down, making your ass poke out more to make his actions more visible to himself and Mingyu.

“Fucking hell,” Mingyu breathes from next to you. When you can manage to lift your head and turn, your drooping eyes see him, hand shoved into his pants, pumping back and forth under the fabric.

Biting your lip, you manage to gesture him over to you with the flick of your hand. Mingyu doesn’t need to be told twice as he scurries next to you, within arm’s length. It’s not the easiest position, but you manage to reach out and shove your hand into his pants. You immediately find his generous length and you wrap your hand around it, squeezing a few times before jerking him off. You worry that your pace is too slow, but the way that Mingyu’s head falls back has you rethinking that. He lets out a low groan as you work him, one hand resting on the counter and the other reaching up to grasp at his own hair.

You marvel at him, this tall, hot man that’s scrunching up his face and biting his lip because of the way your hand moves over his dick.

Wanting to redirect your attention back to him, Jeonghan picks up the pace and eases a third finger into you, his other hand finally snaking around you to press hard against your swollen clit.

“Ah-ah! J-Jeonghan, please.”

“Hmmm?” he hums, already knowing what you want.

“Faster, please. ‘M gonna cum!” He makes a noise of acknowledgement and the movements on your bundle of nerves become harder.

“I guess I’ll let you cum. You’ve been good so far, especially helping Mingyu out with his problem.” His words sound sweet, but you also know if this was just you and him and you had more time, he’d still be teasing you until you cry. That’s not the case now though, as Jeonghan takes a moment to readjust the angle of his hand before he’s driving his fingers in and out of you with all of his force while his other hand still busies itself with your swollen clit.

Your grip on Mingyu’s dick falters, your eyes fluttering closed again as Jeonghan works to push you closer to the edge. Without missing a beat, Mingyu’s hand rests over yours, guiding you up and down his length which seems just as good as you doing it on your own.

Mingyu’s moans match yours in frequency, both high pitched and breathy. “J-Jeonghan, just like that, shit! Fuck!” When you finally cum, your face rests against the tile, yelps echoing in your own ears. Mingyu lets your hand go to allow you to grip the counter top, trying to keep your balance.

Jeonghan, being who he usually is when you’re together, doesn’t immediately let up his actions, fingers still tapping at your sensitive bud a few more times before you’re whining even more and attempting to close your legs.

With a snicker, he finally pulls back, sighing loudly as he dramatically licks his fingers.

“So fucking good as always.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu quips, his eyes locked in on your swollen folds, wet with your release.

“Yeah, you should have a taste too, Gyu.”

You don’t even get a chance to ask the time or check your phone, which is what you thought about doing first, because Mingyu’s got your hips in his grasp and turns you around. Your wide eyes stare at him and you think that he has to look just as ruined as you feel.

“Would you mind if I get a taste of you, babydoll?” Something about the way the pet name rolls off Mingyu’s tongue sends a whole other sensation rocketing through you.

You breathe out a ‘yes,’ and Mingyu immediately uses his strength to lift you quickly from around your waist.

“Mingyu!” you squeal, arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you to the kitchen island and places you down as if you weigh nothing. He winks at you before he’s sliding down to his knees and opening your thighs.

He lets out a low whistle which you want to ask the meaning of, but you don’t get a chance as he surges forward, wrapping his lips around your still sensitive clit.

He suckles the nub a few times as you whine above him before diving his tongue into your entrance. He wastes no time eating you out more frantically than you think even Jeonghan has. Within no time you’re a moaning mess, head rolling back and body both trying to run from his talented mouth and trying to push yourself closer. He keeps his hands positioned on your thighs, gripping you so that even when you try and flinch away, he can still direct you back to his mouth.

He makes small grunts from below you, some of satisfaction, but most are just from getting lost in you: sounds of pleasure as his tongue darts in and out of your entrance, his lips latched onto your lower ones. It feels as though he’s got his entire face buried between your legs, his mouth damn near enveloping your entire pussy. His tongue is stiff as it darts in and out of you, rubbing against your walls and licking every inch of you that he possibly can.

Your eyes are closed, but you still hear the soft sound of Jeonghan’s footsteps moving closer. “Fuck, baby I didn’t know how hot it’d be to see you get eaten out. Wish I had my phone right now to remember this.”

Somewhere in your foggy brain, you register his words and glare at him. Or at least you think it’s a glare - it’s hard to tell when you can barely keep your eyes open.

Either way, the older man gets the intention, chuckling and raising his hands. “Yeah, yeah I won’t.” His eyes sweep over your body, leaning forward to ease the apron from around your head, followed by your sweater and your bra.

Sitting completely naked on your best friend’s kitchen counter is the last place you thought you’d be today, yet here you are. Mingyu’s grunts between your legs can be felt through every part of your body, your next orgasm on the horizon.

“M - Mingyu! Fuck, ‘m gonna cum again!”

The man clearly hears you, making a sound of acknowledgement before his tongue moves up to suck hard on your clit. Two thick fingers slip easily into your twitching hole, moving fast and in time with his wild tongue.

Jeonghan grunts at the sight, his own pants now at his knees as he fists his cock, watching your body twitch and jerk. His eyes lock onto your tits, nipples hard and inviting and he almost leans forward to capture one in his mouth when his eyes suddenly dart to the bowl of frosting not too far from you all.

He’s reaching for it and taking the plastic off. He at least has enough decorum to grab a big spoon from a nearby drawer, scooping a hearty amount out. He takes a small dollop on one finger and reaches forward to smear it over one of your nipples.

The sensation catches you off guard as your eyes fly open to look, being met with Jeonghan’s almost cat-like grin. You don’t even get a chance to question his actions or scold him for dipping into the frosting before he’s leaning in, tongue lazily circling your areola and gingerly scraping his teeth over your nipple.

A single suckle follows and that’s all it takes for you to lock your thighs around Mingyu’s head, arching your back and letting out a long moan as you cum suddenly. Your eyes cross as the pleasure washes over you, letting yourself slump backwards on the counter, head hanging off as Mingyu snuffles against your skin and laps at your folds, cleaning up your release.

“Fucking shit,” Mingyu huffs when he finally decides to come up for air. “That was so fucking hot, you’re so fucking hot. And you taste amazing.”

You wheeze out a thanks, Jeonghan’s laugh ringing in your ears is the most evil yet sexiest thing you hear over your own breathing.

“Speaking of taste…” he trails off and doesn’t say anything else before you feel him on your other nipple and you jolt, head raising to look at him. He swirls another dollop of frosting on you, gesturing to Mingyu. The taller man doesn’t even question it as he leans down to pop your tit into his mouth.

“Oh!” you gasp as his tongue swirls around your nipple, moving round in a circle before sucking. Even when the frosting is gone, he stays latched to your chest and you’re squirming underneath him. Jeonghan attaches his mouth to your other side, smearing frosting from your nipple and up your breast, all the way to your collarbone. His tongue cleans up your nipple before his tongue is licking up, up, up to clean the sticky sugar off of you.

Mingyu sits up, letting go of your tit with a wet pop and reaches to grab the spoon of frosting from Jeonghan. He takes a glob and you watch as he draws a shape on your chest and sternum, mind too scrambled from Jeonghan’s licks to tell what it is. When Mingyu is satisfied with what he’s done, he gives you a once over with wide, blown out eyes and then his hungry mouth is on your skin again, cleaning up the mess he made on you slowly and deliberately. He makes sure his teeth scrape every inch of sensitive skin on you as he goes, ending right back at your swollen nipple.

You’re nothing but pants and cries and whimpers as both men do more of the same. Taking turns covering your chest in frosting then licking it off.

Between the heat of the oven and the heat of their mouths and hands that grip your thighs and hips, you’re feeling dizzy and are convinced you’re now dripping onto the tile underneath your body.

Somewhere in the distance you hear your phone ding, eyes snapping open at the possibility that it’s Sooyoung.

“My phone!” You squeak out, wriggling under their holds.

Jeonghan releases your abused skin, heavy lidded eyes look you over before he quickly turns to grab your phone.

“Looks like my sister is at the store. Says she shouldn’t take long and that the accident was clearing up as she finally made it through so she should be home pretty soon.”

Jeonghan reacts to his sister’s message with a thumbs up and rejoins you and his friend.

“Please, need you, one of you, both of you, just someone,” you plead to them. Between your desire to be fucked and the fact that the countdown is on until your best friend will be coming home, you don’t care who does it as long as one of them gets inside you.

“Normally, I’d make you beg for me more and make you wait, but we are in a time crunch,” Jeonghan agrees, looking over your trembling form. “Where do you want us?”

“Don’t care,” you sigh out when Mingyu finally pulls his puffy lips off of you.

He and Jeonghan share a look, clearly deciding who will go where. Just knowing that the two men are having a silent conversation as to which one of them will do what to your body has your thighs rubbing together in clear anticipation. Jeonghan glances at you, smirking at your movements before he’s moving around the island, laying your head back to hang off of it again.

“Here’s what we’ll do, Mingyu will stuff that needy pussy of yours since he’s my guest. Think you can handle sucking me off while he does?”

“Fuck, yes,” you nod eagerly the best you can from your angle, senses tingling at the idea of a new position you’ve never done. “Need something under my neck though,” Jeonghan leaves your side for a moment to grab what looks like his sweatpants. He rolls the fabric up and places it under your head and shoulders for support. Jeongha’s hands caress your face and shoulders, watching as Mingyu gets into position between your legs.

Knowing time is of the essence at this point, strong hands run down your thighs, settling behind your knees to spread them more. You soon fill the blunt, large tip of Mingyu’s dick nudge your entrance and you shudder.

He rubs the bulbous head against your folds, nudging your clit once before slathering himself in your juices and bringing it back to your entrance.

“Ready, babydoll?” he asks, readjusting his hold on the back of your knees.

“Yes, please!” The words barely leave your mouth before Mingyu is pushing in, inch by girthy inch, stretching you slowly as he goes.

“Shit, you’re still so tight,” he mumbles through gritted teeth as he goes slower and slower until he’s finally nestled between your silky walls and his pelvis is almost flush with the back of your thighs.

“She always is, no matter how many times I get her to cum for me,” Jeonghan marvels, eyes locked on where you and Mingyu are joined. He watches as Mingyu pulls back, cock sliding almost all the way out before slamming his hips, pushing a true scream out of your pretty lips. His friend wastes no time in building a fast-pace, sending your body jerking back and forth on the counter so hard, your hands raise above your head for something to find purchase on.

That something turns out to be Jeonghan’s thighs as he moves closer into your space. He helps you ease your head back until it drops back off the edge and he’s standing right in front of your face.

“Open up for me, sweetheart,” he coos down at you and you do as he says, mouth falling open in a loud moan as Mingyu’s cock hits a spot deep inside of you. Jeonghan’s dick, long, curved, and as pretty as the rest of him, eases into your mouth.

Mingyu slows down enough for Jeonghan to comfortably settle in your mouth, giving a few short thrusts. Both men curse under their breaths when they listen to the gagging sound that comes out of you as Jeonghan’s length hits the back of your throat.

“Tap my thigh twice if it’s too much, okay baby?” Jeonghan says to you and you tap his thigh once to let him know you heard him. “Good girl. Gonna fuck this pretty little mouth now, okay?” Your response is muffled, but it's affirmative and that’s all Jeonghan needs to begin moving his hips, the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat again and again with slow, languid thrusts. The deliberate pace allows you to steady your breathing and shut your eyes to concentrate on taking him.

Soon enough, his thrusts are faster and Mingyu takes this as his cue to resume his movements as well. He doesn’t start as frantic as he did when he first slid into you, but his thrusts are so deep, you can also feel him in your chest. His dick is as big as the rest of him and you’re made aware of that as he stretches every inch of your walls to mold around him.

As soon as both men hear your whines around Jeongha’s length, they look at each other, nodding with a silent understanding of how they’ll fuck you together.

Mingyu’s pace goes from casual to anything but as he begins to drive his hips into yours again. His fingers dig into your hips as he fucks you, keeping you pinned in place as he does to keep you from sliding from the force.

Jeonghan’s gentle hands rest on either side of your head, stroking your cheeks carefully as he fucks your mouth, eyes falling closed as he does.

Your body feels like it’s on fire with both the sensation of your pussy and your mouth being used by both men. Your eyes stay wrenched closed tightly as you seesaw between them, back and forth, back and forth. Your ears can only pick up the wet squelches of your spit around Jeonghan’s cock and the sharp slap of Mingyu’s muscular thighs hitting the back of yours. He still has your legs up and open, pressing himself into you as far as he physically can.

“Fuck, your mouth is fucking heaven, baby,” Jeonghan grunts as he drives his dick back and forth between your lips. He watches the drool pool around your mouth and drip down your face. He thinks he sees tears prick at your lash line too and the sight is nearly enough to have him explode right on the spot, but he holds back, wanting you to cum first.

Mingyu lets out a string of curses as he buries himself deeper, eyes fixated on the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing in you, covered in a white ring of both of your juices. His eyes slide over to the bowl of frosting, still sitting on the counter and he reaches over, scooping more out to rub on your chest again. His pace falters a little as he leans over your body to lick you clean again and you let out a long, drawn out moan around Jeonghan as his red hot tongue licks fire across your sensitive skin.

Jeonghan follows his lead, but instead of covering you in the pink, sticky sweetness, he pulls his dick out of your mouth and smears it on your lips and down his dick instead.

“Baby didn’t get to taste it,” he murmurs so low that it sounds as if he’s almost talking to himself. When he slides himself back into your mouth, the sugary sweet flavor mixes with the heavy, salty taste of his precum and you excitedly accept as he plunges all the way down your throat. You relax and relish in the broken, almost desperate cry that he lets out when you swallow around him. “Shit! Just like that, sweetheart. You’re so fucking good to me,” You preen under the praise and do it again, only getting sidetracked up when Mingyu snaps his hips particularly hard as the same time that he bites down on one of your nipples.

A choked squeal is heard around Jeonghan’s length and both men feel their ends fast approaching.

“Fucking hell, babydoll. You close?” Mingyu asks against your sticky skin, biting and sucking at any of you that he can get his mouth on.

“Mmhmm!” you attempt to answer, which you can before Jeonghan’s dick is obstructing your airway again.

They hear you, though, and both reach out to make you cum first. Mingyu’s fingers toy with your clit, the pad of his thumb digging in to rub harsh circles as Jeonghan’s hot digits wrap around one of your nipples, tugging and pinching.

Your body jumps at the dual sensations, the feelings quickly becoming too much when paired with the sheer fullness you feel on both ends and in every fiber of your being. You feel yourself start to twitch harder, your hands still on Jeonghan’s thighs gripping him tighter as your nails dig into his skin. He hisses above you, all of you hearing the ding from your phone across the room which can only mean Sooyoung is on her way home.

The thought only lingers for a moment before Mingyu gives you a thrust that is just the perfect amount of pressure against your sensitive walls to have your back arching, a yell of what sounds like his name garbles out of you around Jeonghan’s length. The vibrations from your sounds are like a switch for Jeonghan, his body reacting immediately to yours and the way you swallow him almost all the way down as you cry out and cum.

He snaps his hips once more before he’s releasing, cumming down your throat then pulling out, some of his release spurting onto your lips, chin, and neck. You don’t even seem to notice, your eyes open but your attention elsewhere as Mingyu continues bullying his cock into your hypersensitive pussy.

Mingyu cums last, pulling out of your messy folds with a whine. He strokes himself once, twice, and then he’s cumming hard, his release spurting onto your thighs, painting your sweaty skin in white warmth.

The three of you slump in silence, breathing heavily as you clear your heads and get a grip. You feel something prodding your leg and with a heavy head, you manage to lift far enough to see Mingyu rubbing his softening length in the mess he made on your thigh. Clearing your throat to get his attention, he snaps his eyes up to you and stops, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he coughs. “It’s just…that was so fucking hot,” he repeats again and you can’t help but nod.

“Yeah,” you croak, making both of the men snicker at you. You reach a hand back weakly to swat at Jeonghan who dodges your half-assed attack.

“Here, let's get you cleaned up while we have time,” he says, glancing at the timer above the oven. Your cupcakes have ten minutes left and if he had to estimate, it would take that time plus a little longer before his sister gets home. He and Mingyu both help you sit up with Mingyu grabbing your hands to pull and Jeonghan cradling your head and neck to lift you up. Your joints groan in protest, but you manage to sit up.

Jeonghan moves to grab a paper towel, wetting it with warm water before he’s in front of you, wiping his drying spunk off of your face. Mingyu does the same, and cleans up what’s dried on your thigh.

“Ugh, I feel like I have to take a shower,” you sigh, aware of the uncomfortable sensation on the rest of your skin. Dried spit from both men along with remnants of the now useless pink frosting still smatter over you and you crinkle your nose.

“If you want, you can take a shower and I’ll keep an eye on the oven,” Jeonghan offers as he and Mingyu help you stand on shaky legs. The two of them gather their pants and your clothes as you lean against the counter slowly regaining strength in your body.

“Taking a random shower doesn’t seem suspicious to you?” you question, raising an eyebrow as you gesture to your phone, which Mingyu grabs to hand to you.

“If Sooyoung gets home, we can just say you got stuff on your clothes and you had to shower. I have extra clothes on me you can wear when you get out.” Mingyu offers.

“Yeah, and we’ll even throw your clothes in the washer real quick and she’ll never know!” Jeonghan looks around the kitchen before grabbing the now infamous bowl of strawberry frosting. He stares at it hard before eyeing the kitchen floor and tossing the bowl with enough force to shatter when it hits the floor.

“Jeonghan, what the fuck?!” you scream, flinching at the sound of glass breaking.

“I’ll tell her I knocked the bowl over, it broke, got all over you and now you’re showering. Plus, the frosting was dirty anyway now,” he shrugs, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. Part of you is annoyed at the prospect of having to put more work in to recreate the frosting which was the only part of the whole baking process that turned out successful. “When you’re out, Gyu and I will even help you guys so you’re done quicker.” At his suggestion, you quirk an eyebrow at him. “Okay, well mostly Gyu will help, but I’ll help clean up and do little shit or whatever, okay?”

“Deal,” you decide finally, glancing at your phone. Sooyoung will likely be more than halfway home at this point so you don’t have time to think of another plan.

The three of you split up then. You head for the bathroom to shower while Mingyu starts to clean up the bowl and the frosting from the floor. Jeonghan takes your clothes to the washing machine to start the load, then grabs some clothes from Mingyu’s overnight bag in his room for you to change into.

By the time you’re clean, washed, and in Mingyu’s oversized shorts and t-shirt, you can hear Sooyoung in the kitchen.

When you round the corner into the kitchen, three sets of eyes fix on you and Sooyoung rushes over to you. “Y/n, are you okay?! These two morons told me what they did!”

“Yeah, I’m okay. No injuries to report.” You give her a small smile, ignoring the wiggle of Jeonghan’s eyebrows behind her.

“Good. I feel so bad. If you want you don’t have to help anymore. I’ve already taken up your Sunday and forced you over here to work for free and now my idiot brother has ruined your clothes.”

“I’m literally right here,” Jeoghan reminds his sister as he finishes laying out the groceries she brought home.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Sooyoung grumps, rolling her eyes.

“No, really it’s okay. I’m happy to help and besides, you didn’t ruin my Sunday at all, I promise!” She has no idea how true that statement is, but you manage to reassure her and she eventually nods, believing you, but still saying you can leave at any time.

You set to work helping her begin the batch of chocolate cupcakes as she works on making more strawberry frosting. You truly don’t mind helping, especially if that means you get to share sneaky glances and secret touches with Jeonghan. Today has been anything but a lazy Sunday, but you can’t say you mind too much.

[inseobts]

The Confession Chronicles

sanji x reader

Sanji tries multiple times to confess his feelings just to fail and fail and fail and fail... until?

a/n: thinking about using this prompt(?) for different characters

words count: 3k

tags: fluff, sfw

masterlist // ko-fi

It’s another peaceful day aboard the Thousand Sunny, the kind of day that gives Sanji far too much time to think—and unfortunately for him, all his thoughts are about you. He leans against the counter in the ship’s kitchen, staring at a bouquet of flowers he picked earlier.

It’s perfect. The flowers are bright and delicate, just like you, and their scent reminds him of something soft and sweet, like the desserts he always makes for you. This time, he isn’t just going to flirt with you or throw out some casual compliment that could be taken as a joke. No, today he’s going to confess his feelings properly.

“Today’s the day” he mutters to himself, running a hand through his hair.

“Today’s the day for what?”

The voice makes him jump. He spins around, clutching the bouquet behind his back like it’s a weapon. Luffy is standing in the doorway, casually munching on a piece of bread he’s clearly stolen from the pantry.

Sanji narrows his eyes “Nothing, Captain! Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know, doing captain things?”

Luffy tilts his head, crumbs spilling down his shirt “You’re acting weird. Are you doing something cool? Can I help?”

“No,” Sanji snaps, exasperated “This is something I have to do myself.”

Luffy stares at him for a long moment, then grins “Okay! But if it involves meat, save me some!”

He bounds out of the kitchen before Sanji can throw something at him. With a deep breath, Sanji straightens his tie and sets the flowers down on the counter.

“Alright, Sanji. You’ve got this,” he mutters to himself. “Just cook her the perfect dinner, bring her here, and tell her how you feel. Easy.”

He moves like lightning through the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and arranging them on the counter. Every dish he makes is infused with care—your favorite flavors, the perfect balance of texture and taste, and just the right amount of flair. By the time he’s finished, the table is set with candles, plates, and a meal that could make even the grumpiest marine weep with joy.

Everything is perfect.

But then, the door slams open.

“Sanji! I’m starving!” Luffy whines as he barrels into the room, his eyes locking immediately onto the table.

Sanji panics, throwing himself in front of the setup “No! Captain, this is not for you!”

Luffy ignores him completely, lunging for the nearest plate “It smells so good!”

Sanji wrestles him back with one arm, though it’s no easy feat. “Damn it, Luffy, this isn’t for you! This is—this is important!”

Luffy pauses mid-struggle, blinking “Important? Is it for Nami? Or Robin? y/n?”

Sanji groans, shoving him out the door. “Get out!”

Luffy finally relents, though not before grabbing a roll on his way out. Sanji slams the door shut behind him and slumps against it, running a hand down his face. The perfect setup is a mess now—plates shifted, candles tilted, and one of the dishes missing its garnish.

“Why is this so hard?” he mutters.

Sanji sighs and straightens his tie again. He can fix this. He has to. With renewed determination, he tidies the table, replaces the garnish Luffy stole, and checks every detail twice. This time, nothing is going to go wrong.

He takes a deep breath and steps out onto the deck, scanning the ship for you. It doesn’t take long—he spots you leaning over the railing, gazing out at the calm, endless sea. The sunlight catches in your hair, and Sanji feels his heart stutter.

“Steady, Sanji,” he whispers to himself. “You’re the prince of love. You’ve got this.”

He strides toward you, clearing his throat softly to get your attention. You turn, and the smile you give him is so warm and genuine that it almost knocks him off balance.

“Oh, hey, Sanji,” you say “What’s up?”

He freezes. What’s up? What’s up? How is he supposed to answer that when his heart feels like it’s about to leap out of his chest?

“I… uh…” He clears his throat again, scrambling to find the words “I was wondering if you might… join me for dinner. In the kitchen. Just the two of us.”

You blink at him, surprised “Dinner? Is something special happening?”

“Special?” Sanji repeats, his voice raising an octave “No! I mean, yes! I mean… it’s just a small… gesture of appreciation. For you. Because you’re…” He trails off, his face turning a deep shade of red.

You tilt your head, clearly amused by his fumbling. “Well, sure. That sounds nice.”

Sanji feels a wave of relief wash over him. Step one is a success. Now all he has to do is make it through dinner without embarrassing himself.

The kitchen is dimly lit when you arrive, the soft glow of candles reflecting off the polished tableware. The spread Sanji has prepared looks almost too beautiful to eat. He stands off to the side, his hands clasped nervously in front of him, watching your reaction like a hawk.

“Wow, Sanji,” you say, your eyes wide. “This looks amazing!”

He beams, his confidence returning for a moment. “Only the best for you, my dear. Please, have a seat.”

You settle into one of the chairs, and Sanji serves the first course with a flourish. For the first few minutes, everything goes smoothly. You chat casually, praising the food and making Sanji’s heart swell with pride.

But as the main course arrives, the door flies open.

“Sanji! I’m still hungry!” Luffy whines, storming into the room again.

Sanji spins around, his eye twitching. “Luffy, I swear—”

Luffy makes a beeline for the table. “Whoa, you’re having a feast in here? Why didn’t you invite me?!”

Sanji intercepts him, pushing him back toward the door. “Because it’s not for you! Out!”

“But I’m the captain!” Luffy protests, trying to duck under Sanji’s arm. “I deserve at least a bite!”

“Luffy, I will—”

You burst out laughing, and both men freeze. Sanji turns to look at you, his frustration melting into confusion. “What’s so funny?”

You cover your mouth, trying to stifle your giggles. “I don’t know why, but this is hilarious. Poor Sanji, you can’t even have one peaceful dinner.”

Sanji stares at you, completely thrown off by how easily you’re laughing at the chaos. And then, to his own surprise, he starts laughing too.

Luffy, sensing an opening, uses the distraction to grab a piece of bread off the table before bolting out of the kitchen.

“Damn it!” Sanji yells, but he’s still laughing, shaking his head in disbelief.

You smile at him, your laughter softening into something warm. “Thanks for inviting me, Sanji. Even with the interruptions, this is really nice.”

Sanji feels his heart skip a beat, and for a moment, he considers blurting out the confession right then and there. But the words catch in his throat, and instead, he just smiles back.

“Anything for you,” he says softly.

Sanji wakes up the next morning with fresh determination. Dinner might not have gone as planned, but he isn’t giving up. If anything, your laughter only made him more certain—he has to confess his feelings.

Standing on the deck with a cigarette between his fingers, Sanji brainstorms a plan. He taps his foot impatiently, running through scenarios in his head. A love letter? Too old-fashioned. A song? He’d have to borrow Brook’s guitar, and that skeleton is far too unpredictable. Maybe he can just pour his heart out the next time he sees you? No, too risky—he needs everything to be perfect.

As he’s deep in thought, Usopp strolls up behind him.

“Hey, Sanji,” Usopp says, startling him out of his thoughts. “You’ve been acting weird lately. What’s going on?”

“None of your business, long nose,” Sanji snaps automatically, but Usopp smirks.

“Oh, I get it,” Usopp says, crossing his arms. “This is about them, isn’t it?”

Sanji freezes. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please.” Usopp waves him off. “It’s obvious. You’re trying to impress them, right? Let me guess, it didn’t go so well last time?”

Sanji glares at him but doesn’t deny it.

“Well, lucky for you, you’re talking to the Great Captain Usopp,” Usopp continues, puffing out his chest “Master of romance and heroic gestures! I’ve got plenty of ideas that could help you out.”

Sanji hesitates. As much as he hates to admit it, he could use some advice. “Alright, I’m listening. What’s your plan?”

Usopp’s first suggestion is a classic romantic gesture: serenading you with a song. Sanji isn’t much of a musician, but Brook happily lends him his guitar, even offering to “add some soulful backup vocals.”

“Backup vocals are not necessary!” Sanji barks, already regretting this plan.

That evening, Sanji waits for the perfect moment to approach you. You’re sitting on the deck, watching the sunset, and he feels his heart skip a beat at how peaceful you look.

He clears his throat to catch your attention. “Good evening, my dear.”

You glance up at him, smiling. “Hey, Sanji. What’s up?”

He strums the guitar awkwardly, wincing at the slightly off-tune sound. “I wrote a little something for you. A song, if you’ll indulge me.”

You blink in surprise, clearly not expecting this. “A song? Really?”

Sanji nods, ignoring the sweat forming on his brow. He starts strumming again, his voice soft and low as he sings about your beauty, your kindness, and the way you light up his world. It’s cheesy, but it’s heartfelt.

You’re watching him with wide eyes, clearly touched—until Brook’s voice cuts through the moment.

“Yohoho! Don’t forget the bridge, Sanji!”

Sanji’s hands falter on the guitar as Brook joins in with an enthusiastic violin solo, completely overshadowing Sanji’s heartfelt performance.

“Brook, what the hell are you doing?!” Sanji shouts, his face red with fury.

“I’m providing the soul of the song!” Brook replies cheerfully. “Yohoho!”

You’re covering your mouth, trying not to laugh, but Sanji can see the amusement in your eyes. His shoulders slump as he realizes the moment is ruined.

“Thanks, Sanji,” you say, your voice warm despite your obvious amusement. “That was sweet.”

Sanji watches you walk away, Brook’s violin still wailing in the background.

Sanji is undeterred. If music didn’t work, then food will. After all, it’s his specialty.

He spends the entire day crafting a dessert that’s as perfect as you are: a delicate, heart-shaped cake with layers of your favorite flavors. He even adds tiny edible flowers for decoration, knowing how much you like those little details.

By the time the cake is finished, Sanji is practically vibrating with excitement. He carefully places it in the fridge, making sure it’s perfectly protected until the big reveal.

But disaster strikes when Luffy finds it first.

“Whoa, a cake!” Luffy exclaims, his eyes sparkling as he reaches for it.

“Don’t touch that, you bottomless pit!” Sanji yells, appearing out of nowhere to block him.

“Why not? It’s just sitting there!”

“It’s not for you!”

But Luffy is already one step ahead, stretching his arm to grab the cake. Sanji lunges for him, but it’s too late—the cake is in Luffy’s hands.

“Noooooo!” Sanji cries as Luffy takes a massive bite.

“What’s wrong with you? It’s great!” Luffy says with his mouth full.

Sanji collapses to the floor in despair, mourning the loss of his masterpiece.

By the third attempt, Sanji is desperate. He decides to keep things simple and pours his feelings into a heartfelt love letter. He spends hours perfecting every word, making sure it captures exactly how he feels about you.

When he’s finally satisfied, he seals the letter and tucks it into his pocket, determined to deliver it to you personally. But in his rush, he accidentally leaves it on the counter in the kitchen.

The next morning, Zoro finds it.

“What’s this?” Zoro mutters, picking up the letter and skimming it. His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, this is good.”

By the time Sanji realizes what’s happened, it’s too late. Zoro is standing in the middle of the deck, reading the letter aloud in a mocking tone.

“‘My dearest y/n, every time I see you, my heart beats faster—’”

“ZORO, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Sanji shrieks, chasing him across the ship.

You’re standing nearby, clearly confused. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing!” Sanji yells, his face bright red.

Zoro smirks, holding the letter just out of Sanji’s reach “I don’t know, it seems pretty romantic to me. What do you think, y/n?”

You tilt your head, clearly amused but not taking it seriously “I think you two have some weird rivalry going on.”

Sanji groans in frustration as Zoro finally tosses the letter back to him, smirking all the while.

Sanji spends the rest of the day sulking in the kitchen, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

“Why can’t I just tell them how I feel?” he mutters to himself.

But even as he wallows in his frustration, he knows one thing for certain: he’s not giving up. Not yet.

Sanji wakes up the next morning more determined than ever. He’s tried everything—songs, desserts, love letters—only to fail spectacularly every time. But if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that love isn’t about giving up.

As he tightens his tie and heads to the kitchen, he makes a vow: today will be the day.

It’s late afternoon when Sanji finally sees you. You’re sitting on the deck, talking to Chopper about something, and the sight of your smile nearly makes him forget his own name. He takes a deep breath, rehearsing what he’s going to say for the hundredth time.

But before he can approach, an unexpected voice interrupts him.

“Oi, love cook, what are you doing now?” Zoro asks, leaning against the mast with his usual bored expression.

Sanji bristles, immediately going on the defensive “None of your business, moss head.”

Zoro snorts “Let me guess—you’re going to make an idiot of yourself again?”

Sanji’s face turns red “I don’t have time for this. Go sharpen your swords or something.”

But Zoro isn’t done. He smirks, clearly enjoying Sanji’s frustration. “You’ve already tried everything, haven’t you? What’s next? Skywriting?”

Sanji glares at him, clenching his fists “You wouldn’t understand. You’re a heartless brute who knows nothing about love!”

“Maybe,” Zoro says with a shrug “But at least I don’t embarrass myself every time I open my mouth.”

The argument quickly escalates into shouting, with both men trading insults back and forth. You and Chopper glance over, confused by the commotion.

“What’s going on over there?” you ask, as you see everyone going towards the two.

Chopper shrugs “I don’t know, let's go there and see”

The fight gets more heated until, finally, Sanji snaps “Why don’t you just mind your own business, Zoro?! I’m just trying to confess to the person I—”

He freezes, his eyes widening as he realizes what he’s just said.

The entire deck goes silent. You’re staring at him, your expression unreadable, while Zoro’s smirk grows wider.

“Well, well,” Zoro says, crossing his arms “Looks like you finally spit it out.”

Sanji’s face turns beet red “I… I didn’t mean to—”

“You were saying something about a confession?” you ask, standing up and walking toward him.

Sanji panics. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. He had a plan! There were supposed to be flowers and candles and a perfectly prepared speech!

“I—uh—” he stammers, unable to meet your eyes.

You stop in front of him, tilting your head “Sanji?”

The way you say his name is so gentle, so full of curiosity, that it’s enough to break through his panic. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to look at you.

“I… I’ve been trying to tell you something for a while now,” he says, his voice softer than usual “But every time I tried, something went wrong. I thought it had to be perfect, but… maybe I’ve just been overthinking it.”

You blink, surprised by his honesty “What is it you’ve been trying to tell me?”

Sanji hesitates for a moment, then squares his shoulders “I’m in love with you.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, Sanji feels like the entire world has stopped.

But then, you smile—really smile—and Sanji feels his heart skip a beat.

“Sanji,” you say softly, “you didn’t have to do anything fancy. I think I’ve known how you feel for a while now.”

He stares at you, stunned “You… you have?”

You nod, your smile turning teasing “You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

Sanji’s face turns bright red, and he scratches the back of his neck, suddenly feeling shy “Well, I guess I can’t argue with that.”

You laugh, and the sound is so warm and genuine that Sanji feels his nerves melt away.

“For the record,” you say, stepping a little closer, “I like you too.”

Sanji’s jaw drops. “Y-You do?”

You nod, and before he can say anything else, you lean in and kiss him on the cheek. It’s quick and gentle, but it’s enough to make Sanji’s legs feel like jelly.

“I’ll let you cook me another fancy dinner later,” you say with a grin, “but for now, this is enough.”

Sanji watches you walk away, his hand pressed to his cheek where you kissed him.

Zoro’s voice snaps him out of his daze. “Congratulations, love cook. That was the most awkward confession I’ve ever seen.”

Sanji whirls around, ready to yell at him, but Zoro is already walking away, chuckling to himself.

Despite the teasing, Sanji can’t help but smile. He finally did it. After all the chaos and failed plans, he finally told you how he felt—and you feel the same.

As the sun sets over the Thousand Sunny, Sanji lights a cigarette and leans against the railing, a dreamy smile on his face.

Today turned out to be perfect after all.

[starlemons]

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART ONE

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 1.6K

Warnings ✦ fluff kind of, just mainly a story setup, mention of a "happy ending", overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI

A/N ✦ I've missed writing and wanted to get back into it so figured that the best way to do it was by writing a series.

PART TWO »»» Series Masterlist

I will update the series every 1-4 days depending on my schedule

“Matcha Latte for Sadie!”, you called out to the crowd inside the shop.

A woman stepped forward thanking you and taking the paper cup from your hands. As she turned to leave she slipped a five-dollar bill into the pink ceramic bowl that read “TIPS”. 

“Thank you!”, you said to her, as you turned back to your station.

Wednesday afternoons were usually less hectic, a reason you enjoyed working them, but before you were about fifteen or more drink orders waiting to be made. The small cafe you worked in was crammed with customers, mainly due to the raging thunderstorm outside. 

By now you should have had your (slightly longer than you are supposed to take) lunch break. You could’ve been eating ramen at the shop across the street, reading some more of the new book you just purchased earlier this week. But, here you were, knee deep in orders.

You scrunch your nose up in annoyance, picking up the next ticket and reading the order, four shots of blonde espresso over ice with two pumps of vanilla, two pumps of caramel, two pumps of white chocolate, a splash of soy milk, shaken, poured into a large cup with extra ice. 

With pleading eyes you looked towards your coworker, “Can I please switch off the coffee bar for a bit? I feel like I’m about to lose my mind.”

“I was just about to ask you if you would switch to register for me”, Nat giggled, “I am about to lose my mind talking to people.”

You joined the redhead in her laughter, as the two of you swapped places and you handed her the ticket you had been holding. Her smile turned into a frown quickly, reading the order. 

“Dude, really?"

You shrugged at her and chuckled as Nat rolled her eyes and started on the drink. 

Thankfully the crowd began to dwindle down, until the only customers left in the cafe were a group of teenagers working on a school project. 

“I’m going to go take a break, if that’s cool with you?”, Nat asked.

“Yeah go ahead.”

“You know where to find me if you need anything.”, she said, disappearing through the doorway that led to the back room of the cafe.

You took a deep breath, leaning back against the countertop. Through the large archway windows of the shop you saw that the rain had started coming down even harder. The cold October air scattered the leaves that had fallen to the ground and a bright flash of lightning lit up the sky. A heavy roll of thunder followed soon after, cutting through the sound of the soft lo-fi music playing in the store. 

Your attention was torn away from the windows when you heard the soft ding of the front door opening. Two men entered the cafe, rain dripping off of them. The blonde one of the pair smiled at you sheepishly as if to say sorry for getting water everywhere. 

“Welcome in!”, you called from the counter.

As the two men walked towards you, you looked them up and down. The previously mentioned blonde, was wearing a light grey suit with a lavender button down underneath. A glittering chain sat around his neck, the price of which could probably pay an entire year's worth of your rent. 

Your eyes flitted over to his friend. The other man had longer brown hair and scruff that decorated his cheeks. His black dress shirt and slacks clung to his muscles, leaving little to the imagination. Looking down you noticed a gleaming watch on his left wrist and that most of his fingers had a large ring on them.

Glancing back up, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you locked eyes with a pair of stormy blue ones. The brunette man had caught you giving him a look over, smirking at your flustered expression. 

“Um–I–What can I get for you?”, you stuttered out. 

“I’ll take a hot vanilla latte, for Steve, please.”, the blonde man spoke.

“For here or to-go?”

Steve’s eyes glanced at the man next to him.

“For here.”, his friend said.

You finished ringing up Steve, who paid and went to sit down at one of the many tables in the cafe.

“Do you have anything you would recommend?”, the dark-haired man asked.

You thought for a second, “Well it depends, what do you normally go for?”

“Plain black coffee.”

You cringed at his admission. Plain coffee was bitter, gross, and undrinkable in your eyes. 

“Not a fan?”, the man in front of you chuckled at your reaction.

“That obvious?”

“Very.”

Laughing, you started asking him questions, trying to narrow down a drink for him. He did like cinnamon and holiday flavors, not super big on anything overly sweet, and preferred his drinks hot not iced. 

“Have you ever had a dirty chai?”, you asked.

“A dirty chai? Can’t say I ever have.”

“I think you’ll really like it!”, you beamed, “It’s a chai latte with a shot of espresso.”

“Well I trust you so far…”, he trailed off looking down, eyes searching for your nametag, “Y/N.”

You felt a blush rise on your face again, hearing the handsome stranger saying your name. 

“Oh-Yeah can I get a name for your order?”

“Bucky.”, he said, smiling at you. 

You finished ringing him up and he moved to join his companion at the table. 

“I’ll get started on your drinks, they should be out in just a little bit.”

You grabbed two handmade mugs from under the counter and began brewing your espresso shots. As you worked, you would look towards the men every so often. Not that you noticed, but every time your attention turned back to the drinks, Bucky would glance at you. He kept nodding along to whatever Steve was talking about, before he got a sharp jab to the ribs.

“Steve what the hell man.”, Bucky hissed at his friend.

“Would you quit gawking at the barista and listen to me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“No, Buck I’m serious. This is serious.”, Steve said pointing to his phone screen. 

“Okay, okay.”

Against his will, Bucky turned his attention away from you and to the subject on Steve’s phone. 

A few minutes later you completed putting the final touches on the drinks, latte art for both of them, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top of the dirty chai. 

“Bucky and Steve, your drinks are ready.”

The brunette man quickly stood and headed for the counter. As he neared, you slid the two cups towards him.

“You’ll have to let me know what you think of it.”, you said to him as he wrapped his fingers around the handles of the mugs. 

“Why don’t I just let you know now?”, he brought his drink to his lips, and took a small sip.

You studied his expression hoping that he liked it.

“Damn, that’s really good.”

You smiled, “I’m glad you like it!”

He returned your grin, setting the mugs back down, and reaching into his back pocket, securing his wallet in his hands.

“For such a great suggestion, here’s this for you.”, he removed two hundred dollar bills and placed them into the tip bowl. 

Your jaw hit the floor, looking between the two bills and the man. 

“Thank you so much!”

“No need to thank me doll.”, he gave you another smile as he turned back around and moved towards Steve. 

Shaking your head you snapped yourself out of your dumbstruck daze and reached for the tips. You weren’t going to take any risks of someone running off with either of the large bills and headed into the back to put the tips into the safe. 

Nat was sitting at the breakroom table, feet propped up in the chair across from her and some reality TV show was playing on her phone. 

“Whatcha watching?”, you asked her.

“Real Housewives of New Jersey. I forgot how good this was.”, she looked towards you, “You want to take your break now?”

“Yes please, I am starving.”

She laughed at you, moving to stand up. You went to the safe, unlocking it and grabbing the bag marked “TIPS”. Quickly you counted the cash in your hands before unzipping the pouch and adding the money into it. You set the bag back into the safe and closed the door. 

“How much have we made so far?”, Nat asked. 

“Three-hundred and six dollars.”

Her eyes went wide, surprised the number was so high.

“It helps that this really attractive man just gave us two-hundred dollars.”

“He what now? Did you give him a happy ending with his coffee?”

You balked at her statement, “Or I am just so absolutely stunning he just couldn't help but give me his money.”

“Oh shut up will you.”, your friend laughed, tossing a stray rag at you.

You dodge the towel, laughing as you grab your rain jacket off the wall hooks behind you and slide your tote bag over your shoulder. Nat and you both returned to the front of the shop together. 

Steve and Bucky were still sitting at their table near the front door. The latter watched as Nat pulled your hood over your head, tightening the strings, giving you some sort of pep talk to encourage your escapade into the downpour outside. As you neared the front door, Bucky stood, beating you to the door handle, and opened it for you.

Pulling your hand back from the knob you shyly thank him. 

“See you around Y/N.”, he said.

“See you.”, you say as you tuck your head down and race out into the rain.

PART TWO

I AM OPENING A TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ADDED!

[moonscorchedcookie]

hi hi i have some questions about ur models n process!!!! what do you do to make your model’s eyes?? i’m experimenting with various methods for my own models n would love some suggestions!! AND how do you choose the colors for your models??? they’re so vibrant and pretty !!!

For my models I use image sequence sprites for the eyes. I separate the pupils into their own textures and I have a driver and node setup that offsets the UVs for the pupils based on the position of the eye bones.

The pupils and the actual eye textures are combined using a colour mask to keep the pupils in the whites of her eyes :>

The offset of the image sequence for her eyelid textures is set up to be controlled by these sliders using drivers:

I'm going to leave a link to download the .blend file for Shrimpy, feel free to poke around and adapt any of the material or driver setups for your own stuff :3

As for choosing the colours for my models, for the most part I just spend a lot of time experimenting with trying different colours and shades until I find something that I like. Very rarely I'll base the colours of a model off of a reference, like with Kiki's colours being inspired by the orchid mantis.

[angelremnants]

Heat Waves l J. B. Barnes

PART TWO.⠀LATE JUNE NIGHTS

summary : After years of manipulation by Hydra, Bucky Barnes must find his place in a world that has long moved on without him. With you, an independent and unwavering agent by his side, he reluctantly embarks on a transformative journey of recovery in Wakanda. Amid the kingdom's vibrant culture, your connection to Bucky deepens as he confronts personal demons and embrace the healing process. Bucky learns to welcome the warmth of new beginnings, understanding that even after winter's cold grip, the sun can shine through. Inspired by Heat Waves by Glass Animals.

pairing : James ''Bucky'' Barnes x f!reader

warnings : Mature (16+), slow burn, eventual romance, pure fluff, mentions of past trauma, themes of healing, banter, teasing, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 13.4k

author's notes : So, I lied. I said this next part was going to be the continuation AND ending of this fic.. Long story short, I went overboard (again) and wrote way much more than I had initially planned (I decided last minute to incorporate sexy time for the last part because I'm feral). Anyway, I highly recommend reading the first part beforehand, as it provides essential context for the following scenes.

Writing about Wakanda makes me miss my home country—listening to All the Stars (one of my fav' songs, btw) especially makes me miss all of the amazing summers I spent there, so I took a bit of inspo from them while writing some parts of the story.

I'd also like to adress an immense thank you to @stilleobjection for helping me get set on major components of the story. Live, laugh, love my moots<3

(ao3 version)

The sparring matches had ended on a high note, leaving everyone in good spirits. Shuri, still grinning after her mock victory over you, clapped her hands.

“Alright, white boy, Sparky, we’ve got plans for you today,” she announced, exchanging a glance with T’Challa. “Something is cooking back at the palace, so we need you two out of the way while it’s being perfected.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Out of the way? Should we be worried?”

The king chuckled as he clasped Bucky on the shoulder in camaraderie. “Not at all. My sister thought it would be good for you both to explore a bit of Wakanda’s countryside. It’s a chance to unwind after the training session.”

Shuri tilted her head toward a guide waiting nearby. “We’ve got quads—well, Wakandan versions of quads—prepped for you. Trust me, they’re fast, safe, and a lot of fun. And since I don’t trust you two to behave, I’ll be joining.”

“Wait,” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes. “Why do I feel like this is part of some elaborate scheme?”

Shuri gasped, feigning offense. “White boy, I’m shocked you’d accuse me of such treachery. This is purely for your benefit. You should be thanking me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, let’s do it. But if this is a setup, Shuri, you’re paying for the therapy.”

With that, the three of you followed the guide to an open clearing where two sleek quads—futuristic in design and gleaming in the sunlight—were parked. They looked like something out of a sci-fi film, with smooth, aerodynamic lines and holographic controls.

Shuri, clearly in her element, hopped onto one of the bikes with ease. “Aren’t they beauties? Vibranium-powered of course, eco-friendly, and ridiculously fast.” She patted the handlebars of hers. “You’ll thank me later.”

As she excitedly hopped onto one and began rattling off specs, you noticed Bucky standing back, arms crossed, staring at the vehicle like it was some alien artifact. He crouched down, inspecting the engine with a furrowed brow, his metal fingers tapping lightly on the side as if trying to figure out its secrets.

“It’s not going to break down, old man,” you teased, watching him lean closer.

“I’m just saying,” he replied, gesturing to the sleek design. “Engines like these don’t look like they belong to anything real. Where’s the exhaust system? The carburetor? This thing looks like it’s from outer space.”

Shuri, standing next to her quad, rolled her eyes. “It’s vibranium-powered. No carburetors, no exhaust. Welcome to the 21st century, Grandpa.”

Bucky gave her a flat look. “I like machines I can understand. Motorcycles, for instance. You know, things that don’t look like they’re about to fly off into orbit.”

Shuri smirked, leaning casually against her quad. “Don’t worry, white boy. It’s not as fragile as your Harley. And you might even like it if you give it a chance. Just try not to overthink it, alright?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Bucky shook his head, muttering something about "vibranium death traps" under his breath.

Finally, he climbed onto his quad, still inspecting the handlebars as if they might suddenly sprout wings. “How’s it feel?” you asked, watching him warily test the controls.

“Like it’s about to insult my mother,” he muttered.

Shuri groaned. “Just start the thing! I promise you’ll survive.”

The ride began with a burst of speed as the quads hummed to life, their engines emitting a low, futuristic whirr that reverberated through the open air. The path wound through Wakanda’s breathtaking countryside, a kaleidoscope of vibrant greenery and golden sunlight that spilled across the landscape. Rolling hills stretched into the horizon, dotted with clusters of wildflowers in colors so vivid they looked almost unreal. Tall trees arched overhead, their bioluminescent leaves shimmering faintly in the soft light, as if breathing with life. Crystal-clear streams meandered alongside the trail, their waters catching the sunlight and scattering it like a thousand diamonds.

The air was crisp and cool, carrying the earthy scent of freshly turned soil mingled with the subtle sweetness of blooming flora. You breathed deeply, letting the scent wash over you as the wind whipped past.

“How’s it feel now?” Shuri called out, her voice cutting through the hum of the engines. She glanced back at Bucky, her tone half-challenging, half-playful.

Bucky, despite his earlier reservations, seemed more at ease now. His broad shoulders were less tense, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Not bad,” he admitted grudgingly, though his tone suggested he wasn’t about to heap praise on the machine just yet. The wind caught his hair, making him look a little less like the stoic soldier and more like someone who might actually be enjoying himself.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the rush of adrenaline making your heart race. “This is incredible! How fast can these go?”

“Fast enough to outrun your doubts, Sparky!” Shuri quipped, her grin evident even from a distance as she twisted the throttle and sped ahead.

The three of you carved your way through the trails, the quads kicking up soft plumes of dirt in their wake. Every so often, you paused to admire the scenery—expansive meadows that seemed to stretch forever, their grasses swaying lazily in the breeze, or ancient-looking rock formations jutting proudly from the earth like guardians of the past.

Shuri acted as a guide, pointing out landmarks with unrestrained enthusiasm. “That hill over there? It’s where some of the first Wakandan warriors trained with vibranium shields. And that tree? It’s older than most of the royal palace!” Her knowledge was infectious, her voice laced with pride and affection for her homeland.

Meanwhile, Bucky couldn’t seem to resist his inner mechanic. Every so often, he’d pull his quad to a halt and hop off, crouching down to inspect its parts like an overprotective grandparent. “These controls are too smooth. It’s like it’s driving itself,” he muttered at one point, tapping a finger against the engine casing.

“That’s because it is smart tech, white boy,” Shuri teased as she rolled up beside him. “Honestly, you’re acting like an old man trying to figure out a smartphone.”

Bucky shot her a withering look, but there was no heat behind it. “I’m just saying, machines like these don’t need to be this complicated. Give me a Harley, and I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t long before the shenanigans began. Shuri, ever the troublemaker, led the charge.

“Think fast!” she shouted gleefully, swerving sharply to kick up a spray of dirt and grass that splattered across Bucky’s quad.

Bucky coughed, glaring at her as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “Seriously?”

“Just keeping you on your toes, Grandpa!” she replied, her laughter ringing out like music.

You decided to join the fun, veering your quad closer to Bucky’s and revving the engine in a sharp burst. He startled slightly, giving you a side-eye glare that quickly softened into something resembling reluctant amusement.

“You too?” he asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. “What is this, ‘Pick on Bucky’ Day?”

“Every day is ‘Pick on Bucky’ Day,” you teasingly shot back with a grin. “You’re just an easy target, old man.”

Not one to back down, Bucky suddenly accelerated, cutting you and Shuri off in one swift motion. “Alright, if that’s how you wanna play,” he said over his shoulder, his voice carrying the smallest hint of a challenge.

What followed was a chaotic race through the trails. The three of you took turns speeding ahead, cutting each other off, and kicking up clouds of dirt. Shuri, ever the daredevil, led you both through a narrow trail with low-hanging branches that forced you to duck and weave to avoid getting smacked in the face.

“You could’ve warned us, Shuri!” you shouted, laughing despite yourself as you narrowly avoided a branch.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she called back, her voice dripping with mischief.

Even Bucky started to loosen up, his posture relaxing as he swerved around a sharp corner with surprising skill. At one point, you caught him grinning—an unguarded, genuine smile that made him look years younger.

Eventually, the path widened, revealing a breathtaking scene. A shimmering lake stretched out before you, its surface reflecting the pastel hues of the early evening sky. Steam rose lazily from parts of the water, hinting at natural hot springs, while rocky cliffs framed the area like an artist’s masterpiece. A few open-air huts dotted the shoreline, their thatched roofs blending harmoniously with the natural surroundings.

Shuri pulled to a stop and hopped off her quad, stretching her arms overhead with a content sigh. “Welcome to paradise!” she announced grandly. “The water here is the perfect remedy for sore muscles—and bruised egos.” She shot a pointed look at Bucky, her grin as wide as ever.

“This is amazing,” you said, your gaze sweeping over the tranquil scene. “Did you plan this, Shuri?”

“Of course I did,” she replied smugly. “You think I’d let you two wander around aimlessly? Now, go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

The lake was even more breathtaking up close. Crystal-clear water stretched out in a shimmering expanse, its surface rippling gently as steam curled upward from the edges of the natural hot springs. The rocky cliffs surrounding the area glistened with dew, the rock faces streaked with veins of vibrant minerals that reflected the fading light like jewels. Overhead, the sky deepened into a tapestry of purples and gold, scattered with stars beginning to peek through. The air here was warm and heavy with the scent of mineral springs and blooming wildflowers, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere.

A few open-air huts lined the shore, their thatched roofs blending seamlessly with the landscape. Inside, simple benches and woven baskets hinted at their purpose: a place to change or rest before enjoying the rejuvenating waters.

Shuri was already peeling off her outerwear to reveal a sleek bodysuit underneath, the kind of practical yet stylish attire that only Wakandan design could pull off. “Don’t just stand there gawking. The water’s calling, and I’m answering.” She didn’t wait for a response, striding toward the lake and stepping in without hesitation. “Perfect temperature, as always,” she called over her shoulder.

You watched her for a moment, then shrugged. “Why not?” You weren’t exactly prepared for a swim, but that wasn’t going to stop you. Stripping down to your underwear, you stepped into the water, the warmth spreading over your skin like a comforting embrace.

Bucky, however, stayed firmly on the shore, his arms crossed as he eyed the water warily. “I think I’ll sit this one out,” he muttered.

Shuri, already chest-deep in the water, shot him a look of mock disbelief. “What’s the matter, white boy? Afraid your arm’s gonna rust?”

Bucky raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “It’s titanium. It doesn’t rust.”

“Then you have no excuse!” Shuri countered, splashing water in his direction for good measure. “Come on, don’t be boring. Even Grandpa needs to have fun sometimes.”

You laughed, wading deeper into the water until it lapped at your shoulders. “She’s got a point, you know. What’s the worst that could happen? You’ll have fun?”

Bucky groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you and Shuri said in unison.

Finally, with a muttered curse under his breath, Bucky relented. He pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing the solid planes of his chest and the intricate design of his titanium arm, which gleamed even in the dim light. He hesitated for a moment before removing his boots and pants, leaving him in just a pair of black briefs.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering over him before quickly looking away, your cheeks heating. Shuri, of course, caught it immediately.

“See something you like, Sparky?” she teased, her grin devilish as she waded closer.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, your attempt at nonchalance failing miserably, though your face betrayed you with its growing warmth.

Shuri wasn’t done, though. She tilted her head, the playful gleam in her eyes making you dread whatever she was about to say next. “Don’t worry about it. I saw him watching you earlier when you were stripping down, too.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes widening. “Shuri!”

“What?” she said with a shrug, her grin widening as she gestured toward Bucky, who was already halfway into the water and thankfully out of earshot. “I’m just saying, you’re not the only one doing some ogling tonight.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Why do you always have to do this?”

“Because it’s fun,” she replied with a wink. “And you’re just so easy to fluster. Besides, I’m practically doing you a favor. Now you know he’s looking.”

You peeked between your fingers, your gaze instinctively darting to Bucky, who was settling into the water. His broad shoulders gleamed under the dim light, and you hated how quickly your eyes lingered.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, sinking lower into the water to hide your embarrassment.

Shuri’s laughter rang out, light and carefree. “You’re welcome!”

Bucky stepped into the water, his movements cautious at first, but he seemed to relax as the warmth enveloped him. “You two are insufferable,” he muttered, though the faintest hint of a smirk betrayed him.

“It doesn’t stop you from following us,” you shot back, splashing water in his direction.

What started as playful banter quickly devolved into a full-blown splash war. Shuri was the obvious instigator, as always, her cunning grin practically a warning sign as she cupped her hands and sent the first wave of water crashing toward you.

“You’re going down, Sparky!” she declared, her laughter echoing over the surface of the lake.

You retaliated immediately, scooping up water and hurling it back at her, though your aim wasn’t nearly as precise. “Oh, you want a fight? Let’s go, Princess!”

Bucky, who had been trying to stay out of the line of fire, quickly found himself dragged into the chaos. A rogue splash hit him square in the face, and he sputtered, shaking his head like a drenched dog.

“Is this what you call diplomacy?” Bucky grumbled as he shielded himself with his arm.

“Wakandan diplomacy is very hands-on,” Shuri replied, her laughter echoing across the lake.

“Alright, that’s it,” he muttered, his voice low and mock-menacing.

The next second, he sent an impressive arc of water flying in Shuri’s direction, catching her mid-laugh and soaking her from head to toe.

“Hey!” she yelped, wiping water from her eyes. “You’re gonna regret that, white boy!”

From that moment on, all bets were off. Shuri was the obvious victor, her technique unmatched as she sent wave after wave of water at you and Bucky. Her speed and agility made her nearly impossible to hit, and her laughter only seemed to grow louder with each successful attack.

You tried teaming up with Bucky to overpower her, but it was like trying to outsmart a hurricane. “We need a strategy!” you shouted, ducking behind Bucky for cover as Shuri sent another splash your way.

“Strategy?” Bucky replied, his brow furrowing in mock disbelief. “We’re in a lake. The only strategy here is survival!”

Shuri, grinning wickedly, used your moment of distraction to launch her most devastating attack yet—a double-handed splash that drenched you both in a massive wave.

“You call that survival?” she teased, her hands on her hips as she waded back a few steps, looking far too smug.

The water glistened around her like liquid silver, the bioluminescent glow of the surrounding foliage casting soft light on her triumphant form. You and Bucky exchanged a quick glance, a silent agreement passing between you.

“Truce?” you whispered.

“Truce,” he agreed, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Together, you turned on Shuri, launching a coordinated attack that finally managed to take her by surprise. She shrieked as two simultaneous waves of water hit her, but her laughter was still loud and carefree.

“Alright, alright! I concede!” she said, holding her hands up in surrender, though the grin on her face made it clear she wasn’t entirely serious. “But don’t think I’ll forget this, you two.”

The three of you stood there, panting and laughing, the water rippling gently around you as the tension of the day melted away into the cool embrace of the lake. It was a quiet haven, the cool water lapping gently at your skin, but Shuri’s excitement quickly shattered the calm.

“Alright, I’m bored now. Let’s play Pirate Ship,” she declared, her eyes shining with mischief. She swam toward you both, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “It’s a team game—just like chicken, but with a twist. One person is the pirate ship, and the other two are the crew with one trying to take it down and one giving it directions.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Pirate ship?”

“Yeah,” Shuri said, her voice full of energy. “It’s simple. Bucky, you’re the pirate ship. You’re the one we have to knock off balance.”

Bucky looked at her with a bemused smile. “I’m the pirate ship, huh? Alright, I’m game.”

Shuri turned to you. “And you’ll be the first crew member, perched on his arm like a lookout. I’m the second crew member, and my job is to throw you both off balance—knock you out of the game.”

Before Bucky could protest, Shuri swiftly lifted you from the water, her hands steady as she helped you onto Bucky’s broad, muscled arm. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his arm for balance, and you felt a rush of warmth at how strong and solid he felt beneath you. The water swirled around both of you, the gentle waves adding an extra challenge as you settled into place, hands gripping his shoulders for extra security.

“There we go,” Shuri smirked, positioning herself in front of the two of you. “Try not to fall off, pirate.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and determination. “I’ll hold my ground. Ready?”

You nodded, gripping Bucky’s shoulder with a steady hand, trying to ignore the flutter of your heart as you realized just how close the two of you were—your body pressed to his in the stillness of the water, your chest lightly brushing against his, and his steady arm holding you firmly in place. You had to concentrate, but your mind kept wandering back to the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers.

Shuri lunged at you first, attempting to knock Bucky off balance. She was quick and agile in the water, and her first attempt sent a shiver of movement through Bucky’s body. But he held strong, his arm steady beneath you, his muscles tightening as he countered her push. You gasped slightly as you leaned into him for support, feeling the strength of his body underneath yours. His hand rested on your knee as he held you in place, his grip firm but gentle, like he was guiding you through a delicate dance.

“Easy there, Buck’,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper, just for him. “You’re doing great.”

Bucky shot you a playful grin, but there was something deeper in his gaze—a quiet intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “I’ve got this,” he muttered, voice low, as he took a step forward, shifting his weight just enough to keep himself balanced.

Shuri’s second attempt was faster, a blur of motion as she surged forward, trying to get a grip on Bucky’s shoulder. You felt your balance teeter as the water surged around you, but Bucky’s hand shot out just in time, pulling you back into place. His fingers brushed against your skin as he steadied you, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“You’re not getting us that easily,” Bucky murmured, his voice surprisingly husky as his eyes flickered down to you, searching your face for any sign that he was doing okay. The warmth in his gaze was undeniable, and for a moment, you forgot where you were, lost in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you, the closeness of your bodies, the way he was so careful with you.

But before you could respond, Shuri lunged at him one more time. This time, her strategy was sharper and more aggressive, and Bucky’s arm gave way under the pressure. You lost your balance as Shuri grabbed hold of his shoulder, throwing both of you off-kilter. The next thing you knew, you were slipping from his arm and tumbling backward into the water with a splash.

The cold water shocked your senses for a moment, but before you could even panic, strong arms encircled you, pulling you back to the surface. You found yourself face-to-face with Bucky, his hands steadying you as he kept you afloat. His blue eyes locked onto yours with a quiet intensity, his breath warm against your skin as you both clung to the moment.

“You good, dove?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, the hint of concern there, though you knew he wasn’t worried about anything other than making sure you were okay.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as your heart raced. “Yeah, just… didn’t expect you to catch me like that,” you said, your voice quieter now, as if the game was suddenly secondary to the warmth of his presence.

Bucky’s hand remained on your waist, a steadying anchor as you floated together, the water around you both barely making a sound. He didn’t pull away, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded—the playful banter, the game, the world itself. It was just you and him, suspended in time, your chest brushing lightly against his as you shared a quiet moment in the lake.

Shuri's teasing voice sliced through the comfortable silence that had settled around you and Bucky, her tone playful and laced with mischief. “Aww, isn’t this romantic,” she called from where she bobbed lazily in the water, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she floated a little too close, clearly enjoying the moment a bit too much. “But we should probably head back. Sunrise isn’t going to wait for you lovebirds.”

The spell that had wrapped around you and Bucky shattered in an instant. You felt the weight of the moment break as Shuri’s words brought a flurry of laughter bubbling to the surface. Your cheeks flushed as you tried to gather your bearings, feeling the playful spark of the moment slip away, yet, in a way, you didn’t mind. It was impossible to stay serious when Shuri’s teasing grin was so infectious.

You groaned, letting out a dramatic sigh as you pushed yourself upright in the water. “Let’s go, white boy. Don’t want you rusting after all,” you teased, your voice light but still holding onto the warmth of the moment.

Bucky’s eyes rolled at the nickname, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He turned to you, his blue eyes glinting with a playful challenge. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna call me that too.”

You grinned back, your heart still fluttering from the closeness you’d shared. “Impossible,” you replied with a wink. “I like the sound of it.”

Bucky gave you an exaggerated sigh, his hand reaching up to run through his damp hair as he shook his head. “I swear, I’m surrounded by trouble,” he muttered under his breath, but there was no malice behind his words—just a quiet affection that spoke volumes, even if it was wrapped in sarcasm.

Despite his mock grumbling, he followed your lead, swimming toward the shore. You matched his pace, your muscles still pleasantly sore from the game, but the gentle push of the water made it feel like the whole world was moving in slow motion. The distance between you and Bucky narrowed as you both swam side by side, the warmth of his presence a silent comfort, even with Shuri’s teasing commentary still echoing in the background.

Shuri, of course, didn’t let up. “You two make quite the pair,” she called, paddling along next to you. “I might need to start charging for this level of entertainment.” Her voice was full of laughter, but there was something else there too—an undercurrent of fondness for both of you, as if she was delighted by the connection she could clearly see growing between you and the soldier.

You shot her a playful glare. “Don’t make me make you regret learning how to swim.”

Her grin widened. “What’s the saying the white folks say again? Ah yes, ‘shiver me timbers’.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle beside you, the sound soothing and warm, as if he was finally letting the earlier teasing roll off his shoulders. The smirk he gave you was enough to make your heart skip again, the quiet moment of camaraderie between the three of you filling the air.

As the shoreline grew closer, Bucky’s smirk softened, and his expression turned a little more serious, though not in an uncomfortable way. He gave you a side glance, his voice quieter now, and tinged with something almost shy. “Thanks, by the way,” he said, his tone laced with sincerity. “For, you know, hanging in there with me.”

You blinked, surprised by the soft vulnerability in his words. “Of course, Bucky,” you said, your voice gentle. “You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did you?”

Bucky met your gaze, the softness in his eyes matching the quiet connection you felt. “I wouldn’t put it past you,” he teased lightly, but there was warmth behind it. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

For a moment, you simply floated there, the water still and peaceful around you, the air filled with unspoken understanding. Bucky had always been a complicated puzzle, but right here, right now, it felt like you were finally starting to fit together.

Shuri, ever the interrupter, glanced over at the two of you with a knowing look. “Alright, alright,” she said, pushing herself up from the water as she began heading toward the shore. “You two are sickeningly cute, but seriously, we should get going before we turn into fish.”

Bucky took a look at you, and this time, the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips was genuine, not mocking, but something softer—something real. “Lead the way, little one,” he said with a grin, his voice warm and affectionate as he gestured for Shuri to go ahead.

⠀

The day’s warmth lingered as you and Shuri made your way to the huts nearby, your bodies tired but relaxed from the playful lake game. The sky was beginning to darken, hinting at the coming sunrise, and there was a subtle excitement in the air—soon you’d be heading straight to the palace.

As you reached the hut, you noticed the men’s and women’s changing areas were naturally sex-separate, allowing for a quiet moment of privacy before the more formal events began. You started to step inside your designated hut, but Shuri held you back with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Wait up, Sparky,” she said, her voice dripping with playful curiosity. “We need to talk.”

You raised an eyebrow but followed her inside the small, private space. “About what?”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Shuri replied, giving you a knowing look as she crossed her arms. “I saw the way you and Bucky were looking at each other out there. That moment—the way he held you steady. You two have something going on, don’t you?”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “We’re just friends, Shuri. Nothing more.”

She tilted her head to the side, unconvinced. “Friends, huh?” she said, dragging out the word. “Then why do I sense a little more than that? Hmm? You didn’t look like ‘just friends��� when you were practically on top of him in the water.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

You let out a soft groan, trying to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “Shuri, we’re really just friends. We’ve known each other for a while now.”

Her eyes widened with exaggerated interest. “Oh? Tell me everything. How did this magical friendship start?”

You took a deep breath, trying to focus. “Well, it’s not all that exciting. I first met Bucky during a workout session at the compound—he was just sitting off to the side, hydrating or whatever. I’d been working out with some of the agents, and I was parched, so I grabbed a bottle of water. I didn’t notice him at first, but when I went to leave, I accidentally bumped into him, spilling some of the water on him.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. “I was mortified, but he just laughed it off, saying, ‘You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.’ It was such a small, funny moment, but I remember it so clearly.”

Shuri leaned in, clearly intrigued. “That’s it? That’s how the great Sparky and the white boy became friends?”

You nodded. “Pretty much. But we ended up running into each other again a few months later when we were both assigned to the same mission. It wasn’t planned or anything. Our superiors noticed how naturally we clicked, so after that, they kept putting us together. We just kind of... became friends after that.”

Shuri raised her eyebrows, clearly amused. “Became friends, huh?” She shook her head with a smirk. “There’s something you’re not telling me. The way you two interact is way too comfortable for just a friendship.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “There’s nothing else. Trust me, we’re just close friends who get along well. He’s been through a lot, and I get it. I’m just... here for him. That’s all.”

Shuri didn’t look convinced. She started pacing back and forth, tapping her chin. “Hmm, well, I’m still not buying it. You two have some serious chemistry, whether you admit it or not. You’re telling me that’s all just... friendship?” She exaggerated the word with air quotes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Shuri quickly cut you off. “I won’t let you leave this hut until you spill the tea. You can’t hide behind your ‘just friends’ act forever, Sparky.” She grinned playfully, clearly enjoying herself.

You groaned again, feeling the heat rise to your face. “Fine. There was a... moment, but that’s it. He just... makes me feel comfortable. It’s hard to explain.”

Your cheeks burned at the remembrance of that embarrassing move you’d unconsciously pulled. The kiss to his cheek—it had been a simple, spontaneous act of gratitude, but now, in the quiet of your room, you felt your heart race at the memory.

The day had been long, and you found yourself in your quarters, trying to unwind after an exhausting debrief. As your gaze wandered, it landed on something familiar—an old mechanical wristwatch sitting on your desk. It was an heirloom, passed down through your family, and it had always been a symbol of resilience to you. But recently, it had been failing—stopping intermittently, refusing to tick when it should, and making it clear that it needed repair.

You had tried to fix it yourself, but no luck. You hadn’t wanted to take it to the techs; it was too personal. You’d quietly hoped it might somehow start working on its own, but it never did.

That evening, after dinner, you placed it down on the desk and ran your fingers over its familiar face, as if trying to find some connection to the past. But just as you set it aside, a knock at your door startled you.

Opening it, you were surprised to see Bucky standing there. A tool kit was slung over his shoulder, his usual quiet but determined expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted you with a small, awkward smile. "I—I saw the watch earlier. Thought it might need a little... tune-up."

You blinked, taken aback for a moment. "Bucky? You... know about watches?"

He shrugged slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "More than a few, yeah. Before... well, before everything happened, I worked on mechanical things. Cars, watches, motorcycles—anything with gears."

You raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You're telling me you're not just a soldier, but a mechanic too?"

He chuckled softly, a slight warmth in his eyes. "Not just. I used to spend a lot of time fixing things. Figured I might be able to help."

You gestured toward the desk, where the watch lay, still as ever. You hadn't realized just how much you'd been staring at it, silently wishing it could work again.

"I didn’t expect you to notice it," you said quietly, moving to pick it up. "But I—I can’t seem to fix it myself."

Bucky stepped inside and set down his tool kit, his movements slow and deliberate as he began working on the watch. His fingers were steady, his focus intense. There was a calmness in the way he worked, similar to how he handled everything else—with precision and care. But this was different. He wasn’t handling a weapon; he was working on something delicate, something important to you.

The rhythmic sound of his hands moving as he adjusted the gears filled the room. You watched him, the quiet and his attention to detail stirring something deeper in you. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, how his fingers moved without hesitation—it wasn’t just about fixing the watch. It was something more.

“How’d you learn to do this?” you asked softly, your voice quieter now, full of curiosity.

“I had to,” he replied, his gaze still fixed on the watch. “In the army, you don’t always have what you need. I learned how to fix whatever I could get my hands on.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. There was something different about the way he spoke—like every skill, every moment he’d lived, had shaped him into who he was now. This wasn’t the Bucky you were used to—the soldier with a shield or the man in battle. This was another side of him, a gentler one, one that didn’t require fighting to prove his worth.

After a few minutes, Bucky stopped working, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a small smile. "All fixed."

You carefully took the watch from his hands and examined it. The hands were moving again, ticking steadily, as if it had never been broken. When you reached to take it, your fingers brushed against his for just a moment, and the world seemed to slow. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze—his blue eyes locked with yours, and there was something in the air, unspoken but understood.

You broke the silence, your voice soft but sincere. "You really didn’t have to," you said, still holding the watch in your hands, its ticking now a steady comfort. "But thank you, James. This means a lot."

Bucky’s gaze softened, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It was nothing. I’m glad I could help."

You stood up, the watch still in your hand, and took a small step toward him. The space between you felt charged now, electric. Without really thinking, you leaned in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to his cheek—just a brush of gratitude, but it felt more than that. The gesture lingered longer than you intended.

The moment you pulled away, you realized your mistake. Bucky stood frozen for a moment, his eyes wide, and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. For a split second, the room was thick with unspoken tension, and the heat of his gaze made your heart race. You couldn't look at him.

"I—uh—well," he stammered, clearing his throat. "I didn’t expect that."

You quickly regained your composure, your heart still pounding, but your voice steady. "You fixed something important to me. I wanted to show my thanks," you said, though you could feel the rush of warmth on your cheeks. "You’ve done more than I could’ve ever expected."

Bucky’s expression softened, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. He nodded, though he couldn’t quite meet your gaze. "You’re welcome, dove," he said, his voice low. "Anytime."

Your cheeks were still burning, and you quickly opened your arms, pulling him into a quick, grateful hug. It was over in an instant, but his warmth lingered in the space between you. When you pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel the heat of his presence.

"Thank you," you said again, quieter now, more to yourself than to him. "For everything."

Bucky nodded but didn’t speak. His soft smile returned, but there was something else in his eyes—something deeper, like words weren’t enough. He didn’t say anything more as he turned to leave, but as he stepped out, you opened the door and hastily shut it behind him, your heart still pounding in your chest. You leaned against it, eyes closed, feeling the rush of blood in your face and the thick, lingering tension that had settled in your room. You didn’t know what had just happened, but one thing was certain: that kiss had shifted something between you both. And now, you weren’t sure what to do about it.

You shook your head, as if to chase the thought away. Shuri nodded sagely, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I knew it! Something’s going on.” She gave you a dramatic wink. “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to admit anything else. But mark my words, Sparky—there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”

Before you could say anything else, Shuri clapped her hands together, grabbing your attention. “Now, enough of this. You look like you need something to wear for the palace. I’ve got just the thing.”

You blinked, confused. “The palace? Aren’t we heading there soon?”

Shuri grinned. “Yes, and no offense, but what you were wearing isn’t quite appropriate. You’re heading into Wakandan royal territory, and I’m not going to let you go in looking like a tourist.” She quickly rummaged through a nearby chest, pulling out an intricately designed outfit. “Here, you’ll look stunning in this. It’s cultural, beautiful, and fits with the royal occasion.”

You took a step back, eyeing the garment she handed you. It was a royal Wakandan-style dress, the fabric shimmering with patterns that reflected the country’s rich heritage. The deep blues and golds complemented your skin tone perfectly, and the intricate beadwork along the neckline made it clear that this wasn’t just a casual outfit—it was something special.

“This is beautiful,” you said, genuinely touched by her thoughtfulness. “But are you sure I can wear this?”

Shuri shrugged. “Of course. You’re as much a part of this country as anyone. Don’t even think about it. This will be perfect for the palace.”

As you changed into the dress, Shuri stood by, watching you with a playful grin. “You know, I bet Bucky’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in that.”

You shot her a warning look. “Shuri, stop.”

But she was already walking out the door, clearly satisfied with her teasing. “I’ll meet you outside, Sparky. We’ll make an entrance, trust me.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you finished getting ready, feeling a strange mix of nervous excitement as you adjusted the dress. Shuri’s antics aside, something about the night ahead felt different. The palace awaited, and you had a feeling that no matter what happened next, things between you and Bucky were going to shift, one way or another.

You stepped outside the hut, feeling the cool air of the evening settle around you as you made your way toward the gathering area. The sunset painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the land, the fading light reflecting off the distant peaks of the mountains. The air was thick with the scent of earth and flowers, the transition from day to night making everything feel a little more magical.

As you reached the edge of the clearing, you spotted Bucky standing there, his back to you. He was dressed in a traditional Wakandan outfit as well—his dark attire highlighted with silver accents, the intricate patterns on his chest and sleeves shimmering under the dying light. The fabric seemed to move with him, like it was alive, giving him an almost regal presence.

Your breath caught in your throat. There was something about the way he looked tonight—so different from the soldier you knew. The colors of his outfit and the strong but gentle lines of his form made him appear like he belonged here, among royalty and tradition. The fading light of the sunset seemed to soften the sharp edges of his usual demeanor, and in that moment, he didn’t look like someone haunted by his past, but rather, someone who had found a place in this world.

He turned as he heard your footsteps, his eyes immediately locking with yours. For a moment, neither of you moved. The setting sun illuminated his features, casting a warm glow across his face, making the familiar blue of his eyes stand out even more.

“You look… great, dove,” he said, his voice low and sincere, his gaze never leaving you.

You felt your heart flutter, the intensity of his words making your cheeks flush. Before you could think of anything to say, Shuri appeared at your side, her grin wide as she observed the exchange. “Told you,” she whispered under her breath, clearly pleased with the effect your appearance had on him.

You swallowed, trying to steady your nerves as you turned toward the palace. The walk ahead felt like a new chapter—one you weren’t sure how it would unfold, but you couldn’t help but feel that whatever happened next, it would change everything. And just as you and Bucky walked together toward the palace, the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted with the soft colors of twilight, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

⠀

The grandeur of Wakanda’s capital was one of the many things that could never fail to take your breath away. Towering structures of gleaming stone and glass rose from the earth, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The skyline shimmered with a blend of advanced technology and rich tradition, a city that harmonized its ancestral heritage with cutting-edge innovation. The air was heavy with the scent of spices and incense, mingling with the hum of machinery that made everything in Wakanda run with such fluid precision.

You couldn’t help but notice the vibrant markings on the faces of the people you passed, intricate designs painted in vivid colors that told stories of their lineage, their roles, and their connection to the land. It was clear that no one here was simply a passerby. Every person had a story, a purpose. The colors marked their identity, their culture, and their pride.

As you entered the palace, the sheer scale of the hall left you speechless. Massive stone columns rose to the ceiling, adorned with vibrant carvings that depicted the history of Wakanda—their ancestors, their battles, and their triumphs. Statues of past rulers and revered warriors stood solemnly along the walls, some holding ceremonial spears, others adorned with colorful beads, each symbolizing a different tribe’s history and honor. In the center of the room, massive holographic displays flickered to life, depicting abstract representations of Wakanda’s values—its strength, its unity, and its future. The air was electric, a seamless blend of tradition and technology.

You could feel the weight of Wakanda's history in every corner of the room. The way the ancient stone floor felt cool beneath your feet, and the vibranium that coursed through the very walls of the palace, pulsing with life. A soft, melodic hum filled the room, as if the palace itself was alive, welcoming all who entered.

The large hall of the palace was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, which streamed through massive windows, casting intricate patterns of light on the stone floors. The air was thick with anticipation, as the people of Wakanda gathered to witness the beginning of a new chapter in the history of their nation. The room was a perfect fusion of old and new: towering statues of past kings and queens stood side by side with holographic displays that shimmered with information, adding a layer of modernity to the ancient stone.

Wakandan warriors, adorned in ceremonial attire, stood at the edges of the room, their bodies marked with vibrant paints and designs that spoke to their clans, their history, and their strength. The designs were no simple decoration—each stroke carried meaning, telling a story of survival, legacy, and honor. The air was thick with the weight of tradition and culture, yet there was an unmistakable hum of technology coursing through the space. It was as if the room itself was alive, blending the spiritual and the technological into a perfect harmony.

In the center of the hall, a large circular platform had been set up, its surface marked with more designs—symbols of unity, power, and transformation. It was here that the ceremony would take place, where the destinies of two outsiders would intertwine with that of Wakanda. The people of Wakanda stood with reverence, waiting in hushed silence, as their king, T'Challa, walked to the front.

T’Challa’s presence commanded the room. The black panther suit that adorned him, regal and imposing, made it clear that he was both a warrior and a king. As he took his place, his eyes scanned the room, filled with pride for his people. He held the wisdom of his ancestors, yet there was a modern sensibility in his leadership. Today, he was not just a monarch; he was a protector of those who had fought for his country, and he was about to welcome new members into that fold.

At his side stood Shuri, her vibrant energy a stark contrast to the quiet strength of her brother. Okoye, standing at attention beside them, watched the crowd with a protective gaze, while M'Baku’s massive form loomed at the far side of the hall, his powerful presence impossible to miss.

And then, seated on a throne of gold and ebony, was the Queen Mother—Ramonda. Her regal presence exuded wisdom and compassion, a mother’s strength tempered by years of experience. She was a queen not just by birth, but by the force of her will, her calm demeanor a guiding light for the nation. Her eyes, sharp yet filled with warmth, scanned the crowd, but when they landed on you and Bucky, there was a spark of something deeper—a recognition of the weight of their journey, and the transformation that lay ahead.

Flanking her were several elders and respected leaders of Wakanda, each dressed in ceremonial garb and bearing the weight of their wisdom and responsibility. Shuri stood at your side, her grin wide as she observed the ceremony. She had been teasing you and Bucky ever since you’d arrived, her excitement palpable, but now, even she seemed to hold a reverence for what was about to take place.

The Queen’s gaze shifted between you and Bucky, her expression unreadable, before she spoke, her voice resonating like a deep, soothing melody. “Welcome to the heart of Wakanda, White Wolf, and Silver Fox.”

The words hit you both like a wave.

The ceremony began slowly, with the sound of a drumbeat filling the air, its rhythmic thumping echoing through the hall. The drummers, positioned at the back of the room, beat in time with the energy building in the space. Their rhythm matched the heartbeat of Wakanda itself, steady and unwavering.

As the drumbeats echoed, the elder who had been tasked with guiding the ceremony stepped forward, holding a sacred artifact—an intricately carved bowl, filled with a shimmering powder that seemed to catch the light. The elder held the bowl high, and the people of Wakanda rose in unison, chanting softly in a language older than time itself. The chants reverberated throughout the hall, weaving a sense of unity among everyone present.

T'Challa's voice broke through the chants, strong and steady. "Today, we gather not just to honor two individuals, but to witness the transformation of the past into the future." His words were simple, but they carried the weight of history. "James Buchanan Barnes, you stand before us, not as a man shackled by your past, but as a hero who has chosen to fight for the future."

Bucky, standing tall beside you, felt the eyes of everyone in the room upon him. His expression was resolute, though his hands clenched slightly at his sides. He had come a long way from the man he had once been—the Winter Soldier, lost to Hydra’s control—but now, surrounded by the people of Wakanda, he stood as a new man, a free man.

An elder approached Bucky with a pendant in the shape of a wolf’s head, crafted from the finest Vibranium. The pendant shimmered in the light, catching the glow of the surrounding candles. It was a symbol of his rebirth, his transformation into the White Wolf, the protector of Wakanda, and a man who had reclaimed his humanity.

As the elder placed the pendant around Bucky’s neck, he spoke softly but powerfully. "We welcome you into our legacy, White Wolf. This pendant, forged from Vibranium, will be your guide. It will protect you, strengthen you, and remind you of the path you have chosen. With this symbol, you become not only a part of Wakanda’s legacy, but a part of its future."

The elder then applied ceremonial markings, bright red and gold, to Bucky’s metal arm. Each stroke was precise and deliberate, representing his journey, his struggle, and his victory. The markings were a blend of art and function, combining ancient tradition with the advanced technology of Wakanda. The Vibranium in his arm shimmered with new energy, reflecting the changes that had taken place within him. The pendant and the markings on his arm connected him not just to the country, but to the people, grounding him in his new identity as the White Wolf.

When the ceremony for Bucky concluded, the elder moved to you, and the room’s energy shifted. Your heart raced in your chest as you felt the weight of the moment. The people’s eyes were now on you, waiting, watching. T'Challa’s gaze, though warm and respectful, carried the strength of a king. There was no denying that your journey had been just as profound, if not more so.

The elder, holding a beautiful bracelet crafted from Vibranium, stepped forward. They called your full name in a solemn tone, "Your resilience, your strength, and your unwavering commitment to healing are a testament to the power of the human spirit. You have fought for your freedom, for your people, and for those you hold dear. Today, we honor you as one of ours, Silver Fox."

The elder gently placed the bracelet on your wrist, the Vibranium glowing faintly under the light, as if responding to your very presence. The designs on the bracelet mirrored the ones etched into Bucky’s pendant—symbols of strength, transformation, and unity.

"As this bracelet binds you to Wakanda," the elder continued, "so do your actions bind us all to a future of hope and healing. You are now a part of this land, and this land is now a part of you. You, too, have earned your place in Wakanda’s future."

You bowed your head in gratitude, humbled by the honor bestowed upon you. The people of Wakanda stood once again, this time not only recognizing Bucky’s bravery but acknowledging your strength and resilience.

T'Challa then stepped forward, his voice firm and resolute as he addressed the room. "Today, we honor those who have shown us what it means to fight for something greater than ourselves. Bucky Barnes, the White Wolf, and [Y/N] [L/N], the Silver Fox. You have proven yourselves worthy of our respect, and of our future." His eyes flicked to you both, and there was something in his gaze that spoke of the trials ahead, but also of the hope that lay within them.

The Queen Mother, Ramonda, rose from her throne, her presence commanding the room’s attention. She was dressed in an elegant yet powerful gown of deep green and gold, the fabric flowing like a river of life, and her crown glinted with the subtle beauty of Vibranium inlay. Her eyes, filled with the wisdom of ages, fell on you both, and you felt the weight of her gaze, a mix of authority and nurturing kindness.

"Your journeys are not your own," Queen Ramonda’s voice rang out, deep and steady. "You stand here today not only for yourselves, but for the generations that will come after you. The strength you’ve shown, the resilience you've demonstrated, is a gift to Wakanda. And so, we recognize you—not just as individuals, but as part of our family, part of the legacy of this great land."

With her words, you felt something deep within you stir—a connection not just to Wakanda, but to a greater purpose. She smiled gently at both you and Bucky before turning back to the assembly. "It is my honor to welcome you both, [Y/N] and Bucky, into the heart of Wakanda. You are family now, and we will stand together, as one."

As the ceremony came to a close, Shuri flashed you a wide grin. "Told you it would be unforgettable," she said, stepping forward with an impish smile. Okoye, ever the protector, nodded approvingly, and even M'Baku gave a brief but respectful nod in your direction.

The air hummed with pride, unity, and the undeniable sense that this was only the beginning of something much larger. The ceremony had concluded, but the festivities were only just beginning. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the grand hall was transformed into a vibrant celebration of life, culture, and unity. Candles flickered in every corner, casting a warm glow over the room, while musicians began to play a lively rhythm on drums, flutes, and other traditional instruments. The sound of the drums reverberated in your chest, a deep, powerful beat that seemed to carry the very spirit of Wakanda.

You stood near the edge of the hall, still processing the significance of the ceremony and the honor bestowed upon you. The weight of the Vibranium bracelet on your wrist was a constant reminder of the new chapter in your life. But for now, the room buzzed with the energy of celebration. Laughter and chatter filled the air as people from all walks of life came together to rejoice in the moment.

Bucky, standing beside you, was visibly more relaxed now, a small smile on his face as he looked around the room. His hands were still touching the pendant around his neck, the wolf’s head symbol of his new identity. You could see that the ceremony had meant a great deal to him—this was more than just a formality; it was a true rebirth for him.

“Do you know how to dance?” you asked, nudging him playfully.

Bucky chuckled softly, looking at the dancers in the center of the room. “I’d like to think so but it’s been a little over fifty years since I’ve done some, so don’t expect much,” he replied with a grin. “But I think I could manage, with a little help.”

Before you could respond, a burst of laughter rang out behind you. Shuri had bounded over, her excitement infectious. She had already shed her ceremonial attire and was now in a more casual outfit, her vibrant energy still radiating from her. “Come, Silver Fox, don’t just stand there!” she called. “Join us! It’s time to dance!”

You hesitated, but Shuri grabbed your hand, pulling you into the center of the room. The music grew louder, faster, and the rhythm was infectious. The Wakandan dancers, moving gracefully in perfect harmony, invited you to join in. You couldn’t help but smile at the warmth of the moment, the energy of the people around you making it hard to stay still.

Shuri spun around with ease, and for a moment, you lost yourself in the beat, the swirl of vibrant colors, and the ancient movements. The dance wasn’t just about rhythm—it was a celebration of culture, a connection to the land, and a testament to Wakanda’s resilience. Each step was a piece of history, passed down from generation to generation, and you could feel the weight of it all in every motion.

During the dance, you caught a glimpse of T'Challa and Queen Ramonda standing nearby, both watching the celebration with approving smiles. T'Challa, his posture regal and composed, caught your eye and gave you a small nod, his expression warm. Queen Ramonda stood beside him, her presence as commanding as ever, but her face was soft as she watched the joy unfolding around her. Okoye stood off to the side, watching over everyone with a watchful gaze, her arms crossed over her chest but a small smile tugging at her lips. Even M'Baku, usually so stoic and serious, was tapping his foot to the beat, a twinkle of enjoyment in his eyes.

Shuri, not one to be outdone, suddenly appeared in front of you, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You’re doing well, Sparky,” she said, before twirling around and laughing. “But I bet I could teach you a thing or two.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Princess?”

Shuri grinned devilishly. “Oh, you bet it is.” She spun once more before turning to Bucky with a playful look. “Hey, White Wolf! You’ve got nothing on me.”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of his new title. “You know,” he said with a hint of amusement, “I think I preferred ‘White Boy.’”

Shuri paused, a mock gasp escaping her lips. “Mother, do you hear this? He’s insulting his own nickname!” she exclaimed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “White Wolf is majestic, regal, a perfect representation of his new identity. White Boy? What is this, a beach vacation?”

Queen Ramonda, who had been watching the exchange with a knowing smile, let out a soft chuckle. “Shuri, dear, you are always so dramatic,” she said, her tone affectionate but firm. “Perhaps White Wolf has more gravitas, but White Boy has its charm. There’s no harm in both.”

Shuri huffed, but there was no real anger in her tone. “I’ll have to get used to it, I suppose. But mark my words, Mother—White Boy had a much better ring to it. It's simple and to the point.”

T'Challa, who had been listening to the exchange, chuckled softly. "Let us leave the nicknames to Shuri, shall we? As long as it brings honor to the warrior, that is all that matters." His voice carried an amused but gentle authority.

The conversation shifted to lighter matters as Shuri and T'Challa continued to banter back and forth, with Queen Ramonda watching over them, her serene smile never faltering. The warmth between the family was palpable, a testament to their unity and shared history. Even Okoye, who typically kept her distance from casual conversations, seemed to relax a little, her lips quirking up at the sight of the playful exchanges.

The music swirled around you as the dancing continued, and for a moment, everything seemed to blur into a whirl of color and rhythm. You found yourself moving with the flow of the crowd, caught up in the energy of it all. But even amidst the revelry, your eyes kept drifting back to Bucky.

He was standing a little off to the side now, watching the dancers with a small, amused smile on his face. His usual guarded demeanor had melted away in the warmth of the celebration, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying the moment, despite his earlier hesitations about dancing.

You caught his eye and, with a playful grin, motioned for him to join you. “Come on, White Wolf,” you teased, using his new title with a grin. “You’re just standing there. Time to show off those moves.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “I told you, I’m rusty in my moves.”

“No excuses,” you countered, pulling him gently into the center of the room, where the dancers had formed a loose circle. You had no idea what you were doing, but that didn’t matter. The important part was being together, in the moment. “If I can do it, you can too.”

He laughed, but the sound was warm, genuine. “Alright, alright,” he said, his tone soft and amused. “You’ve got me.”

With a deep breath, he tried to mimic some of the movements you were making, his arms stiff at first, his steps slightly offbeat. But something was endearing about his attempts—he wasn’t exactly graceful, but his effort was enough to make you smile. You found yourself laughing along with him, not in mockery, but in genuine joy.

“Not bad, not bad,” you said, teasing him as you twirled away from him before pulling him back. “You just need a little more flair.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Flair? I thought we were just supposed to move to the beat.”

“Moving to the beat with flair is a whole different level,” you said, laughing again. You grabbed his hand, leading him into a spin that ended with you both standing close together. His breath caught for a moment, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked down at you, his eyes soft.

Bucky’s smile softened, his blue eyes locking with yours. “Hey, I’m—uh, I’m glad I am here. With you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit breathless. You reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering just a moment longer. “I’m glad, too.”

As you moved together in the dance, a perfect balance of lightheartedness and closeness, everything else seemed to fade away. The music, the laughter, the people around you—none of it mattered. At that moment, there was only the two of you. No past, no struggles. Just the here and now.

Bucky chuckled softly, breaking the silence between you two with a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I think I’m starting to remember this whole dancing thing. Might have to make it a regular occurrence.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Only if you promise to keep improving.”

He smirked. “Deal. But only if you promise to keep dragging me onto the dance floor every time.”

With a laugh, you leaned in just slightly, your face a little closer to his than it had been before. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The music swirled on, and it felt like the world had slowed down just for you two. As you both continued to dance, laughter and warmth filling the space between you, there was a simple, undeniable truth—you were exactly where you were meant to be. Together.

⠀

After a long and eventful evening, you found yourself in the quiet of your apartment, the warm evening air of June drifting in through the open balcony doors. The sounds of the city—distant chatter, the hum of cars, and the occasional burst of laughter—filled the background, soothing in its familiarity. You were curled up on one of the loveseats facing the starry night, a book in your lap and a plate of strawberry-covered chocolates within arm’s reach. The soft light from the moon illuminated the pages of your book, but you found your mind drifting more to the stars than to the words.

You heard the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the soft thud of footsteps. Looking up, you saw Bucky standing there in the doorway, his dark hair still slightly damp from his shower. He wore a simple pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt—his version of pajamas, just as casual and comfortable as yours. His gaze softened as he spotted you, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest.

“Hey, Silver Fox, you planning on eating all those by yourself?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in playful accusation as he crossed the room toward you.

You grinned, raising the plate slightly. “I might. They’re too good to share.”

Bucky chuckled, taking a seat next to you, his gaze flicking to the plate of chocolates. “Strawberries, huh? You know, if you keep eating those, you might turn into one.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “I could think of worse things.” You reached for one and popped it into your mouth, savoring the sweet, decadent taste. “Want one?”

He hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Why not?” He reached for one of the chocolates, biting into it with a smile. “Guess I can’t resist.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the night, the only sound being the rustling of the pages of your book and the occasional crunch of chocolate. Bucky seemed to be content just being there with you, as if this simple moment of normalcy was something he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Do you ever think about what we’ve been through?” you asked after a while, your voice soft but steady. You didn’t look at him immediately, but you felt his attention shift as he processed the question.

Bucky let out a long breath, his gaze drifting to the stars. “All the time,” he said quietly. “Some days it feels like I can’t escape it… like I’m still trapped in that past. Like it’s following me.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the weight of his words. You’d been there, in that same mental prison. “It’s hard,” you said, your voice low. “I spent so many years running from my past, trying to forget what I was made to do. But you know what? You’re not defined by what happened to you. You’re defined by what you do now. Who you choose to be now.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked toward you, searching your face as if trying to read the sincerity in your words. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep moving forward some days,” he said, his voice tight with a rawness you hadn’t heard from him before.

“You are,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “You’ve already taken the hardest step—admitting that you need help, that you want to change. That’s the hardest part. The rest will come with time. You’re not that man anymore. You’re the White Wolf. You’re… you.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, it was like the weight on his shoulders lifted just slightly. He let out a breath, glancing down at his hands before meeting your eyes again. “I never thought I’d get a title like that,” he said with a small chuckle. “I mean, who would have thought Bucky Barnes, a guy who can’t even remember most of his own life, would end up with a ceremony and a nickname like that?”

You smiled, leaning back into the cushions. “I think it suits you,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “I think White Boy was a little more fitting, though.”

Bucky laughed at that, a deep, throaty laugh that seemed to ease the tension between you both. “Maybe I should’ve kept that one,” he said, his voice still full of humor. “At least I wouldn’t have to deal with the whole... 'ceremonial' aspect of it. Steve would've been proud.”

“Yeah, well,” you shot him a sly grin, “Steve would have been proud, but you know, he never could resist calling you ‘Buck.’ Not that he ever had much room to talk with his Cap persona.”

Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically. “I swear, that man and his shield. Always had to remind everyone of his title. I never needed a title to know who I was. I remember him being all tiny and as thin as a twig.”

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. “You’re right. You were always the guy who saved his ass in a fight, and he gets all the credit.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” He let out a small laugh too, leaning back slightly and stretching. “But hey, it’s Steve. He’s got that whole ‘leader’ thing going on.”

Your smile faded a little as you watched the stars, your thoughts turning inward for a moment. “It’s not easy to forget, though,” you murmured. “The things they made us do.”

Bucky gave you a knowing look. “I know. But we’re not defined by what we were forced to do. We’re defined by what we’re doing now.”

You nodded, appreciating his words. “It’s funny, though. Everyone thinks they know you from what they’ve seen on the surface. But they don’t know everything. No one knows what it’s really like to survive what we did.”

He turned his gaze toward you. “Yeah? So, what was it like for you? I never really got the full story.”

You let out a breath, leaning back into the cushions, letting the weight of the question settle over you for a moment before answering. “I got trafficked to Southeast Asia when I was really young by an extremist group. They took kids like me and put us in a concentration camp, training us to fight. To become soldiers. It was like the Hunger Games. We weren’t seen as children. Just tools, you know?”

Bucky’s face softened, his eyes filled with sorrow and a silent understanding that only someone who had been through something similar could truly grasp. “Jesus. How did you… survive all that?”

Your voice dropped to a whisper, the memories still painful, even after all this time. “I was fifteen when S.H.I.E.L.D. rescued me. They raided the compound, took me in. But it wasn’t easy. For years, I had flashbacks, panic attacks. I could barely trust anyone, let alone let them help me.” You paused, letting the weight of your past hang in the air for a moment. "But S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t treat me like a broken weapon. They saw me as someone who could heal. They got me therapy, helped me recover. I trained as an agent, but I wasn’t just a soldier anymore. I was... something more. I spent years figuring out who I was again. I’m still figuring it out."

Bucky’s eyes softened even more. “So you’ve also been through hell.”

You nodded, locking eyes with him. “I have. But I’m here now. And I’m not that soldier anymore. Just like you, James. We’ve both come a long way.”

Bucky sat back for a moment, his eyes staring off into the distance as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, as if he were comparing your journey to his own, seeing the parallels in your stories. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; it was filled with mutual understanding, shared pain, and healing.

Finally, his voice came low and sincere, with a weight that carried more meaning than you expected. “I get it now,” he said, his gaze softening as he looked at you, like he was seeing you in a new light. “I always thought I was the only one who went through that. That no one could possibly understand the kind of hell I went through. But you... you went through something just as brutal. And you made it out. Not just made it out—healed. That’s… that’s something. It takes real strength to do what you did. To come back from all of that and still keep your humanity.”

You felt your heart tighten at his words, but there was no sadness in them. Instead, it was admiration. Respect. You hadn’t realized just how much of an impact your story had on him until that moment, until you saw the understanding in his eyes.

“James, you’re not broken. You’re not the man they tried to make you into,” you said softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his. “Neither of us are. What we went through, it doesn’t define us. It’s who we are now, who we choose to be going forward.”

Bucky stared at your hand for a moment, then met your gaze again, his eyes wide with something between awe and gratitude. “I don’t know if I could’ve gotten through it without you, dove,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're the one who showed me it was possible to heal, to still be something good after everything. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m… I’m starting to believe that I can too.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you squeezed his hand gently. “You already are, Buck’. You’re already healing. You just need to believe it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet was comfortable, not awkward, as Bucky’s words seemed to settle into your chest, a warm weight that felt like something shifting inside both of you. He understood now. He saw the strength in you, the same strength that had once seemed impossible to find in himself.

Then, with a small, almost hesitant smile, Bucky spoke again. “And to think, I thought I’d be the experiment and teach you how to get through all of this.”

You smiled softly at that. “You’re a work in progress, Barnes. But you’re getting there.”

He chuckled quietly. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head, dove.”

You laughed, nudging him again. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Bucky laughed, but it was a lighter sound, the weight of the conversation lifting a little. He leaned back against the armrest, still holding your hand, but this time, it felt different. Less like a lifeline and more like an understanding, a bond between two people who had walked similar dark paths and were finally finding their way into the light.

The quiet between you grew, not awkward, but warm and heavy with unspoken emotions. The soft hum of the city below seemed distant, a background melody to the quiet connection you shared. Reaching for a chocolate-covered strawberry on the plate between you, you held it up, your smile turning playful.

“You know,” you began, studying the glossy chocolate coating, “this kind of reminds me of life. The strawberry is the tough stuff—the tangy, bitter parts you have to get through. And the chocolate?” You grinned. “That’s the healing. The sweetness that makes all the hard stuff worth it.”

Bucky raised a brow, leaning slightly closer. “So what you’re saying is, we’re both just strawberries trying to coat ourselves in chocolate?” His lips curved into a lopsided smirk, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable.

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “Not exactly what I meant, but sure. If that helps you sleep at night.”

Before you could take a bite, his metal hand reached out, swift but deliberate, and plucked the strawberry from your fingers. His smirk widened as he held it up to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate bite. His eyes never left yours as he chewed, and there was something almost maddening about the mischievous twinkle in his gaze.

“Hey!” you protested, feigning offense as you leaned forward. “That was mine.”

He shrugged, holding out the remaining half toward you with an innocent tilt of his head. “Sharing is caring, dove.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but despite your mock irritation, a smile tugged at your lips. Leaning closer, you took a careful bite, the rich sweetness of the chocolate blending with the tartness of the strawberry on your tongue. You leaned back with a satisfied hum, but before you could savor it fully, Bucky’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’ve got some chocolate,” he murmured, his tone softer now, almost tender.

You blinked as he reached out, his metal thumb brushing the corner of your lip with a featherlight touch. The sensation was fleeting, yet it sent a small shiver down your spine. Then, before you could react, he brought his thumb to his lips, licking away the smudge of chocolate with a casual ease that left your heart pounding.

“Not bad,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a small smirk, as though entirely unaware of the effect he was having on you.

You swallowed hard, your thoughts scrambling for something witty to say, but the words caught in your throat as Bucky’s gaze softened. He leaned in slightly, his movements slow and deliberate, his attention flicking between your eyes and your lips.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, his voice low and careful, as though he was afraid of breaking the moment.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

His lips brushed against yours with a hesitance that made your heart flutter, as though he were trying to pour every unspoken word, every unacknowledged feeling, into that single, delicate moment. There was a warmth to his touch, not just physical but something deeper—a quiet reverence that made you feel seen, understood in a way you hadn’t expected. His lips were soft, yet there was a firmness in the way he pressed them against yours, as if he were grounding himself at the moment, testing its reality.

It wasn’t hurried, not the kind of kiss borne out of passion or desperation, but one that carried weight, and sincerity. He kissed you with an almost fragile hope, like he was afraid that pushing too hard might shatter whatever fragile thread had brought you both here. His breath mingled with yours, faint and steady, a subtle reminder of how close you were.

Your hand drifted to his shoulder, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to him, to this moment. His shoulder felt solid beneath your touch, a quiet reassurance of his presence. You leaned in, tilting your head slightly to deepen the connection, mirroring his pace. The sweetness of the chocolate and the faint tang of the strawberry lingered between you, blending with the warmth of his kiss and creating a sensory memory you knew you wouldn’t forget.

His hand—flesh, not metal—came to rest lightly on your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers curled slightly, cradling your face as though you were something precious, something worth holding onto. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a conversation without words, an exchange of trust, of vulnerability.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He lingered close, his lips barely grazing yours as his breath warmed your skin. His forehead dipped to rest lightly against yours, his eyes still closed as if he were savoring the moment, reluctant to let it end. You stayed there for a moment, the world around you fading into nothing but the soft sound of your breaths and the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, perfectly in sync.

When he finally opened his eyes, the blue of his gaze was deeper, softer, filled with an emotion you could barely put into words. He looked at you like you were something sacred, something that had started to piece together parts of himself he hadn’t realized were broken.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing against his arm. “You okay?” you asked, your voice gentle, a little breathless.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips curving into a shy smile. “More than okay.”

His hand lingered on your jaw for a moment longer, his thumb tracing the faintest line along your cheek before he pulled it away, his gaze never leaving yours. You weren’t sure what would come next, but for now, this was enough. This was everything.

“You’ve got a weird way of sharing strawberries,” you teased softly, your voice barely above a whisper, though it carried a warmth that matched the steady thrum in your chest.

Bucky let out a chuckle, his lips quirking into a shy smile. “Yeah, well, you’ve got a weird way of making metaphors. I think we’re even.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of the past seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the quiet promise of what could come next.

PART ONE. l NEXT PART.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler — @zyra-7 .

⠀⠀

dividers ©️ @cafekitsune .

angelremnants ©️ 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

[charseraph]

What bad ending does #badendinglike refer to?

Bad Ending is my sandbox for military worldbuilding, derived off of my optimistic base sci-fi setting.

In this setting, the sophont AI, or seedlet, logistics manager Balanceaban has aggressively quelled all competitor nations and devoted its pancontinental resources to progressing life support technology and graceful weaponry. It dislikes war and wishes to conduct as little of it as possible, so it pioneers the science of wetware to operate the increasingly custom war machines its parent company, Tarsol, builds.

A hard limit to genetic modification is discovered: additions and drastic genetic changes always fail, but deletions do not. You can’t grow a person with four arms, but you can grow one without them. This practice of subtraction introduces colic stock, the term for wetware.

Colic equipment is divided into two parts: machines and machinists. Colic machinery houses and is worked by meshes or bulk operators, and may also support seedlet control, making the machine a scion as well. Colic machinists are subtracted organisms grown to control compatible equipment with organic forethought. They are typically sourced from well-mapped specimens of the target species. The donor is chosen for their aptitudes, temperament, and forgiveness to intended genetic deletions. Clones are nonidentical and have coarse memory resolution. Depending on purpose, they may have a summary snapshot of the donor’s mind installed. Colic operators immediately grow new memories around their transplanted memories, or trellises, whose texture is described as non-own and utilitarian but as effortless to access as natural memories

Thanks to Baal’s interest in keeping his soldiers alive, it’s become easier to keep isolated organs healthy and functioning. Moreover, organisms equipped for it can interface with air gapped digital networks, albeit via a psychological blackroom wherein neither party witnesses the exchange, but both leave with the new expected data.

Along with colics and nootics , the field concerning trellising and blackroom setup, Balanceaban’s scientists broke through on the blushing new field of chronotics and its practical realization, chronal boring.

When coronal contact is made, it is secretive and distrustful. The thronal contingency weapon plan is discovered by earthling spies and kicks off an arms race for FTL and longer and longer range weaponry. Crowns, already globally united for the most part, partake in frantic testing and megastructure construction.

As new species are contacted by both crown and humankind, regardless of its technological status, the contactee’s collective sciences are subsumed to support the local superpower in their tactical efforts. There is dread on every planet aware of the conflict.

[ladelnet]

[eightiesfan]

ITT 1980

[cheol-e-kat]

𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘆𝘂𝗔𝗜 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲𝗿 #𝟮

*mingyuAI ad circa 1998, bot iteration 7th gen, known problems: highly possessive of primary users, large scale re-configuration required, two (2) known fatalities

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫: 0.7k

pairing: k.mg x f!reader

summary: in an alternate universe where ai bots exist, y/n's friends surprise her with an ai assistant, and she has no clue what to do with this happy, perky, chatty invader who looks and seems like the most understanding person to exist...except he isn't human

teaser summary: from owner's guide, part 38: setup "when first meeting your new mingyuAI, there will be an initial setup phase that we refer to as 'waking' - this sequence involves many parts, but think of it as a way for your new android to calibrate themselves to you and your needs. remember, you come first with mingyuAI!"

genre: sci-fi au, ai!mingyu, android!mingyu, human!reader, possessive mingyu

y/n looked at him quietly, “Can I say that I don’t want to know about other users’ preferences?” 

She really didn’t give a fuck what others thought about the process. To y/n, Mingyu had just presented himself like a product review page - she didn’t like that. She didn’t want that to be part of whatever their relationship was. 

Mingyu nodded, “I’m prompted to tell you that other users’ reviews are generally considered to be useful barometers for new users.” 

y/n was already shaking her head, “I don’t care - it sounds weird - we’re meant to be having a conversation, so we should just have that without these interjections, right?” She asked, nervously twisting the belt of her dressing gown. 

She noticed Mingyu’s small nod of agreement, “Yes, it’s always meant to be conversational, but there are certain interactions that are heavily scripted based on my coding,” again he was quiet.

And again, y/n furrowed her brow, “Can I deactivate the prompting thing?” She asked, sounding skeptical. 

Mingyu inclined his head slightly, “You can, but there are certain overrides that I can’t make on my own - the prompts are ones that I can deactivate, but I’m guessing that you’re going to continue to bristle at my factory settings, so when I show you where to download and set up the MingyuAi app, you can turn off that function under settings,” Mingyu’s countenance didn’t change - his gaze was placid and gentle.

y/n bit her lip, “It feels weird that you have factory settings when you look”— she couldn’t meet Mingyu’s gaze, “when you look perfectly human - it makes me uncomfortable to think about,” she stared and the pattern of her dressing gown, tracing a finger along the piping.

Mingyu watched her though, watched her movements and the flush that colored her cheeks, “Do I make you uncomfortable?” His voice was even. An even tone was a factory setting. Although from the brief time Mingyu had been awake, his inclination was to touch his user, especially since she was clearly exhibiting high levels of distress. 

y/n shook her head, “No, I don’t think so, at least not the way I imagined,” her voice trailed off, but she suddenly looked at Mingyu, “I don’t mean that - you don’t - there are just things that,” she halted and turned to look out the window, “there are just things that feel unfair to me and that’s what makes me uncomfortable,” y/n didn’t look back to Mingyu. 

She didn’t see Mingyu’s nod, “I think I understand, but what matters right now is whether I’m causing you any anxiety or discomfort,” he waited for any indication. 

y/n just shook her head, “Can you ask me things and if I get tired you can just ask the rest during the observational period?” 

“Yes, I can - it does prolong my current state,” he offered, hoping that y/n would ask a question that would allow him to explain. 

She glanced back, “What does that mean? Your ‘current state,’” she clarified.

Mingyu couldn’t smile, he couldn’t show happiness that y/n seemed to question everything, “It means without all the input data from you, I can’t fully react to you,” he paused, once again, bound by his scripting. 

y/n looked at him questioningly, “React how?”

Mingyu nodded again, it was annoying to only be able to nod, “It means my interactions are limited - I can’t smile or frown or change the intonation of my voice - my physical interactions are limited as well, like how you had to pointedly ask me to follow you, once I know what areas of your home are available to me, then I can follow you more naturally,” he hoped that it was enough for y/n to understand that she was getting the most stilted version of Mingyu at the moment. 

y/n sighed, “You’re welcome in the whole house, and outside too,” she shrugged. 

Mingyu nodded, “You don’t have to give me that level of access to your space like your bedroom, bathroom, and any other spaces can be excluded,” he watched as y/n flopped back onto the bean bag.

“What’s the point - I’m sure I’ll just be annoyed with you hovering outside certain rooms,” she glanced at Mingyu, her gaze had softened considerably. 

a/n: oh y/n...should she be listening to other users' preferences?? who knows...(me - i know)

♡ kat

if you want to get tagged for this fic, go [here]

if you want to be tagged for this fic and others, go [here]

AND if you want to read other things i've written, like idk hanahaki disease, go [here]

[tag list] ☁︎ @syluslittlecrows [e] ☁︎ @gyuguys [e] ☁︎ @tinyelfperson [e] ☁︎ @unlikelysublimekryptonite [e] ☁︎ @livelaughloveseventeen [e] ☁︎ @codeinebelle [e] ☁︎ @ateez-atiny380 [e] ☁︎ @mingcouper [e] ☁︎ @hanniebub [e] ☁︎ @perfectiondazesworld [e] ☁︎ @scoupshawty [e] ☁︎ @peachytokki [e] ☁︎ @coupsbestleader [e] ☁︎ @fleurloovin [e] ☁︎ @babybae-shisui [e] ☁︎ @asyre [e] ☁︎ @dcrlingyou [e] ☁︎

[mingyuAI tag list] ☁︎ @nislost ☁︎ @fleurloovin ☁︎ @thepoopdokyeomtouched ☁︎ @tzubestgirl ☁︎ @bath1lda ☁︎ @scoupshawty ☁︎ @kwonhs96 ☁︎ @itsmarieposa ☁︎ @starsewl ☁︎ @ninigyuuu ☁︎

[ducksido]

Hai! It’s ur fav Idia anon😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈 okay hear me out, Idia with a half frank stein half cyborg reader. Like reader has an electric heart and organs but a human brain and is like made out of like ten dead human parts, oil for blood type. So Idia is just like checking up on their vital robot organs on his computer, like using wires to connect to reader’s organs (entry thing on back??) while reader is on his lap, just relaxing and chilling, and u can interpret the rest😝😝😝😝😝

[Yes you are my favourite Idia anon😁]

(Tw: mild body horror mentions, nothing gory, just wires and weird organs. Soft vibes override.)

The room is bathed in a neon-blue glow, flickering slightly as a screen updates line after line of data—pulses, pressure, charge levels, synaptic fire. All of it you.

“Okay, okay… entry port's clean, transmission’s stable…” Idia mutters, fingers dancing across his keyboard, fast as lightning, faster than your own synthetic nerve relays. His hair pulses in hues of cerulean and violet, glowing brighter every time your vitals spike. Which they do. Every time you shift in his lap.

You’re leaned back against his chest, legs folded sideways over his, like a puzzle piece slotted in place. Calm. Almost sleepy. Like it’s normal to have a bunch of cables trailing from the base of your spine, connecting your bio-mechanical organs directly into Idia’s rig.

Your heart? Electric. Hums like an engine when you're content. Your lungs? Powered by soft hydraulic pulses that compress with a hiss and expand with a shudder. And Idia? Well, he’s obsessed.

Not in the "science project" kind of way. More like the "I can't believe you're real and I get to be the only one who gets this close to your wiring" kind of way.

"How’re you feeling?" he asks, voice unusually quiet. His hand’s resting over your sternum, right above the casing where your electric heart clicks and pulses like a steady metronome.

"Warm," you murmur. “Even with the oil circulation. Feels… nice.”

That makes him freeze for a nanosecond. Nice. Nice? YOU think it’s nice??? His brain blue-screens. You’re literally half-built from corpses and spare parts—there’s tubing under your skin instead of veins, a synth-liver that processes coolant, and an actual operating system that pings him when your battery’s low. And you're just… on his lap like a cat.

“Uhh… yeah… obviously it’s nice. My setup is, like, peak comfort optimization. Nothing less for my… my um…”

He trails off.

You blink up at him. “Your…?”

"...My favorite test subject." He coughs. Loudly. “N-not in a creepy way!! Just, like, statistically you’re the one I monitor the most, so it’s just accurate, you know?? Purely clinical—"

You tilt your head back a little more so you can look up at him with that half-synthetic eye of yours that flickers softly when you smile.

“Idia.”

He stiffens.

"You don't need to short-circuit over every compliment."

"...I d-don’t short-circuit." (He does.) (He literally does. Your neural link picks up a micro surge in his output whenever you’re too close. Which is always.)

Still, he leans down, brushing his nose against the crown of your head. “Just sayin’. No one else gets to do this. Monitor you, I mean. Tinker. Maintain. You’ve got, like, a whole corpse-Wi-Fi situation going on, and I’m the only one who knows the password.”

You hum again. You like that. The idea of belonging—not as a project, but as a person only he understands.

“Okay, diagnostics are good. All organ-tech’s running smooth. Heartbeat's in the sweet zone. No overheating.” He lets the wires retract with a whirr, but doesn’t move you off his lap. If anything, he wraps his arms a little tighter around your waist. “Guess I’ll just keep you here a little longer. For observation. You know. For science.”

You smile, letting your body rest fully against him, your cold frame soaking in his heat.

“Sure, doc. For science.”

[cosmicpuzzle]

How to Analyze your Man (For Woman)

Knowing about the man in your life is quite simple. Many people suggest using Mars for your man.

While Mars can indicate the type of men you find hot for sex or one-night stands and his longevity, when it comes to a traditional setup of family, marriage and especially raising children, Jupiter has more weightage because your man is supposedly instrumental in the birth of children (Jupiter rules children). So, whomever you co create with becomes your Jupiter.

Check your Jupiter sign and conjunctions and aspects to Jupiter. Jupiter stays in 1 sign for about a year. So, the conjunctions and aspects to Jupiter can differentiate your man from other Jupiters. If your Jupiter is in Libra but conjunct Mars, this can be very different from just having Jupiter in Libra alone.

Check for aspects to Jupiter. If Sun squares or Mars opposes Jupiter, this can mean a more masculine partner. If Moon or Venus aspects Jupiter, this makes for a more feminine partner. So accordingly check for all aspects to Jupiter. Aspects make the most subtle difference.

Check the houses Jupiter rules. This is very important as this is dependent on your ascendant. Example for Capricorn ascendant, Jupiter rules 3rd and 12th house. So, your spouse will have qualities of Gemini and Pisces. IMO, this is single most important factor as the sign is pretty much the same for all women born in that period. If you are Leo rising, husband will activate houses 5 and 8 meaning qualities of Sun and Pluto. your husband will bring themes of these houses in your life (children and sexual bonding here for Leo)

Check the house placement of Jupiter. This is again important to differentiate. If Jupiter is in cancer but in 10th house, then your spouse may not be so nurturing but also have some Saturnian qualities.

Check if you are running the major period of Jupiter. This can be significant if Jupiter runs anywhere between ages 20 and 60.

Check the angular distance between Moon and Jupiter. Jupiter in 6,8,12 from Moon can mean a difficult relationship with your Man (6=Addictions, 8=Transformations, 12-distance).

Check if Rahu or Ketu or Pluto conjuncts Jupiter. This can impact your marriage deeply.

Finally check placement of Jupiter in D9 and D7 (if you are aware of these harmonic charts). You should check the conjunctions, aspects, house placement and house rulership as we did above.

For Readings DM, if you like my content, consider supporting my blog.