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wonderlandwalker · 1 year ago

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Living Nightmares | Finnick Odair x Reader

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Summary: Finnick wakes up to find you slipping away from him. As he tries to get help, he loses track of you, only to find you in the hands of the careers. The situation seems to get worse before he finally thinks he's at peace, but you're there to remind him to keep going.

Content Warnings/Tags: angst, a whole lot of it, fluff at the end though I'm not a monster, mentions of blood, hypothermia, violence

Word Count: 3.4k

A/n: I've been obsessing over our boy Finnick so here's a fic full of angst, because apparently that's the only thing my brain can think of. Dividers by @chilumitos

This wasn’t exactly where they had thought they’d be at the moment. It all started during the second day in the arena, they had the allies, they had the supplies, and they thought they had the advantage, but worry took over as they started losing sight of each other in a chase, and they tried to find the others, only to end up in a new part of the arena. It was dark, cold, and they had lost their supplies, and there was no food or water source nearby.

Neither of them was really to blame. It had been a long day, and the surroundings didn't inspire much hope. So, both of them had fallen asleep on some of the leaves that covered the ground. The cold air was still blowing around them.

But at least he wasn't alone, two sets of minds were better than one, at least he still had you.

The rising sun urged him to open his eyes, and he stretched out his arms, which had become stiff from the cold. It was only when he sat up and ran his hand through the hair that had fallen in your face that he noticed how cold you were. He quickly got up from behind you, pulling you into his lap, tilting your head up a little. Your skin was almost as white as snow, and your lips were starting to turn blue. The colour that once held so many fond memories of the ocean and the sky, now being replaced by fear and panic. He shook you lightly, trying to wake up as if you were just sleeping deeply. When you didn't react, he called out for you, his voice laced with concern.

“Y/n? Come on love, wake up.” But the only movement that came from you was your arm falling from where it was, the harsh thud to the ground reinforcing his fears.

“No, no come on. This isn't happening, wake up” Finnick had thought about this happening, how could he not when it was the basis for most of his nightmares? But he always woke up from those to find you resting in his arms, your soft breathing comforting him back to sleep. This time he didn't wake up, and he didn't hear your breathing to soothe him. He checked your pulse for a heartbeat, but all he could feel was his own heart racing in his chest. He looked around him as if there would be someone there to help, but you were alone.

He started CPR to try and quicken up your pulse, to get you to breathe again, and while he knew you probably couldn't hear him, he had to try.

“Do you remember when you came back from your first games, I really thought that had been the scariest moment of my life. When I survived my own, at least I knew you were alright at home. When you came back, I thought it was over, I wanted to see the positive side, but you seemed so weak, and having watched you, I knew how bad of a state you were in. It tore me apart to have to see it and not be able to do anything." His voice cracks a little, his head starting to swim with more thoughts.

"I won’t do this without you. You can't leave me now, not like this." He pushes a little harder on your chest while doing compression. He's sure if he does so anymore, he will crack one of your ribs.

"I imagined us getting married. I imagined proposing to you by the lake, that little spot you showed me, I know how happy you were in the middle of the field of dandelions. Every worry seemed to slip away from you, like a little hideaway from the horrors of the world. That's how you make me feel every time I'm with you. It's like there is no one in the whole world except us. And I know how cliche that sounds, I know you never liked cliches, but it's true, you are my world, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you.”

Right as he was about to pour out more of his heart to you, he heard a noise coming from the distance. The steps were too heavy to be coming from a small animal, but his instincts also told him that whoever it was, they weren't there to help.

He knew he had two options. try and fight off whatever was coming while carrying the love of his life with him. Or keep you hidden, try and fight while distracting them away from you and coming back when the coast was clear. He tried his best to hide you underneath a blanket of leaves, making you disappear into the surroundings, he gave you a light kiss on the forehead, scared to get too close and feel how cold your skin still was. He heard the footsteps come closer.

“Just hold on a little longer darling, I’ll be back before you know it.”

And so he turned around, grabbing his trident a little harder than normal, and came face to face with one of the careers. Finnick's muscles were still sore from the night, but he was ready to run. He had to get away from here before the tribute started to wonder if he had been alone.

He ran towards a clearing, making the tribute follow behind him. He ran to a split in the path, which gave him two options, left or right. He heard rustling coming not far behind him, and his instincts told him to go right, so he did. He ran for a while until he reached a dead end, the line of trees becoming so dense he couldn't get through anymore. The tribute was still on his heels, and Finnick had to think fast again. He saw a body of water nearby and decided that diving in, despite the creatures that might be in it, and the chilling temperature it must be, would be better than certain death. He knew he would be able to outswim the career, it luckily being one of his strengths. He started to run towards it, and when he got to the edge, he jumped like his life depended on it, but it still wasn't his life he was worried about, it was yours.

Once he got to the other side of the water, he looked back, and the tribute was nowhere to be seen, probably having decided that the risk of the wild waters wasn't worth it. Finnick wasn't thinking about the relief of escape, all he was thinking about was how much time you had left.

It was by some sort of miracle he found Peeta, Johanna and the others on a small beach nearby, and he practically ran straight into them at full speed without even announcing himself. Once the others had realized it was Finnick, and he was not a danger to them, they calmed down, but the state of despair he was in did alarm them soon after

Peeta looked up at him, he was completely out of breath from how fast he had run.

“Sit down Finnick, try and catch your breath” He told him, while placing an assuring hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no time to sit down, I need to go back.” He spoke with such certainty it startled the others.

“Go back where?”

“ To the clearing, I don't know where it was, but I remember how to get there.”

“Why do you need to go back?” Johanna asked him, seeming confused.

“Because y/n is still there, and she doesn't have long”

The others didn't need to hear more, and started to pack up the things they had with them to follow him.

When they had made it back, Johanna was in front with Finnick, she wouldn't care to admit it out loud, but she was worried about you as well.

“Where?” She asked him

“Over by the cut-down stumps, next to the maple and the oak tree.” Finnick had memorized the entire area in order not to lose track of you, and with Johanna being from the lumber district, he knew this clue would be the most helpful to her.

“There’s no one here” she said, looking back at him frustrated.

“There has to be, she was right there when I left.”

“She might have been, but unless hypothermia comes with the power to turn invisible, she’s gone.”

“Well, she couldn't have left by herself” His mind was reeling with all the possibilities, each one more horrible than the last.

“Well then who took her, there are no drag marks, it wasn't any kind of mutt.”

“I don't know, maybe-” his eyes fell to the mud next to the fallen leaves, the ground here was in permafrost, it couldn't have come from here. When the tribute started chasing him he had already put distance between where you were and where he was going. They must have gone back after he went into the water to try and see if he had any supplies, and have found you. But your body wasn't here, that was a good thing, that means you must be alive, why else would they have taken you?

“They’re at the swamp”

“How are you so sure?”

“The career, he was alone when he chased me, he has to have set up camp somewhere with the others, it can't be far from here otherwise he wouldn't have carried her.”

“Alright, but we don't even know where that is, the swamp must be massive, they could be anywhere, we can’t just run in without a plan.” Johanna tried to reason, looking over to Finnick, only to realise he was no longer there.

“Where did he go?” Peeta asks her.

“Probably to the swamp, probably without a plan.” She sighed, she was annoyed, but couldn't say she was surprised, she knew he would do anything for you, including laying down his own life.

“How do we find him, we don't even know where the swamp is, y/n and Finnick were the only ones who crossed it.”

“You don't happen to have a map, do you?” Johanna asks, sarcasm heavy as usual.

While the others were trying to figure out where exactly Finnick had run off to, he himself ran into some trouble. He knew it was his fault for going in without a plan or any backup, but he had listened to his heart, not his head. His heart convinced him he had to find you, telling him that if he didn't find you and wake you up, he’d never be able to see your eyes looking back into his. His heart was telling him to go and save you, even though his head was telling him it was probably already too late anyway.

He wasn't paying close attention to his surroundings as he should have been, trying with all his might to find you. They had found him when he was distracted and from that moment on they kept trying to break him. He was tied with his back against a tree, most of his body covered in blood and a little dizzy from the loss of it.

“It’s very easy to figure out what makes you tick Odair” the district one tribute spoke to him. He couldn't see very far ahead of him, and he couldn't see you anywhere.

“What’s that supposed to mean” He was confused and angry. Confused about what they meant, why they hadn't killed him. Angry they kept him from finding you, from holding you.

“Don’t worry, you'll find out soon enough.”

And as if it was planned, right after the career had spoken, a loud, soul-cracking scream echoed around him. Finnick immediately recognized it, how could he ever forget? It couldn't be real, it had to be a trick, jabber-jays, something. But there wasn't a flock of birds around, and nothing would be able to replicate such a crushing sound. He tried closing his eyes, but when he did his imagination ran wild with images and scenarios, and it only made it worse. The only thing he could do to calm down was tell himself it wasn't real, even if he didn't believe it, repeating it like a mantra over and over.

“It isn't real, it isn't real, it isn't real.” It was nothing more than a whisper and most probably only a mumble of incoherent words.

“Oh but that's the best part Odair, it is real, and it's not gonna stop until you give us what we want. to know.”

“You’re lying” He spit out, barely able to say the next words without falling apart completely “I saw her die.” A single tear makes its way down his face as he tries to keep his composure, cracking now wouldn't do him or you any good.

“Are you willing to take that risk? She’s pretty feisty, I'll give you that, but if you don't crack soon and tell us where your friends are, she's not gonna make it.

He tried ignoring it, trying to listen to his head instead of his heart, but once again the attempt was futile. All he could hear was the screaming, even when he was sure it had actually stopped, the sound still lived in his head. It was hard to say which was worse, the deafening screams, or the silences in between.

He tried to think with his head, tried to think what you would say to him. It would probably be something along the lines of ‘don’t do anything stupid when I'm not there.’

It was far too late for that.

When the career returned, he had a smile on his face that seemed way too happy for the situation they were in.

“She’s strong, that girl of yours, that much is true. The question is for how much longer, everyone has a point of no return, and I have a feeling she’ll cross it soon, But you can make it stop, tell us where your friends are, and it’ll stop.” The tribute had bent down so he was face to face with him, and by the look in his eyes, he now knew for sure this wasn't a bluff.

Finnick didn't know where they were, they wouldn't have stayed at the beach where he found them or at the clearing where the two of you had slept for the night. And maybe it was for the best he didn't know, because right now if he was honest with himself, he would have told them anything he knew if they wanted it. He would do anything to get to hold you again, to feel the warmth of your body against his, to feel your lips pressed against his own. But the careers weren't stupid, he had no reason to believe they would actually let you go, and even if they did, he knew a part of you would never forgive him for what he would have done.

“This is a waste of time.” He screamed, silently hoping you were close enough and conscious enough to hear his voice, hoping it would be enough to tell you not to give up. He pulled at the ropes tying his hands together with all the strength he had left, knowing it would likely not achieve anything, but hoping for it nonetheless.

But it didn't make a difference, your screams didn't stop, and his heartache didn't stop. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours, up until a point where Finnick couldn't tell how much time had passed. It was difficult to keep track of time when you kept blacking out, but it was peaceful in the most morbid way. He didn't sleep, he lost consciousness, so he didn't dream. When he blacked out he had a moment of peace, a moment where he didn't hear your screams echoing around in his head. But he would always wake up and have to face reality again.

He couldn't hear his heartbeat anymore, he couldn't hear his breathing or his thoughts, all he could hear was the screaming and the cries, even though he wasn't sure if they were there or if his mind kept playing tricks on him. He had always feared this, but he didn't think that his worst nightmares would actually come true.

He looked down and saw a puddle of his blood staining the ground and the leaves he was sitting on. The last thing he heard before he blacked out again was shouting coming from the distance.

When he wakes up he can't see much, his eyes heavy and his body tired. But he can feel his cheeks getting wet, it’s a heavy liquid and he guesses it's his blood until he opens his eyes far enough to see you kneeling in front of him, your hands cupping his cheeks to lift his face while you're silently crying, the tears creating a clear path down the grime on your face.

“y/n?” His voice barely reaches a whisper, but you look up into his eyes immediately.

“Finnick, oh god, please wake up we have to get out of here.” Your voice sounds strained, and Finnick isn't sure if it's because of all the screams that must have taken a toll on you, or if the sounds have damaged his ears, he hopes for your sake it's the latter.

“No we don’t” He says with a sense of peace that doesn't match up with the predicament you're in.

“What do you mean?” You ask him, while trying to remove some of the blood stains from his skin, but failing miserably.

“We’re in heaven, aren't we, that's why you're here, I was hoping I would see you.” A sob from your throat almost interrupts his whispering, and he looks up to you again.

“Why are you covered in so much blood” He reaches out to touch your face ever so gently, as if he's scared you're only a figment of his imagination, and you could disappear anytime.

“It’s nothing, I’m alright, I’m more worried about you, you look like you could open your very own blood bank with how much you’re losing.” Your voice is shaky, and it matches the tremble of your hands.

“No need to worry about that, You're here to bring me to heaven, we’ll be together again, it’ll all be perfect.”

“Finnick listen to me! I’m not here to take you to heaven, I’m real and I'm right here in front of you and I need you to stay awake!”

Only he’s not responding to you anymore, his eyes closed again.

“Goddamnit”

You tried to lift him off the ground, but almost fell over once you got him upright. You weren't in your strongest state, and Finnick not being in any conscious state wasn't helping, his whole body weight leaning on you. You put your arm around his shoulder and put the other around his middle, trying to keep him standing so you could move. But with your hands busy trying to keep Finnick upright, you had no way to defend yourself. All the commotion must have alerted other tributes, but you didn't know how many there were to begin with, or who even started the disturbance that allowed you to break free. You thanked whoever was listening that the two of you made it out of the swamp without running into further trouble, and entered an opening of trees that finally allowed bright sunlight to touch upon your skin. You can hear footsteps close by, and prepare for the worst.

“We need to get the two of you back to the others” A familiar voice enters your ears, and you didn't know you could ever be so grateful to find Beetee.

You make your way to a lake not far away. When you get there, you refuse to leave Finnick’s side when Beetee had insisted you needed tending to as well. It was like an unspoken rule. Whenever one of you was hurt, the other didn't leave their side until you were sure they were going to be okay. But you weren't sure, and you weren't leaving him. So you lay down next to him, and the others knew it was useless to try and separate you.

After some time had passed, Finnick started to softly grunt and woke you up with him. Your face contorted in a mix of anger and pain. You leapt up into his arms. It hurt him a little with how tight you were holding him, but he didn't dare let go. Still a little afraid it wasn't real. But he could feel your breathing against his neck, hear you crying in his ear, and hear your heart beating in your chest, in sync with his, you were here, and you were okay.

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zimt-deathnote · 4 months ago

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You asked for it, and here it is, Near scenario:

You mentioned a while ago that you imagined at some point Mello just lost it and injured Near seriously.

The fight is followed by a meltdown, a bad one like he hadn’t had in years. Near shuts himself in his room after receiving medical attention, his roommate his only contact with the outside.

He had gotten better at controlling his emotions and reactions since he got to Wammy’s, his self esteem had gotten slightly better since so many failures in public school. But losing it completely in front of all of his classmates, like some baby who can’t stand up for himself, is incredibly humiliating. He’s not angry at Mello. Not that he likes what happened, at all. Still, no matter how supportive his family is, how well Wammy’s taking care of him and helping him, he can’t help blaming himself every time he has an outburst.

Since the staff can’t manage to get him out, after two days they decide to call the family. He doesn’t want to speak to them. Not another failure, not after his parents had found some hope that he might manage on his own.

The day next, his sister comes. She comes into the room, Near’s roommate politely excuses himself.

Near’s in his corner/laboratory on the ground, keeping his hands and eyes busy by dismantling some toy robot. His face is all purple and bandaged.

After a while, his sister gets him to talk to her.

S (for sister, can’t remember her name): so, who do I have to kill? What happened?

N: Don’t be silly, if you want to commit a murder I should remind you that a school full of future detectives isn’t really the ideal place. Unless you want to become our new assignment of the week. You would make the children really happy though.

She asks if he wants to come back home, he refuses. It takes him a lot of effort to convince her that he was not being bullied, and that this was a very isolated accident. Yet, she insists on wanting to know what’s going on.

It’s afternoon, and yet the orange light does not come through the window in the isolated room that was picked just for his needs, sealing him away from his classmates.

Near shares his consternation at having been unable to read the situation before it escalated, and his shame for the meltdown in front of everyone. Of course he knows that it’s mostly Mello’s fault for beating him, but he also knows that if he wants to become a good detective he’ll have to know how to recognise a violent reaction when it’s arriving, or he’ll never be independent.

She smiles.

“Nate-“

“Don’t call me that, you can’t do it here.”

“Nate, when will you get it into that huge brain of yours that nobody ever is actually fully able to function on their own? All of us got blindspots, but not many are so aware of where they are, and not so many would be such sticklers in trying to make up for them. You are doing your best. That’s more than many people can say to do.”

N: “….I’ll admit I haven’t seen much improvement in Mello’s anger issues lately”

S: “haha definitely not, by the way where can I find him? Mom ordered me to-“

N: “whatever it is, please don’t.”

Near is not completely alone in his dark room for that evening.

That’s the gist of the scene. Hope it can be inspiring.

Thank you for reading ❤️❤️

I had this in my inbox for so long now cause I wanted to write that incident out better first but I couldn't get around to do it yet </3

But this here, this is the good shit ☝️ Thank you so so so much for this absolutely lovely scene, Anon 🤍

Sister's name is Alison btw!

----- My other socials Commission Info Let's drink some Ko-Fi! 🍵

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bunni-v1 · 1 year ago

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CONGRATS FOR THE 500 FOLLOWERS! 💫💫 can i request letters A, B, O, P, Q, S and Y of the sfw list for Malleus and Vil? But in a platonic way, as friendship, if you can<3

🍓I've had this one sitting in my inbox for a while because I've just not been in the mood to write for Malleus. He's a special flavor of autistic that I can only write when the inspiration strikes lol.

Malleus

A - Affection: Malleus is VERY affectionate! He's been loved on a lot by Lilia, so I wouldn't say he's touch-starved, but he does act like he is. He always wants to be holding you in some way, and if you are in his vicinity he will come and find you just to be near you. Always greets you with a hug and a kiss, regardless of who is around or where you're at. Worst of all, he gets pouty and throws a Malleus brand temper tantrum if you deny him any affection.

B - Best Friend: It's really weird to be best friends with Malleus. You sorta found him somewhere on accident, spoke with him, and gained yourself a dragon. You don't ever see him in any place that is conventional or normal, and you rarely actually "hang out" with him. When you do see him, though, he's prone to have these really deep interesting conversations with you and then disappear. Quite freaky.

O - Open: It doesn't occur to Malleus that, maybe, he doesn't need to tell you his whole life story at random times of the day. I mean, seriously, you guys will be doing something like study, and then he'll drop that fattest lore bomb known to man and leave you speechless.

P - Patience: Not very. In fact, most things that would piss other people off just tend to make him laugh. He's essentially a god amongst men with an ego to match, and that ego is anything BUT fragile. It's hard to make him mad. You can upset him and make him out, but anger is rare and SCARY.

Q - Quizzes: He's both really good and very bad. Malleus both has some much going on in his head and absolutely nothing. He remembers important dates, and all of your favorite things, but when it comes to like pulling through on important stuff? He sucks! He forgets! He feels so bad after too, like on his knees begging for forgiveness. Then, at the same time, he'll remember something really obscure that you mentioned in passing and it makes you wonder how the hell his mind works.

S - Security: Oh, Malleus is the MOST protective out of anyone in the twst cast. He's a dragon, after all, and they're mostly known for protecting things. You are his most prized and adored treasure, and he protects you as such. I'm talking like, he's always by your side, always watching you, always ready to jump at the chance to show you how amazing and powerful he is. Now, he never gets the chance because who in their right mind would ever upset THE Malleus Draconia, but he still keeps hoping.

Y - Yuck: He hates it when his title is held over his head. He wants friends and connections and love, but his crown gets in the way. If you ever try to use him for his power that would be an instant no from him, especially if he thought you loved him for more than just his position.

Vil

A - Affection: Vil is like... moderately affectionate. Now, he's not exactly the sweetest person. Vil is all about appearances, and hanging off in public doesn't exactly look good. In private, though? He's making up for the missed affection tenfold. Now he's not a huge cuddler, but he is a kisser. And kiss you he does, everywhere. He's so pleased with the bright red lipstick marks all over your face. On top of that, he pampers you like a princess. Massages, face masks, sweets and tea. Only the best for his darling.

B - Best Friend: Vil just decides that you're friends, and then you're stuck with him. It's really not bad though! He's quite a gossip, so you hear all the latest drama around the halls of NRC. You get free makeovers and get to relax around Pomefiore whenever you want. Most importantly, your social status rises to the top, because any friend of Vil's could be a friend worth having.

O - Open: Vil? Open? Please. He's got walls up greater than the wall of China. It takes him a lot of time to open up to you because all of those stupid emotions he's feeling make him so weak. Once you get the first bit of Vil lore, though, he's like a running faucet and just spills everything everywhere. It really makes you both grow so much closer though.

P - Patience: Eh. He's not awful, better than Riddle at least. Vil does have a temper though, and it's not as uncommon to see it as you may think. Now, he rarely ever gets mad at you unless you do something so stupid that he can't help it in his disbelief. Still, his anger is a sight to witness, and much worse when it's directed at you.

Q - Quizzes: Vil is very good at knowing everything there is to know about you. He writes it down, actually! In his notes app! He has a whole list that's just about you and your likes and dislikes and everything you tell him that he thinks is important. He makes sure to utilize it all the time, and it's really sweet how seen he makes you feel.

S - Security: Vil is moderately protective of you. He doesn't really worry about anyone in your classes, it's rare to find someone actually willing to mess with him. What he is worried about is the media. If they got ahold of you, his more intense fans might try to rip you apart. So, he shields you from that as best as he can, because he doesn't want to see you hurt.

Y - Yuck: If you only want him for his beauty. He is pretty, he knows that, and he understands that it's likely a part of why you love him. However, if you only seem to care about how pretty he is or only compliment his looks, he hates it. There is more to him, why can't you see that?

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit

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beyondthesefourwalls · 2 years ago

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Remember You Even When I Don't (8)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.5K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, suggestive themes, smut

Notes: Please note the updated warnings. These next few chapters are a new stage of Bradley and Pumpkin growing back together, and while I'm very excited about it, I know it may not be for everyone. For everyone who sticks around, please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

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You’re working today. You hadn’t wanted to, but a local congresswoman you had requested an interview with months ago finally agreed to a conversation in her office, and Bradley wouldn’t let you pass it up. It was only for a few hours, but he finds himself missing you while you’re gone.

This is the first time he had really been alone in the house for a long period of time since he got back from the hospital a month ago, and he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He had tried to read a book, or get lost in a movie, but nothing had really kept his attention. He was laying on the couch, the news on the tv in the background, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t fully dove into all that it contained, and he figured now was the time to do it, even if you weren’t here to answer any questions that he might have.

It’s interesting, seeing himself this way. Groupchats where he was an active participant, talking about parties or plans he has no recollection of, or discussing flight schedules for the week. He swaps Star Wars and Harry Potter trivia with Fanboy and gym regimes with Hangman and sends music back and forth with Coyote.

When he opens the text thread he has with you, the only one pinned to the top of his messages, his breath catches at the last message received.

I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.

It was sent the day of his accident, and he knew by the time stamp that it was sent after the crash. You must have texted that to him while you were waiting for news on his condition, and not for the first time, he feels both guilt and gratitude go through him; he’s so sorry that he’s hurt you like this, but he’s so glad he’s here now.

He scrolls for a while, reading you rambling to him about your work day and bouncing ideas for articles off of him, jumping from one topic to the next while you know he’s in the air or teaching a class so he doesn’t have his phone on him. Based on his responses that come later on, he knows he never minded the almost nonsensical messages. Even now, he finds it adorable and enjoys reading through them. There are conversations about dinner and what true crime documentary the two of you were going to watch that weekend.

There’s a little bit of everything in these messages between the two of you, but his brow furrows when he gets to a point about a week before his accident.

I’m on my way home, he had texted you, You better be ready for me, Pumpkin.

He scrolls further up, trying to find the beginning of the conversation that led to that, and he almost wishes he wouldn’t have.

You had texted him earlier that morning, when he barely must have left the house to go to base, a picture of you. There was a playful smirk on your lips, and you had what looked to be the cap from his formal dress whites perched crooked on your head. That in and of itself wasn’t what made his breath hitch, though. It was the fact that you were still in bed, your arm draped over your chest where he could see everything but everything, you hanging onto only a single shred of decency.

Fly well today, Lieutenant Commander.

It had descended into a day full of teasing from there, each message dirtier than the one before. Descriptions of what you wanted him to do to you and him warning you of what he would do when he got his hands on you. He feels flushed all over, but he keeps scrolling up. He bypasses recipes you wanted his opinion on and a reminder of what the Hulu password was, and eventually finds more pictures. Some are more risque than others, but all of them make him feel like the temperature in the room rose by multiple degrees.

There’s a tickle in his brain again, and he finds himself closing the messaging app and going to his photo albums. There’s a locked album there, and he knows, he just knows what it’s going to contain.

He shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t. It feels like a strange invasion of privacy. But he’s wracking his mind to try and remember what the code would be to get into it anyway, and he curses when he gets it wrong first once, then a second time. He enters your birthday on the third attempt and groans out loud when he’s immediately met with the filthiest images he’s ever seen.

It’s a whole gallery of you, or the two of you together, and Bradley can’t stop himself from looking. He bites his lip as he takes in the photos, his mind so overrun with thoughts of how fucking stunning you are that he can barely think straight at all.

He stops at one in particular, clicking to enlarge it, and loses all thoughts entirely. Neither of your faces are in it, but he doesn’t need to guess that it’s the two of you. You’re sitting back against his chest, his ankles hooked over your legs, forcing them wide for him. He can see your nails biting into his thighs, but it’s his own hand that draws his attention. With the hand that’s not taking the selfie style photo, his fingers are gliding through the wetness gathered between your legs. You shine against the dark wedding band on his left land, one that’s noticeably absent from his finger now. He’s practically panting as he stares.

He’s so hypnotized by the way the two of you look together that he doesn’t hear the garage door open or the sound of you walking into the house.

“Baby?”

Your voice makes him jump so high that his phone goes flying out of his hand, a curse leaving his lips. He scrambles to pick it up when he sees you reaching for it as well, and your eyebrows are raised high as you look at him in surprise.

“Hey,” his voice cracks, higher pitched than normal, and he blushes. Your eyebrows raise a little bit higher. “Hi, sorry. Didn’t hear you come in.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yup,” he nods, faking a cough so he could try to clear his throat, his face flushed. “Totally fine.”

It’s not difficult to see how skeptical you are, and it’s hard for him to maintain eye contact with you and not let his eyes flicker down your body now that he has an idea of what rests underneath the smart dress you wore.

You eye him suspiciously, “Are you sure?”

He contemplates for a moment, trying to figure out a way to get himself out of this conversation, because the longer you looked at him like that the hotter he became under the collar. He took a deep breath, nodding again.

“I was looking at messages and pictures,” he says all in one breath, not liking the idea of completely lying to you. He rationalized that a different version of the truth was okay, even as the pictures flashed in his mind again. “Trying to see if anything jogged my memory.”

You search his eyes, and he tries his best to appear innocent, willing the hardening in his jeans to go down before you took notice. He suspected you already might have from the hint of a blush on your cheeks. “Did it?”

If he thought hard enough he swore he could almost feel you. Your back against his chest, how soft your inner thighs left. How warm your wetness felt against his fingers as he took you to the edge.

“No,” he stutters out after a moment, shaking his head, his face burning, “nothing yet.”

________

He finds himself rubbing his thumb against the fading tan line on his left ring finger, something he had seen you do time and time again. He hadn’t really wondered up until this point where his ring was, but ever since he saw the picture with it so clearly against your skin, he couldn’t get it out of his head.

He’s helping you in the kitchen a few days later, mesmerized as always by how efficient and easy you made everything look. You roll your eyes when he comments on it.

“It’s cookies, Bradley. Nothing fancy.”

“But they’re from scratch. The dough isn’t pre-made. That’s fancy!”

You laugh at him in response, shaking your head. You take the rings on your left hand off, sitting them beside the sink as you wash your hands before the two of you get started. It raises the subject back to the forefront of his mind. He had been desperate to ask you for the last few days, but hadn’t built up the courage to do it. But he can almost feel it on his finger now, can feel a ghost of your fingers as you slide it into place, and it’s suddenly more of a need to know.

“Can I uh…can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What happened to my wedding ring?”

You pause from where you’re cracking an egg into the mixing bowl, your eyebrows raised high. You set it down gently, turning to face him.

“Does it bother you…that I wear mine, still?”

“No!” he insists, hating even the idea of you taking it off. “It doesn’t bother me at all. I promise. We just have never acknowledged mine? I know that I wear one - I remember wearing one, and I’ve seen it in pictures, too.”

“You love your ring,” you tell him softly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But you give him a small smile, though he can see the pain in your eyes, and shake your head.

“You don’t fly with it on,” you explain, “you tried, at first, but you had been flying so long without anything on your hands that you couldn’t get used to it being there when you were operating the controls.”

He thinks for a moment and the words come to him slowly. “You were the one who told me to start taking it off when I fly.”

“I was.”

“Why?”

Your lips quirk and you shrug. “I’m more worried about you flying safely than wearing your ring at all times. You keep it in one of the pockets of your flight suit when you go up in the air now.”

Of course you were more worried for him. He should have expected nothing less from you and the way you effortlessly care for him. He can also picture that, he thinks. It’s easy to imagine not wanting to be separated from the physical reminder that he belongs to you, so even if he couldn’t wear it, he’d at least have it on him, in the inner chest pocket right above his heart.

“So..” He doesn’t quite know how to ask his question, but you must read it on his face.

You twist your own ring on your finger in the way you always seemed to do to center yourself. Pain flashed across your face and Bradley knew you were remembering, too. “They uh..they had to cut your flight suit off, before you went into surgery. You weren’t breathing and were bleeding…” you cut yourself off, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking the visual from your head. “But it was still in your pocket. So. I have it.”

He sets down the bag of chocolate chips he had been holding and walks the few steps to where you’re standing at the counter. When he holds his arms open, you don’t hesitate to step into them. He presses a kiss to the top of your head as he breathes in your scent.

“I’m so sorry I put you through that,” he whispers into the strands of your hair, and he feels the way you squeeze him in response.

“You’re okay now,” you speak into his chest, and he thinks he might feel you press a kiss there, directly over the spot where that inner pocket of his flight suit would be, where he kept you when he had no other choice.

The two of you stand there wrapped up together for a long moment. When you lift your head, your eyes are glassy, but you give him a smile and a small kiss to his lips.

Later, after the cookies have been made and devoured, you join him on the back porch. You had taken to sitting on the swing together and when you sit beside him tonight, he sees you rolling something between your fingers. His breath catches when he sees exactly what it is. You’re staring at it too, your gaze intense and pondering. He doesn’t speak, not quite knowing what to say. Eventually, you break out of your haze and meet his eyes.

“You don’t have to put it back on,” you tell him, holding your hand out to him. His wedding band sits on your palm, shining against your skin. For a moment he sees you in white standing right in front of him, wildflowers in your hair.

His fingertips brush yours when he takes it from you, admiring the piece of jewelry he wasn’t aware that he missed until it was back in his possession.

“But it’s yours. I want - I want you to have it.”

He rolls it between his fingers, contemplating for a moment. He swallows, suddenly overcome with emotion he hadn’t seen coming and that tingling that’s starting to become familiar to him. You had picked it out yourself and he knows when he looks, he’ll see an engraving of your initials beside his. He was always so proud to be able to wear this, knowing that it symbolized being with you, a small way of telling anyone who saw it that he was lucky enough to be your husband.

But he wasn’t him - not yet, not completely. Everyday brought him closer to thinking that he could be, though.

“Pumpkin, I…” he trailed off, not sure what to say.

“Hey,” you murmur, cupping his cheek and turning his head to meet your eyes. You didn’t look mad, or upset, and you’re giving him the gentlest, kindest look anyone ever had. But your eyes didn’t hold pity or sympathy either - just a trust and love that he’s still not sure what he could have ever done to deserve. “Whenever you’re ready. And if you never are-”

“I will be,” he cut you off; he wanted nothing more than to be ready. “I just…I still have something to prove to myself.”

You nod, and Bradley leans forward to kiss you softly. He leaves his forehead pressed against yours when he pulls away, relishing in the calm you brought him.

“I’ll get there,” he says, “I promise.”

—------

He’s spent time alone, but he hasn’t spent time away from you with other people. He’s hesitant to accept the invite from Mav to visit the hanger he had here. But planes and his godfather had been a staple of Bradley’s childhood, an influence on his whole life, really. He had been cleared to drive earlier in the week, so that Saturday, he leaves early. He’s anxious at the thought of being away from you but he knows that the him from before wouldn’t have said no to the invitation and he was so determined to get back to who that was. And he knows that you have a life outside of taking care of him, too. You’re getting brunch with Nat and Coyote’s wife later and he knows you’re excited, even if you hung onto him a little bit longer than a normal hug when he said goodbye. You had made him promise that he would call you if he needed anything and the whole way to the desert, his fingers twitched, wanting to call you just to hear your voice.

Mav greets him with a large smile and a tight hug, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Me too,” Bradley says. He means it, even if he does miss you already. He looks around the hanger, taking note of the few planes and motorcycles throughout the long stretch. It was a lot more than the collection he had when Bradley was 17. “What are we working on today?”

Mav gives him his signature grin. “I want to show you something.”

He follows him to the end of the hanger, where a large blue tarp is covering what can’t be anything but a plane. His godfather gestures to it. Bradley raises an eyebrow but walks up to it, grabbing hold of the tarp and yanking it back. Like he suspected, he’s greeted by a Cessna. It’s a classic 172 by the looks of it, a smaller four seater. It’s a sleek white in color with subtle burnt orange line work. Bradley whistles. It was beautiful in a way that only planes like this could be.

“When’d you get this one?”

Mav smirks, shaking his head. “I didn’t.”

“What?”

“Take a look at the other side.” He nods his head, urging Bradley forward. Confused and intrigued, he follows the instructions, walking around to the other side of the small plane. He gets what Mav was saying, then, and sucks in a breath. Right there emblazoned on the side, in an elegant script, was Pumpkin.

This wasn’t Mav’s plane; it was his.

“You got her about six months ago,” he says softly when he joins him at his side.

Bradley reaches up and runs his fingers over the name. It’s foggy, but he thinks he can remember now. He had always wanted to own his own plane since the first time his godfather took him up in one at 6 years old. It was always a pipedream, though. He was never in one place for long enough, and while he was generally good with saving money, it was a bigger purchase than he had ever made. But then the two of you got married and a permanent station here in California. Between both of your savings and what he still had of his parents life insurance, the funds were there. It was you who had made the suggestion of finally pulling the trigger, and it was him who had suggested a four seater instead of a two seater so that if the two of you ever had children, you could all fly together. You cried when he showed you the name he had painted on it.

“Still needs some work done before she’s flyable. I thought maybe you’d want to work on it today.”

An eager smile appears on his face and he nods, already peeling his jacket off and heading toward the toolbox. If Mav noticed that he didn’t need to instruct him on where it was, he didn’t comment on it.

The two work in tandem for hours. It had only been six weeks since his accident, but he couldn’t recall a time since flight school that he had gone this long without being near a plane and it felt good doing so again. It’s easy, getting into the rhythm of twisting bolts and tinkering with the engine wires. He thinks it won’t be long until he can get this cleared to go in the air and he knows without a doubt that you’re going to be the first passenger.

His phone buzzes in the early afternoon and he doesn’t hesitate to put down the wrench he was working with and dig it out of his jeans pocket. You had sent him a selfie earlier when you had gotten to brunch, sunglasses on and a bright smile on your face with a mimosa in your hand, and he hoped it was another picture. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s Phoenix calling him, instead. He picks up, bringing the phone to his ear.

“Nat?”

“Your wife got stung by a bee. We’re on our way to the hospital.”

He can feel the dread as it settles over him. His heart beats faster in his chest. “What?”

She sighs on the other line, and he can hear commotion in the background. “She’s severely allergic, Rooster. We sat outside at brunch and we didn’t even realize it happened at first. She didn’t have her epipen on her so we had to call an ambulance. She’s going to be fine, but you should get here anyway, okay?”

He feels like he can barely breathe, like the room is closing in on him a little bit. Mav must notice the panic written all over him because he’s quick to come over and take the phone out of his hand, taking over the conversation. He can barely hear him over the roaring in his head. You were hurt. He knew you were extremely allergic to bees. That was something he had remembered. You were supposed to carry an epipen on you at all times. He can’t remember if you’d ever gotten stung when he was there. He can’t remember how bad it got if you ever were. But now you were in the back of an ambulance and on your way to a hospital and he could feel his fear all the way down to his bones.

“Bradley, hey. Look at me.”

Mav is in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders. He meets his eyes and tries to breathe, but all he can see is you, struggling to catch a breath and being loaded into the back of an ambulance.

“I’ll drive, okay? Let’s go.”

He follows him to the car, not really calculating anything other than the fact that he was almost an hour away from you and what if there was traffic and why didn’t you have your epipen on you?

“She’s going to be okay.”

“But-”

“Phoenix said the paramedics administered epi as soon as they arrived, and it didn’t take them long to get to her. She was awake and was already breathing easier when they left for the hospital. Didn’t even need to use the sirens.”

That doesn’t make him feel better. Not really. Knowing that trained professionals weren’t panicking must have meant that you were okay, but he knows how serious anaphylaxis is, too.

He can’t reconcile everything that he’s feeling right now. He has never, ever felt like this before. The thought of something happening to you is scarier than any mission he had ever been on, any enemy he had encountered in the air.

“Mav I can’t - I can’t lose her. I just got her.”

“You aren’t going to.”

Bradley doesn’t say anything, can’t think of a single thing to say, and instead buries his head in his hands from his spot in the passenger seat. You were going to be okay. You had to be okay. Because he may not remember everything about the two of you, but he did know for certain that if something ever happened to you, he would never, ever recover from it.

He doesn’t wait for Mav once they get to the hospital, the older man opting to drop him off at the front before going to find parking. He’s practically sprinting as he goes through the emergency room doors and vaguely, he remembers you telling him about the time this happened before, when you took yourself to the hospital and ended up needing surgery. He can almost feel that panic now, and it makes what he’s already feeling worse.

“Can I help-“

“I’m looking for my wife. She was brought in because of a bee sting-“

“Sir-“

“She’s really allergic and-“

“Sir!” The nurse behind the counter snaps, raising her voice over his to get through to him. “I need your wife’s name if I’m going to find her for you.”

Oh. Yes, he thinks, your name. They need your name.

It’s the first time he’s said your full name, and your first and his last name feel so right coming off his tongue. But he can’t focus on that right now, giving all of his attention to the nurse who is typing so slowly.

Before she can even hit enter, though, he hears his callsign echo behind him. He spins, heart racing with anxiety, and spots Nat making her way over to him. She gives the annoyed nurse a kind, charming smile as she grabs Bradley by the arm

“Sorry about him, ma’am. I got him from here.”

She pulls him away without another word, heading toward the hallway off the packed waiting room.

“Is she okay? Nat, is-“

“She’s fine, Rooster. Coming down from the adrenaline rush that the epinephrine gave her, but she’ll be okay.”

“What about-“

Nat stops in front of a closed door, lowering her voice. “Bradley. She’s okay.”

He’s pushing past her before she even finishes, spotting you on the bed through the glass and half drawn curtain. You look so small amongst the crinkly white sheets, still in the clothes you wore to brunch. Your makeup is a bit smudged and your eyes are red and he hates to think that you were scared enough to start crying. You’re holding an oxygen mask in your hand at your side.

“Hi baby.” Even your voice sounds more pitched. He’s quick to make it to your side.

Your breathing is slightly elevated, and the heart monitor is beating a little bit faster than he thinks is normal. He grabs the hand holding the mask, placing it over your mouth to start providing you with the supplemental air again. You make a small sound of surprise, but take in a deep breath of it anyway before pushing his hand away.

“I’m okay.”

But your hands are shaking and your eyes are wider than normal. The skin that he can see is splotchy with hives.

He looks back at Nat, who is still hovering in the doorway, an eyebrow arched and a small smirk on her face. He ignores the look. “Can you grab a doctor?”

You protest from the bed, but Bradley doesn’t waiver. With a fond roll of her eyes, Nat disappears from view.

“Bradley. Sweetheart.” You grip his wrist, trying to get him to focus on you. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You’re in the emergency room because you went into anaphylactic shock. You are not fine.”

“But I am,” you insist, smiling softly at him, even as your body trembles as it works to burn through the adrenaline that was injected into it, “medicine worked just fine.”

The door slides open before he can respond, an attending doctor who looks like he’s been up for longer than is healthy and in wrinkled green scrubs introducing himself as he walks in.

“Is she okay?” Bradley demands immediately, and the tired man looks startled for a moment at how abrupt the question was. Bradley stares at him, his eyes wide and unblinking as he waits for the answer. His heart is still pounding in his chest. He feels you tangle one of your hands with one of his and he squeezes back when he feels the pressure from you. He knows you’re trying to reassure him.

“And you are…?”

“I’m her husband,” he answers easily, the words falling off his tongue like he had said them a thousand times before. You suck in a small breath and tighten your grip on his hand again.

“Ah,” the doctor hums, flipping through the chart he’s holding. Bradley wonders if all non-military hospitals move this slowly or if it was just because of how anxious he is at this moment, but he really, really needs him to answer his question.

“Is she okay?” he repeats.

“Bradley,” you murmur, but he keeps his eyes trained on the man in the scrubs and white coat.

“She responded well to the epinephrine that was administered by the paramedics who brought her in,” he finally says, looking up from the chart and taking a step toward your side. He stops when he sees that Bradley doesn’t move an inch. He sighs, switching direction to go to your other side instead. “How are you feeling Mrs. Bradshaw?”

You answer his questions as they come, Bradley paying rapt attention the whole time. Your throat doesn’t feel tight anymore. You aren’t lightheaded, but you do feel a little shortness of breath. You feel jittery - wired, almost. You’re both assured that it’s completely normal as the drug works its way out of your system. They can give you something to try and calm you down, and they want you to stay for a few hours to make sure you don’t go back into the allergic reaction once the epinephrine has worn off. The thought makes his blood run cold.

“Should she stay overnight?” he asks, but the doctor shakes his head no.

“The standard observation timeslot should be just fine, Mr. Bradshaw. But we’ll make sure you both know what to look out for when you leave.”

He walks out without saying much else. Bradley feels you tug on his hand, his name leaving your lips in a whisper. He meets your gaze and he watches as your eyes soften even more.

“Sit down, honey.”

He listens to you, dragging the chair beside your bed as close as possible. He rests his elbows on the mattress beside you, holding your hand tightly between both of his.

“I’m okay,” you repeat again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your fingers and taking a deep breath. “I…this really scared me.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say softly, running your thumb over one of the hands holding yours, soothing the skin and helping his racing heart. Your touch is like magic to him, providing an almost instant calm that he desperately needed. Guilt curled in his stomach, knowing that even now, you’re the one helping him.

“I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around.”

“We comfort each other, baby. That’s how this works.”

“Why didn’t you have your epipen on you, Pumpkin? Don’t you normally carry it?” he asks quietly, a touch of urgency still in his tone. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you were alone and this happened, with no one around to call 911. He could have lost you, all over a silly little bee sting, and he can’t wrap his mind around that. He just got you. He had had you, he knew. But he was just getting you back.

“I switched bags this morning and forgot to take it out of the pocket of the old one, I guess. I haven’t had to use one since college. I forget about it, sometimes.”

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to rid himself of the worst case scenarios. He’s the one that normally reminds you to always have it on you, he thinks. He vaguely recalls having a spare in the glove compartment of the Bronco, and in the drawer in the kitchen and maybe one in the bedroom, too.

Not for the first time, he curses his memory and the accident that took it from him.

When he opens his eyes, his look is intense, “Never again, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, but Bradley shakes his head.

“No. Promise me. Please?”

Your lips part and you stare at him for a long moment. His gaze never waivers from yours. He needs you to listen to him. To hear him.

“I promise,” you finally whisper.

He rises from the chair, pressing a kiss to your lips. He keeps his forehead against yours, breathing you in.

“Will you lay with me?” You ask quietly, shy in a way reminiscent of when you asked him to say I love you on the porch all those weeks ago. He hates that you felt you even needed to ask.

With no hesitation, he maneuvered himself into the small bed beside you. He kisses your forehead once, twice, three times, holding you as tightly as he could. Your body still gave the occasional tremble but they had lessened now, your breaths coming a little bit easier, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease.

“Sorry for being a mess,” he whispers into your hair.

“Don’t,” you whisper back, and he feels you shake your head from where it’s tucked into his chest. “It means you care.”

The words are there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t say them, not yet or here. You deserve more than a frantic hospital room confession.

-------

Part Nine :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! We're nearing the end, but I think everyone is really going to like the next chapter. Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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jakes3resin · 9 months ago

Note

Can you tell us about your other fics if you already have an established plot?

I'd love to! So there's quite a number of them I won't lie. I tend to get inspired by the randomest things. These are all in various stages of plotted out and written.

A/B/O fic (technically turning into 3 fics) that follows Bucky & Buck through the war, described below.

Courting Arc (top of my list to finish writing) - Bucky POV as he is anonymously courted during his time in the states just before he gets sent over to England (there's a post I'm basing my writing around I'll link it in a moment) <- published

England Arc- a quick look into their lives as they run missions with A/B/O elements (this will be pretty short I think) mostly snippets of scenes from the show just now with Omega Bucky and Alpha Buck <- published

Stalag Arc - Omega Bucky and his awful time in Germany. Here is where we see what being an Omega in war is really like in my omegaverse. Bucky is the highest ranked Omega in the camp meaning he's technically 'in charge' of keeping those Omegas in line. He's tested by his heats, keeping his pack together, and finally by a German order that could tear Buck and Bucky apart. This is a big fic for me to prepare for, and I'm building up to it by writing the Courting Arc first <- next on deck

Biker Gale AU (my beloved, genuinely obsessed with this AU) - this was inspired by one of hogans-heroes AUs. So, Gale leads an outlaw-esque biker club, and Bucky used to be his right hand (and lover) except one day out of the blue he just disappeared. Gale does everything he can to find Bucky, but there's no trail to follow, no clues to put together, nothing. Fast forward about two years, Bucky arrives on Curt's doorstep holding a small baby with the brightest blue eyes and prettiest blonde curls and begs Curt to watch his baby for 5 days. 5 days later Bucky comes back in town bruised to all hell with the FBI on his tail with their own nefarious reasons for tracking Bucky down. Bucky has nowhere else to turn especially since when he comes back to Curt's he finds Gale holding his little baby. (This could be A/B/O I haven't decided, but it's definitely at least mpreg)

Amnesia fic - this is based off of a post I made about the effects of Bucky getting hit over the head like 3 times in the span of two days, its... somewhere (edit: here). But its about Bucky waking up with no memory of who he is just before he gets interrogated by the Germans and sent to Stalag Luft III where he meets a man that his heart rejoices at seeing but his mind doesn't recognize. Buck of course has to deal with the love of his life forgetting him.

Magic AU - Bucky is a Scamander and its now everyone's problem to deal with it. The tag to find all of my ramblings for it is magic au (not that Tumblr's tag system works), and @getinthefuckingjaeger just wrote the best ever fic of Bucky and Theseus so go read that.

I've also got a few paragraphs written of Foster Kid Bucky somewhere but that might never see the light of day (that's also from a hogans-heroes AU) where Bucky is a jaded teenager just trying to make it to 18 to get out of his shitty foster placement when in comes Buck whose mother finally divorced his dad, got custody of her kids, and moved to her hometown to escape. It's about a Bright Buck meeting a Jaded Bucky (a flip on their usual dynamics)

Blonde Bucky AU - I wrote a blurb on the Twin Cleven AU post, and the idea of Bucky bleaching his hair on a drunken night out with Curt and Bubbles has haunted me since <- published as well

There might be more? But these are the only ones I can remember off the top of my head right now that are plotted out beyond oh that'd be a good fic. I have a lot of time spent sitting and waiting right now, so I have the ability to write a multitude of fics. I'm happy to talk about any of these fics if you want to come into my inbox or my messages.

#asks #my writing #buck x bucky #clegan

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honnelander · 3 months ago

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Hi there! Hope you are doing well. I was just wondering if you quit the “go fish” series. If not— there’s no rush. I just wanted to check in and ask how you are and share my compliments for you. I really like your writing style and how you beautifully capture every moment. Sometimes I even go back to reread your go fish series and appreciate how well you paint the atmosphere and each character’s essence. Are there any authors you take inspiration from or books you recommend?

If you are nervous about finishing the series— don’t be. You’re clearly gifted and should trust your intuition. Remember to take care of yourself first. I think your audience will adore anything you post, so don’t stress over it. And if you have a writer’s block but are still pushing through it, good luck. Thanks again for sharing your meticulously crafted work with the community.

hi there 🥹 thanks for checking in (you and everyone else who has been kind enough to leave asks in my inbox and comments on my posts)

I haven’t quit the series, it’s just taking me a hell of a lot longer to finish it than I ever expected due to a lot of different things. I had hit a writer’s block, have scrapped what I’ve started a few times, or didn’t like the idea I had and I didn’t want to rush anything or put something out there that didn’t feel authentic to the series that has touched thousands of people 🥹😭 I want to get this right.

Since writing has been always something I’ve enjoyed getting lost in, I thought now would be a good time to get back into it, especially since I have a lot of personal stuff going on.

Monthsssss ago I had finally started writing the next part for go fish! that I absolutely loved and then, quite literally had forgotten about it. I just went back to my work and re-read it, and it’s already 4.9 k words! I would love to just post the parts that are finished, because the actual confession everyone’s been waiting for months for isn’t done and will probably be another 3,000 words or so. (I tend to get carried away 😅)

So let me know what you guys would prefer! The finished part is 2.3k words. Would you guys like for me to post that? Or just wait longer to read everything at once? It’s definitely be over 6k words, which is how massive the last part was….(I honestly just might post what’s finished bc I feel bad to have left everyone hanging for so long 🥲)

And thank you, thank you, thank YOU for your (and everyone’s!) kind compliments and high praise- I really don’t feel deserving of any of it but it all truly means so much to me. 🥹🤍

To answer your question, I actually don’t really have an author or inspiration that I draw from 🤔 I used to read a ton as a kid (books and fic) and I guess that has helped me find my writing style? I also write things in a way that scratches an itch I have when I look for fic to read. I want just enough details to set the scene and the feelings of the characters but not be bogged down with too much that it drags the pace down 🫠 I’ll never forget when I read IT by Stephen King and it just dragged on FOREVER bc he would write so much word vomit that (in my opinion) took me out of the story and frustrated me. I wanted to get to the good parts but also not miss anything important, so when I write I try to get to the point 😂😅

#asks #go fish! au

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eggwishing · 5 months ago

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eebsiebeebsie how d i draw such fun sketchies like u do. how do u loosen up and get da creative juices flowing. how do u stick to ur style have u just found how u like 2 draw and feels good. whas it something u cultivated on purpose or just happened. how do u not forget how 2 draw every time u go to do it ( mayb this isnt a problem for u but it is for mee lol) Sawrry if this is a lot of questions for ur beautiful mind. i lov ur art and ur very inspiring 2 me always 🫶

!!! I just remembered this ask was in my inbox, oops …. Sorry anon🙏 it’s been a couple days!! Sometimes i just find myself in a mood to make art so i turn on music and draw whatever comes to mind first. Usually it;s like a dragon or some other creature, and then i go on from there after warming up. but other days it’s tougher than that. i’ll have to sit myself down and put away all distractions and force myself to get over the hurdle of getting started. Then i usually get into a flow. Sometimes i don’t so i give myself a minute before trying again. I really should be doing that right now lol.. i got things i need to do… but this isn’t about that!! Moving on!! i don’t really try to Stick to a style exactly, it kind of just comes out how it comes out. Sometimes i Will see cool art that i do like and note what about it appeals to me, and then try to incorporate that into what i draw the next time i sit down to do it. My style is incrementally & constantly changing in small ways n it happens both naturally as i improve at drawing certain things and unnaturally as i sprinkle in bits of other people’s styles. The main idea is just drawing what you think looks good !

sometimes i do forget things i’ve previously learned, but that just comes from going for a while without using it. Sometimes i go too long drawing simple paw-looking hands and have to take a minute and do a handful of hand studies to refresh. The best way to retain what you’ve learned is to use it regularly. It’s like a muscle 😊🙏 do some studies, then have fun making some drawings of characters you like or locations while applying it. i enjoy drawing anatomy on its own so i often just have pages of muscle sketches and weird poses. The way you learn is also important. if you’re following along & copying something without analyzing why it looks that way in that pose, or at that angle, it may make it harder in the long run to retain anything useful. Make cheat sheets for yourself. Leave little notes next to drawings with tips or explanations that may help you later. doing that helped a lot when i was first learning^^

also give yourself ample time to warm up. Sometimes you just need to go through a few rough sketches before it starts to come back to you. I used to get really frustrated, thinking i had suddenly forgotten everything , when really i just had to give my art brain a second to wake up. Patience and perseverance are key

thank you so much for the ask and your sweet words ^^ i’m really honored that my art inspired you, and i hope you’re able to get something useful out of what i’ve said!!

#Asks #Not art #advice

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ts1m1kas · 1 year ago

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Original Ask: how about kostas thinking his girlfriend forgot his birthday, literally everyone wished him a happy birthday but she didn't, and after training he comes back a little moody but finds a sweet cake baked with his girlfriend apologizing cause she wanted it to be surprise!! (@findingnemosworld)

Word Count: 1085 words

(author's note: thank you for the request my love !! i've been waiting desperately for a kostas request, so this one really inspired me 🫶)

Kostas woke up with a smile on his face. The sun shone through the curtains, illuminating the bedroom he shared with his girlfriend. However, today was extra special. It was his birthday. Kostas loved his birthday. He enjoyed nothing more than spending time with his family and the celebrations that came with the occasion.

He picked up his phone from his bedside table and began to reply to the mass of birthday wishes. His instagram inbox was the most full. Fans from all over the world took time out of their day to wish him happy birthday. It warmed his heart to know that he was appreciated and supported by so many people.

Kostas turned on his side and gently pulled his girlfriend closer to him. He decided to wake her up by pressing soft kisses onto the skin of her neck. Eventually, Y/N woke up and laid her head on Kostas’ chest.

“Good morning, baby,” she whispered tiredly, “Did you sleep well?”

Kostas was confused. He had expected her to say happy birthday and press a kiss to his lips. He decided not to dwell on it and chalked it down to her early morning tiredness.

“Yes, I slept fine.” He replied, trying not to let his annoyance show.

“Are you sure, you seem irritated?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I need to get ready for training now.”

“Okay my love,” she replied, smiling up at him as he got out of bed.

Kostas just looked away, knowing the hurt would be written across his face. He moved over to the wardrobe to busy himself with getting dressed. Y/N watched him intently. She always said he looked his best in the morning.

Once he was ready to go, he said a brief goodbye to Y/N and left. As he drove to the training ground he mulled over the events of the morning. Surely she hadn’t forgotten his birthday? Y/N was never the type of person to forget important dates. She always remembered every detail about the people she held dear to her.

The drive was over before he knew it. Kostas pulled into a parking space, grabbed his training bag off of the backseat of his car and headed inside the building.

The AXA training ground was one of Kostas’ favourite places to be. Football had been his passion since he was a small boy playing on the streets of Greece. He never in a million years thought he would be where he was now. The peaceful feeling overtook him as he made his way to the changing rooms.

Pushing open the door, Kostas walked in. “Hello birthday boy!” he heard Andrew cheer.

"Come on everyone, let's sing him a song!"

As his teammates began to sing happy birthday, he felt instantaneously better. At least they had remembered his birthday.

Meanwhile, Y/N felt awful. She knew it was Kostas’ birthday, but in order to surprise him she had to pretend she’d forgotten. She also had to pretend she didn’t see the wounded look on her boyfriend’s face as he came to the conclusion that she really hadn’t remembered his special day.

As soon as Kostas had left the house, Y/N jumped into action. She blew up balloons and littered them down the hallway. She stuck up banners in every room and hung up bunting on the doorways. Once she was satisfied with the decorations, she checked her phone.

Y/N had ordered a custom cake for Kostas from his favourite bakery. She meticulously planned the design before sending her ideas to the bakers. She had finally received the text that told her it was ready for collection.

Pulling on one of Kostas’ hoodies, she set off to the bakery. Once she had arrived, the workers brought the cake out for her to look at. It had a white icing base with blue detailing to reflect the flag of the country he had grown up in. Written on top of the cake was ‘Happy Birthday Kostas!’. Y/N paid for the cake and they packaged it up for her. After thanking them for their help, she began her walk home.

Kostas had just finished training. Luckily for him, the training session hadn’t been too gruelling and he wasn’t too sweaty. He changed out of his athletic gear and into the tracksuit he had arrived in. He then began his journey home.

Pulling into the driveway of his house, he exited the car, locked it and pulled out his house keys. He was still feeling sour from his morning, although the team had done a good job at cheering him up. Unlocking the door, his eyes widened when he saw the decorations. Y/N was sitting at the bottom of the staircase and upon seeing her boyfriend enter the house, jumped up and ran into his arms.

Kostas dropped his bags and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend’s middle. He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and smiled down at her.

“Happy birthday handsome,” she said, looking up at him, reciprocating the smile he was directing at her.

"I knew you wouldn't forget."

“How could I forget one of the most special days of the year?”

This elicited a laugh from Kostas as he leant down to give his girlfriend a proper kiss. She smiled into the kiss and when they broke apart, grabbed his hand and began to lead him to the kitchen.

“I have another surprise for you.”

Once she had pulled Kostas into the kitchen, she motioned for him to stand in front of the box on their kitchen counter. Kostas looked up at her, giving her a look that read; should I open it? She nodded at him, urging him to continue.

Unwrapping the ribbon, Kostas pulled the lid of the box open and raked his eyes over the cake that lay inside. Looking up at his girlfriend and back down at the cake again, a warm feeling spread through his body. Kostas had never been so in love with anyone in his life.

He moved over and pulled Y/N into another hug. Once they pulled away, Kostas took a deep breath, “Thank you so much γλυκό κορίτσι. I love you.”

“I love you too, Kostas Tsimkas. I’d never forget your birthday.”

The pair then grabbed forks and sat at their dining table to eat the cake. The cake was not only a symbol of Kostas’ birthday, but a symbol of the love the couple shared.

#kostas tsimikas x reader #kostas tsimikas #fanfiction #fanfic #football #liverpool football club #lfc #hot footballers #liverpool fc #request #by ts1m1kas #🧡#kostas tsimikas blurb #kostas tsimikas imagine

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jumpywhumpywriter · 2 months ago

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Living Weapon Whumpee *BONUS Scene* part 1

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, aftermath of being a weapon/semi-retired weapon, lost family

GUESS WHAT EVERYONE?!? I got a message in my inbox about this storyline and someone wanting to know more about Weapon Whumpee's past and his fractured memories, and *BOOM* -- inspiration!! So I now have a bonus story in motion that takes place after the main novel, where Whumpee is now on a quest to find out who he really is and how Leader turned him into Weapon -- and he might learn more than he bargained for. Enjoy! (Other sections will be posted soon)

Fitting into the rhythm with Flint's men was... rough. But Whumpee was starting to figure it out, and the men he interacted with seemed less afraid of him each day, which was progress. Some would even initiate friendly conversations with him every now and then, a thing that usually never happened. Max was normally the only one who dared approach him. It was slowly healing something inside Whumpee, and he caught himself smiling just a little more frequently.

But conflict wasn't over. Now that the war with the remainder of Leader's army was over, Flint was sending out teams to invade and demolish every remaining base that Leader had to erase the darkness Leader had brought to the world. There were still prisoners that needed to be freed, according to Flint's spies. And valuable information kept at those bases.

Apparently after losing Whumpee, Leader had started trying to create another living weapon like him. But hadn't succeeded, at least as far as Flint's informants knew. Whumpee was the only Weapon ever made.

Whumpee had been looking forward to retiring from the frontlines to exist in peace -- no more fighting -- but memories plagued his dreams, ones that raised so many questions and drove him mad some nights with unexplainable emotions.

But most often showing up in those dreams, was the familiar-yet-unfamiliar woman. Blonde hair, blue eyes. It felt like a window in his mind, a crack in the wall he could peek through and catch glimpses of what Leader had taken from him. Never enough to fully remember, but enough to make him desperate to find out more.

Feelings of comfort and safety always followed those particular visions, and every time he awoke after them he felt the strong sensation of loss, for an unknown reason. Of missing something important to him. He could occasionally even hear a voice from the blonde-hair woman, always soft and sweet.

Miranda, he remembered. His wife. He'd had a family before Leader came and stole it away from him.

But an opportunity finally came for answers. Flint had informed him that another team would be sent out soon to take out one of Leader's few remaining bases, and it was one Whumpee had occasionally been transported to as Weapon. Which meant... it might have some files on the experiments he went through, what Leader did to him. Maybe he could find information on how to reverse the damage to his mind and get his memories back, how to heal that permanently broken part of himself.

Whumpee wanted to find out more about himself, he needed to know what had happened to him. So... he offered to go with the infiltration team himself and help out. Flint had reasoned it wasn't necessary to put himself in a potential situation where he'd have to fight and defend himself considering there were likely stray enemies there, but Whumpee had insisted.

And so he found himself arriving at one of the last enemy bases with a new team, Max and Jake being the only ones he'd ever gone on a mission with before. The mission that had resulted in Max getting shot, and Jake getting a smashed head. All because of Reed's betrayal.

The two soldiers had recovered well, but Max now had a slight limp that was permanent from the nerve damage in his leg. But he was still a functional fighter.

Whumpee's stomach twisted in knots as Jake led the team into the enemy base. They ran into a few enemies that were easily incapacitated thanks to Whumpee, and quickly seized control of the small building. The instant there was no more threat Whumpee peeled away from the team, despite Max calling after him in confusion. But he had a single-minded focus, knowing the layout of this place like the back of his hand.

He headed straight for the room where all important files were kept, busting the locked door open with a broad shoulder. He didn't care that Max was chasing after him. Didn't care that he was breaking rules by abandoning the team before Jake gave the order to split up.

Whumpee didn't hesitate to start aggressively ripping open filing cabinets, tearing out manilla folders by the handfuls to quickly scan the labels before throwing them on the floor.

(Main series Masterlist) Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @cepheusgalaxy

@theforeverdyingperson @dragongodryss

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northern-passage · 2 years ago

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honestly same...I also only stick to reading the same ifs I've been reading since like 2 years ago + as a disabled lgbt person this community has gotten to toxic to interact wth tbh

hmmm putting this under a read more but here's some ramblings about my personal experience as well as some advice if anyone wants it

before i started writing tnp, when i was just a reader, it was very easy to curate my space and avoid a lot of the nastier people (especially back when the forums were the main space for people to talk about IF. i didn't go on the forums at all) and i was very much outside of the fandom and followed only like one artist whose recommendations i started off with before finding more stuff on my own.

once i became an author though it is impossible to avoid certain groups of people and it's really hard to hold on to that comfortable space. over the last like 3 years now my audience has definitely changed and dwindled a lot due to my.... Big personality but before that i had to endure a lot of harassment, people stalking me, people harassing my friends just for being my friend, almost constant transphobia and racism, and even now i still have people that seem to just camp in my inbox waiting for any opportunity to try and hurt me/get a reaction out of me.

i've been pretty open about all of this stuff happening too which most people also don't like, though that seems to be pretty standard across any fandom when you try to talk about how bad they are. i'm never really surprised when other authors delete without any warning or they just slowly stop posting and never come back. it's definitely something i've wanted to do more than once and still think about sometimes. even now after finally seeming to find my "niche" and a more understanding audience, it's really hard and i struggle with finding inspiration and motivation because of how people have treated me.

unfortunately i think it's always been this way, it's the nature of sharing work online and especially with IF feeling so "collaborative" people really feel entitled to it. and i also see readers facing this same kind of harassment, too, so it's definitely not just an author problem.

my advice is to just block and ignore people as best you can and just stay in your own little bubble with your friends or at least people that you trust. if you're an author going through any of the things i mentioned then just know there are a lot of other authors that have had to go through it, too, and that you should also just block and ignore to the best of your ability. just because you're an author doesn't mean you have to tolerate it. i used to respond to a lot of messages which is why i feel that a lot of my harassment lasted for so long, because they thought it was "funny" to upset me, but the more you respond and give them attention the more they'll keep doing it. so just block anons and move on (i know i make it sound so simple. trust me i used to be really bad about it, now i try to take at least a day or two before responding and usually by that time i realize how stupid it is and i just delete it without any fanfare)

at the end of the day though it's your decision, and your well-being comes first before anything else. i say this to both authors and readers, there's no reason to force yourself to stay in a place that makes you uncomfortable or is triggering. sometimes it's better to just let go and move on, though i know that's easier said than done. i'm a prime example as someone who still logs into tumblr daily despite trying really hard not to do that.

and i'm not saying to give up on your work, but rather that writing privately is always an option, and it's what i've been doing now with my other projects ever since i took siren's call down. i know the desire for outside validation can be overwhelming but i think it's important to remember that you should be writing this for yourself first and that there's no harm in keeping your work private until you're ready. tumblr is fun but there's also a lot of problems that can be difficult to deal with while you're also trying to keep motivation and creativity up to write your story, and it can be really discouraging.

like i said, your first priority should be yourself, and if you have to step back away from tumblr/fandom then you should & you shouldn't feel guilty about it.

all of that to say that there are nice people out there, too, i've made really good friends here and i really value their friendship and their understanding, especially when i was going through the worst of it. and there are a lot of readers who have been very kind to me and that have sent me very nice messages and drawn lovely art over the years and i always try to focus on that over everything else.

it can be really easy to get overwhelmed by all the negativity and hostility which is why it's so important to find your people and be supportive of each other.

#obviously negative discussion under the break #i might delete this later #the only thing i dont really have any advice for is the stalking. im still dealing with fallout from that #and i don't know if it's something that i'll ever be able to get over or really feel closure about #ask #anonymous

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whorediaries-09 · 1 year ago

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put your life out on the line"

hello my loveliest people. thank you so much for 400 followers.

i hold this event for the festive season knocks at our door, the cold air biting our noses and the laziness forces us to stay under the warmth of our blankets.

so grab your cup of hot chocolate and favorite snacks as i host my early winter event.

the event lasts from 20-11-23 to 3-12-23.

the slut club

you want in but you just can't win

while sending in requests please be nice and care enough to write a greeting. i'm human too and being kind helps. please be specific about your request. there are certain characters i don't write for, and you will find it in my navigation (pinned post and linked above).

please excuse me if i don't write your request. it may happen if the request did not hit my creative spot.

please request through the inbox. if you directly message me, there are chances i may miss them.

❁❁☆☆

you want in but you just can't win 🌠- this one remains the oldest one in the book. send me a trope along with an emotion and a character and i'll write you a blurb or a fic.

for example: friends to lovers (jealousy) with james potter.

a little party never hurt no one 🧨- send me a request with a character and an au! and i'll write you a blurb or a fic.

for example: cult!au with sirius black.

shining like gun metal 🚅- this blog celebrates all your horny thoughts without shaming you. send in a request for a smut blurb or a fic.

for example: use of collars during sex with billy russo.

you try to ignore them 🪻- send me a request with a character, offer a little plot for an angsty blurb or a fic.

for example: unrequited love with remus lupin.

'cause you want more 🎗️- send me a request with a character for a fluff blurb or a fic.

for example: lily finding out she smells reader in her brew of amortentia.

so you stay out late 🧭- send me a request for a moodboard. please remain specific with a trope and a particular emotion.

for example: arranged marriage with sirius black.

you're crazy all the time 🎇- send me a request for a dark themed blurb or a fic. remember if you request this, you're probably going to get nsfw content. so please be specific.

for example: dark!dorian gray x artist!reader

ᓚᘏᗢ ❁❁

here are some prompt lists by amazing creators you can use for inspiration.

yandere prompt list fluff prompt list angst prompt list smut prompt list

tropes

au!'s

tagging lovely people who have participated in my events before; @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @dreamalittledreamofthemarauders @eternallybipanicking

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inkedwingss · 7 months ago

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For the ones joining my new writing-only blog, my baby Substack: I will upload one poem every day for the next 15 days, so expect some e-mails in your inbox! :)

If you have been here for a while, you must know I was in desperate need of a writing-only platform — in fact, if you remember, I even tried a side blog, but that didn't work for me (and the novel is cooking atm). So, for the sake of my peace of mind and my writing, I will upload all the poetry in here to this sparkling, brand-new Substack.

After a few days on that platform, though, I can already tell I'm not going to follow what I perceived to be the pattern. Do I feel like a fish out of the water? Yes. Do I plan to change? No. Is it good for ''marketing''? Nope! But I literally can't force myself into a non-authentic space. It gives me anxiety.

I believe in using the platform instead of letting the platform use me. I'm free. That is unnegotiable. So, I will do my best on my own terms, as many things annoy me about the writing culture of these times we live in and I refuse to wear the halter. Oh, I promise I'll never try to coach you, start mothering you, or try to sell you a "how to write poetry in 5 steps" guide. No hooking titles. I won't join the experts-on-shit FOMO cult to prey on other people's triggers or to feel ''good'' about myself at the expense of others. This type of thing actually creeps me out.

But I do promise we can just resonate and inspire each other by being honest and raw, by having a brave heart so we can keep being kind, and by pursuing truth, beauty and art... How about that? We can enjoy the vibe and cultivate this appreciation of words! We can even chat as writer friends, as reader friends or just as friends friends — and encourage each other through real, second-intention-free presence.

If my writing doesn't touch you, it's fine. If yours doesn't touch me, it's fine. It's not personal, it's not a bad thing. We are all finding our voice. The day you think you know everything, you're dead, so we have to keep searching, moving and growing together! How many times have I needed the words from @cssnder @goodluckclove @hersurvival or @remnantofabrokensoul, and so many others around here (iykyk)? And I'm very grateful for every word and idea you all shared here in this amazing space, helping me to keep going, to break from my shell and lay another brick in the foundations of what I want to create.

That is the beauty of it. Creation demands connection. That is respect and human experience. And I repeat it: sometimes what I create won't touch anyone but me.

Oh, but what if it does!

Well, that being said: I actually do have some crazy ideas for the Substack. At first, the focus was on creating some substantial and self-indulgent content about literature (I like to study). Although I still think that's important, exciting and valid, Poetry is making its way through my inked fingers more and more, demanding space, attention, and voice; so I will not neglect this calling.

What about the future? I don’t know. Paid subscriptions for specific academic literature content? Prophetic, devotional newsletters?Generating debates on books for the community? Just poetry that you can read for free and not engage at all because I can be quite antisocial at times? Digging around some old ancient advice on writing? None of the above? Anything is possible, really. For now, I will slow down and avoid contributing to the hamster wheel of modern despair for the speed of light living and likes.

For now, poetry, please.

And tea. Lots of tea, because it's raining.

The grass looks so green!

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eyra · 1 year ago

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20 questions for Fic Writers

thank you to everyone who tagged me and I'm sorry it's taken me a month to do this.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

25 plus a few that I've posted anonymously. bonus points if anyone ever finds them.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

348,031

3. What fandoms do you write for?

just HP/marauders these days

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

A Brief History of Dragons - people like this Remus I think.

Beneath a Big Blue Sky - my love letter to Yorkshire.

Statten Park - an old one but I do actually still like this, it's a lot of fun.

Sunshine on Leith - can we knock this out of the top five already please.

And a Hedgehog in a Pine Tree - I'm so surprised that this is here, it's such an inconsequential little thing. people like Christmas I suppose.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

oh god I try I really do, every email that comes through with a new comment makes my day but I'm terrible for leaving them all unanswered in my inbox. I'm sorry to everyone who has ever left a comment that I haven't responded to.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The Proctor House for sure. A Winter, Forever Ago is pretty bleak too.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of them! probably the most joyous is something like Beneath a Big Blue Sky because you've been on a decent journey to get there. that goose threatening everyone's happiness and all.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really. one comment I do get sometimes is that the way I write Remus/Sirius is OOC and yes I agree, it absolutely is. Remus in Beneath a Big Blue Sky has nothing to do with e.g. Remus in Ullswater. those men have never even met in a bathroom. James in A Brief History of Dragons is an arsehole compared to living legend James in Beneath a Big Blue Sky. Sirius in Statten Park is a complete stranger to Sirius in Heartstones. none of them, really, have much to do with their canon counterparts. just bits here and there but I haven't read the HP books in well over a decade and I don't really remember what these characters are actually like beyond the surface-level stuff, so a lot of what I write is fairly OOC. it's all done knowingly and intentionally and I'm not going to change that.

9. Do you write smut. If so, what kind?

oh gosh a little bit a little bit. please understand that I'm a repressed Englishwoman and I'm trying my hardest. Seventeen Hours and Statten Park are both fairly smutty. I'd like to write more but I'm awkward af.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

no not really my thing but I do like to take other stories and plonk marauders characters into similar worlds - Ullswater was very much inspired by If We Were Villains.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

no but people keep nabbing them to get them printed and then apparently sell them? so actually maybe yes. grow up.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no because I'm a control freak and I don't allow my work to be replicated. sorry about it. I think people have done it for personal offline projects though and that's absolutely fine.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

back in the day I used to co-write with my then-partner but it was just bits and pieces, not full fics. again, I'm a control freak so I'd struggle with this. I need to get my own way always.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

right so I should say Remus/Sirius but honestly... Remus/James just reaches places other pairings simply cannot. so it's a toss up.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

oh god how long have you got. I think one of the reasons I dislike Sunshine on Leith so much is because I put that stupid note at the end promising a third part in a few weeks. that was in 2020 and I've still not done it. help.

16. What are your writing strengths?

description, particularly when it comes to: natural landscapes, buildings, food, weather. I think I'm alright at witty dialogue too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

actually writing anything down. also action, can't do action to save my life.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't think I've done it but I'd give it a go.

19. First Fandom you wrote for?

I think it was LOTR and yes it probably still exists somewhere on an old desktop computer at my dad's house and yes that thought keeps me up at night.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

The Proctor House and Beneath a Big Blue Sky

#ask game #ask

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multiversemusings · 2 years ago

Text

Your Heart Beats in Mine

Originally requested by @strangelockd Pairing: Sinister Strange x FReader Rating: M (18+ Only) Warnings: Mentions of abuse, violence and mental dystopia Genre: Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst Word Count: 5,270 Plot: Sinister wakes to the sound of the incursion growing angered outside of the Sanctum, making him reflect on how he got to where he is. And how he is recovering, thanks to the beautiful woman who he has growing affection for. But when he goes to speak to her about it, he finds her asleep in a very familiar article of clothing, and the last wall of ice around his heart shatters. Song Inspiration: See Who I Am by Within Temptation

A/N: I haven't done MxF smut in a VERY long time. But for you, my dear moonflower, I am very happy to try my hand at it once more. I truly hope that this caffeine induced creature is everything you are hoping for. Thank you for being my inspiration, this night.

All writings belong to @multiversemusings. Do not steal, repost as your own or take credit for my work. If you have a request, please put it in my inbox!

"Come into my world: See through my eyes."

The rumbling woke him up. Not that he slept very deeply ever anyhow, not since the world had begun to rip itself into shreds what felt like eons ago now. He turned his head to look out the remnants of the window towards the vortex that was the incursion which now ruled over his world and watched the lightning that crackled through it with minute interest. His attention to it didn't last long and he rose from his worn mattress, tossing the covers aside as he swung his legs to the side of the bed and stood up. As he walked towards the door of his room, his robes materialized from the indigo magic contained inside of his body, hiding away the three puncture scars that adorned his stomach and sides. He did his best not to think of the way that the fence had felt tearing through his skin and his organs, especially since he was now mostly back in his proper mindset. That variant of himself had done him a favor, as badly as he hated to admit it. Not long after he had managed to get himself off of the fence and back into the Sanctum to recover after the bastard used it for a ritual space to get back to his own world, he was graced by another visitor. This one not a variant of himself, but the one who would remove what was left of the Darkhold's influence over him. He had been wary of her, tried to send her away from his destroyed and lifeless world for fear not only of what he may do to her, but because she was a light. A light that would attract too many creatures that would come after her here in this desolate world. But no matter how hard he tried to push her away, she just stayed; refusing to see him as a monster but instead as a broken and lonely man. And the more she showed her determination to stay at his side, the more he realized that she was chipping away at the walls of ice he had built up around his heart after losing Christine so many times in so many branches of the Multiverse.

He was strong enough now to let it go. He had never been one to believe in destiny, and even now through all that he had experienced, there was a part of him that still didn't. But he believed now that there was a master plan for everyone and that maybe just because he didn't believe in destiny didn't mean it didn't believe in him. Because when he looked at her, he felt warmth returning to his body. There was music in the ambience around the once cold and empty Sanctum. He now heard a voice that told him to not give up on her, to keep her there with him so that he could continue to get back to who he once was. She helped him lose track of time, helped him see color again, and to remember that the heart he had long shield away from the world and everyone that he met while Dreamwalking still beat in his own chest. He had taken her on as a student originally, teaching her magic to protect herself to prepare for the inevitable attacks. But through the long nights of helping her translate old tomes and learn the difference between attack and protection runes, he began to realize that she was much more than just a student. Still, he didn't allow himself to get to close out of fear of what may happen to her due to the grip the Darkhold had on him then. But his walls were very thin, and he knew that this may very well be the time that he gave into the longing he had been hiding for her. He knew she adored him: She made that very plainly obvious the night that she had refused to stop holding him when he was trying to fight off the last of the grip the Darkhold had on him. He had tried to make her let go, accidentally setting off one of his spells that had cut her arm and even then, she didn't let go of him and simply smiled, despite the pain in her face and told him that it was all going to be okay, that she wasn't going to let him go, nor would he have to face it alone anymore. n that moment, the hold shattered. He came back to himself and the darkness and voices that had clawed at the corners of his mind receded, finally leaving him in peace. It was also the first time in years that he had profusely apologized to anyone as he healed her cut and begged for her to forgive him. Of course, she had, and she told him it was because she loved him even if he didn't love her back. That night he had spent all of the hours that he should have been sleeping pacing his room and trying to figure out how he could be at all worthy of this beautiful woman who had refused to see him as a monster. But over these however many days - or months - that he had seen her become a Master in her own rights, he decided that maybe, he didn't need to be. He just was. Returning to his current mind, he walked to the study where he knew she would undoubtedly be due to having issues with her own insomnia lately. For the nights that he woke up due to not being able to sleep soundly, she stayed up just as many because she didn't find sleep easy at all. He reached out and pressed his palm against the heavy wooden door, pushing it open as he stepped through.

"Moonflower, are y-" The words died on his lips at the sight he was greeted with.

The woman was not awake as he had expected that she would be, but inside as asleep on the chaise lounge under the reticulated gothic window, the remnants of its iron mullions casting a array of shadows down on her frame. Her beautiful dark curls haloed her peaceful features, drawing him in further to look at her sleeping form, reaching out with a hesitant hand to brush a stray curl from her cheek. As he reached down to move the book from her hand, he caught sight of something that made his heart skip a beat within his chest where he was beating. Her slowly rising and falling chest was covered in a hoodie that he recognized immediately but had not seen in years. A soft baby blue with a faded white emblem of a shield baring three crowns under the words Columbia University, he recalled looking for the hoodie for weeks some long time ago. But here it was, on the woman that he was so sure he was falling so deeply in love with, and he could no longer ignore that destiny was indeed playing its hand. And he also now knew that his resolve was gone: He needed to be with her. He allowed himself to lean forward, kissing along her neck and relishing in the small sound that she made as his beard brushing against her skin roused her from her slumber.

"Stephen?" she asked softly as her beautiful green eyes fluttered open.

"Shh, do not speak, my beautiful moonflower," he whispered warmly against her ear as his fingers trailed down her body. "If you do, I may stop. Do not make me stop."

"Please don't," she replied.

He moved as she shifted so that she was on her back and his lips trailed along her neck as she leaned her head back, letting out a breath of building pleasure. His hands traced the shape of her supple breasts, the fabric of his old hoodie hiding her body from him and preventing him from being able to fully touch her. He kissed her cheeks, the right and then the left as his hands finally reached the bottom of the hoodie and began to push it up, only for her to stop him. He pulled back to look at her with confusion until he saw the fear in her expression as she gripped his wrists tightly to the point her knuckles were white, and she trembled slightly. He chastised himself for forgetting. During one of their many late-night conversations when he had finally confessed to her why his world looked like it did, how he had been so enamored with Christine that he did things he wasn't proud of, she had also made a confession to him. Her past lovers had all been cruel to her about the size and shape of her body, reprimanding her for not being the "ideal woman" when her body was not made that way. They had kept the lights off when they used her for their own pleasure, never taking into consideration what it did to her self-esteem. And as a result, she wore multiple layers of clothing, stopped eating and tried to hide away the beauty of her body. A beauty that he knew did not just come from the skin, but from that beautiful light that he saw shining from inside of her. The very light that he was so drawn to that he now allowed himself to say that he was in love again.

"My dear, you do not need to be scared of me seeing you," he told her, his confidence that he had so many years ago suddenly returning to him. He reached up to cup her face in his hands, though still she did not let go of his wrists. "I do not think that you are anything less than a beautiful, strong woman. Because what your body shows is nothing less than a reflection of your beauty from within: A beautiful and perfect light. And if you allow me this night, I promise to show you just how wrong all of those fools were about you. Let me in, just as I have let you into my heart."

He watched tears fill her eyes and he gently pet them away with his thumbs when they spilled down her cheeks, making her close her eyes for a moment. For a moment, he feared her silence meant that he had pushed her too far too fast, until finally she let go of his wrists and reopened her eyes to look at his. She slowly and reached up to wrap her arms around his shoulders and guide him closer to her, so he instinctively leaned into her. He pressed his lips against hers just firmly enough that he could feel her returning the kiss as he kept his hands on her face for a moment longer. When he was sure she was comfortable, he maneuvered himself to sit on the lounge beside her legs and his hands slowly ran back down her sides in case she changed her mind. But when she parted from the kiss, he opened his eyes - which he hadn't realized he had closed - to look at hers again just as they reopened as well since she had closed them too, during their exchange.

"My body is yours, Stephen Strange, as much as my heart is," she told him softly, a nervous smile appearing on her face but so full of love that he almost didn't see it. "Please, take me."

With her consent now given to him, he nodded and leaned in to kiss her once again and oh, what a beautiful sensation it was. The feeling of her warm, soft lips against his own was something he had not even allowed himself to dream of until just recently and to be given it so soon afterwards shifted his entire world on it axis. Their lips moved in a synchronicity that he had never achieved with anyone prior to her, as if they were listening to the song of each other's bodies and it was matched to the same rhythm. He dared to be brave enough to give her lips the slightest of touch with the tip of his tongue, asking for permission to explore her more intimately. His heart fluttered when she moaned softly and parted her lips to allow him entry. Their tongues met in a slow, intimate caress and he could taste the Earl Grey and Madeleines on her tongue that he had undoubtedly consumed before falling asleep on the lounge. His hands resumed their exploration from earlier and found the edge of his University hoodie, slowly moving up underneath it to feel that underneath, she had on a simple t-shirt rather than the top to her Master's robes. Her abdomen tightened at the feel of his fingers moving upwards so he paused and pet the tight muscles with his thumbs to let her knows he was still safe and could tell him to stop at any time. When she relaxed, he allowed his hands to move up farther as they broke from the kiss finally to breathe. He cupped her breasts in his large hands, feeling her arch to him as she leaned her head back and moaned, exposing the beautiful planes of pale skin to him. He leaned in, licking the tendon in her neck where it was showing before kissing along it as his thumbs traced circles around her nipples, which he felt becoming erect to his touch.

"Oh gods," she moaned as she wrapped her arms more securely around his back and dug her fingers into the vest of his robes. "Stephen."

"Your voice is so beautiful," he whispered against her neck, kissing the moist skin he had been tasting. "Let me hear you, beautiful one. Do not hide away from me."

He pulled back just enough to move his hands and gather the hoodie from the bottom and pull it up, so she held her arms up and allowed him to remove it. In return, he stripped himself of his vest and vambraces, dropping them to the ground with the hoodie. He reached for the bottom of her shirt, giving her a look of inquisition, making her nod, so her slowly took it off as well and looked at her bare torso as he dropped the cloth to the floor. He tried not to let his eyes linger on any one spot too long, out of fear that she would become uncomfortable, but he was in awe of her beautiful form. The expanse of barely-there freckles that adored her sides and wrapped around her ribs towards her breasts, the beautiful dark pink areola that encompassed her hardened nipples. His eyes trailed down, taking in the softened edges of her curves and where her chest bled into her abdomen, down her navel to the dark stretchmarks that adorned her stomach. This was the sensitive spot. Immediately, when his eyes glanced them, she tried to pull her legs up and hide away from his sight. Seeing her insecurity and knowing that it would be hard to convince her with further words that she didn't need to be ashamed, he came up with a different solution. He undid the fastenings of his robes, folding the layers and hesitated when he went to open them as he looked at her in a bit of anxiousness. This got her attention, seeing that he felt the same way about something that she did, but watching as he slowly opened his time worn, faded blue-grey robes to reveal his abdomen. He shrugged them off, dropping them to the floor as he avoided her eyes for a moment, letting her look over him as he glanced down at his own body. His body had gone soft around the edges as well, due to having no need recently to fight, but the tone was still there. His chest and upper abdomen were dusted with a very fine layer of black hair that trailed down between his abs…to the healing puncture mark. His jaw set as he swallowed hard, before looking at her and her legs relaxed as a look of recognition crossed her beautiful face.

"You aren't the only one…who has something about themself that reminds them of their past, moonflower," he whispered softly, sincerely as his eyes softened and met hers finally. "I can barely stand to look at my body: These healing scabs remind me of the monster that I was. But they also remind me of who I am now. That I can begin to be comfortable with myself again, thanks to you."

He watched her shift to sit up and reach out to him, so he relaxed his shoulders, reaching up to take her hand and brought it to rest over his heart which was beating rapidly behind his ribs. She reached up with her other hand, placing it next to the first so he rests both of his on the back of her arms and watched as her lithe fingers trailed across his clavicle before moving slowly down his pectoral muscles. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes as he felt her fingers brush over his own hardened nipples, eliciting a moan to escape his lips. A chill of excitement rushed down his spine, pooling into a warmth within his Sacral Chakra and filling his lower stomach with excitement. When her fingers traced the defining edges of his abs, his stomach tightened as well and he let out a slow, shaky breath as he inclined his head and looked at her as she touched the scabs. He shivered a little when she traced the one just above his navel and then the two on his sides, watching as she came to understand and looked up at him. He gave her a smile that he hoped reflected the warmth she was filling him with and the love that he felt radiating for her inside of him that was starting to spread across his skin and make his blood burn hot. He felt like he was truly coming back to life under her touch, the instinct to love and make love finally reignited from that flickering ember in his heart to be a roaring fire. When she leaned in to kiss him, he returned it without hesitation and their eyes closed, their arms wrapping around each other to press their bare chests together; her stretch marks matching up to the healing wounds on his abdomen. His hands explored her back, feeling the dip and curve of her spine as his fingers ran down to her hips and felt every perfect imperfection here as well. She moaned in pleasant surprise as he pulled her close and lay her back down slowly, parting from the kiss to open his eyes and look at her once more, letting her see the awe of her in his stormy blue irises before he resumed where he had left off earlier. His lips started this time at her elegant collarbone, licking along its definition and biting slightly down on it which made her gasp in shock and moan as she arched to him. The sound shot straight to his loins; his body finally reacting to her beautiful vocalizations his he began growing erect in his trousers. His hands resumed cupping her breasts, this time from beneath so that they were being held rather than fondled. He kissed down her left breast, looking up at her and saw the deep pink flush in her cheeks that spread up to her ears as his tongue darted out to trace the areola with the tip before giving her nipple a long firm lick with the flat of it. He began to suck on the sensitive pink bud of nerves, moaning himself as he drank in the way she moaned his name and getting high off the way she was grabbing onto his shoulders tightly, digging in her nails.

"I have you, my love, do not worry yourself," he reassured her, kissing the inside of her other thigh, his eyes still on hers. "I will take care of you."

He moved her right leg with his left hand so that her footrest on the floor and he placed wet, warm kisses along the inside of her thigh to the spot where she needed him most. His tongue licked from the base of her labia to the top, tasting her slick and she all but wailed in pleasure as she arched her back and her hands left his shoulders in favor of his already tousled hair. He moaned as he tasted her sweet fluids, tinged with a salty hint from the balance in her recent eating. She was clean, her arousal smelt natural and strong, the lingering scent of the natural oils she bathed with on her skin driving him crazy. He drew his tongue across her once, twice, three times more before using his thumbs to spread her open as far as he could so that he could press his tongue inside of her, licking against her vaginal walls. His penis throbbed inside of his trousers as she cried his name, begging him for more and he traced every inch of her slick walls that he could reach with his tongue, drinking her down as though he were a man in the desert, dying of thirst. He pulled her tongue from inside of her, replacing it instead with the gently but firm brush of his middle and ring fingers as he flicked the tip of his tongue against her clitoris, making her scream in shock and pleasure. He could tell shit hit her first climax and he pulled away enough to breathe against her, his beard glistening in the light from the moon and fireplace with her fluids, his lips slick with evidence of his endeavors of pleasuring her.

"P-please," she begged breathlessly.

She didn't need to finish as he kissed below her belly button, pressing in his middle finger first, stopping when he felt her tense to give her time to adjust. He nuzzled her stomach as he watched her lean her head back, whimpering and moaning breathlessly. When he was sure she was relaxed enough and down from her first climax in who knew how many years, he added in his ring finger and began to move them in and out of her. He was careful to stretch her and rub her walls to stimulate her so that he could add his index finger, groaning as he palmed at his own arousal. The slick, sliding noise that his fingers made against her walls and labia was the final thing that broke his self-restraint, feeling the wet spot on his own trousers growing from his penis excreting pre-seminal fluids. When he removed his fingers, she whimpered at the loss and looked at him in worry.

"It is alright my dear moonflower, I simply cannot wait any longer," he told her, his voice shaking slightly from arousal. The need to be inside of her, though he was quite proud of the fact he wasn't tearing his own clothes apart or just dismissing them with his magic. "I want to be inside of you."

"We are on the lounge, my love," she replied, looking a little worried. "It isn't ideal for this."

"I will show you how, if you will allow me."

"Oh god, yes. If you know how we can make this space work, then please join with me, Stephen," she whispered heatedly, her own voice shaking with anticipation.

He removed his belts and moved just enough to push his pants down to his knees, before moving her legs to sit a little further on the lounge cushion. He would pride himself in the way her body seized temporarily at the sight of his erection later. He knew he was gifted; he had always been told by his partners that he was, and at some point, the fact he was nine inches probably went to his head. But right here and now, he simply was thankful this beautiful woman was allowing him to be inside of her, rather than taking pride in his own size. He gently took her hands and guided her to him, helping her straddle him and she made a noise of surprise and embarrassment, making him press a loving kiss over her heart.

"It is alright, my love, you are doing great," he told her in a loving, comforting tone.

"S-Stephen my legs can't hold up to this," she replied, holding onto his shoulders.

"They do not need to. Give me just a moment and you will see why."

He wrapped one arm lovingly around her waist, holding her close to him as he reached down with his other hand and took hold of himself, sighing at the relief in the feeling. He lined himself u with her, using a spell to lubricate himself before pressing the blunt head of his erection against her vaginal opening. He watched her face for any sighs of discomfort or pain, but when he was rewarded with a moan as he breeched her and her hugging his shoulders so she could bury her face in his neck, he allowed himself to let go of his worry. He made sure he was deep enough into her that they were anchored together, and he moaned her name as he felt his whole-body throb with the desire to thrust, but he restrained. He guided her now with both hands to rest all the way down on him and when she had, he used a spell to duplicate a outline of his arms and helped her wrap her legs around his waist. He was pleasantly shocked when the shift in position had caused him to hit her g-spot and her whole body shuddered against him.

"That it my beautiful one, ride me and use my body for your pleasure," he whispered hotly against her ear, his hands holding her as tightly as they would allow. "Let me see you come undone on my lap as you scream my name to the heavens."

He moved just enough that his legs were supporting her fulling and she screamed in wanton pleasure, the movement just enough to cause him to hit her g-spot. They began to move together, their moans of unbridled pleasure filling the silent room. Her moans echoed on his growls which were coupled with the slick, clap of their skin meeting as she rode him, and he rolled his hips back to meet hers. The growing pace and heat building between them caused a sheen of sweat to form on both of their bodies, the smell of the arousals growing stronger and driving him absolutely crazy. He bit and licked on her shoulder, making her scream his name and rake her nails down his back and he growled in pure bliss at the painful pleasure that racked through his body. He could feel himself getting close to his peak, the vice like grip her slick walls had on his erection and the feeling of her breasts pressed so firmly to his pectoral muscles drove him the best kind of insane he had been in years. He could feel her getting closer to her second climax as well, so he pulled away enough that their eyes met and her breathed her named in a heavy pant.

"I know you are close; I feel you molding to my shaft," he told her breathlessly, his bangs sticking to his forehead just as her curls stuck to her beautiful cheek bones. "Come hit that peak for me, my love, and climax with me. Let me see you come undone on my lap as you scream my name to the heavens."

She leaned in to kiss him without words, so he returned it despite his earlier actions, feeling her tightening even further around him. He moved one hand down between their bodies, feeling where they were joined, and her beautiful walls stretched so wide around him. He began to stroke her clitoris again, causing her to break away and scream his name, her body going as taunt as a bowstring as she hit her climax once more. He moaned for her, feeling her muscles grip him like a vice and he thrust against her once, twice-

"Oh fuck, Stephen!" she screamed as she arched her back and threw her head back, her nails digging into the skin on his shoulders.

"Oh, god!" he moaned as her pressed his forehead to her should, holding her hips firmly as he pulled her down as far as she could go, as close as she could be, and hit his peak inside of her.

He felt pulse after pulse of his semen spill inside of her as light danced behind his eyes and their panting echoed through the room, accompanied by the crackling of the fire and the rumbling outside the windows, which now began to calm down, as though their passion had quelled its anger. He moved his hand away and returned his arm around her to hold her close, feeling her rest her cheek against the top of his head as heir breathing leveled, though they didn't move just yet. When their breaths had finally returned to their strained lungs, he pulled back enough to look up at her and she moved too, so she could see his eyes. He felt her elegant fingers push his hair back into place which made his eyes threaten to fall shut, but he instead reached up with his clean hand to brush her curls from her face and smiled softly at her.

"I love you, my sweet moonflower," he spoke, soft and sincere before cupping his cheek. "My life is in you, and I promise I will do everything in my power to make you always feel cherished."

The woman smiled, lovingly as tears of joy filled her eyes and she leaned in, kissing the horizontal scar that ran across his forehead from where he said a third eye had once been. She then took his face in her hands and their eyes met once more.

"As I love you, Stephen, and I promise in turn, I will always be here to remind you that you are loved. I will never give up on you," she told him, the same love he always heard in her voice ever present.

After a couple of more minutes, he helped her to get up off of his lap and put his trousers back on, wrapping her in his robes and grabbed the hoodie from the floor. He looked at it for a moment, then to her and she saw the look of thought on his face.

"Where did you even find this old thing?" he finally inquired. He hadn't seen the damn thing in years, thinking it had fallen through a part of the void.

"I found it lying on the lounge when I came in, folded up neatly like it was meant to be found," she told him as she looked at it. "I just..knew it was yours somehow."

He looked back at it and couldn't help the slight smirk as he felt a warm breeze at his back before it disappeared just as quick. He took her hands and placed the clothing in them, kissing the top of her head afterwards.

"Keep wearing it for me. It looks much better on you than it ever did on me. Come now, let us go get a shower and retire for the night."

Hand in hand, they left the room and headed down the hall to the grand bathroom where they soaked together, sharing gentle touches and soft kisses to further cement their union had not been a dream to either of them. And when she lay down with him in bed, in his hoodie with head on his chest, he finally slept soundly.

#marvel #mcu #doctor strange #stephen strange #doctor strange in the multiverse of madness #doctor strange variant #sinister strange #female insert #sinister strange x reader #sinister strange x female reader #original female character

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