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mehiwilldoitlater · 13 hours ago

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Yandere destined one... deciding to courtnap his new obsession. I would love to see this!

(I don't write much destined one but I'm really liking his character!)

Two young children sat in the shadow of the apricot trees, fresh and juicy fruits in their hands while they spit away the seeds, playing and laughing. Your childish laugh echoed when you were able to defeat the young one beside you.

Your innocent and naive mind never found trouble in his look, after all, how many kids could have said to be friends with a demon monkey?

"You know," you said, chewing another fruit, "my big sister is going to get married soon, and they promised me to buy me a new dress!"

His eyes narrowed; his sharp canines bit in half the apricot with one strike.

"What does marry mean?"

"It's when two people love each other a lot and they start to live together!"

"Oh…we do the same! But without new dresses…" He looked at you, his tail swirled around. "Say, would you marry me when we get older?"

You inclined your head, confused by this question.

"But you're a monkey!"

"I know! So? Do you want to?'

"…ummm…"

You bit into the apricot again, clearly questioning if you wanted to get married in the first place.

///

The open window allowed a soft breeze to enter your room. Your small figure held the doll that your father gifted you for your birthday to help you sleep, especially since, for some reason, your sleep seemed quite disturbed and erratic.

Strange noises came from your room, alarming both of your parents and the servants.

Sometime you woke up, feeling a pair of eyes watching you. Sometimes you actually saw a figure, and every time your screams woke everyone, alerting them and making them come to you in fear.

During the day, when you were able to meet him, you told him about those nightmares, fearing what was happening in the security of your own house.

"I'm sure those are just nightmares! Who could even think to hurt you?"

And you wanted to believe him, but the truth was beyond everyone's imagination.

Your parents always told you to beware of yaoguais, especially the monkey ones.

"As simile and harmless as they look, they can be conniving and prone to lying! They have an eye for treasures and beauty, and they're ready to steal!"

But a child doesn't know better, and you thought of him as a friend. You played with him, shared snacks with him, never knew that he had a treasure in his mind all of this time, and, despite the age, he had already enough courage to try and steal it.

You wanted to be brave, a brave little girl, and, instead of screaming, that night you pointed the light of your candle closer to whatever was roaming in your room.

Your eyes met the one of your friends, occupied in preparing a bag, with your staff.

When you screamed, your parents finally met who was trying to steal you. He ran away, betrayed and in fear.

You never saw him again.

///

"And what did the fortune teller say about the date?"

"The ending of the month is a good date!"

The voices of your mother and your grandmother were just background noises in your head. Looking out of the window, your eyes fall on the old apricot orchard, with the white petals falling down like snowflakes. An inch of nostalgia and fear came back to you, remembering what memories held that place. Sitting on your chair, the breeze outside the window didn't give you the chance to be part of the discussion between your family, even if you were at the center of it.

"My child is getting married! Her father acts all grumpy about the expenses, but he's just so sad to see his princess become a bride!"

It wasn't like you didn't want to get married; to be fair, it wasn't in your mind at all, and you were mostly acceptable of the event.

Your spouse, the man who insisted with all his soul to marry you, was the child that came to you after the rumor started to spread.

The girl of the monkey, a girl that had almost been taken away from her house by a demon monkey.

The child came to you, curious about why a demon should want to take away such an ugly girl like you. You didn't know if you were ugly, but you knew that you didn't want to take that offense, and so you punched him. You two became friends; he started to play with you, allowing you to finally come out from the fear of meeting the monkey again, the fear of being captured.

You forgot about that fear…Maybe it was because you wanted it to be as far away as possible that you decided to accept marrying your childhood friend, even if, more than love, you felt for him a connection like with a brother.

Well, it wasn't like you had any friends or suitors since your background…Better accept it, you thought.

While looking at the orchard, something caught your eye, a glint, something shining between the flowers and the leaves. Strange, it wasn't the right time to tend to the trees… You tried to look better, your eyes glued on the plants, when the cranky voice of your grandmother called you back.

"Child, are you listening? "

"Uh?" You looked at her, completely spaced out. She sighed, massaging her face.

"Dear Y/N, how are you planning to be a good wife if you can't even listen to your old baba?" She smiled again, caressing your face gently. "We were talking about the decorations!"

And, by being dragged back in the discussion, you failed to notice a tail moving like a snake in the trees and the glint of a sword.

///

The smell of the powder and the incense was almost intoxicating; you had to plead with your mother to let the maiden open a window to allow some fresh air to clean the room. You were in a remote area of the house; no one could ever be able to trespass there, so why bother fearing being seen?

The red silks adorned your skin like the petals of a peony, the blue gems in your hair to symbolize the ever-l'astinenza phoenix, the crystal flowers decorating your neck and ears…

You needed to look better, the gentle ray of sun illuminating your face like no candle could even. You never were someone that proud or arrogant, but this time you had to admit it to yourself: you were standing.

You gasped; the makeup on your skin gave you an aura of elegance and refinement. It was like a princess was sitting in front of that mirror.

Your mother must have noticed that a sense of pride took over her.

"Oh…oh, my baby," her voice starting to crack, holding a handkerchief to stop the tears from ruining her makeup.

"Mom, please!"You tried to calm her down, "Don't cry!'

"Forgive me, my dear," she sighed, "it's just so much for me…"

You smiled; a sigh escaped from you. She's been crying since the news of your engagement, so overwhelmed by the fact that her little girl was now becoming the bride of a fine young man. The child that was marked as the chosen by the demon was finally getting free…

You caressed her shoulder, hugging her with fondness, looking at the maid that even she couldn't contain the happiness.

"Please," you said, trying to calm your mother, "can you take Mother to take some fresh air? I can take it from here…"

She nodded, helping your mother to stand up and leading her out of the room, closing the door behind her to give you some privacy.

You turned your face back to the mirror, smiling again at your reflection on the surface.

You were getting merry; soon you would leave the house of your parents to live with the man that promised to protect you from an old nightmare…

You felt a little bad, but you cared for him, and you knew you were holding nothing but affection towards him.

He could have asked someone else, and yet he chose you. He properly courted you… Yes, it was better like this…

You yawned a little, feeling a wave of exhaustion crashing on you all of a sudden. How strange…Well, you had woken up quite early for the preparations, and you had no time to take a pause from your big day. Sitting down in silence, the sweet smell of the incense was making you quite dizzy and sleepy.

Without even acknowledging your action, you allowed your head to repose on your arm, sustained by the wood of the vanity. You didn't plan to fall asleep, only to rest your eyes a little. You promised yourself to not ruin the dress or your makeup.

Why were you so sleepy? Was always the incense of this smell? You didn't know; you felt so tired right now.

How funny, three people in a room and no one noticed a hand from the window, pouring a strange powder in the incense burner.

You were so tired; the figure slipping in your room was probably a dream.

///

"Oh my, she looks like a goddess!"

"Is she a princess, Mama?"

"Not for us for sure!"

The giggling from the monkeys was whispers in the cavern, echoing through the walls alongside the sound of water drops and the small cascades that were born from the main stream and found passages in the mountain.

The small taunts and remarks were silenced in the ears of the now-grown monkey, far too occupied in admiring your beauty, now sleeping peacefully. Not anymore the small cub that tried several times to take you away once, too small and frail to actually do it. Now he was older, stronger, and bolder; he had found no problem in holding you in his arms, like he had found no problem in slicing the throat of the young maiden and bursting like an old pumpkin the head of your own mother.

Killing the maiden? It was precociousness; he needed no one to set an alarm when he was taking you with him on the mountain cave behind the waterfall of his homeland, but with your mother…that was personal.

He had such a hate towards your parents that he swore nothing could compare to it.

He could have accepted the fact that for some mortals, taking away their own mate could be seen in not such a good light, but he was a kid! Who could blame the ignorance of the youth?!

He was able to understand that, but it was when he had come back with his father, to discussing the proposition of letting you two get marry once you were both old enough. He was even able to accept the idea of just doing it in the mortal way, acting as a human; that was nothing if the price was having you at his side forever.

"Our daughter will never be the spouse of that monster."

Since he was a child, those words were like fire branded in his mind. It was at that time that he decided that no matter the cost, having you was his real mission. No matter what the Elder said, bringing back the old Sage was just another way to prove how your parents were wrong.

He had trained a lot, you see? He had become stronger, just to protect you. He hated the fact that your parents put so many guards near your house; he even suspected that they forced you to not set a foot in your sacred haven, the apricot orchard! Where you two met, when he had proposed the first time to marry you.

You were silent that day, but you were just shy, right?

His hands caressed your rosy cheeks, your sleeping form on the mattress of thousands of flowers to help you sleep, until at least he had done what was needed to be done.

He could have stayed there for days, admiring your innocent, relaxed face, your chest rising and falling alongside your breath, in those beautiful garments made for a bride, his bride.

But he still had some jobs to do, he told himself, sighing, holding his sword to his side and his staff in his hand.

He needed to take care of your father and to that…boy.

Since the day he started pestering, how much he wanted to rip his fingernails one by one, to pluck his eyes and tongue to make him eat them, to rip his guts from his body and strangle him with them, to make him suffer in every possible way, to try to take his beloved Y/N away from. Marry him? The thought made him sick, like he could have been even at your level! Your parents were fools to accept his proposals; they did so only to keep you two apart, of course!

But that was over; today your life as newlyweds was beginning. Kissing your forehead, he saw your sleeping body move a little. He hoped you were dreaming of him because he had dreamed of you for such a long time.

And so, after another loving glance, he started marching out of the cave, ready to make some more blood spill.

@thepoweroffiction @angryvampire @the-little-devils-chaos

@nerium-lil

@phoenixeclipse-lmkau @miifu666 @sleepingdramaqueen @whitefox2k18 @ladydoe8 @jeminiikrystal @theactualgir @birdioarts

@jssy96 @silenthopper @nezukos-number1fan

@blackknight-kai

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nnight-dances · 15 hours ago

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PICTURE YOU

PAIRING: karina x fem!reader (reader has periods)

GENRE: fluff, smut (explicit, but not too much?)

TROPES: karina comes back home with a bob and you go crazy essentially. also yeah this is the same universe as CASUAL

LISTEN TO: picture you by chappell roan

NOTE: lol not me breaking the hiatus with this karina fic on a random friday... but come on you can't blame: just look at her!!! actually lost my mind when i saw the new hair reveal like???? have u considered my feelings??? also yea i guess i just associate my karina fics with chappell roan songs now sorry. also also i have been in a crisis once again trying to figure out if i'm bi or just a lesbian so perhaps that is where this fic came from maybe perhaps! anway, pls enjoy <3

in your defence, you were on your period. and you'd been burn out after the past few weeks straight from hell at college. you'd lost sleep almost every single night and you didn't remember the last time you'd felt the rush of anxiety not be there in your veins. all that to say, you were in a specially fragile mental state when karina came home with a bob.

at first you didn't even recognize her. you'd looked up from your phone where you'd been mindlessly scrolling to take your mind off the stress and then back down, thinking it was weird that a random chick had entered your room. you'd pinned it to be one of karina's friends but as soon as you said karina's name in your head, your neck snapped back up to look at her: "karina?"

the girl burst into laughter at your shocked exclamation, the ends of her hair hitting her neck. "yes, it's me, jagiya. did you not recognize me?" she's still laughing but you feel something like a fainting spell coming on, with the way your vision blurs and your heartbeat threatens to explode.

"jagiya?" karina's voice is speckled with doubt now, crossing your shared room to stand closer to your bedside where you lay. her cold fingertips greeted your bare shoulder, "do you not like it?"

you can't speak for the longest time, just staring back at your girlfriend in utter shock. karina is starting to interpret your silent shock as horror when you finally break the stillness, hand on her jaw bringing her lips to your hungry ones. you devour her, lips overpowering hers as you slip your tongue into her mouth with the kind of force that has karina gasping.

it is her hand at your chest that stops the kiss, her eyes wide with flustered amusement. "i'm guessing that means you like it?"

"rina," your voice is a whisper, so drenched in longing that it surprises your own ears, "you're divine. i don't can handle this." you feel weak all of a sudden, falling to your pillow with a huff, but eyes never leaving karina.

"i'm sorry i didn't think a haircut would get you this worked up," karina laughs, climbing up your bed, shuffling into the space between your legs. "but i'm not complaining. you've never kissed me like a starving woman before."

you groan, "don't tease me. i'm just– look, you're already like the hottest person on this campus and if that wasn't enough of a nightmare, you've gone and gotten yourself a bob. now i'm gonna have to fight off the bitches who didn't know you were gay!"

"did you just say nightmare–"

"yes. i have to live knowing that i've outdone myself with my very first college girlfriend. i'll never reach these heights again."

karina runs a hand through your hair with a smile, "who says you won't always have me?"

you give her an incredulous look, "really? with this bob, it'll only be hours before there's a line of lesbians outside our door begging for your number."

"well, that's too bad," her hand's found its way up your shirt somehow, "i'm taken."

you hum an acknowledgement. then, you sit up to face her, cupping her face in your hands. slowly, you kiss her. longingly. fiercely.

you pull away to rest your forehead against her, your hand busy exploring the new form of her hair. it's thrilling, the way you can access her neck so much easier. your fingertips rest at her strong shoulder and your lips trail their path, lingering at the valley between her jaw and her throat. you place a soft kiss there and then feeling the tremble of her nervous breath, you go in with more bite, leaving a mark.

you feel karina's hand clutching at the material of your shirt, the squeezing a pleasant reminder of the way you were making her feel. "i might just be the luckiest girl to exist," you mumble, making your way down to her collarbones. karina's response is a guttural moan, her hand against your waist pushing you closer to her chest now.

"mhm, there's one way to shoo your fangirls away," you chuckle, admiring the patchwork of blooming bruises on karina's neck. she's flushed, and even better, speechless.

"you're killing me, y/n," karina whines, clawing at your shirt to take it off. you shake your head, stopping her movements.

"no, you're the one that's killing me," you complain, lifting karina's tank top before she can protest. "let me at least show you how you make me feel."

you really do devour karina that afternoon: her toned body spread over your sheets like a dream that you couldn't afford. but it was real. you know because you took your time with her, touching and feeling every inch of her warm body flush against yours: the little hairs on her skin dancing against your hot touch, and the veins running hot to greet your touch.

you've just traversed the landscape of her abdomen when she sits up, eyes blown out with pleasure. "y/n, i think i'm gonna pass out if you keep at it."

you look up from between her legs with a grin, "really? then you've just started to understand how i feel–"

before you can continue your adminstrations, she tugs you up, lips beckoning yours. "let me eat you out," she asks softly as she pulls away from the kiss. and you relish in the sound of her begging you to let her please you, the actual goddess in between your arms.

"as much as i'd love that," you peck her nose, "'m on my period, babe."

"you know i don't care," she starts and then shivers when your hands find the hem of her panties.

"don't worry 'bout me, rina," you assure her, "let me make you feel good today, 'kay?" she nods, coming apart so easily while you talk her through it, showering her with praises like there was no end to it. and you'd do it for the rest of your life. watching karina's skin pulse under your touch and the way her eyes were hooded by her short hair, in the end it was always worth it.

#karina x y/n #karina x you #karina x reader #karina aespa #aespa fics #aespa x reader #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #karina fics #aespa imagine #karina imagines #karina fluff #aespa fluff #aespa scenarios #karina angst #kpop fic #kpop x reader #kpop imagines

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 2 days ago

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The Tape - Part 2

Christian Yu x Y/N - drabble - 1K WC

Part 1

Masterlist

Warnings: hurt comfort, fluff, bold = flashback

--------------------------------

Christian reread the speech his company had given him for the press conference to address the leaked tape from a month ago. When he entered the hall flashing lights blinded him. As he took the podium all he could hear was the whispers of judgement from the press.

“Hello everyone, I appreciate you all coming today.” he began.

The speech was all apologies, all shame. With what he was hearing he could not stand by and apologize for something that was done to you both. You were the victims, why should you apologize?

Christian put the speech cards down, “I would like to begin by saying this was not only an attack on me but an attack on my partner Y/N. She is the most lovely person… neither of us deserved this and the man identified as the one who put the camera in the room is currently being prosecuted to the full extent of the law. The comments on my partner during this situation have been nothing less than vile, all who said such things should feel nothing but shame.” he said with confidence.

He could see his manager sweating out of the corner of his eye as he did not follow the script. Honestly, he couldn’t care less.

“The effect this has had on our lives and mental health has been detrimental… I ask for all of you to consider this - How would you feel if this was happening to you? Having sex with the love of my life is not a crime and I will not apologize for it. We are the victims in this. My wife and I will be taking an extended leave from the media to focus on what is most important, ourselves. Thank you.” he said before walking out of the room and straight back to the apartment.

You had become a husk of yourself over the last month. Pale and weak, withering away. You hardly spoke or ate. All you did day in and day out was sleep or cry into the pillows of your shared bed. Christian hadn’t been able to touch you in any way, you always flinched away from him for who knew if there were cameras in here as well?

“Y/N? Honey?” Christian said, knocking on the bedroom door lightly before walking in. The room was gloomy, hardly any light snuck into the room for the closed curtains draped themselves in a way that filled the room with despair.

You laid on your back, eyes closed. You looked peaceful when you were like this. Unable to worry about the nightmare at hand. Christian sat on the edge of the bed next to you. He traced his fingers softly over your angelic face, moving the hair from your eyes gently.

“I told the world what must be said. I made no apologies, I have no shame in this regard… the only thing I feel is sadness. Not for myself, but for you. I have dragged you into something that would never happen with someone else. And for that, I am so unbelievably sorry. However… I am a selfish man. I cannot bear to think of life without you, I won't.” Christian slid a ring onto your finger slowly so as to not wake you. “I want you with me always, I love you.” he said, kissing your knuckles.

You fluttered your eyes open at his proposal. The hand he was holding moved to cup his face, “Do you think we can beat this?” you asked with a scratchy tone, as if you hadn’t talked in days.

“I do.” he said immediately.

“That's my line.” you said, giving the gentlest of smiles. Your thumb brushed over his cheekbone before you pulled him down to kiss you. You kept it short and sweet, still paranoid about the cameras. “I miss the sun on my skin…” you whispered against his lips.

Christian didn’t miss a beat, he picked you up bridal style and took you outside onto the balcony. The sun was setting, turning the sky into the most beautiful shades of pink and orange. The warmth of the summer air caressed your skin, shooing the cold of the dark bedroom away. Christian kept you in his arms, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck.

Christian rubbed his hand up and down your thigh, avoiding the bandages placed there. You had succumbed to an old nasty habit with everything going on - you cut yourself. None of it was enough to kill you, you just wanted to focus on something. Feel a different kind of pain.

“I love you.” you whispered.

“I love you.” Christian replied before kissing the top of your head.

You stayed like that until the sun was down and only the city lights of Seoul illuminated the sky. “They arrested the hotel staff who hid the camera… our lawyers are seeking the max penalty.” Christian said, trying to ease your tension.

You nodded. “Maybe one day we will joke about all this.” you muttered.

Christian chuckled before he let out a sullen sigh, “I’m so sorry all this happened.” he said with the utmost sincerity.

You kissed his neck, “It’s not your fault. It's something that never should have happened but it did and everyone who watched it, commented on it - they are the problem, not us.” you said with conviction.

“We should go to Italy.” Christian said.

You sat up, “What?”

“Let's leave for a while. Leave all this behind us and go enjoy paradise. We will come back when we are ready, on our own terms.” he smiled down at you.

“I guess I need to go pack.” you smiled back at him.

“I guess so Mrs. Yu.” he said, loosening his grip on you so you could stand.

“What if we eloped there?” you said, walking back into the apartment.

Christian hugged you from behind, picking you up. You squealed, letting out a giggle that was like music to his ears.

“Whatever you want my love.” he said before putting you down.

You turned, leaning your forehead against his. “Us against the world?” you asked, repeating the words you spoke to him on the day you met.

You had snagged the last pastry at the coffee shop, Christian chatted you up and you ended up sharing with him.

“What happens if they run out again?” he asked.

“I guess it’s just us against the world then.” you smiled with a shrug before laughing.

-------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello :) I hope you guys like this, i feel iffy about it. I'm currently rocked off of muscle relaxers and am gonna have such a good sleep like right after I post this. I got a couple Christian requests so I will be getting those out as soon as I can. Thank you!!!! XOXOXOXOXOX

#writing #christian yu x y/n #christian yu x reader #christian yu #fanfiction #dpr ian #dpr ian x y/n #dpr ian x reader #dpr ian fluff

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katsfixationcorner · 1 day ago

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Sleepless Nights

tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader

Chapter One

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes is struggling to put his life together after the Blip. Free from HYDRA’s control, he now has the freedom of choosing how he lives his life but he has no idea how. He’s somehow managed to maintain moderate normalcy but his constant nightmares serve as a reminder that he could never be anything more than a killer. Before he can truly heal, he needs to deal with his lack of sleep, which proves difficult until a chance encounter intertwines his life with that of his neighbor across the hall.

Warnings: Slice of Life, Canon-divergent, Slow-burn, Friends to Lovers, Neighbors Trope, Depictions of trauma, No use of Y/N, Possible future smut (this chapter is safe)

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: I’m not a mental health professional. All trauma/mental illness depictions are based on my personal knowledge/experience. If any depictions are incorrect or misrepresented, kindly educate me.

This is my first fic! I hope you enjoy~

I do NOT consent to have my work copied, translated, or run through AI.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Change makes James ‘Bucky’ Barnes uncomfortable. He’s trying his best to be okay with it but he still has a very lengthy list of things he’s trying to work through. Dealing with change isn’t exactly at the top.

When things change, bad things happen. It always starts with the small things normal people don’t notice: a mailbox gets left open, a neighbor’s doormat gets skewed, the subway train he takes to his therapist appointments is five minutes late.

Then it escalates. It always escalates.

Instead of random instances, it manifests in the people around him: the neighbor’s dog barks at a late hour, a nondescript van parks on the street outside his apartment complex, a stranger gives him a second glance at the grocery store. It’s always the things that other people don’t think twice about that Bucky can’t ignore. When he ignores them -when things slip by his radar- people around him get hurt or disappear.

Now when you live in an apartment building people disappear all the time. People move out frequently. Just this month alone Bucky has already noticed several people he doesn’t recognize walking to and from his building.

It’s unnerving.

Unsettling.

Bucky likes to keep tabs on those around him. When he can’t, bad thoughts flood his mind like a running faucet filling a bathtub. Who are they? What do they do? How long will they be around? Or worse things like: Do they know who he is -who he was? Do they know which unit he lives in? Has he bolted the front door? What about the windows? If he has to make a run for it, could he make the jump to the building next door?

Sometimes the bathtub overflows, spilling his thoughts out of his head and into his bloodstream. When that happens, he freezes, unable to do anything more than sit with his back to a wall and his eyes glued to his front door. His small apartment becomes enemy territory. Every sound -no matter how mundane- explodes in his ears and triggers violent involuntary tremors. His entire body goes into lock-down mode as he prepares to defend against a non-existent threat. It often takes hours for Bucky to recover the ability to move let alone care for himself.

He doesn’t go anywhere on those days, even if they happen to interfere with his schedule.

Bucky likes his schedule: morning workouts, grocery shopping every other Monday, lunch with a friend on Wednesdays, therapy on Thursdays. It isn’t much but it makes him feel normal, like he’s a regular person who isn’t still trying to heal from a lifetime of trauma. Every other day, Bucky stays at home trying to catch up on things he’s missed and doing his damndest to get through the day without losing it.

Not even the promise of sleep offers him any sort of respite. The night only gives way to new terrors, the kind he can’t escape no matter how good a day he’s had. Nightmares -flashes of blood, pain, and an innocent person’s pleas- overtake him every time he beds down for the night.

Nothing helps - and he’s tried everything. Thanks to the serum, his body devours medication, alcohol, and other nasty habits he’s given into too quickly to feel any effect. The TV -though helpful at first- has become more annoying than useful. Leaving a window open to let in the city ambience isn’t an option, and the thin apartment walls won’t mask any music he has on for long. At least not at the volume needed to make any meaningful impact in his sleep schedule.

He doesn’t even have a stereo.

Most nights the nightmares wake him violently, bolting him upright so suddenly his torso jerks forward and his breath gets caught in his chest.

Tonight is no different.

After a particularly distressing one, Bucky finds himself woken by his own choking gasps. As he struggles to regain control of the air flowing into his lungs, Bucky presses his hands against the floor underneath him. The blanket between him and the wood is thin and scratchy. In an effort to still his breaths, Bucky slides his flesh hand across the fabric, picking absently at the tiny lint balls dotted along the blanket folds. The soothing action is safe enough to direct his mind towards; it carries no weight nor threatens to trigger any locked memory.

With every passing minute, Bucky’s breathing becomes less strained and more manageable. He tries to turn his attention to the room around him. The living room is dark, the moonlight streaming through the thin blinds being the only source of light in the room. From what he can see into the kitchen, nothing seems off or disturbed. Both areas are bare with only the essential furniture. There’s no dining table, though there is one barstool in the kitchen. The sofa, coffee table, bookshelf, and TV are all in their usual locations.

Taking note of his surroundings starts to help Bucky regulate his breathing. Just as he was regaining composure, Bucky’s body flinches suddenly as he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. He tenses, pulling his knees up to his chest as he prepares to roll out of the way of an attack. Though as his eyes adjust, the silent assassins morph into shadows dancing across the kitchen counters.

He lets out a breath and leans against the cool leather of the sofa. Bucky does his best to redirect his mind to the room. He can see the front door now. It’s still dead-bolted. Good. Maybe he can actually get through the night with only this mild incident.

But as his panic turns from a roaring fire into simmering embers, the memories begin to seep into his mind threatening to reignite the blaze.

The wall suddenly seems way too close. Screams and gunfire begin trickling into the stillness of the dark apartment. The sound starts at a low hum in the back of his mind. But before long it grows into a roaring avalanche threatening to bury him under the weight of the Winter Soldier.

Bucky groans out a swear as he drags his hands down his face. He grips his head tightly as if he can keep the torment at bay with pressure. It doesn’t help. The panic threatens to return, forcing Bucky to make a decision: either try to relax and go back to sleep or do something about it.

After barely a second of thought, Bucky concludes there’s no way he can sit still. Before he pushes himself off his makeshift bed, he extends his legs so they burn from the stretch, grimacing at the stiffness caused by sitting still for a while. He eventually detangles himself from the bed sheet then manages to pull himself up.

Without thinking about it, Bucky wanders in the direction of the bathroom. The cramped enclosed space provides a more secure environment than the living room. Bucky feels like he can breathe a bit better in here. The screams that followed him, however, won’t let him rest.

With his body still on autopilot, Bucky pulls back the shower curtain and turns the water on, not caring about what temperature it’s been set to. As the screams get muffled by the running water, Bucky stumbles his way to the sink, gripping the edges tightly as he leans into it. He lets a minute pass before he forces himself to look up at his reflection.

Bucky looks awful. The dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and unkempt stubble make how little he’s been sleeping obvious. Even his eyes -usually a cool steely blue- are muted and grey. Scars litter his shoulders and torso, evidence of a tortured past etched into his skin. Even if -by some miracle- he came across someone who wasn’t aware of what he’s done, they’d know the second they saw how destroyed his body is.

He can only stomach a few seconds of glaring before his gaze drops to the dog tags around his neck. He doesn’t like who he sees. It’s been such a long time since he has that he’s not even sure he ever thought differently. When he looks at himself, all he ever sees is a man broken beyond repair - the shattered remnants of a soldier HYDRA ripped apart.

The rushing water pulls Bucky out of a new set of spiraling thoughts. He makes an attempt to shake them away before straightening up to peel off his sweat soaked boxers. They get tossed into a corner as Bucky steps into the shower.

Bucky doesn’t spend a lot of time under the water. He doesn’t even wash much, only enough to get rid of the layer of sweat on his skin. Once it’s gone, he feels a bit better. The water becomes cold rather quickly (not that it was very warm to begin with). By the time Bucky decides to get out, his teeth are chattering and his body trembles from the low temperature.

Bucky’s always cold. He always has been. At least since…it doesn’t matter. The discomfort of being chilled to the bone is something he’s used to, something normal, something he deserves. He doesn’t even notice it anymore. The fact that the room never even steamed up leaving him to get hit with a rush of cold air when he opens the shower curtain doesn’t even phase him.

Bucky shakes the intruding thoughts away then tugs a towel free from the wall rack like he does every day and pulls it across his body carelessly. It’s only when his skin is rubbed raw that he stops, realizing now that he’s been dry for a couple minutes. A small exhale leaves his lips as he returns the now-damp towel to its place

Bucky isn’t quite sure what to do now. The screams have dulled and he’s left with the quietness of his apartment. The silence never helps with the storm brewing in his mind. Bucky knows it’s only a matter of time before he can’t continue pushing his memories away.

Though he isn’t sure what to make of the thoughts seeping in and out of his consciousness, he does know one thing: he’s sure as hell not going back to sleep.

With a sigh, Bucky retrieves his boxers from the floor then walks into his bedroom. Like the rest of his apartment, it’s sparsely decorated. The dresser by the door is practically brand new and rarely used. It’s where he keeps his comfortable clothes -underwear, socks, one pair of sweatpants, and some t-shirts Sam forced on him- while the items he wears more frequently are folded in neat piles on the edge of the bed. The bed, which is just a mattress on the floor, is only made with a fitted sheet and a singular pillow. Several small boxes containing various pieces of his life Steve put together for him cover the surface.

Bucky went through them once. When he came across a collection of old photographs, he dropped them back into the box then closed the lid. He couldn’t bring himself to look through the pictures, especially when most of them contain the face of someone he loved, someone he doesn’t have anymore.

He hasn’t touched the boxes since. It’s easier to ignore them, but he can’t bring himself to hide them away in a closet. So there they sit, taking up space on a mattress he never uses.

Bucky doesn’t even notice them anymore. He drops his boxers onto a clear spot on the mattress then pulls on the first things he grabs: a pair of worn jeans and a simple long sleeved shirt. As he gets dressed, his gaze wanders past the boxes, stopping on a plastic hamper at the foot of the bed. It’s practically empty but Bucky takes it anyway. He spends the next few minutes tossing anything he can find into the basket. He doesn’t care what’s fresh and what isn’t; he just needs to do something.

When he returns to the living room, Bucky bunches the sweat stained blankets together then shoves them into the hamper. He walks around the room once -grabbing his shoes, keys, detergent, and several dollars worth of quarters- before exiting the apartment, locking the door, and making the descent to the complex’s laundry room.

The laundry room is probably the only place outside of his apartment where Bucky feels relatively safe. It’s in the basement so it has no windows and only one entrance, and it’s never quiet. The machines are old and rumble whenever they’re in use.

It’s perfect.

When Bucky pushes the door open, a wave of hot air bursts free and hits him in the face. Bucky takes a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs. The stale warm air helps relax his muscles. After half a minute of standing in the doorway absorbing the heat, most of the tension leaves Bucky’s shoulders. He takes another deep breath, exhaling slowly, before finally stepping into the room.

None of the machines are in use so Bucky gets to pick whichever ones he wants. He makes his way to the far end of the room, depositing the hamper and detergent on top of the last washer. He takes his time filling the machine, ensuring every piece of clothing is right side out before tossing it in.

Bucky doesn’t mind the monotony of the chore. If anything it gives him something else to focus on. Thankfully the machines are pretty simple. Of all the things he’s had to learn lately, using these laundry machines has been the easiest by far. Press a few buttons, give it the amount of money it asks for, then wait for the timer to beep. Easy.

As the washer roars to life, Bucky leans back against one of the dryers and crosses his arms over his chest. He watches the machine rattle while trying not to pay attention to the time on the display.

Thirty minutes.

He could easily head back upstairs and take a few laps of his apartment before the machine goes off, but he can’t seem to make himself move. The thought of leaving his things here unsupervised leaves a knot in the pit of his stomach.

No, he won’t leave, only so the odd feeling goes away. Besides, he doesn’t mind standing for long periods of time. Lord knows he doesn’t have anything better to be doing.

By the time Bucky’s machine reaches fifteen minutes, his mind has been efficiently distracted. He no longer lingers on the terrifying thoughts in the back of his mind. They’ll eventually force themselves back to the front, but it’s manageable for the moment. That is until any calming thought he has is ripped away by the sound of the door opening.

Bucky’s eyes snap up to the intruder - a young woman carrying a wicker hamper with a plastic bag hanging from her wrist. She stops in her tracks when their eyes meet. A look of surprise and hesitation crosses her features before it shifts into a polite mask of neutrality. She gives Bucky a nod then continues forward as if she never stopped at all, unloading her own laundry into a machine near the doorway.

Bucky watches her cautiously. He’s never seen her before and that could be dangerous.

Sure he’s down here doing laundry at- Wait, how late is it?

When she pauses to place her phone on the machine, his gaze flickers from her back to the analog clock that hangs over the middle-most washer.

Would a normal person do their laundry at a quarter to three in the morning or is she here because he’s here?

His eyes narrow when the thought presents itself. He redirects his gaze back to her and continues assessing the situation. She could just be going about her own business, but Bucky doesn’t know that.

He needs to be sure.

He scans the stranger while she closes the machine, eyeing all of her movements with suspicion. Her hair is tied up and messy - she must just be up at this hour normally. If she came from somewhere, Bucky muses, she might have been more put together. Her shirt has no pockets nor do her pants. They’re tight, hugging her form comfortably, so Bucky decides it’s unlikely she’s concealing any weapons. Though he knows that means very little when his own body is practically a weapon.

Plastic rustles as she digs through her bag in search of her detergent. Once she’s finished, she ties the bag and places it on top of the machine along with her hamper. She groans quietly, leaning forward to input the settings she wants then picks up her phone. Bucky can’t see what she’s doing from where he’s standing, but when her machine turns on he realizes she was just paying wirelessly - something he hasn’t learned to do nor does he wish to.

Unlike Bucky, the woman feels safe enough to leave her belongings unsupervised. She doesn’t pay him any mind - as if he isn’t a threat - when she turns to leave, leaving her bag and hamper on her machine. Bucky watches her walk away until the closing door blocks his view.

He really shouldn’t bother, he thinks to himself - though his mind decides otherwise. She’s in the same building he lives in, using the same machines he is at the same time he happens to be here. None of that can be a coincidence. He’s never seen anyone down here this late, and he unfortunately has a habit of doing laundry in the small hours of the morning. He also happens to know just about everyone in the building (at least their face), and he doesn’t know her.

He needs to be sure.

It’s difficult - even for him - to catch the sound of the stranger’s footsteps through the rumbling of the machines. By the time her faint steps reach his ears, he’s already moving towards the door. He stalks quietly through the hall, catching up to her just as she rounds a corner. She doesn’t seem to notice him at all, barely looking behind her as she climbs up the stairs towards the first floor. Bucky waits at the foot of the stairs, pressed against the wall listening for any disturbance. Only when he hears her reach the landing above him does he make a move, taking two stairs at a time while remaining silent and light on his feet.

This dance of theirs continues until the stranger breaks her pattern and opens the door leading to the third floor hall.

His floor.

Cursing under his breath, Bucky bounds up the stairs, managing to catch the door with the tip of his foot before it closes. Before she has a chance to notice anything, Bucky slides his foot free then closes it carefully, holding it open enough to see through yet in a way that it doesn’t look open. He waits for a second to pass, ensuring she isn’t paying any attention to her surroundings, before glancing through the crack between the door and the wall.

True to Bucky’s suspicions, the stranger walks down the hall only to pause in front of his door. Bucky’s breath gets caught in his chest. His eyes never leave her, fully expecting her to make an attempt to break into his home, and preparing to interfere. To his surprise she doesn’t pay his door any mind. Instead, she turns to the right and reaches for the door across from his. In less than a second, the stranger -who Bucky was absolutely sure was after him- disappears from his sight, retreating into the privacy of her own apartment.

It’s only when Bucky hears the click of a lock does he realize the tightness in his chest has eased. He’s been so careful up until this point and yet one woman manages to get past him - and she lives directly across from him.

Bucky comes to a conclusion rather quickly: he needs to figure out who she is. It’s not for him, he reasons as he retreats to the laundry room. If she happens to be an ex-HYDRA agent or some form of secret service, he as well as everyone else could be compromised.

That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he glances into the bag the woman left on her washing machine. Nothing but detergent and dryer sheets. Bucky scoffs to himself then returns to his own machine, leaning on the wall this time so he can watch the door.

It’ll take a bit of time and effort to find out everything he needs to know. It took him a couple months to clear everyone else on his floor. Maybe the nightmares will leave him alone if he can prove that no one near him is out to get him.

Besides, he’s got nothing but time.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel #bucky barnes x female reader #no use of y/n #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #neighbor au #canon divergence #james buchanan barnes

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baestruly · 2 days ago

Text

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ dating ━━ bellamy blake

⋆˙⟡ SO protective but not jaring

⋆˙⟡ he’s always asking how you are

⋆˙⟡ ❝good, princess?❞

⋆˙⟡ if you ever get hurt, he will never leave your side and will always be touching you in some way whether thats your hand or your head, he’s softly running his thumb up and down to comfort you

⋆˙⟡ ❝i’m so sorry this happened to you.❞

⋆˙⟡ ❝if i could i would do anything to make your pain stop, princess, i’m sorry.”

⋆˙⟡ he’s so jsjfjffdjfjgjf

⋆˙⟡ the biceps guys.

⋆˙⟡ so ofc he’s gonna catch you staring whether thats if he’s doing absolutely nothing or training

⋆˙⟡ ❝like what you see, princess?❞

⋆˙⟡ he loves to see you get flustered so he’ll either keep asking you what you like so much or he’ll walk up slowly to you to kiss you (if you’re in private things will def escalate)

⋆˙⟡ okay, he will literally watch you so closely all the time, especially when you’re in a hostile situation. yeah he looks around the area to make sure it’s safe first but after that his eyes burn into you to make sure you’re always okay or safe

⋆˙⟡ he just admires you so much

⋆˙⟡ for example, if you were reading or drawing he will stare at you with the smallest softest smile ever

⋆˙⟡ because he just loves you so much and can’t imagine ever loosing you

⋆˙⟡ ❝i can feel your stare, bell.❞

⋆˙⟡ ❝too pretty to not look at.❞

⋆˙⟡ or he’ll just laugh and tuck strands of hair behind your ear

⋆˙⟡ if you ask to train with him he will gladly agree

⋆˙⟡ only because he knows he could always get the upper hand—but he never doubts you, he knows you could probably beat his ass but he knows all your weaknesses (he just knows you so well)

⋆˙⟡ ❝bell, you don’t have to go easy on me.❞

⋆˙⟡ ❝is that right?❞

⋆˙⟡ he smirks when he beats you, pinning you to the ground gentle enough to not hurt you

⋆˙⟡ sometimes he gets carried away that you get the upper hand

⋆˙⟡ ❝i could get used to seeing you on top of m—❞

⋆˙⟡ you slap him lightly as you laugh

⋆˙⟡ he doesn’t get CRAZY jealous — he knows you would never do anything to hurt him. but he does just get annoyed and becomes to you, adorably angry

⋆˙⟡ he’ll prob also be side eying who ever he’s jealous of

⋆˙⟡ ❝why are you pouting oh my god—❞

⋆˙⟡ ❝i’m not pouting.❞

⋆˙⟡ ❝is this because i was talking to the really handsome, lovely—❞

⋆˙⟡ ❝okay, enough.❞

⋆˙⟡ after s2 and the events at mount weather, you guys help each other through dark times

⋆˙⟡ at night, he's always the big spoon, wrapping his arms around you

⋆˙⟡ his way of trying to let you know you're safe, even if you get any nightmares, he will be there by your side in an instant

⋆˙⟡ will whisper sweet things into your ear and run his hand softly down your arm and hair until you can go back to sleep

⋆˙⟡ ofc he comes across as arrogant and scary to everyone but with you he just softens up sm

⋆˙⟡ he's super goal oriented and determined so if there's a way he can do something on his own (outside of camp) without you being at risk, 100% he's gonna do it

⋆˙⟡ he will not tolerate you ever talking bad about yourself he absolutely hates it because you're the most amazing person in the world to him

⋆˙⟡ will literally sit you down and start having this deep conversation about how much he values you and all the ways you shouldn't think that about yourself. he will always be there to support you

⋆˙⟡ knows how badass you are but swoops in when you need him

⋆˙⟡ he would be watching you in training beating someones ass and he's just off to the side, his arms crossed as he smirks at you

⋆˙⟡ he's just a proud bf !!

masterlist / bellamy blake masterlist

#writing #imagine #bellamy blake fanfic #bellamy blake x oc #bellamy blake imagines #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake oneshots #bellamy blake headcanons #the 100 fanfic #the 100 imagines #the 100 #the 100 oneshots

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sumeriandeathsquad · 3 days ago

Note

"Kiss out of habit" but it's platonic bucks. Matty comforting nicky after a nightmare (nightmares are bullshit, can you tell me had one?) [Mouse]

Osaka.

Matt wakes up and it’s almost dark. All the lights in their room had been off when they went to sleep, the only light filtering through the window from the outside. The room is nice - much nicer than anything they were able to afford years ago - but it’s two queen beds in a suite instead of two suites, the kind of hotel mishap that they would’ve done an ungracious funny Instagram skit about a year ago, when they were in the real throes of doing something different and worse so that Matt stopped nearly hating the thing they both love so much.

He won’t post about this today though. It meant more to them both than he realised, coming back to Japan, until they were here and the sights and sounds and spending time with Masa of it all hit them like a truck. So the hotel messed up and they’ll take it quietly because it’s kind of fun, kind of nostalgic, calls back to so many years ago when they couldn’t even afford two single beds and instead crammed into a tiny double together - all over the world, not just Japan.

In the gloom, though, the almost dark, he wakes up with the sense of something wrong. He rubs his eyes and he can see Nick’s back on the far edge of the other bed, his finer details swallowed up by the lamp light that halos him. He’s sat on the edge, hunched, hands on his face. His hair’s come out of the looped ponytail he usually sleeps in, the hairtie stuck halfway down instead.

“Sweetheart?” Matt’s too nearly forty to bolt upright; the scratchy sleepy concern will have to do. Nick’s Nicky and sweetie and honey when Matt remembers that he’s an, the older, oldest brother. The first thing he thinks is: “You sick?”

Nick’s quiet, so something’s really wrong. Matt’s back complains about the mattress but he ignores it, pulling himself up and out of bed, pushing his hair (the bun’s kind of loose, it’s a pain in the ass) out of his face, pacing in his boxers around to Nick’s side of the bed and sitting down next to him. Nick looks at him, eyes hazy and face all uncertain, and under the beard he looks so little for a second, the same little guy who used to have nightmares back in Rancho Cucamonga because they thought the house was haunted. The familiarity is how Matt knows what’s wrong, too, and leans in, loops his arm around Nick’s shoulder. Nick leans into him with a frustrated groan.

“I didn’t think you still got nightmares.”

“I don’t,” Nick says, voice thick but petulant, a little muffled with his face smushed on Matt’s shoulder. He’s his little brother; he’s never gonna be too big to hold. “Not often.”

Matt pets his crummy ponytail gently. “You wanna talk about it?” Before Nick can say much, he adds, “I think you should talk about it,” because sometimes Nick doesn’t recognise instructions (or at least strong suggestions) if they’re couched in a question.

“I don’t remember much. It was just, you know. Coming back here has been pretty overwhelming. I had bad dreams before Tokyo, too. Nothin new.”

“Oh.” Matt frowns. He didn’t know. He wonders when Nick grew out of coming to tell him he had a nightmare, and realises they’re for real adults and kind of old. Things change sometimes, he guesses, but not without a little ache in his chest.

“Nostalgia’s one hell of a, uh… whatever.”

“Yeah.” Matt turns his head, finds the familiar spot: plants a kiss directly onto Nick’s forehead, in the middle of his hairline. He hasn’t given Nick the kind of actual, comforting kiss for a long time either, as habitual as it feels, and so he’s changed too, in a way. Nick’s kind of sweaty but Matt doesn’t mind. He’s never minded. His mouth muffled into Nick’s hair. “You’re okay.”

Nick hums. There’s a long silence where Matt can tell he’s thinking about something. Matt just waits. Then Nick says: “Am I too old to share with you?”

“What do you think? Come on.” Another kiss into his hairline, then, and a squeeze of his shoulder before he stands up, pulling Nick by the wrist to his bed. Nick’s sheets are going to be gross and sweaty from dreaming anyhow.

It’s old and familiar to pick a side, to get in and immediately steal one of now-Nick’s pillows, to flump down carelessly and watch Nick carefully as he lies down.

There’s a furrow that is slowly evening out in his brow. Nick looks at the ceiling, then, “Thanks.”

Matt knows Nick’s gonna get annoyed if he keeps looking. He turns over, leaves Nick with the warmth of his back. “Anytime.”

#Sorry you had a nightmare mouse 💜#fic post #i hope nice buckies help ~#constantly compelled by writing about them Now …#anonymous #questions and yappas

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