#this episode was so DARK but his smile & fluffy hair light up the room I fear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scintillasofbeomgyu · 8 months ago

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ᯓ★ from me to you — chapter four: daydream

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader. genres: slice of life, social media au, body swap, fluff, angst. wc: 2,5k. warnings: language, they’re in a hospital. i am not a doctor, so if there are any medical inaccuracies in this chapter do not @ me 😭 they will be discussing depression and anxiety, and beomgyu does have a teeny episode, mention of blood (but it’s kinda a funny situation 🤣). an: first three screenshots, then written part, then the last three!

It is Spring. The world is doused in the bright colours of budding flowers that have overcome the harsh cold of winter. The breeze is cool and gentle, and the sun is warm and cozy, leaving the air in a comfortable equilibrium. At this time, the serene trail at Apsan Park would be teeming with hikers eager to conquer it and admire its entrancing beauty, families would be excitedly preparing for picnics under fluffy-clouded blue skies, and who could dare to forget Spring’s shining star: Daegu’s cherry blossoms, that would be out in full bloom at the Flower Garden, in their best and prettiest shades of pinks and whites, swaying on branches and sailing through the air like magic.

The door opens and Beomgyu’s reverie is pulled from under him. He falls back down to earth where his attention is drawn to the doctor stalking into the room on his squelching black crocs with a grave look on his face. He appears engrossed in whatever is printed out on the clipboard in his hands.

The ID card hanging from the lanyard around his neck — Yeungnam University Medical Centre, Dr. Seungcheol Choi, Internal Medicine — rattles in its plastic casing as he moves quickly and swiftly to the desk. He doesn’t look up to acknowledge Beomgyu where he stands by the window just behind the desk, but gestures for him to sit in the hard leather seat on the other side of it. Beomgyu purses his lips in a forced smile and nods.

The office is small, cold and smells strongly of disinfectant. The lack of indoor lighting makes the room look grey and dreary, the only colour at all provided by the medical posters and charts stuck against the glossy white walls. He supposes they are meant to serve an informative purpose, but merely feel eerie to him.

There is a long wooden bookshelf under the wall and against the window where he had stood, where, amongst the array of white papers with indecipherable scribbles written on them, is a sole photo of Dr. Seungcheol Choi and a friend at what appears to be their graduation ceremony.

Among the many things which unsettled him about being in this office, the photo and their big smiling faces brings Beomgyu a sense of solace.

After a long few minutes, Seungcheol sets the clipboard on his desk and finally considers his younger brother. Beomgyu takes the opportunity to notice with greater effort what he had noticed when he arrived at the hospital that morning: his brother looks older.

His cheeks have hollowed and his features are more prominent. His dark hair is cut like their father’s. There is fine stubble creating a light shadow along his jaw and below it. The thick bags under his eyes drive concern into Beomgyu’s heart. He wonders what his brother’s eyes have seen to give them the fatigued yet mature glow they shone with now.

“The good news is,” Seungcehol says, and even his voice sounds deeper when he speaks, “the results from the blood sample we took and sent for testing does not reflect anything terribly wrong. Your iron is a bit low, though, so I do recommend a good diet change. If that doesn’t work, iron supplements are readily available over the counter. If it gets worse, which I doubt in your case, you can make another appointment and they will give you an intravenous iron supplementation here at the hospital.”

The tension in Beomgyu’s shoulders eases just an inch and he sinks into the chair a little more comfortably. An iron deficiency was manageable. An iron deficiency made sense. And iron deficiency was not alarming. “That’s good. Very good.”

Seungcheol nods in agreement, but the frown pressed into his forehead tells there is more to it. Beomgyu slightly tenses up again. “What is it, Hyung?”

His brother picks up the clipboard, presumably carrying the details and results of Beomgyu’s check up, and turns to a specific page before handing it to him. “The results of the mental wellness screening test we did is a bit of concern for me.”

Beomgyu takes it from him and scans the page. Then he frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“Beomgyu, this screening test works a little like how a multiple choice test would. The only way to get everything wrong is if you know what all the right answers are. And your answer to every one of these questions seems to suggest that you strongly believe nothing is wrong with you. Which leads me to believe something strongly is.”

Beomgyu’s throat dries and chest feels heavy. His fingers press into the paper carrying test he had taken earlier that very morning. The answers he had marked with his own hand now glare back at him like an inescapable house of mirrors. The seed of fear that had been dormant by his own efforts begins to take root.

“I am not in the position to make an accurate diagnosis based on the screening test; I am not qualified in that way. I can, however, refer you to one of the best psychiatrists in Seoul – Dr. Junmyeon Kim. He’s a good sunbae of mine,” Seungcheol says, fishing in a drawer for a notepad and pen from the desk, “and he has lots of experience dealing with idols, actors – entertainment industry cases – specifically. I trust his abilities wholeheartedly,” he scribbles something on the paper and hands it to Beomgyu. “He is actually here today meeting with the psychiatry department. You can take that with you and –”

“What do you think it is, though?” Beomgyu’s voice comes out thick and shaky. He swallows heavily and finally manages to tear his eyes away from the paper in his hands to search his brother’s face. “Because it sounds like you have a pretty good idea.”

“I can’t say for sure – ”

“Hyung.” Beomgyu breathes a sharp pain beginning at his temples, “Tell me.”

Seungcheol sighs. “Considering what the screening test reflects, and what your friends have shared with me, you may have some form of high-functioning depression and anxiety. You’re able to go about your day normally: carry out tasks and interact with people just fine, but you still feel the symptoms of these illnesses just as any other patient would. And it sounds as if you may have been trying to suppress them too. Which may be what is causing your nightmares.” His eyes drop to his folded hands on the table for a long moment before returning to his little brother. His eyebrows furrow with concern. “Why didn’t you tell us about Vietnam, Beomgyu?”

Beomgyu’s heart races and his chest tightens. The room feels as if it is closing in on him. His hands tremble and his vision begins to blur so he squeezes his eyes shut.

But I am happy. I have a loving family. I have good friends. I have a job doing what I love. I have adoring fans. I am grateful. So why?

Why do I still feel so empty?

“Beomgyu. Hey, are you okay?” Seungcheol asks, his voice laden with concern as he rushes to his side. The image of the dark bags under his eyes flashes across Beomgyu’s mind, and he forces himself to still.

He feels Seunghcheol’s hand on his shoulder. His eyes open and he smiles. “I’m okay, Hyung. I am sorry that you came all the way from Daegu for this.”

“Beomgyu,” Seungcheol says firmly, yet gently, “it is my job to take care of you. As your brother, but also as a doctor. You need to know that you can ask for help if and when you need it.”

Beomgyu nods absently as he climbs to his feet and returns the report to his brother. He takes the referral from the desk and bows before walking to the door. “Thank you, Hyung.” He grabs the door and pauses, his fingers tightening around the knob. “Don’t… tell mom and dad about this. They’ll worry too much. And thank Kibum-hyung for allowing us to use his office.”

Seungcheol is quiet for a moment. “Of course. It’s your decision to make. Don’t forget to call after you speak with Dr. Kim.”

Beomgyu nods once more and greets his brother before stepping out into the hallway and closing the door behind him.

Feet comes thundering down the hallway suddenly and Beomgyu jumps, frightened out of his consuming thoughts. He shoves the letter into his pocket.

His eyes dart around anxiously, but laughs when he finds Yeonjun and Kai racing to him, trying to push and fight in front of one another.

“What did he say?”

“Are you okay?”

“Are you going to die?”

“Of course not, you idiot!”

The commotion begins to draw the attention of other visitors in the hall and Beomgyu groans, adjusting his mask. “Can the two of you be quiet!” He yells at them in a restrained voice, pushing a finger to his lips and offering apologetic looks to everyone else.

They protest as Beomgyu grabs them by their coats and pulls them around a corner for more privacy, demanding answers. As soon as they’re alone however, they both go quiet and stare at him in anticipation. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, but chuckles.

“I am okay. The tests didn’t pick up any major problems.” Beomgyu says and they sigh in relief. He smiles, but the weight of the fumbled recommendation in his pocket makes his stomach twist. “But…”

They both freeze, their eyes flashing between concern and fear. “What?” Kai asks.

Guilt squeezes Beomgyu’s chest. He forces a laugh. “Why are you looking at me like that! He only said my iron is a bit low, so I need to eat better and exercise more.”

“I told you to eat better and exercise!” Yeonjun scolds, fixing his hands in his hips. “Did I not?” Then he turns to Kai, “See! But no, I am the boomer for telling you you need to not game that much!”

“Hyung,” Kai sighs, mirroring Yeonjun’s stance. “I told you. Gaming is relaxing for me!”

They start walking toward the lobby, bickering about Kai’s mistake during dance practice and Yeonjun taking forever in the shower and what they’re going to order for dinner. Beomgyu trails behind them and watches with a faint smile. They’ve all been through a lot. He can’t bring himself to make his matter bigger than anyone else’s.

He’ll work harder to be more thankful.

“Oh!” Yeonjun smacks his hands together, turning to Beomgyu. “I forgot to mention, a hoobae of mine is a student at this hospital. They shift departments, and he’s in the psychiatry ward this week. Let’s go say hi!”

Beomgyu’s stomach plummets. He grabs Yeonjun’s arm in panic. “Hyung. Um. We have work to do. The demo, we still need to work on it, remember?”

Yeonjun considers him for a moment. “We won’t be long, we’re just saying hi.”

“I, uh,” Beomgyu says, mind searching desperately for an excuse. He mentally curses when he cannot think of one. But then a lightbulb goes off. “I have to go to the pharmacy. For iron supplements.”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. Then he hums. “Okay. We’ll meet up with you in the lobby then.”

He turns and waves over his shoulder. Kai steels his expression and shakes a fist reassuringly before jogging after him.

Beomgyu waits until he can no longer see them, then his shoulders fall and he breathes. He pulls out the referral letter from his pocket where he had stuffed it and unfurls it.

He hadn’t seen his brother in two whole years, and this is how it had to go?

He sighs, stuffs it back in his pocket and looks up at the signage for the way to the lobby. When he reaches the escalator, a body zooming through the floor below makes him stop in his tracks. They maneuver their way through obstacles in their path and race up the escalator. Just before the landing, they trip and face plant into the floor next to him.

Beomgyu gasps and rushes to help. “Hey, are you okay?”

The girl groans as she takes his outstretched hand. He helps her up and she uses her free hand to hold onto her head. “Yeah, sorry.”

Beomgyu helps her to a seat and gets a good look at her to make sure she’s not badly hurt.

At first glance, she seems plain and simple, nothing about her really special at all. She is dressed in wide-legged washed out jeans and a green knitted sweater, one sleeve more stretched than the other and hanging over her hand. Her dark hair is brushed out of her face, yet it is wild from the running and the subsequent fall. And the cause of said fall was quite clearly the old-looking, scuffed up black sneakers hugging her feet.

But when she finally looks at Beomgyu, it is as if time stops. The big eyes of this unassuming girl regard him with nothing but sincere kindness. Her smile reaches from ear to ear, teeth-showing, as if she means it with her whole heart, and Beomgyu’s chest trembles.

“Thank you!” She grins, bowing her head before giving him two thumbs up. “I’m all good. Sorry for getting in your way!”

Beomgyu shakes his head, the edges of his lips picking up. “Ah, no! No that’s okay.”

“No, I shouldn’t have ran!” She sighs as if frustrated with herself, but before Beomgyu can speak, she rambles on. “It’s a hospital, I was being silly. It’s just my friend’s on his break soon and he hasn’t eaten since this morning and I kind of need his help tomorrow because I’m moving – not that I’m only doing this because I need his help! I’m not that kind of person! But he likes my kimchi stew and —”

Beomgyu watches her in amusement, but then his eyes widens and he gasps. “Y-Your!”

She tilts her head in confusion, blood dripping down her nose. Beomgyu points in panic and when she finally realizes, she laughs and wipes it with the back of her hand. “No, no! This is okay, I’m – ” she freezes, checks her watch and jumps to her feet. “I’m late!”

She readjusts her backpack and hurries off again into the hospital, leaving Beomgyu in a state between shock, concern and absolute dumbfoundedness as he stares after her.

“Hyung?” Kai says, just barely snapping Beomgyu out of it. He came from the elevator with Yeonjun and someone else in a white coat who he has never seen before. “What’s wrong?” He arches a brow, following Beomgyu’s line of eyesight.

Beomgyu opens his mouth to speak, but cannot even begin to make sense of what just happened himself. Instead, he bursts out laughing. His friends look at one another, then at him.

“Bro,” Yeonjun raises a brow. “Are you okay? Genuinely?”

The girl, her silliness and the bright aura she had left behind makes Beomgyu’s chest zing, and a score pops into his mind.

“I… think I may have an idea for a demo track.”

prev. | mlist | next

life is rough for (y/n). after dropping out of college and moving away from her family to live life on her own terms, she struggles to keep up with the fast-paced city life in Seoul. she becomes a fan of the kpop idol, choi beomgyu. while his content keeps her motivated to strive for her dreams, she can’t help but wish she had the same luck he has had. but not everything is as it seems.

taglist: @yoonzinoswife @ameliesaysshoo @bgomtori @woncheecks @seodami @thing89 @stormy1408 @boba-beom @binluvsu @lillynval @nothingwithoutgyu @gyuville @tinhq @soobnuuy @031323o (send an ask to be added!)

#smau: from me to you 🎆#txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt smau #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu smau #beomgyu fluff #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader

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serene-sun · 2 years ago

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Pairing: nameless ghouls x gn reader

Summary: really just a self insert because I need some ghoul fluff, but who doesn’t? Nothing specific, kinda covered everything lol.

Warning: slight depressing episode w/ comfort? Small ed if you squint very very hard

“May we come in?” A few of your favorite voices asked softly from behind the spruce door ahead of the dark room.

You lurk under the fluffy safety of many blankets and pillows, accompanying by some special stuffies papa and the ghouls picked out for you.

You groan, not really wanting the few ghouls to come in, but neither wanting them to leave. But these ghouls understand you in ways others couldn’t.

When things got to loud, and your chest started to squeeze, when your lungs burned for more air, the ghoulettes were there to calm you down. Patting your back, rubbing circles and occasionally using their sharp but dull nails to scratch it soothingly.

It was times when there were simply too many people in the room that the air got thick and it felt like everyone was staring directly at you, judging, laughing, and mocking as people stared. Although nobody really was, your throat closed and it was hard to speak, usually just mumbles and whimpers leaving as you felt limp at the embarrassment of just existing in public. But of course, aether and mountain were always there to block out the crowd of people, their eyes, and the echoing noise they emitted.

Rain had always sensed your unwell mood when you “forgot” to eat again, breakfast lunch and dinner was just a waste of time and patients you didn’t have.

“Maybe just try to eat these?” He would always bring you a small glass of water, or your favorite juice, with a small pack of crackers or a little treat the siblings made for holidays. Rain knew it was hard, not everything was easy as it is said, nevertheless the ghouls themselves have these times too.

Dewdrop and Swiss were a little energetic but they helped so much. Their moods in general and the way they talked but brought you peace. Dewdrops warmth would send you asleep fast. Dozing off into his arms, most of the time on accident. And Swiss was just Swiss, his humor, laugh and smile was enough to cheer you up in seconds. You loved racking your fingers through dews longs flowing hair, and when Swiss would accompany you. You would play with his dark curls and trace over his hands.

So knowing that either way the ghouls could sense your unsettling feelings or not, they would always be knocking on the door for some sort of cat like activity.

When the door slowly creaks open, a small candle light blinds you as you realize how dark your cold cavern of a room is. Judging by dewdrops shiver and even mountain disapproving of the dark room, they came closer to your bed.

For a moment you thought they couldn’t see your immobile form under so many blankets and pillows.

Cirrus and cumulus huff, crossing their arms, looking at the mirror and window covered with thin sheets.

“Darling…why didn’t you tell us you were going through it again? Speak to us.” She sighs, coming to sit on the bed. Patting your thigh through the layers she adds, “alright, let’s make a deal.”

You peak at the ghoulette from under the dark navy’s blue comforter in a bargain.

“Cumulus and I draw you a nice warm bath while the others get you a real meal, glass of cold water and some refreshing tea. Then, we cuddle until papa scolds us for being lazy cats!” She says, playfully hitting your leg, signaling for your answer.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize, voice so dry and faded from keeping quiet all night and day.

“Oh dear, don’t even think about apologizing.” Aether says, cupping your cheek as you sit up.

The other ghouls nod and agree, they step out as the ghoulettes enter the bathroom connected to your, still dark, room.

You can feel that the ghouls know what’s bothering you, but still, they will ask.

“My dear, your so beautiful and kind. Your not a burden and don’t even think about comparing yourself to anyone.” Cumulus tells you, a soft smile against your cheek as she hugs you close, combing out the little tangles in your soaked hair in the bath.

It’s like they can read your mind, because she doesn’t bother to ask the questions she has the answer too.

“Who cares what those bastards think or say.” Cirrus puffs, laying out your favorite (Aether’s) sweatshirt and a pair of (dewdrops) fuzzy socks since he gets so cold easily.

You close your eyes, falling deeper into the warm herbal bath as you peak through the door to see mountain fixing the bed. Ridding of any dirty clothes and fixing new sheets and pillow cases.

As you leave the bathroom, cozy in what is definitely your own clothing, you are surprised to see the ghouls had actually gotten you a full meal that’s not a few grapes or a small glass of water and mint gum.

You feel so very fortunate to have such companions and understood how hard it was for you to do certain things. Looking at the small bit medium sized bowl of your favorite soup, you looked back up at the happy twitching ghouls waiting for your judgment.

“Thank you” you blurt, a sniffle as you try not to feel any major feeling at the moment.

After a few bites, you crawl into the newly fixed bed, the ghouls instantly swarming you with hugs and kisses.

Dewdrop has already turn the heated blanket onto high. Swiss had already fallen asleep into your chest. Aether and mountain purring into your warming form as rain playing with the fur on dewdrops tail, drifting off at the positive emotions coming from the snuffle pile. You felt yourself drifting off as the warm meal settles inside your stomach warming you from the inside out, not to mention the ghoulettes curled, braiding and messing with your washed hair.

It was nice to have the cold anxiety replaced with warm open hearted love and understanding. Although it foggy from being so sleepy, you think papa slipped in the cracked door to see why the ministry was so unusually quiet. All you can remember is a sweet smile and a small chuckle in Italian before closing the door softly.

*A/N

My masterlist needs to be updated and I need to start a habit of tagging it for a certain area, so make ignore the first tag lol.

All reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! Requests are open here

#serene sun writes #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghoulette x reader #rain ghoul x reader #aether ghoul x reader #swiss ghoul x reader #sodo ghoul x reader #dewdrop ghoul x reader #mountain ghoul fluff #mountain ghoul x reader #cirrus x reader #cumulus ghoulette x reader #nameless ghoulette fluff #the band ghost #the band ghost x reader #the band ghost fluff

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hypersonic04 · 2 years ago

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Cosy Sunday

hello everyone! sorry for being MIA for a while, please accept this fluffy, domestic, cosy one-shot as my apology. also, the reference to talent show results at the end is purely for my own comfort because watching strictly come dancing on a cosy winter evening is the light of my life. enjoy my darlings!

word count: 1,764

I wake up to the sound of gentle cries from the crib next to our bed, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to gain an extra second of peace before the chaos of newborn-parent life begins. Before I can even get out of bed, I feel the mattress lift from behind me.

"I'll get her." He whispers to me as I turn my head, watching him lift her tiny body onto his chest. He shushes her, gently rocking her up and down, his hand nearly the entire size of her body.

"What time is it?" I squint to at the clock on the nightstand, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

"7AM, our girl slept all the way through." He smiles down at her as her small hands attempt to grasp at his bare chest. The combination of postpartum hormones and his gentle whispers to her make me emotional as I lie in bed, pulling the covers up under my chin and sniffling a little. He looks over to me and I smile sleepily.

"Do you want to sleep in mummy and daddy's bed, hm?" He says to her, lifting her up in front of him. Her feet scrunch up in her tiny onesie and he pouts at her, bringing her over to me.

He hands her over to me as he gets back into bed, sitting up and brushing a few strands of hair away from my forehead. "How did you sleep?"

"I slept well, thank you, my love." I smile softly, also sat up now and cradling the baby as he kisses me gently.

We sit in silence for a while, the soft brush of his thumb against my arm comforting as we lie together. It's around half past eight when Ross gets out of bed and makes us both a coffee, bringing it upstairs and putting the latest episode of Bake Off on while I feed her. It's a chilly day, the middle of October in fact, the trees surrounding our house now a golden-brown colour. Our dog sleeps at the edge of the bed, wrapped up in the white duvet like a baby in his own right.

"Do you have any plans for today?" I ask as I stand up with her in my arms, walking around the room gently after her feed.

Even now, after being together all this time, I blush at the sight of him shirtless in bed. He's got the covers pulled over his lap, a mug looking ridiculously tiny in his hands, his dark eyes following me as I walk towards him.

"I don't think so, darling." He smiles up at me, taking my free hand in his as I stand next to the bed and pressing a firm kiss to my wedding-ring-adorned knuckle. "Why, what are you thinking?" He squints his eyes a little and I giggle at his attempt to read my mind.

"I'm thinking about going for a walk this morning, and then going for a Sunday roast."

"A walk and a roast with my girls? The dream." He jokingly swoons at the thought and I laugh at him, running my fingertips through his hair. "Here, let me take her while you get ready."

I put my playlist on and get ready in the en-suite, laughing to myself when I hear him singing along to the 90's boy band songs I have on. For my outfit of the day, I go for a chunky knit sweater and jeans, complete with a pair of boots.

"I didn't realise you were such an avid Boyzone fan." I giggle as I stand in the doorway of the bathroom, blending my make up as I watch him sing the lyrics to her.

"She's just like her Uncle Matty, she's trying to sing." He smiles, fingers gently combing through her thick, dark hair.

Once I'm ready, I take her from him and get her dressed as he does the same.

"Look how cute your daughter looks." I grin as he makes his way downstairs, putting her into the pushchair his mum and dad bought us. It's beautiful - cream with big wheels, perfect for days like today.

"Oh my god." He throws his head back dramatically when he sees her in a white, teddy-bear-material onesie, the hood pulled up with little ears on. "I was going to say how did we make something so cute, but she's half you, so it makes sense." He wraps his arms around my waist from behind and presses a kiss to my neck, making me blush and giggle at the same time.

"Ross, she's literally your carbon copy." I smile, resting head on his next to me.

"True, very true." He raises his eyebrows in agreement. "Come on, Ollie!" He says to the dog after a moment, putting his collar and lead on.

With that, we head out, Ross holding the dog's lead and me pushing baby in her pram. It's not too cold now, the sky clear and the sun shining. We head into the woods, smiling at other people on their Sunday morning walks. I laugh as Ross throws the ball for Ollie, his little legs moving faster than I've ever seen.

"Do you want me to push?" He asks, turning around to look at me with a smile. I grin, knowing that he's asking to push the pram, rather than offering.

"Yes, please."

We swap, my arm linked through his as we walk together, his eyes fixated on his little girl bundled up in front of him. I didn't think it was possible, but watching Ross become a dad has made me fall in love with him all over again.

I glance over at him and wonder how I got so lucky. He looks so broad and tall, the navy fleece sweater he's wearing really playing into the whole DILF thing. His hair is pulled back into a bun, his large hands holding onto the handle of the pushchair, and I have to avert my eyes before it becomes weird.

"I love you." I say, breaking the comfortable silence and kissing his sweater-covered bicep. He presses a kiss to the top of my head in return.

"I love you more."

"You're so good at this."

"At what? Pushing the pram?"

"No," I giggle. "Being a dad. Being a husband."

"It's only because of you." He glances down at me, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiles gently. "It's only because I'm your husband, because she's our baby." I swallow deeply in attempt to not cry in the middle of our walk. "Plus, you're a great mum, so it's easy to be a parent when it's with you."

"Stop, I'm going to cry." I sniffle and he laughs loudly at my emotional instability. I smack his arm teasingly, crouching down to put Ollie's lead back on as we reach the main road and cross to go to the pub.

We order our lunches, Ross sat with a pint in front of him as he feeds the baby. I steal a sip as he does so, still not used to the privilege of being able to drink again.

The pub we're in is so cosy - dim lighting, candles lit and an autumnal wreath on the door, dog-friendly too with Ollie asleep under the table. I smile to myself when I spot an elderly couple sat across from us, holding hands as they have their Sunday lunch. I think about how that will be Ross and I someday, reminiscing on the days when we were recently married and parenting our first baby.

We eat our roast dinner as the baby sleeps in her pushchair, both of us checking on her every two minutes. Conversations of work gossip and the Netflix show someone recommended makes up our lunchtime discussions, the restlessness of our daughter being the only reason we don't end up staying here all night. Ross downs the last bit of his pint, standing up and heading over to the bar to pay the bill. I swaddle her in her blanket again, pressing a small kiss to her head before placing her in the pushchair. We leave and head back the same way we came, Ross holding Ollie for a little bit on the way back. I smile to myself at how he still babies his beloved boy, despite having an actual child now. I can hear him talking to him, kissing him and ruffling the curly hair around his ears.

It's nearly dark by the time we get back, around 5pm.

I hear him running the tiny baby bath upstairs as I empty the dishwasher from this morning, attempting to calm her little cries by pacing the hall with her.

"See, this one is when mummy and daddy got married," he stands in front of the picture frames on the wall, pointing to one from our wedding day. "Look how pretty mummy looks." He tilts his head to the side with a soft smile on his face, swallowing and blinking harshly. "And this one is all your uncles! Look at Uncle George, he looks so cool there."

I make my way upstairs and assist him in bathing her, getting her dressed and brushing her hair gently. She's sleepy from her bath, yawning and rubbing her face with her tiny, scrunched up hands. I settle her down in her crib, quietly closing the door to our bedroom behind me before making my way downstairs, now in pyjamas with my make up off and hair up.

Ross is sat in the sofa when I get downstairs, feet up and arms crossed as he watches the football scores from today.

"You're such a dad." I tease as I stand beside him, running my fingers through his hair and leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He rests a hand on my hip, holding me to him for a few more seconds before pulling away.

"I know, right?" He laughs as I sit next to him, my legs pulled up to me as I rest my head into his side. He changes the channel and puts the results of some tacky talent show on, making me smile at the fact that I know he hates it but is willing to endure it for me. His arm around my shoulders holds me to him, his free hand offering me a chocolate button from the bag he's been hiding in the cupboard. I accept gladly, closing my eyes and sighing heavily.

"You okay?" He murmurs into my hair, his words muffled.

"Yeah, just really happy."

#1975 band #adam hann #fanfic #george daniel #matty healy #ross macdonald #the 1975 #matty the 1975 #atpoaim #bfiafl

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alterchaos · 5 months ago

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SONIC'S SCREAM TEAM

Not so long ago in a spooky haunted castle there was a group of friends out to enjoy the...movie set? Wait...CUT! Cut! Let's roll that back! Ghosts surely aren't real, except, maybe the ones haunting our past mistakes...

inspired by: SONIC X EPISODE 19

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: THAT'S WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR

NEXT CHAPTER: CRUISE BLUES

(cn: part of this chapter was drawn before being finished in written format)

Amy breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of their approaching friend, “Oooh…She’s just running away from some ghosts…

...

Wait.”

The boy and the hedgehog joined their friend, screaming as they worked to flee the terrifying spirits chasing them from behind. After a few moments, Amy took note of a side room they could duck in quickly approaching.

“Quick! This way!”

The trio of friends threw themselves to the side just as the ghosts attempted to swipe. They tumbled down a few steps before landing on the stone, cold floor of the castle’s inner chamber. The three of them gasped for air a few moments until all fell quiet. Chris pushed himself up onto his feet, regaining his stamina.

“Phew! I think…I think we finally lost them…”

The girl with the fluffy, golden hair flipped onto her back, gasping in shock as her eyes focused on the strange sight above her, “G-G-Guys…I-I think we have bigger things to worry about!!!”

The older of the Thorndyke siblings followed his sister’s frightened gaze, equally shocked as his eyes fell upon the sight of their friends and family trapped between some dark, purple barrier and the ceiling above. He locked eyes with his worried mother a moment before shifting his gaze to meet Sonic’s, equally as worried for their predicament.

So that was where they’d all ended up.

“H-How did they get up THERE!?”

“That’s easy…”

The Thorndyke siblings watched in horror as their pink friend turned her head, her eyes now reflecting those of the psychotic ghosts who’d stolen their friends. Her mouth cracked into an equally unsettling smile as she tilted her head in a creepy and unnatural fashion, her quills turning upward slightly as large, dark claws broke through the tips of her gloves.

“WE PHASED THEM INTO THE WALLS THE SAME AS US!!!!”

Amy dropped her hammer as the siblings screamed.

“EVE, WE HAVE TO MOVE!!!” Chris tried to pull his sister off the floor and away from the possessed hedgehog but it was no use.

“YOU…”

The little girl froze, unable to will herself to move as her precious friend lunged at her. Claws stretched wide, she grabbed the small girl by the collar of her dress, paying no mind to the boy next to her as she dragged her along in malice. Her back hit the far wall with a loud crash, as the possessed hedgehog continued to pin her there with her elbow.

“CEASE IT!!! CEASE IT AT ONCE!!!”

The small, winded girl continued to stare at her friend with wide, terrified eyes, confused at what the spirit within meant.

“A-A-Amy…?”

She threw the girl to the side in one, swift motion. Eve tumbled a few feet backward, skidding to a halt near the far wall. Apart from a few bruises and scrapes, she was uninjured, though she didn’t know how long that would last as her friend approached her once more, cornering her like prey. Amy’s body knelt down, the pink in her now-rounded irises glowing with hatred and a thirst for vengeance.

“STOP PERSISTING!!! CEASE IT!!! CEASE THAT BLINDING LIGHT!!! YOU AND YOUR LIGHT SHOULD SIMPLY CEASE TO EXIST!!!”

Eve brought up an arm, shielding herself as the spirit laughed menacingly, preparing to strike.

“DROWN IN THE SHADOWS OF DARKNESS!!!”

“EVE!!!”

Just as her hand went to strike, Chris grabbed hold of it, using its momentum to throw off her attack. He tumbled on top of his friend, his wrist bending unnaturally as the ghost fought back, wrangling Amy’s hand free.

“GNH!!!”

“CHRIS!!!!”

He didn’t give up though, continuing to wrestle against the hedgehog’s immense strength despite his sprained wrist. Whether through sheer willpower or Amy somehow fighting back against the spirit, Chris managed to force his way between her and his sister, their hands locked in struggle as they stared each other down.

“Enough…You want to hurt my little sister?”

Chris threw his arms up with all his strength before letting go of her hands, throwing Amy’s body off guard. Though it felt wrong, he took the opportunity to punch Amy in the face, knocking her backwards and giving him the chance to rise to his feet. The ghost jumped onto the hedgehog’s feet, crouching down like an animal ready to pounce. Chris took a readied stance, pointing to himself with a thumbs up for a moment as he stared the spirit down with fury and determination.

“THEN YOU’LL HAVE TO GO THROUGH ME!!!”

Though worried for his friends’ safety, the blue hedgehog couldn’t help but smile proudly from above as he watched his dear friend stand strong, fearlessly defending his little sister without hesitation. The blonde woman next to him watched the hedgehog a moment before looking back to her son with wide eyes.

He’d grown so much in such a short time.

How had she missed it?

Amy’s body continued to lunge in a similar fashion, though now targeting the boy who had landed a hit on her. She would have to take him out first if she wanted to reach the small girl who was now running to the large hammer on the ground. She grabbed the handle, attempting to lift it to no avail and resorting to dragging it along the ground slightly with each tug.

“C-Come on! If only…If only I could throw it up there…”

She continued to tug, useless to the battle at hand.

“...I could break the wall and release everyone!”

But she was weak.

Amy landed a slash on Chris’s right arm, causing him to stumble and cry out in pain. She then grabbed him and threw him into the far wall, his forearm meeting the full force of the impact under his weight with a loud crack.

“GAAAAH!!!”

“CHRIIIISS!!!!”

Her body turned back to the frightened girl and began approaching, a sinister series of cackles escaping her. She paused, however, as the figure of a bruised, spiky-haired boy slid into her path once more, now holding his fractured arm with care.

“F-Family…is supposed to BE THERE for each other!!! A-And I…I REFUSE TO KEEP ABANDONING MINE!!!”

plip

The girl clutched the hammer close as tears began falling from her eyes, her mother above watching in a similar fashion as she recalled the disappointment in her daughter’s voice over the phone.

So…

That was why he’d been so upset…

Lindsey clenched her fists in frustration, guilt crossing her expression.

Of course she’d missed it.

She’d always missed it.

Even now as she tried to include them both following the world-wide discovery of Sonic after his fight with the evil Dr. Eggman…

The girl continued to clutch the hammer for support as she watched her brother fight tirelessly to protect her with wet eyes.

“C-Chris…”

plip

Both Thorndyke kids’ eyes widened at the sight of their possessed friend, trembling as a few tears fell from her eyes. She suddenly gripped her head as she stumbled away from them a few steps.

“GRRRR!!! NO!!! YOU ARE UNDER OUR CONTROL!!!”

“Amy!!”

She continued fighting it another moment before throwing Chris aside and lunging at Eve in a swift motion. There was nothing the girl with the golden hair could do but shut her eyes as she prepared to meet her fate.

This…was the end…

…

The girl slowly opened her aqua eyes just in time to feel the hammer be yanked from her grasp. She looked to Amy, a sincere yet still-creepy grin crossing her muzzle as she momentarily regained control. The sight made the girl’s skin crawl though she listened at the hedgehog’s painfully forced words.

“...Q-Quick! Take…cover!!”

Eve ducked and covered her head as Amy used the last of her consciousness and momentum to launch her hammer at the ceiling barrier. She smiled weakly before losing herself once more.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

But it was too late.

CRASH!!!

The ghost fled his vessel as it attempted to save the barrier, Amy falling to the floor unconscious as a result. Everyone who was captured fell the short distance, bracing for impact.

All, that is, except Sonic.

The spirit barely had a chance to react before the hedgehog’s emerald gaze locked on in fury, revving into a spindash and attacking over and over with his unrelenting wrath. The ghost screamed with each rapid strike, unable to maintain its physical form for much longer against such power.

However…

The ghost smiled.

Finally…

The perfect vessel.

It entered the hedgehog’s mind, ready to consume such raw strength as its own.

Darkness surrounded the spirit…

It should have been comforting…

And yet…

Glowing eyes pierced the spirit, shaking it to its core.

This…

This…is…

The ghost fled the hedgehog’s body before he even had a chance to process its entry. He continued to attack, the spirit relenting and disappearing from the scene. Sonic landed with a resounding huff, quelling the boiling rage within him as the ghost’s presence vanished. He quickly turned to the direction of the unconscious hedgehog with panic.

“AMY!!!”

“CHRIS!!!”

The famous actress ran to her injured son, embracing him much to his dismay, though he was too exhausted to fight against it.

“I know…I’m sorry…I won’t act so recklessly again…”

“I’m proud of you, son.”

Chris’s eyes widened.

“W-What? You aren’t upset with me?”

“No. You’ve grown up so fast and I…I can’t wait to see how you continue to grow…both of you…I know I’ve missed so much but I…I hope I can-”

“Of course you can…” Chris smiled, releasing a few tears, “...Mom.”

Eve smiled happily as Ella placed a tender and knowing hand on her shoulder.

Chartreuse eyes slowly blinked open, meeting those of an emerald hue.

“S-Sonic…?”

The blue hedgehog quickly hugged her in a trembling embrace, his typically cool demeanor slipping as panic overtook his voice.

“Amy, thank goodness you’re okay…”

The pink hedgehog blushed, having never seen such a side to him before. Sonic equally realized his slipup, his face turning bright red as he frantically scooped the pink hedgehog into his arms like any other friend and smiled comically.

“UUUUH! Y-You did great out there, Ames! You really showed that ghost who was boss! Heh heh heh!”

“Y-Yeah…” She looked to the bruised and battered Thorndyke siblings, a deep and unsettling wave of guilt washing over her.

Sonic noticed her shift in demeanor, “Amy?”

She continued to stare at Chris, watching as he winced in pain from the small fracture in his arm, “I-I…” She fought back a few tears.

Sonic followed her gaze, smiling gently when he realized what had to be going through her mind, “Hey…Chin up, Ames. He’ll be okay.” The boy in question turned to face the duo, having realized he was being stared at, “Chris is super strong, after all.” He offered the pained boy a wink, Chris returning one of his own with a sincere smile. Amy smiled tiredly before shifting her gaze from his and turning back towards Sonic’s chest to hide her face.

“Okay…”

Sonic turned to the group, offering his most-joyful demeanor to help lighten the mood, “Come on, gang! Let’s head back! I’m starved for more of Ella’s world-class chilidogs after all that!”

Ella chuckled before offering a flashy smile, “As soon as I find some staff and get these kids bandaged up, let’s have ourselves a real family meal made by yours truly!” She looked to the closer-than-ever siblings with a warm smile as they checked each other over for injuries, “I think we’ve earned it…”

“Oh! I would love to help, Ella!” The actress's eyes sparkled in anticipation, “I can make the kids’ favorites just like I used to!”

Chris and Eve began to sweat, preferring not to remember how their “favorites” turned out last time.

Ella knew better as well, “Er…yes…well…You can be my official assistant! Every great chef needs one, Lindsey! Ha ha ha!”

Lindsey gasped, “You. Are. Absolutely right, Ella! It’ll be just like when we were kids!” Her eyes sparkled more.

The Thorndyke siblings wiped the sweat from their brows, safe for now.

Tails began to drool just thinking about it, “Man, I could really go for some more of your mints…”

“...We’ve gotta work on your diet, Lil’ Bro…” The pair of brothers took up the rear as the group exited the castle chamber.

The young fox blushed, “I-I eat other things too!”

“Yeah…a small meal and five empty mint tins is not what I would call ‘healthy’...”

“Oh and like ten chilidogs is?”

“Hey! At least it’s actually food!”

The human girl helping her brother along up head giggled at their banter, none of them aware of the ghosts appearing behind them as they left.

“Fools…ghosts. Don’t. DIE.”

The malevolent spirits laughed, though none ever dared to challenge the hedgehog or his comrades ever again.

CHAPTER END

#alter chaos #tails has a mint addiction #sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sth #sonic oc #sonic fanart #sth au #sonic fancomic #sth fandom #sth fanart #sonic fanfiction #sonic x #sonamy #amy rose #miles tails prower #chris thorndyke #alter chaos alter earth saga #cream the rabbit

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beefromanoff · 1 year ago

Text

Going Under Ch. 28

summary: the team joins Bucky and Gianna in New York for Thanksgiving as a family <3

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: Real Love Baby - Father John Misty

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: special holiday episode! Happy (late) Thanksgiving! guys listen...I had a whole plan for this story to have some drama and angst and a twist and now everyone is saying it's their happy little fluffy escapist story and I can't make myself do the original storyline! so I just keep writing fluff and happiness! let me know if you want me to stick to the happy stuff or go back to my original plan. thanks for reading, ily ily ily!

chapter list

________________________________

The sun had yet to fully breach the horizon when Gianna woke in the soft cocoon of Bucky's arms. The room, kissed by early morning light, painted an incriminating image of the night before. Gianna’s gown was crumpled in the doorway, discarded. Her heels were a few feet behind that, barely visible in the hallway. A black dress shirt marked a trail to the bed, a dark leather belt sitting atop forgotten dress pants. In the midst of plush bedding, tangled limbs and a mess of blonde and dark haired bedhead.

Bucky pressed a gentle kiss to Gianna’s forehead, his gaze soft as he watched her stir.

"Morning, doll," he whispered, a smile playing on his lips.

Gianna stretched, her eyes finding his. "Mornin’, handsome."

“Big day today.”

“Mmhmm. I should have gotten more rest.” She yawned.

“Sorry.” His grin was anything but apologetic.

“No you’re not.”

“No…I’m not.” His hand traced lazy circles on her stomach beneath the comforter.

“What’s on the agenda today, Sergeant?”

Bucky, unraveling himself from the bedsheets, grinned. "Well, first, coffee. Then, once you’re fully functioning, we’ll have a little time to get ready before the team gets here. Maybe we can grab a few candles from the corner store, make it a little homier in here."

“Bucky Barnes, homemaker extraordinaire.” She teased, slipping out from under the comforter. “I didn’t know you had a Martha Stewart side.”

“Who’s Martha Stewart?” He frowned.

“Nevermind.”

The brisk New York air greeted Gianna and Bucky as they stepped out of the Avengers' Tower. The city pulsed with energy, waking up to a day of celebration. Even at the early hour, the streets were bustling with pedestrians running their last minute errands. Hand in hand, they strolled toward a quaint corner café, the aroma of freshly ground coffee guiding their way.

Bucky’s eyes darted around the sidewalk, always on guard for anything to threaten their peaceful little bubble. His gaze softened as he looked at Gianna. "You know, this place reminds me of the little coffee shop we found in Kansas City during the tour."

Gianna grinned, the memory flooding back. "Oh yeah! The one with the too-small tables but amazing little pastries."

“Those tables were made for children.”

“Well,” She laughed. “Maybe just not for Super Soldiers.”

“Discrimination.”

As they entered the café, the familiar chime of the bell overhead signaled their arrival. The barista, recognizing them, greeted them with a warm smile. They had a few favorites in the city, but this hidden gem was beloved by the team for the low key atmosphere and the discretion of the staff.

Bucky stepped forward to order their usual drinks, his demeanor softened in civilian clothes. They settled into a cozy corner, the buzz of the city muffled by the quiet ambiance of the café. Their drinks came quickly, thanks to the lack of other patrons so early.

Sipping his black coffee, Bucky began to reminisce again. "Remember that night when we couldn’t even get into the hotel because the fans had swarmed the whole block around the entrance?"

Gianna chuckled, sipping her latte. "Um, you mean the night you lifted me onto that platform by the service entrance like I was literally seven pounds? How could I forget such a pivotal moment!"

He cocked his head to the side, brows furrowed. “Pivotal how?”

“Pivotal because that was the moment I cared more about getting you back in my bed than getting back to my room safely.” Gianna’s eyes narrowed, her face half sheepish, half flirtatious. The way his eyes darkened ever so slightly made her stomach flip.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” She sipped her coffee slowly without breaking eye contact.

“So why didn’t you ask me to stay again?”

“I couldn’t just ask you to sleep over with me.”

“Yes. Yes, you absolutely could have.”

“Okay, noted for the next time I want to seduce my mysterious and emotionally aloof bodyguard.”

He scowled, shooting her a sidelong look to say he wasn’t a fan of the joke. Gianna breezed past it. "And then there was that show in Dallas when it didn’t stop raining for hours. I felt like I was performing in a hurricane."

“I should probably apologize to Tom for the things I threatened trying to get him to cancel it. I thought for sure you’d get sick, or hurt, or whatever the hell else happens when you stand in the rain for three hours.” Bucky rubbed his jaw. “That was before I knew you were the stubborn one keeping us from canceling.”

“A little rain never hurt anyone.” Gianna's fingers traced patterns on the steaming cup. "Those were good days. Long days, long nights, for sure. But it was good. I love those memories." Her eyes flicked up. “With you.”

Bucky's voice softened as he reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Yeah. They were good days."

A few hours later, the air buzzed with the arrival of the rest of the team. The Quinjet touched down on the landing pad mid-morning. One by one, Earth's mightiest heroes descended down the ramp, each carrying some kind of bag or dish. Except for Tony, who strode down empty-handed.

“Damn, you clean up alright.” Sam elbowed Bucky as he strode past, pretending to gawk at his uncharacteristically cozy sweater and jeans combo.

“Surprised you clean up at all.”

“Don’t be grumpy on Thanksgiving,” Wanda scolded, thrusting a dish into Bucky’s arms. “Hi, G.” She kissed Gianna on both cheeks before following the men to the elevator.

“Something smells amazing!” Gianna called after her. “Here, let me take something.” She held her hands out for Natasha to pass her a bag.

The Tower, now adorned with autumnal decorations, felt like a homecoming. The team reconvened in the main common area, having dispersed briefly to drop off their belongings in their respective rooms. Music played over the speakers, candles were lit across every flat surface in the room, the sounds of the kitchen filled the air.

Natasha, expertly chopping vegetables, shot a smirk at Tony. "Remember the first Thanksgiving we spent together? Turkey disaster, anyone?"

Tony, feigning innocence from his seat at the bar, replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about. The fire was small, barely noticeable."

Pots simmered, ovens hummed, and the rich aroma of Thanksgiving filled the air. As usual, Wanda and Gianna took the lead on cooking, enlisting the help of other hands as necessary. Tony didn’t move from his seat, sipping a drink and “supervising.”

Wanda turned from where she stirred the pot of gravy. "Back in Sokovia, we didn't celebrate Thanksgiving. This tradition feels like something we missed out on."

Steve, kneading dough for his alleged famous apple pie, nodded in agreement. "One thing about America, we take our holiday celebrations seriously. Especially when they’re centered around eating.” He paused before adding, “and being grateful.”

“Cap, put a dollar in the morality police jar.” Tony gestured with his drink.

As the feast took shape, the team gathered around Tony’s grand dining table, fully set for dinner. Finally making his contribution, he walked around the table filling everyone’s wine glass. Wanda floated the final dish to the table, now lined with steaming, hot food. They sat, joined hands, and obliged when Steve wanted to say grace.

“Amen!” Tony stood. “As owner of this lovely home, benefactor of the team, and generally the boss of everyone, I will do the honor of carving the turkey.”

Bucky squeezed Gianna’s knee under the table. “Happy Thanksgiving, G.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Laughter and conversation flowed freely as they savored the feast. Stories of past missions, arguments over who was at fault for what going wrong, and favorite victories echoed through the room. Steve clinked his knife against his glass, cutting through the conversation.

"I know you’re all going to give me a hard time for being old and sappy, but I don’t care. I’m grateful for all of you, even when you’re ruthlessly teasing me. I love you guys. To family," he declared. Even Tony’s eyes crinkling in a smile. The others echoed his sentiment with raised glasses and a chorus of "To family!"

"Alright, everyone. Let's go around the table. What are we thankful for this year?" Wanda was ever the sentimental one, but no one dared tease her. Whether it was for fear of her own retaliation, or the protective older-brother nature of Steve and Sam, everyone saved their jokes for the former.

Nat spoke first. "I'm thankful for the resilience of this team. In a world that's ever-changing, you all remain a constant. I’m thankful for the no bullshit, no judgment, badass group of weirdos that you are."

Steve nodded in agreement. "I'm thankful for the chance to make a difference, every day. Thankful for reconnecting with old friends," He grinned at Bucky. “As well as all of my new ones. I’m thankful for the chance to fight alongside the best people I know. I’m thankful for this city, this country, and this hell of a meal that Wanda put together.” Across the table, Wanda blushed at his praise.

Bucky’s eyes lingered on Gianna beside him as he spoke, "I'm thankful for new beginnings. New additions to the family. Old friends,” He winked at Steve.

“Emphasis on old.” Tony chimed in, unable to handle sentiment without a joke.

“I’m thankful for beautiful women who need a little help keeping themselves out of trouble.” Bucky continued. He squeezed Gianna’s hand. “I’m thankful for Gianna, her kindness and her…gentleness, and…” Seeming to realize he was in public, he straightened. “And the fact that she clearly doesn’t realize how far out of my league I am.”

“Hear, hear,” Sam raised his glass in agreement, earning a glare.

Gianna smiled at Bucky, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm thankful for finding a home among heroes. I’m thankful for sweet friends with open arms. I’m thankful for a new record label,” She winked at Tony. “Good coffee, great food, and a super smoking hot bodyguard.”

Wanda’s eyes gleamed with all the emotion as the gazes shifted to her, "I'm thankful for my family. Really, truly, incredibly thankful. I love you guys." Her voice cracked at the end. Gianna’s free hand found hers under the table and gave it a squeeze. Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulders, showing her affection while deflecting with his own gratitude.

"I'm thankful that I’m now the hottest, most eligible bachelor on the team. Thanks, Buck, ‘preciate that. I’m thankful for this sweet, sweet meal. I’m thankful that my bedroom is further away from y’all here than at the compound.” He gestured to Gianna and Bucky. “I’m thankful for all of you yahoos. I love y’all.”

Peter chimed in, "I'm thankful for having more cool uncles and aunts than anyone else I know. I’m thankful to almost be done with that Political Science class. Thankful to Mr. Stark for bringing me in. Thankful to Gianna for making my street cred go through the roof, thanks to that dinner. Love you guys.”

Tony raised his glass, rounding out the table. "To my chosen family, oddballs and misfits as you may be—thankful for you all, today and always. Cheers."

"Cheers!" they exclaimed, clinking glasses. The Tower, filled with the aroma of Thanksgiving and the echoes of laughter, felt more like a home than ever before.

Peter, grinning mischievously, proposed, "How about a game to cap off the night?"

With wine glasses in hand and the remaining slices of pie scattered across the coffee table, the team had settled into mild food comas. Tony, always willing to keep the party going, produced a charades set with theatrical flourish.

"Alright, my friends, time for - drumroll please - Hasbro’s newest addition to the game aisle, Avengers’ Charades! This should be a piece of cake for those in attendance." Tony waved the box haphazardly. Appointing himself the designated 'game master,' he took charge of the box. "Who wants to go first?"

Wanda volunteered. She downed her wine and took a slip of paper from the box, her eyes scanning the words. A mischievous grin played on her lips.

"Alright, let's see who can guess this." She struck a pose, fingers wiggling in the air, and began floating her empty wine glass in the air.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Telekinesis!"

Wanda nodded in approval, grinning, as Tony marked a point down for Nat. “Technically, that could be considered cheating, but when has that ever been against my moral code.”

Natasha went next, picking a slip and accepting the challenge with a smirk. She stood, then spun her left arm in a windmill motion. Bucky groaned beside Gianna.

"Winter Soldier! Bucky Barnes" Steve called out with confidence.

"Got it in one," Natasha acknowledged, winking at Steve.

As the game progressed, the wine flowed freely, and the pie disappeared piece by piece. Gianna leaned back against Bucky on the couch, fighting the sleep that kept creeping up on her. As much as she wanted to keep this perfect day going, they hadn’t been getting much sleep lately and it was catching up to her. She yawned, stifling it with her hand so no one would notice and suggest wrapping it up.

When it was Bucky's turn, the group hushed in anticipation. He picked a word, studied it for a moment, and then began. With a sweep of his metal arm, he mimicked a shield, then pointed dramatically at Steve. The room burst into exclamation

"Captain America! Uh, Steve Rogers! The man with the plan!" Peter exclaimed, pointing at Steve.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "That's a little too easy, Buck."

Bucky shrugged. "Sometimes you've got to go with the classics."

Eventually, Tony suggested calling it a night, seeing as half the team was fighting to keep their eyes open and the game wasn’t exactly a challenge to begin with. Bucky gently roused Gianna from where she’d began to doze off on his shoulder. With sleepy embraces and a few final “Happy Thanksgiving”’s, everyone strode off to their separate rooms.

“What do you say we actually get some sleep tonight?” Bucky kissed Gianna’s head as he held the door to his bedroom open to her. She whined, despite knowing she’d be asleep within seconds of laying down.

“Don’t be greedy.” He grinned. “I didn’t say anything about tomorrow morning.”

#james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #winter soldier #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff #winter solider x reader

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number-1-kuaidul-fanboy · 10 months ago

Text

Triple Kuaidul Cuddles

Description: Kuaidul has found a way to clone himself, much to the overwhelming joy of his partner.

Word Count: 878

AO3 Link if you prefer, though I do mention spoilers for the newest Go Rush episode in the author's note there:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54382198

“My human!” Kuaidul rushed into the living room with a huge grin on his face. “I have devised a new way to show you affection!”

I shifted in my spot on the couch, gazing at Kuaidul curiously. “What’s this new way?” I asked, perking up a bit. A grin like that on his face would probably set off alarm bells for anyone else but to me, he just looked so gosh darn adorable.

Kuaidul held his arms out. “Observe and be amazed!”

Flashes of green light appeared beside him, forming his outline and becoming more and more solid and before long, the pieces of light were two fully formed Velgearians bearing Kuaidul's exact appearance.

My jaw dropped. “U-uh… Uh…”

I got to my feet and stared at the now three Kuaiduls, my heart racing in my chest. Their three pairs of big glowing green eyes seemed locked on me, and their fluffy blond hair was spiked and shaped in all the same ways that his always was, as though they were exact reflections pulled straight from a mirror.

“Pretty impressive, right?” Only the middle Kuaidul, the original one, spoke, maintaining that big goofy smile of his.

“W-what are you planning with this?” It was a struggle to get the words out through my racing heart and flushing face.

All three Kuaiduls took a step closer in perfect unison. I barely bit back a squeak.

“I want to cuddle, of course!” The middle Kuaidul exclaimed, his hands held up in an excited almost victorious sort of manner.

“W-with three of you?” A shudder wracked my body at the thought and it was a struggle to breathe now through the immense heat coursing through my body, primarily my face.

The middle Kuaidul let out a dark chuckle. “Did you think these copies were just for show, my dearest?”

There was a smirk on Kuaidul’s face as he gestured to the two copies. The copies didn't move in unison this time however: they stood completely still, though they all bore Kuaidul's signature smirk right now.

“S-so…” My breath caught in my throat. “They're both… Physical?”

All three Kuaiduls nodded.

I let out a nervous chuckle. “I-I don’t know if the world is ready for three of you wreaking havoc…”

“But you are my world.” Kuaidul’s response was immediate, and more soft-spoken than his usual verbose demeanour.

“I take it back!” I hopped in front of the middle Kuaidul, taking his hands and gazing up into his eyes. “I am ready to let you and your copies cuddle with me!”

Kuaidul let out a happy squeak. “Yay!”

Three pairs of arms were around my shoulders and waist in an instant, making me squeak in surprise.

“Sh-shouldn't we…?” I rested my hands on one of the six arms, still barely able to move. “O-on the couch at least?”

“Yes!”

I gasped when I was swept off my feet, laid out over the three sets of arms as though they were a bed. Apparently it took three Kuaiduls to lift one human.

“I shall cuddle my beloved human on the couch!” Kuaidul exclaimed, his smile as bright as the sun as he sat down.

“Y-you know I have a name…” My voice came out in a mumble as I was set in the real Kuaidul’s lap, making my face flush further.

Kuaidul nodded. “Indeed!”

The three sets of arms wrapped around me again, one from behind and one from either side of me, all feeling so familiar and safe despite being so overpowering. Kuaidul on his own wasn’t strong enough to physically hold me in place. However, with three of him practically surrounding and smothering me with affection, it seemed easier than breathing.

“Then call me by my name,” I grumbled, closing my eyes and leaning into a hand that rested on my cheek.

Kuaidul brushed his cheek against mine, leaning close to my ear to whisper. “Hawkie.~”

I flinched, a gasp cracking in my throat. “N-not THAT name!”

“Yes, that name, Hawkie,” Kuaidul teased.

Three fingers from three different feather-soft hands stroked my chin in unison. I leaned my head back into Kuaidul's shoulder, grunting a little as I pressed my cheek against his.

“You are so…” I let out a contented sigh. “Much… Kuaidul… My Kuaidul… You’re wonderful…”

“Do go on, dearest,~” Kuaidul insisted, the fingers of one of his many hands stroking my short hair.

There was a note of longing in his voice. It was obvious what he wanted and I was more than willing to provide it.

“You're amazing, Kuaidul.” My voice was soft but filled with affection. “I love you more than there are stars in the universe. You’re the light in my darkest times. I will love you now and forever.”

A small sob slipped out of Kuaidul and I winced when I felt his tears dampen our cheeks.

“Kuaidul?” I couldn’t turn around and look at him with all his arms around me so I settled taking one of his hands. “Was that too much?”

“No.”

Kuaidul pressed his lips against my cheek. Then the other. Then my forehead, gripping my hand tighter. I sighed again. My body and mind had sunk into a sea of pure soft Kuaidul mush and it never wanted to leave.

#yugioh go rush #ygo go rush #go rush #kuaidul velgear #self insert x canon #canon x self insert #fluff #fanfiction #fanfictions #writing #silly

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sandrockinn-in-da-haus · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 02: The Big Bad Outlaw.

This episode occurs post MtaS “The Goat” Main Mission. ⚠️DISCLAIMER⚠️ spoilers ahead!

*Tick Tick Tick, Clank Clank Clank*

The builder stands next to the Civil Processor, focused and zoned out, lost in thought.

Since meeting Logan, the builder hasn't been able to concentrate. Too many questions float around her head, what is his story? why does he want to be seen as "bad" but.... isn't actually bad? where is his family? and what is under that mask?

"BUILDER!..... BUUUUIIILLLLDEEEERRR!... HEYYYY!"

The builder is startled from her daze.

Yan: "BUILDER! Stop DILLY-DALLYING and get on with the commission!"

The builder stares at the Civil Processor...

Builder confused: "Right.... what was I making again?"

Yan rolls his eyes. The veins in his head and neck are starting to pop out.

Yan stressed: "The new pistols for the Civil Corps you numbskull! We needed them by noon! THATS IN 15 MIN!"

The builder walks over to the assembly table and whips up two OUTSTANDING pistols ready for delivery.

Builder smugly: "I'm always right on time Yan. You know that."

Yan huffs as the builder walks right past him through the front gates towards the town square.

It had only been a few hours since her return from the grave (so to speak). After the builders grand entrance at the town meeting, she was commissioned to prepare the Civil Corps for "Operation Infiltrate the Hideout".

Although the builder was secretly part of the Outlaws "posse", she had to keep face with the townsfolk by assisting the Minister with the matter of locating and detaining Logan. If, for nothing else, the builder wanted to see Logan again.... There was something about the white haired bad boy that left her intrigued and wanting to learn more.

Walking up the steps of the City Hall building, a strong manly hand fell upon the builders shoulder.

"Hey there partner.... need a hand gett'n the door?"

The builder turns to see a tower of a man.

Builder: "Oh! Owen...."

The builders heart skips a beat. He truly was a sight to behold, as beautiful as a statue, as if he were chiseled out of stone. He was the epitome of Tall, Dark and HANDSOME... oh how he was handsome.

Owen: "Here, let me get that for you..."

Owen leans across the builder to open the door. As his arm brushes against the builder, a whiff of Sandalwood and Vetiver dances through her senses. Oh and he smells delicious!

Owen: "There ya are lil lady."

The builder looks up to meet his gaze.

Builder: "Thanks Owen, you're such a gentleman."

The builder shoots him a cheeky smile and nods her head as she walks through the doorway.

Owen: "Pleasure is all mine Darlin." Winking at the Builder as he closes the door behind them.

The builders face blushes a shade of crimson. No-one would ever do that back in Highwind. They definitely make them differently out here in Sandrock.

After the Operation meeting with Matilda (Town Minister), Miguel (Church of Light Pastor), Justice and Unsuur (Civil Corps), Pen (the Town Heavyweight) and Owen, it was settled, they would all go to the abandoned hideout to extract the wanted outlaw tomorrow at high noon.

However, the builder was playing two sides of the coin and anxious with the idea of leading the townsfolk with pitchforks to Logans hideaway. She knew, the best person to speak to would be Grace the undercover Atara Intelligence Agent. For she had made a career out of playing both sides of the fight. Surely she would know what to do!

As the sun set over the small town of Sandrock, all the doors of this small town began to close and lock, lights were turned off and sleepy heads would rest on fluffy pillows. A well earned rest for the hard working townsfolk.

During the dead of night, the builder sneakily left her house and walked through the now barren town centre. Sandrock was quite eerie at this time of night, without the hustle and bustle of the townsfolk.... it felt more like a ghost town.

Grace rented a room at the Sandrock Apartments as she wasn't a town native. As the builder reached the apartment block, she walked through the corridor ever so quietly and reached for the doorknob. However, before she could even touch it, a large hand reached out and grabbed the builder, pulling her inside.

Before she knew it, the builder was pinned to the inside of the door. Her body crushed between the door and a broad muscley figure.

Logan whispering into the builders ear: "Don' scream..... Don' make a sound."

Her mouth was covered by his tensed hand, she opened her eyes. His blue eyes pinning her harder against the door, as if his gaze alone was holding her still. The builder did not move, she did not breath, she just stared deeper into his ocean blue eyes.

She could feel his right hand clutching her waist, holding her firmly against his body. His hand moved to the concave of her lower back pulling her waist closer against his. She could feel every part of his muscular physique, his torso, his arms and his legs. She was intoxicated. He had her body anchored so she couldn't escape, nor did she want to. She let him pull her closer. Their bodies conforming into one another as easily as two adjoining puzzle pieces. She could hear his breath deepen as his fingers dug into the small of her back. In that moment, she wanted him to lift her up against this door and take whatever he wanted from her.

As if by instinct, her hands had gone from her sides pinned to the door, to wrapped around his waist. Her finger tips trailing the lining of his leather belt. and tickled his abs as she lifted them higher against his muscly torso. Logans eyes closed ever so slowly as he let out a faint moan. This was intoxicating. She wanted him right here, right now.

"ERRRRHummmmmMMM... COUGH.... COUGH"

Logans eyes snapped open as he flings himself back and off the builder.

The builder stands against the door in shock, without moving a muscle she looks across the room to see two figures standing before her.

Grace: "Well I think she got the point there Logan."

Logan nervously coughs as he fiddles with his pistol on his belt.

Haru: "OH BUILDER! Are you alrigh'??"

Haru eagerly rushes over to the builder and helps her correct her clothing.

Haru: "Geeze Logan! You could have been a little less rough!"

Logan scoffs as he turns around and fiddles with his pants...

The builder pushes Haru away.

Builder: "Its fine Haru, I'm fine... I got this."

Grace: "Great, well we need to discuss the upcoming operation... and how this is going to work."

Grace stands in the center of the room, with her fingers rubbing her chin.

Haru: "This needs to be strategic, she cant just walk them into the hideout!"

Grace: "Right.. but they know shes been there before.... so its going to look suspicious if she spontaneously forgets how to get through to the hideout!"

Haru: "She could claim amnesia, that she cant remember!"

Haru looks over to Grace for approval.

Grace shaking her head: "Amnesia doesn't work like that Haru, you have to have a major brain injury to claim that."

Haru excitedly: "I could do it!" Haru miming his action, "Just a bit of a bump on the noggin.'"

Everyone snaps their attention to Haru.

Grace, Logan and the Builder: "NO!"

Builder: "You have got to be kidding Haru!"

Grace: "That's ridiculous Haru! How would we even explain how she got that after she returned from the hideout originally!"

Haru goes to speak but is interrupted by Logan.

Logan: "Don' worry about the specifics, I got this!"

The group turn to Logan inquisitively.

Grace: "What do you mean?"

Logan: "I gotta plan...."

Logan walks over to the table and sits on the stool looking over the cave map spread out on the table.

Grace, Haru and the Builder surround the table.

Logan: "I know this cave like the back of my hand, there are so many nooks and crannys, its a maze down there!"

Haru nods his head in agreement: "MMMhmmmm"

Logan: "Unless you have spent a good amount of time down there, its hard to get through. Its a hideout for a reason."

Logan looks up and catches the Builders gaze.

Logan: "I'm impressed you got through an' found us."

The builder smirks.

Haru interrupts: "She's a smart one! What did I tell'ya?"

Builder and Logan break their gaze and look over to Haru.

Logan: "Yeah well, we need to use this maze to our advantage."

Grace moves in closer to the map and studies the maze of tunnels.

Grace: "Thats it! We can separate the heard! Look here!"

Grace points to the map. Everyone moves in closer to see.

Grace: "If we can split up the group by sending them down these various dead end tunnels, we have a better shot of keeping you safe Logan!"

Grace grabs Logans hand.

The Builder looks up at Grace. Graces eyes are fixed on Logan. Her face plastered with concern.

Logan rips his hand from Graces hold, while still focussed on the map.

Logan: "I'll be fine Grace! I'm more worried about the Builder.... They cant know she's 'elpin us!"

Grace quickly looks away and nervously giggles: "Yes, yes... Well obviously!"

The builder looks over at Grace. She's surprisingly nervous and quite embarrassed.... Could Grace have feelings for Logan?

The Builder turns back to the map and points to a break in one of the tunnels.

Builder: "What's this?"

Logan scans the map.

Logan: "Ahhhh! thats the chasm... if you could get over it, it leads directly to the hideout."

Haru sarcastically: "If you could fly! He He He... No one can make that jump!"

The Builder looks up at Logan.

Builder: "Well, what if I lead them there? That will stop them in their tracks.... It would at least buys us some more time."

Grace turns around and quickly reviews the map again.

Grace: "Yes... Yes this could work.... The townsfolk would have to turn back around. They would need to construct a bridge or something to get over!"

Haru stands up excitedly: "Which they would need Qi for! That will take some time."

Grace stands up looking at Haru.

Grace: "And time to construct!... The builder could stretch that out a few days.... weeks.... months even!"

Haru and Grace begin to excitedly dance as they realize they might have a chance.

Logan looks up at the Builder.

Logan: "You think it could work?"

The Builder shrugs: "Its the only plan we got.... If it doesn't work, ill throw myself into the chasm!"

Logan lets out a sarcastic laugh.

Logan: "Taking our secret to the grave."

Haru and Grace stop dancing and look at the builder worryingly.

Haru: "You've gotta be kiddin' right?"

Grace: "You wouldn't throw yourself off the cliff.... would you?"

Logan stands up from his stool, looking Grace and Haru in the eyes.

Logan: "I wouldn't let it lead to that."

Logan corrects his belt buckle as he heads towards the door.

Logan: "Alright, I think we have discussed enough... until tomorrow then."

All: "Tomorrow!"

As the group disperse, the builder makes her way through the towns square heading back to her workshop. Filled with anxiety, confusion and a little excitement, the builder is nervous for tomorrow. Can she pull it off? Will she keep the townspeople and Logan safe?

A familiar voice billows out across the square.

Owen: "EY! BUILDER!"

Owen is standing at the entrance of the Blue Saloon waving at the builder.

Owen: "I was about to have myself a stiff drink.... wan' one?"

Builder shrugs: "Yeah why not?"

The Builder walks toward the entrance and again the tall, handsome Owen is holding the door open for her.

The Builder lets out a relieving sigh as she walks over to the counter and takes a seat. Owen appears behind the counter and bends down behind the cash register to pull out a bottle of whisky.

He walks over to the builder balancing two glasses in one hand and the bottle of whisky under his arm.

Owen: "You know I rarely get to share a drink with anyone anymore...."

The builder looks up at Owen inquisitively as he places the two glasses in front on them.

Owen: "Honestly, no one in this town drinks anything harder than Yakmel milk these days!"

Owen opens the bottle and fills the glasses without looking up.

Builder: "Whys that?"

Owen puts the cork back in the bottle and picks up his glass of whisky.

Owen: "Beats me Darlin'."

Owen salutes toward the Builder and swallows the liquid in one go. His lips pucker up once the after taste sets in.

Owen: "I used to share a drink with Logan when he was around."

Builder intrigued: "Oh really?!? You were friends?"

Owen pours himself another drink.

Owen: "Yep... Before his Pa got ill, he would usually come into the saloon to celebrate after monster huntin'."

Owen downs the drink to keep his emotions down and lets out a deep breath.

Owen: "I don' like to.... talk about it. Its pretty sad that he was driven out of town. Especially after his Pa died."

The Builder grabs Owens arm.

Builder sympathetically: "I'm sorry Owen. I didn't know this was taking such a toll on you"

Owen looks back at the builder, his eyes filled with with sadness. He rests his hand over hers.

Owen: "Thank you Darlin... It means a lot to 'av someone to talk to."

Owen pours another drink for himself.

The builder takes Owens hand, holding his gaze she lifts her glass to Owen.

Builder: "To friendship."

Owen picks up his glass.

Owen: "To friendship."

The Builder and Owen nod to one another and shot the whisky.

The builder lets out a loud sigh "BbBbLeAGGGHhh"

Builder: "No wonder people don't drink... that stuff is brutal!"

Owen laughs at the Builder. He wipes away the remnants of whiskey from the corner of her mouth. The builder looks into Owens eyes, his dark brown eyes so calming and comforting. The warmth of Owens fingertips trace the builders lower lip. The warmth from the tips of his fingers radiate through the builders face down through her body.

Owen cups the builders face in his hands, as the builder holds her gaze. Before she knows it, Owens lips crash into hers. The builder wraps her arms around his neck as the fire grows between them.

Before she knows it Owen picks her up off the stool and has her laying across the counter. He climbs on top the builder and moves his large soft hands all over the builders body. His kiss moves from her lips to her neck as the builder lets out a moan. She hasn't been with a man in such a long time and her body was on fire for it.

The builder arches her back as his hands travel the length of her body reaching the bottom of her top. He raises her t-shirt to reveal her stomach. He kisses the length of her stomach, starting from the navel and climbing higher and higher until he reaches her bursting bosoms. The builder stretches her neck letting out the faintest moan, wanting Owen to keep going.

Owen pulls down her undergarments to reveal her erect peach nipple. He slightly grazes the tip of the builders nipple and as he does the builder grips onto Owens bicep. Her breath growing deeper and deeper as his hands continue to twist and tug at her nipple between his fingertips. He reaches over to the other breast and pops it out of its cage. He raises his face towards the other nipple and flicks it with his tongue before suckling on it.

The builders urge grows like a wild fire, she can feel herself getting wet. She grabs hold of Owens pant buttons and tugs them as if she is pleading with them to release what is hidden behind them. The builder begins moaning into Owens ear as he reaches down to unbutton his pants. As his pants fall to the floor the builder begins grinding against his thick long member. Owen begins rubbing the builder between the legs, as they find their rhythm he can feel himself growing longer, thicker and harder.

The fire burning within the builder is raging, as she goes to unbutton her pants Owen pushes himself off the builder in a rush.

Owen catching his breath: "No... stop!... Not here... Not like this..."

The builder looks up at Owen confused and a little pissed off.

Owen crouches down and pulls up his pants, attempting to put his rather impressive package away. He reaches over and pushes the builders hands away from her pants.

Owen: "I like you... I don't want you to think I just want to use you."

Owen and the Builder fix themselves up and look at each other in disbelief.

Owen: "I wouldn't use you... ever."

Owen places a hand on the builders face and cradles it softly.

Builder: "I know that Owen. Don't worry."

Owen smiles widely as he as he places a kiss on the builders head.

Owen: "Good... Now we should both get some rest.... We have a big day tomorrow."

The Builder nods as she heads out the door.

Builder: "Goodnight Owen."

Owen: "G'Night Darlin'."

As the Builder walks out into the chill of the night, she is in shock of what just happened with Owen. Was it Owen or was it the build up with Logan from tonight? What the hell just happened?

Sleep that night came quickly for the Builder. Her body was exhausted but her heart was all a flutter.... Logan.... Owen....

The night swept her up into a dreamless slumber.

#mtas #my time at sandrock #mtas logan #mtas builder #fanfic #pathea #sandrock #mtas owen

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fighterguyadventurescomic · 9 months ago

Text

The Adventures of FighterGuy!

Season 1, Episode 0

"Prologue"

(written transcript)

**********

**DISCLAIMER**

This series is rated R, intended for mature audiences. "The Adventures of FighterGuy" contains violence, swearing, dark psychological topics, & sexual themes. Viewer discretion is advised.

**********

This is the written transcript of the Prologue!

Since I put so much effort into the scripts of my comics, to the point they're pretty much like chapters of a novel, I've decided to post them alongside each of the visual episodes. Both will have the same level of detail, albeit some things may come across clearer through words or visuals, depending on the scene.

I would suggest reading both the written and visual versions of each episode, to get the maximum level of understanding from each. Both should be understandable enough on their own, though.

Anyways, enjoy!

Episode starts under the cut.

*********

Sitting alone, the lights of the room dimmed, a young Flamoid is sitting in a wooden seat. He drums his fingers along his knee, waiting impatiently. He looks around the dark room, his posture stiff.

His head flame crackles softly as he waits.

A light flips on, shining bright in his face.

The interviewer, recording out of view, speaks up in a chipper voice. "Okay, we're rolling! Ready to get started?"

The boy jolts, his flame flickering. Coming back from his jumbled thoughts, he side-eyes the interviewer. "What's this for, again?"

"In order to add Flamoids to our "Amicable Extraterrestrial Protection Act", we need additional information about them." He replies.

The boy cringes, looking off to the side. "…That's a mouthful."

In another room, a slightly smaller Earthoid with fluffy blonde hair sits with his arms crossed, facing the camera at an angle. He looks annoyed. "Adding Flamoids to the "protected

class"... Is that your way of making amends for the -last- time we were here?" He asks.

The interviewer pauses, unsure of how to respond. "...Um-"

In another room, a tall, lean Flamoid walks into view. He's too tall to fit in the frame.

He strolls over to his seat, casually slumping down in it with a sigh. "Alright... Let's get this over with."

In another room sits the king, his posture somewhat relaxed. His crown sits proudly atop his head, encrusted with three round, polished rubies, one under each point of the crown.

He side-eyes the interviewer off camera. "Have you started filming? ...Yes?"

He sits up straighter, posture going from relaxed to stiff and assertive. "Right, please proceed." He says, staring calmly into the camera.

"Please state your name, age, and species for the record." The interviewer asks the group.

The first Flamoid shrugs. "Okay... FighterGuy. Thirteen, Flamoid."

"Joseph Hargraves. Fourteen, Earthoid." The second says.

"Jake. Seventeen. Flamoid." The third says, looking bored.

"Huran. Thirty-five, Flamoid." Says the king.

Joe scratches at his face as the interviewer continues. "We're going to ask you a series of questions required to propose the amendment."

"Are Flamoids socially inclined?" He asks.

Joe smiles. "Yeah! Compared to humans, Flamoids are -very- socially competent."

He pauses, his expression unchanging. "...No offense."

"Do Flamoids value cooperation with other species?" The interviewer asks Huran.

Huran smiles, perking up. "Yes! We strive to support our allies and friends of our kind."

"Do Flamoids have any enemies?" Interviewer asks.

"Yes." Jake replies flatly.

The interviewer pauses, waiting for him to continue. Jake stares back at him.

"...Could you elaborate on that?" The interviewer asks patiently.

Jake has a flashback. A white canine-humanoid stands trembling, hunched over stumbling as he presses his hands to his left eye. It's bleeding profusely.

He removes his hands and looks at them, stunned.

The canine looks up, full of rage. He remains calm as he speaks in an ice-cold tone. "...You'll regret that, firespitter." He grumbles between gritted teeth.

Jake pauses, pointing upwards as if he's about to speak, then pointing to the interviewer as he replies, "No."

"Do you trust Flamoids, overall?" The interviewer asks Joe.

Joe deadpans, offended by such a question. "Of course I do."

His expression softens as he looks to the side, holding his arm, blushing slightly. He smiles bashfully, furrowing his brow. "How could I not? Living with them... It feels foreign, but also familiar."

He has a flashback. He's sitting on the roof of a castle, FighterGuy laying across his lap, sleeping. Along the horizon, the sun is setting. The sky has turned from the usual pastel blue to a rich pink, orange, and yellow.

He continues to speak, in the present. "They're as close as I'll ever get to my own kind..."

Joe's eyes glisten as he admires the view.

On his lap, FighterGuy stirs in his sleep, hissing.

Joe looks down at him with concern. He begins to shake, whimpering from whatever dream he's having. His shoulders stiffen and his hands tighten into loose fists as his distress becomes more apparent.

Joe hesitantly pets FighterGuy's head, hoping to calm him down without waking him. Joe's forearm passes through his flame as he rests his hand on his head. The flame dances around the intrusion, maintaining its shape otherwise.

FighterGuy purrs softly, quickly relaxing, the tension easing from his shoulders. He subconsciously snuggles closer towards Joe, sighing.

Joe blushes, his going wide, shining. He looks surprised and awestruck, witnessing this. A bright teal blush spreads across his cheeks.

"...but I'm okay with that." He says as the flashback ends.

"What do you mean by that?" The interviewer asks.

Joe jolts, blushing, embarrassed. "Uhm… N- next question, please!" He stammers, waving off the question.

"Do Flamoids value honesty & morality?" Interviewer asks Jake.

Jake furrows his brow, looking somewhat uncomfortable. He calmly replies with a question, his expression shifting to look more unamused. "Do humans?" he asks.

The interviewer pauses, processing his response. "...Excuse me?"

Huran's watch receives a call. He stiffens in his seat, hearing it ring. He moves the sleeve of his robes out of the way to see the screen. It reads "MAX" in large text.

Huran sighs, standing. "Apologies... My advisor is calling."

He walks out of view, answering the call. "Maxwell?? What is it? Yes, I'm still on Earth..."

Jake pats his legs as he abruptly stands. "Okay! I'm done."

He strolls out of frame, his chin held high as he puts his hands in his pockets.

The Interviewer calls after him nervously. "Wait! There's stil-"

"Nope. I'm done." Jake cuts him off.

Huran is speaking to Maxwell on his watch, facing away from the interviewer in the corner of the room. He has an audio receiver pressed to his ear, holding it down with two fingers.

He furrows his brow, looking worried. "Under siege?! By who??? ...Speak up! I can't hear you-"

A gunshot fires from the other line, startling him. "Maxwell?? Maxwell!!" He exclaims in a louder volume.

The call ends. He stands frozen in place. "Oh no..." He mutters.

FighterGuy suddenly looks dizzy, holding the side of his head. He sways from side to side as the whites of his eyes turn black, his pupils becoming small white pinpricks. His breathing sounds

labored as he begins to look panicked. The edges of his mouth have gradually stretched past their normal ending point, shifting to become a jagged line.

The interviewer, catching all this on film, watches silently, then cautiously asks, "Are... you okay, sir?"

FighterGuy blinks a few times, shaking his head. His mind is foggy as he attempts to respond, speaking slowly. "I... um... I need to-"

He cuts himself off as he goes into a coughing fit. "KHHH- KHH!!"

FighterGuy stands and holds his stomach, grimacing. He quickly covers his mouth as black acid begins to trickle out from it, dripping from his chin.

Through his coughing, in a strained, garbled voice, he finishes his sentence. "-step out for a minute!"

Back to Joe, his interview has just concluded. Joe stands and stretches his arms high above his head, locking his hands together.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Hargraves. We'll be in touch." The interviewer says.

Joe sighs, resting one hand on his hip, looking off to the side tiredly. "Sure thing." He says with a sigh.

Joe is alerted by a loud roar from the other room. He freezes, His eyes going wide.

"What the Hell was that?!?" The interviewer exclaims.

"...Pardon my language." He adds quietly, forgetting his manners.

Joe looks worried, staring at the floor as he mutters "...Oh no."

A subtle hissing can be heard from right outside their door. The door is blown open in an explosion of red and blue flames. Thick, dark smoke fills the room.

The sound of wet, rattly breathing can be heard, approaching slowly. As the smoke clears, a small hand slowly steps into the empty doorway.

FighterGuy peeks around the corner, his flame flared up, flickering nervously. His eyes are empty, staring ahead absently. He scans the room, appearing to look for something, but not finding it.

His gaze snaps to Joe, after a moment, staring at him.

The interviewer jumps from his seat. "Oh my god-!"

Joe puts his hands up, palms out towards FighterGuy. His expression is stern, and he speaks with a calm sense of authority towards him. "Woah! Hey..."

FighterGuy looks up at Joe, scanning his features. From his perspective, his vision is blurry. Everything looks darker, and the outlines of things are constantly moving, fading into and out of each other slowly. He squints at the figure speaking to him. He knows this voice. Their face is obscured, but he can almost make out who it is.

Joe doesn't move, keeping still so FighterGuy can see him. "Easy, boy..." He says in a patient tone.

FighterGuy stares blankly at Joe for a moment, processing his thoughts.

The interviewer breaks his focus. "What's going on?!" He exclaims.

FighterGuy snaps his attention to glare at the interviewer, immediately threatened by his frantic tone.

"Why is he staring at me like that??" The interviewer asks.

FighterGuy crouches, preparing to charge at the interviewer.

"Damn it- LOOK OUT!!" Joe shouts.

FighterGuy bolts into the room on all fours, roaring and knocking the camera over in his wake.

The visual cuts out, switching to display the blue rewind screen of the tape. The timeline shows it's reached the end of the recording, "STOP" in bold letters blinking in the upper left corner of the screen.

⛥FireFlower⛥

4/11/2024

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callsign-joyride · 2 years ago

Text

Home Late | Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: After an accident during a training exercise, Jake comes home late, tired, and shaken up.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x wife!reader

Content warnings: Small spoilers for Top Gun: Maverick, drinking, slight angst, fluffy ending

My inbox is open!

Jake told you that he would be home by 6. He had a training exercise but he was welcome to leave after that. By 6:15, you were done making dinner. You started becoming concerned because Jake hadn't sent you one of his daily, "On my way home," texts.

7 rolled around and you had decided that you were probably overthinking. He probably got held up with something and left his phone somewhere. Trying to calm yourself down with this thought process wasn't working. You tried to call him and ended up reaching his voicemail instead.

So you decided to text Coyote, who responded but only said, "He's fine but there was an accident,". This sent you into a frenzy. You had texted everyone in the group and anxiously waited for responses. Phoenix, Bob, and Jake were the only ones who hadn't responded. He's fine. He's probably trying to help.

As you put the leftovers in the fridge, you decided to open a bottle of wine and watch TV.

After a couple episodes of That '70's Show, you refilled your wine glass and started your nightly routine. You still hadn't heard anything from Jake at that point. After sending him a text that said, "Leftovers are in the fridge. Love you,", you turned the TV off and locked the front and patio door.

Jake finally came home at around midnight. As he pulled into the driveway, he saw that all of the lights were off. She's probably asleep. He tried to be as quiet as possible when he walked into the dark house. He took his shoes off by the door and left his bag there, too.

You started to stir awake when you heard the bedroom door open. You rolled on your back when you saw Jake get a pair of sweats out of the dresser drawer.

"Hey," you said.

"Uh, hey. Sorry I didn't text you. It was a rough day in training. I'll tell you everything when I'm out of the shower."

"Okay."

You scrolled through social media as Jake took a shower in the connected bathroom. A few of your friends sent you some memes and Jake smiled as he heard you laugh while he was getting ready for bed.

You put your phone down when you felt him wrap his arms around you.

"There was a bird strike during training. Phoenix and Bob-,"

"Oh my God, are they ok?" You asked as you rolled over to face him.

"I'm getting to that. Phoenix and Bob got hit but they ejected. They're in the hospital overnight. I'm really sorry that I didn't respond to you. I was waiting to here if they were okay and I brought them some stuff from base. I know it's probably a shitty excuse but-,"

"Hey, don't say that," you said as you put your hand on his face.

"You helped them out. And I'm not mad at you for being home late and missing dinner. I know there are some things that you can't tell me but if something happens during training, I want to know about it. They're my friends, too, you know."

Even though the room was dark, you could tell that Jake was smiling at your comment. He pulled you in for a kiss and soon laid in your arms with his head on your chest.

"It could've been me. It could've been any of us, really, but all I could think about while they were going down was you. About how, if it was me, I would've told everyone to tell you how much I love you. And I would make sure that everyone is there to support you. I don't wanna lose you."

You knew that he was crying. You started to sniffle before running your fingers through his damp hair.

"You won't lose me. You're a good pilot. Plus I would bring you back to life just to tell you how stupid you were."

He chuckled and placed kisses on your chest and stomach before laying back down.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

The two of you fell asleep like that and even though the day wasn't perfect, the moment was. You woke up together, even though it was five in the morning, and you made breakfast while Jake got his things together. As he was about to leave, you walked up to him.

"I started the laundry. I'll text you when I get to base, okay? Love you," Jake said. He gave you a quick kiss before leaving the house. You watched as his car pulled out of the driveway before you went back upstairs to go back to sleep.

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine

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fereldanwench · 2 years ago

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💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

Ahhhhhh, thank you for sending me this, Na. 💙 I'll probably have to send mine out tomorrow bc I'm sleepy but I kept forgetting to answer this so I didn't want to put it off.

I'll start with edits/photostories: I was really happy with how my little Abernathy/Valerie prologue set came out for my full corpo AU. It's super long so linkage here. (But also honorable mention to the one I made for Day 3 of this year's Goro week.)

I unfortunately kind of let my regular art fall to the wayside the past few months, but I still really like this drawing I did of Valerie from last year. It'd been a good while since I'd done any colored pencil work, and I still love how the coat came out.

And for fic, I think I still gotta give it to Homecoming, which is a very fluffy, smutty fic I wrote for Goro and Valerie's reunion when she gets out of Mikoshi. Little snippet:

"Takemura-san?"

"Yes?"

"Miss Powell is ready for you." The medical assistant gestured into the room, and Goro nodded in thanks before he stepped through the doorway.

Valerie stood at the edge of the hospital bed with her back to him as she fought with a zipper on a small duffel bag. Her blue hair was swept up in a loose bun, and she was dressed plainly in a black, baggy long-sleeve t-shirt and sweatpants.

She was a magnificent sight, truly.

"It is good to see you, Valerie," Goro said.

She spun around before he finished saying her name and grinned, wide and bright. He smiled in return, and Valerie looked up and down, lavishing Goro with her adoring, dark gaze. An inkling of pride swelled in his chest.

"Goro, it's good--You look... Wow." Valerie reached for his arm, running her hand down the fine silk sleeve. "I feel very underdressed."

"Miss Powell, as a reminder: it's recommended you continue to wear loose-fitting clothing for the next month," the assistant interjected from the bedside station. He continued to rapidly tap against the console screen without otherwise acknowledging them.

Goro caught Valerie rolling her eyes at the interruption, and he smirked at her silent display of petty rebellion.

"You look good, too," he murmured affectionately. Even under the harsh lighting, Valerie's hair and skin were luminous, and her eyes were vibrant, alert. She looked healthy and well-rested. Unburdened. Goro could not recall the last time he saw her so at ease, if he ever had.

"Not like you," she replied, resuming her appreciative caress down his sleeve. When she reached the hem, Goro turned his palm over to take her bare hand in his, but as soon as their skin touched, Valerie shuddered. Her breath hitched in a lascivious whimper, and she immediately clamped her hand over her mouth.

"Over-stimulation is an expected side effect," the attendant interjected again, disinterested and monotone. "The worst of it should subside within a week. Occasional episodes may persist during the first six months."

"That's very helpful, thank you," Valerie mumbled against her palm.

#goro takemura #cyberpunk 2077 #oc: valerie v powell #c: goro takemura #ship: goro x valerie #g: cyberpunk 2077 #mine: edits #mine: stories #mine: art #fic: goro x valerie #t: wench replies #long post

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engie-ivy · 3 years ago

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Yes, he's in the hospital and doesn't remember anything about himself, but it's actually not that bad. His memories are sure to come back in a matter of days, and until then, he can spend time eating, sleeping, reading, daydreaming about that ridiculously attractive Healer...

(The aim is Funny and Fluffy Wolfstar)

It's Like the First Time

“Everything seems to be in order,” the Healer Trainee, Aubrey, says. “As we expected. How’s the dizziness?”

“When I’m laying down, it doesn’t bother me,” he replies.

“That’s good,” Aubrey smiles. “The dizziness and light-headedness should gradually disappear over the upcoming days, and then the memories will come back after.”

He nods. He’d be more worried about all his memories being gone if the Healers at St Mungo’s weren’t so certain they’ll all come back in a matter of days. Dizziness, light-headedness, and amnesia; it’s a familiar picture when being hit with a Confundo-charm from a defective wand, which the Healers have encountered many times before and has apparently happened to him during some friendly duelling.

It’s always the same picture: the dizziness and light-headedness slowly lessening, and the memories all coming back at once after two to at most five days. Like, one moment you know nothing, and the next you remember everything.

Well, he doesn’t exactly know nothing. His semantic memory is intact, meaning he has basic knowledge and remembers facts and skills. He knows he’s a wizard, he knows the hospital is called St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, he knows the people in the lime green robes are the Healers, he knows that since he’s a wizard he probably went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he knows perfectly well how to perform a wide variety of charms, jinxes, hexes and curses. (So luckily those years at Hogwarts weren’t for nothing)

What he doesn’t know is anything about himself. His episodic memory, memory for any kind of life events, is completely gone. Who he is, what he does, what he has done, who he knows, it’s all gone. His own mum could walk into the room, and he’d think she was the laundry lady. (Luckily, she seemed like a very nice lady, and had thought it rather funny)

The only thing he knows about himself, not because he remembers, but because it’s the only thing they told him, is that he’s someone named Remus Lupin. Apparently, in the past, trying to fill in the gaps has proven to be more frustrated than helpful for the patient and, as the memories will come back on their own anyway, quite unnecessary. Therefore, they don’t tell him much else, and all he can do is wait.

Past experience has also shown that the patient often finds it quite stressful, and even frightening, to be surrounded by lots of people who all know him, and whom he feels like he should recognize, but doesn’t. Therefore, friends and family are only allowed in limited numbers, one new person a day, which started with his mum.

His mum had brought him his favourite novel, saying that he read it so many times, and would always wish he could erase it from his memory just so he could read it again with the same sense of anticipation. Well, she had figured this was his chance. Now, all he can do is lie in bed, read his book, and eat food, which is... Well, pretty great actually.

He doesn’t have anything to worry about. How can he worry about anything if he doesn’t remember anything? It’s like having a little break from life and all its expectations and responsibilities. (Though the fact that he’s so happy about having no worries, makes him think that this Remus Lupin normally worries quite a lot)

When a Healer comes to see him, he suddenly knows something else about himself: he’s very, very gay.

The Healer has a classic, aristocratic beauty to him, with his sharp cheekbones and full lips, and his eyes are of a clear grey, that appears silver, which contrasts quite nicely with the strands of raven black hair that have fallen from the messy bun on top of his head. And no one has the right to look that good in lime green robes, which he fills out pretty well with his lean, muscular body.

The Healer gives him a soft smile, and really, if he smiles at all his patients like that, the whole hospital must be diagnosed with palpitations. “How’re you feeling?” the Healer asks in a warm, deep voice.

He wonders whether his semantic memory has failed him after all, as he suddenly seems to have forgotten how speaking works. “Erm...” he says, very eloquently.

The Healer frowns, and looks at Aubrey. “Isn’t the confusion supposed to be gone by now?”

Aubrey looks from the Healer to him and back to the Healer, while a knowing smile appears on her face. “Don’t worry,” she tells the Healer. “He has been perfectly responsive and coherent all day.”

“Has he had some Anti-Confusion Concoction?”

“He’s had a small dose, as the confusion was already wearing off on his own.”

“Are you going to give him Memory Potion?” the Healer continues his questioning.

Aubrey shakes her head. “We have already given him Mandrake Restorative Draught against the spell’s physical effects. Adding Memory Potion might make the dose of Stewed Mandrake too high. As we can be certain all memories will come back on their own, it isn’t worth the risk.”

The Healer nods thoughtfully. “So only a daily dose of Restoration Potion until all effects have subsided, I assume?”

“Yes,” Aubrey agrees. “Based on past experience, that’ll in all likeliness be sufficient.”

The Healer turns his head back to him, and that soft smile is back in place. He opens his mouth to speak, but right at that moment, a bright flash can be seen, and a gazelle made out of shining white light is standing in front of them.

“I’m so sorry to disturb on a moment like this,” a stressed-sounding voice of a young woman comes from the Patronus, that is directing itself to the Healer. “But you’re needed back at the HADA department immediately! We’re having an emergency.”

The Healer curses under his breath. He takes a step towards the door, but then stops to look back at him with a pained expression.

“He’s in good hands,” Aubrey says.

The Healer nods. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he tells him, before hurrying out the door.

Though his mum was right, and the novel is really good, he has trouble focusing on it from that moment on. He’s constantly interrupted by thoughts of bright, silver-grey eyes. Merlin, he’s seen the guy once, and he’s acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush!

Telling himself off for it doesn’t stop him from looking up hopefully the moment he catches a glimpse of lime-green robes. It’s quite a disappointment when the Healer that walks in to check his vitals is a greying, grumpy man with a face that seems to be twisted in a permanent scowl. Asking him where the good-looking Healer went to seems kind of impolite though, so he just sits and nods whenever the Healer grumbles something unintelligible.

“So, why have I gotten a different Healer?” he asks Aubrey later, trying to sound casual.

“Different Healer?” she asks, not understanding.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling to his great annoyance that his cheeks begin to flush. “There was this older man checking up on me, while before, there was the young man with the broad shoulder, shining dark hair, sweet smile, pretty eyes...” He trails off.

“Oh!” Understanding, and a not insignificant amount of amusement, appear on Aubrey’s face. “Oh, he wasn’t not your Healer, sweetie! He was visiting.”

“Ah,” he sighs disappointedly. So the Healer had only been here for some sort of second opinion, and he probably won’t be back. It was too good to be true, to have a Healer like that around as a nice distraction.

“Healer Black works for the Healing Against the Dark Arts Department,” Aubrey continues.

“You know him?” he asks.

“I know of him. But honestly,” she adds with a wink. “Everyone working at St Mungo’s knows of Healer Black!”

He chuckles. “I suppose he cannot not catch your eye.”

“It’s not just his appearance,” Aubrey says. “Healer Black is the leading expert on healing Dark Arts-related injuries and combating curses from the Dark Arts. He has invented novel Healing Spells and revolutionized the protocol for treating curses. Healers from all over the world consult him on their cases, and patients come to see him from all over the world.”

“Wow...” he sighs again, but this time it’s a more wistful sigh. He doesn’t even care anymore that he sounds like a love-struck teenager. Maybe Aubrey will write it off as a side-effect of the Confundo-charm. He briefly wonders about that himself, but as those bright, silver-grey eyes come to mind again, he knows he’s under a whole different kind of spell.

“Yeah,” Aubrey smiles. “He’s quite a remarkable man.”

“So I guess I won’t be seeing him again then,” he says dejectedly, letting his head hang. He wonders why they’d sent that Healer to come see him in the first place, as he surely must’ve had better things to do.

He hears a choked noise besides him, and he looks up at Aubrey, who seems to be stifling a laugh, with her hand pressed against her mouth. “Don’t worry, love,” she says with obvious amusement in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing more of him.”

The young man sitting next to his bed has been talking about his wife and their baby for an hour straight. Though it really isn’t so bad. His stories are quite amusing, and the man is very charismatic. He has sparkling eyes, and hair so messy, he had immediately checked whether it wasn’t storming outside when the man had entered. He has a disarming smile and a contagious laugh, and is surprisingly easy to talk to. He says his name is James Potter, and he’s Remus Lupin’s best friend.

He has to give Remus Lupin a pat on the back for having made such a nice friend. Honestly, the idea of socializing with new people, trying to make friends, does not appeal to him, and he’s glad to know Remus already has them.

“And I just went to see Sirius,” James says. “Well, more like I was speed walking next to him in the two minutes he had to get from one room to another. He still managed to apologize twenty times though. Normally, I’d say he should be sorry, but the poor guy seems to hardly have any time to eat or sleep.” James shakes his head. “Did you hear what happened? Three children were playing in the woods, and they must’ve accidentally touched an unknown cursed object. They were brought in barely conscious and with a mother completely beside herself. So of course, ‘the widely renowned and highly acclaimed, capable-of-the-impossible Healer Black’ was the only one who might save them. And he has, as they seem to be recovering,” James adds, relieved. “But really, there aren’t many excuses that would justify him not being here, but having to save children’s lives is definitely one of them.”

“Thank Merlin those children are alright. That sounds- Wait,” he says, before sitting up. “Healer Black? You know Healer Black?”

James blinks at him. “Ehm... Yeah?”

“Merlin, that man is so handsome!” he exclaims. “He was here for like two minutes, before he got called away to other patients, but I just can’t stop thinking about him! He already looks perfect, and now you’re telling me that he’s some kind of miracle Healer saving children’s lives?” He sighs. “It’s just not fair.”

At first, James still looks confused. Then his eyes widen in understanding, and his mouth starts twitching like he’s trying to hold back laughter.

He doesn’t blame him. He’d laugh at himself too, with how ridiculous he’s been acting over this random Healer. He just hopes he won’t have embarrassed Remus Lupin too much once his memories have returned.

“Don’t worry,” James says, in an amused voice. “Healer Black will come back as soon as he has the time.”

Now, his own eyes widen. “You really think he’d come to see me again?”

James lets out a strangled noise and starts coughing, which he strongly suspects being a laugh quickly covered up by a cough. “Yes,” James replies, suppressed laughter still sounding through in his voice. “I really think so.”

He knows it’s rather pathetic, but as he’s got nothing better to do, he did it anyway. He practiced what he’s going to say to Healer Black when, or if, he comes back.

He’ll tilt his head slightly downwards, so he’ll look up at the man through his lashes, and then he’ll give him a coy smile, while softly saying ‘Healer Black. It’s so good to see you again. I’ve heard many great things about you, and what you did for those children is truly admirable.’ Luckily, flirting seems to fall under semantic memory.

However, when the moment comes that Healer Black enters the room again, his carefully constructed plan falls apart.

At first, he’s stunned that yes, Healer Black really looks like that, and he hasn’t made it better in his head. Alright, the man has bags under his eyes, his robes are rumpled, and his hair is slightly greasy and so much strands are peaking out of his bun, making it look more messy than what would qualify as a normal messy bun, but he still looks like the most beautiful person in the world. He doesn’t even notice Aubrey and James walk in after Healer Black.

He opens his mouth to deliver his carefully practiced lines, but the words die in his throat as Healer Black... Well, flings himself at him. He literally splays out on top of him, hugging him close and pressing his face in the crook of his neck. “I missed you so much,” Healer Black murmurs against his skin.

He freezes. Yes, he has forgotten quite a lot, but he’s still pretty sure this is not the standard operating procedure for Healers to greet their patients. “Erm...” He says, once again ever so eloquently.

Healer Black lifts his head and looks up at him in confusion, but he can’t possibly be more confused than he’s feeling.

James scrapes his throat. “Remus, may I introduce you to Healer Sirius Black-Lupin, your husband?”

“So neither one of you decided to tell him?” Healer Black has crossed his arms over his chest and is glaring at Audrey and James.

“I’m sorry, Healer Black!” Aubrey squeaks. “I know I should’ve told him, but it was just too cute, watch him be all smitten with his own husband.”

He isn’t really listening. He’s openly staring at Healer Black. Apparently, he bloody married the guy, so it’s allowed, right?

“I don’t know how you pulled this off, Remus Lupin,” he whispers under his breath. “But thank you, and kudos to you, mate, kudos to you.”

As he looks at Healer Black up and down (at some point he’ll really have to stop referring to his husband as Healer Black, probably), he suddenly really wishes for his memories to come back fast, as there are some things he’d really like to remember.

Though on the other hand, he thinks, biting his lip, maybe ‘Healer Black’ won’t mind freshening up his memory in the meantime?

“Ugh,” Remus groans, hiding his face against Sirius’ chest. “I can’t believe I was practically drooling over you!”

Sirius chuckles while he’s rubbing soft circles on Remus’ back. “You were cute.”

As a reply, Remus just groans again.

“I’m sorry, though,” Sirius says, suddenly quietly. “It wouldn’t have happened if I had been by your side as I was supposed to be.”

Remus lifts up his head to look at Sirius. “Hey, none of that! You were saving lives.” He presses a quick kiss to his husband’s lips. “You wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, and I wouldn’t have wanted you to be anywhere else.”

Sirius smiles softly at him, and Remus lays his head back on his chest. “Besides, it was a good reminder that I should be more proud of my accomplishment to get Healer Black to marry me.”

Sirius barks a laugh, that Remus can feel vibrating in his chest. “And how exactly was me down on one knee practically begging you to become my husband ‘you getting me to marry you’?”

Remus smiles fondly, happy that that memory is safely back in his head. “And it was nice to feel like having a new crush again,” he continues. “ All exhilarated, enraptured, and in awe.”

“Oh, Moony,” Sirius sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of Remus’ head. “I feel like that every time I look at you.”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #healer sirius black #wolfstar meet-cute #but not really

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wkemeup · 4 years ago

Text

Eclipse

summary: When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 8.4k warnings: canon level violence, hurt!reader, PTSD, dissociative episode, nightmares, a rapid switch from sweet/fluffy to pain, angst with a happy ending

An eclipse finds its home in the darkness Thriving as it suffocates the sun and shadows her light In its passage she lays in wait Waiting— for the moon to give way and grant her morning

Bucky thinks he’s found heaven when he lays with you under the cover of thin, linen sheets; the soft, white of the fabric touching over curves and edges of exposed bodies, peaks and dips, like snowcaps nestled upon the crest of mountaintops. Lying flushed with heat, hearts beating a little faster, breaths a little labored, Bucky reaches out and traces the lines of your face.

The tip of his finger brushes over your nose, slips down along your jaw, touches the sun kissed stream of light against your cheek as it seeps in through the sheet thrown over your heads. You giggle as he pulls you in for a kiss, chaste and sweet, his hand curling into the hairs at the nape of your neck and he tugs you closer. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, the way you laugh to his lips, muffled in his kiss but still uncontained.

Hidden under sheets, shared breaths between you in your own little world, Bucky decides he will be content if he stays here forever.

“I won’t be gone long, you know,” you tell him as you press lightly on his chest, just enough to get draw his attention away from the trail of kisses along your cheekbone and down your jawline. He pouts playfully at you, but you soothe your hand along his shoulder, recognizing the shift in energy as his eyes flicker a shade of hesitancy. “I’ll can handle myself.”

“It’s not that,” he replies quietly, voice soft, barely a whisper, as his smile begins to fall. It’s subtle, but you notice.

“Then what?”

Bucky shrugs, swallowing back the anxiety that begins to pool deep into his stomach every time you leave on assignment. But he pushes out a smile, one you do not question, and he leans in to kiss the button of your nose.

“I’ll just miss you, is all.”

You grin and it lights up wide across your face. The cast of sunshine behind you as it filters in through the sheets tossed over your body drapes down like a halo, an illumination of an angel, and Bucky commits the image to memory. Stored to a safe place in the back of his mind for the dark nights alone in this room. He’ll find you those moments, even when you’re miles away.

“You’re a sap, Bucky Barnes,” you laugh, ruffling his hair as you toss the sheet up from over your faces and take in a deep breath of fresh air. It’s brighter in the room than you realized and you squint your eyes, tucking your face to the crook of Bucky’s neck to shield yourself from the sun.

“Only for you, sweetheart.” He tries to ignore the bright red flicker of the clock beside you as he crawls out from under the safety of the bedsheets, the fantasy fractured by the reminder of your impending assignment; four weeks in a classified location, entirely on your own.

A smile presses tight to his lips as you steal a glance back at him full of bright eyes and sunshine.

He does his best to swallow the anxiety though it churns like blades through his stomach.

***

Bucky paces back and forth in his room, stealing looks at his phone as it sits face up on the bedside table. He taps the screen every few seconds, as soon as it dares to fade to black, so he can see your face again; the picture of you laughing behind an ice cream bar melting down your hand. A shimmering red bow and mouse ears on the top of your head from your trip to Disney last spring. He can still smell the melted vanilla and hardened chocolate when he looks at it and he tries hard to focus on the memory, but he knows it’s an excuse to make sure he doesn’t miss your call.

Tap.

Still nothing.

You’ve been gone over a week now and though he does his best to busy himself with time spent sparring with Sam in the gym, running out along the lake behind the compound, cleaning the kitchen until the stench of bleach burns up to the floor above him, you’re still at the forefront of his mind.

He knows you’re safe. He knows that you can protect yourself and that you were capable of solo missions long before Bucky came crash-landing into your life, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying. It doesn’t stop the incessant twitching in his hands as he curls them to fists, doesn’t stop the frantic pacing and the wear he drives into the carpet, doesn’t stop the panic that skips the beat of his heart when it’s two minutes past check-in and you haven’t called.

“Stop it,” he grumbles to himself, “she’s fine. Stop worrying. She’s fine.”

Another glance back at the phone. Tap-tap on the screen until it lights up with your smile. Nothing.

Three minutes past check-in.

He has half a mind to track down Fury himself when suddenly, the phone rings.

A ringtone you’d changed early in your relationship - a synthetic, almost electric, instrumental of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You right when the music starts to pick up and the trumpets are blaring and it throws him straight into overdrive.

Bucky lunges it at, hands fumbling for the phone but it falls to the floor in his hurry. He hits his shoulder against the edge of the nightstand with a loud thump and collapses down to the carpet as the phone bounces down under the bed.

“God-fuckin’-- ugh!”

He grips tight to the phone by the chime of ‘I love you, baby!’ and quickly brings it to his ear. He’s out of breath but he stills himself, takes a moment before he says anything and he hopes his voice is calmer than the rush in his chest.

“Hi.”

You snicker on the other end of the line and he knows in an instant he’s been busted. “Thought I told you not to wait by the phone, Buck.”

“I wasn’t.” A full faced lie. He grimaces as it comes out.

“Sure, you weren’t,” you drawl, a laugh tucked sweetly into the hum of your voice.

Bucky can hear floorboards squeaking faintly through the speaker between your breaths. Old wood, the whistle of the wind in the distance; a motel built in the early sixties with poor insulation and cracking foundations. He wonders where you are or if the image of you pacing amongst faded shades of burnt orange and green curtains, of once brightly colored comforters and pealing wallpaper only exists in his imagination.

“You okay?” he asks first because he needs the confirmation. Despite hearing the even tones in your breath, the sweet laughter in your voice, he needs to hear you say it.

“Always am, honey,” you respond lightly and Bucky lets himself take in a deep breath before you add, “I miss you though. It’s awfully cold here and I could really use a super soldier to keep me warm.”

It makes him smile; the first one that pushes up into his cheeks without force since you left. God, he misses you.

“Don’t go calling Steve now, okay?” he teases, the anxiety draining from his body in gentle waves, cast out by the flow of ocean water through his bloodstream in the sound of your voice and the image of your smile as you tug your lower lip between your teeth.

“Never. I prefer my men one-armed and dangerous.”

Bucky laughs as he sinks down further onto the floor, the carpet rubbing against his tailbone though he doesn’t mind. He’s grinning, listening to the sound of your voice as you tell him about how much you’re craving popcorn and chocolate chip movie nights and he feels like you’re sitting right next to him. He can see the creases in your smile, the lines by your eyes, the faint markings of old scars on your skin. He hears your voice and it reminds him of home.

“It’s beautiful here, Buck,” you sigh and he wonders if you’re staring out a window to mountains or ocean or tundra. “I wish you could see it.”

“Where is ‘here’ again?”

You giggle and—God—it's the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, even crackled and broken through the speakers of an old satellite phone miles away. “Nice try, baby.”

The timer on his watch starts to ding and his heart clenches.

“Time’s up, huh?” you whine playfully, but he can hear the disappointment in your voice. It’s never long enough, these three minutes that Steve allows for you, but he’ll take seconds if he can get them. Just long enough to calm his nerves, to give you the motivation to keep going on your own, without the possibility of the call being traced.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, clenching at his hand. He brushes closed knuckles against his forehead, presses deep into his temples because he can already feel the pit in his stomach forming again. “Stay safe, alright? Come home to me.”

He pictures your smile, the soft edges and the curve of your lips.

“Always do, don’t I?”

You do. He knows this.

But his mind is cruel and it wonders when the day will come when you won’t.

***

“I’ll raise a Kit-Kat,” Bucky concedes nearly two weeks later with a tired huff, tossing a chocolate bar to the center of the table to accompany a handful of M&M’s and mini-Twix. It knocks over Natasha’s carefully constructed tower of Milkyways and she shoots him a warning glare.

To his right, Sam snickers under his breath, a laugh too confident for a man with a dwindling stash of chocolate in front of him to the mountain sitting beside Natasha. He hides his face behind the fan of cards, but Bucky can still see the crease in his brow, the pinch of lines together at the center that tell him Sam is bluffing. Natasha is as stone cold as he would expect and he has no interest in challenging her resolve, so he decides to weed out Wilson first.

“When’s your girl getting back, Barnes? Think you might need her around to console you after I obliterate your snack drawer,” Sam taunts, changing the subject abruptly. Another tell of his.

“End of the week, I think,” Bucky replies with a shrug, playing it off casually because he knows Sam is trying to throw him off his game.

“As if you aren't counting down the seconds.” Natasha scoffs, a smirk pushing at pursed lips.

“You're an absolute goner for her, you know that don’t you?” Sam says as he pushes a few more M&M’s to the center. Brightly colored pile at the center and he plops one from his own stash into his mouth.

Bucky, meanwhile, chews on the inside of his cheek, avoiding Sam’s wandering eyes because he knows it’s true. You’ve only been together a little under a year, but he’s spent twice that loving you from a careful distance, just out of fingertip’s reach until he’d come back from a mission with one too many bullet wounds in his body and he couldn’t take the tension between you anymore.

He could still picture the smile on your face as he told you, the way your eyes lit up and you jumped into his arms; IV drips and wires to machines and all. The press of warm lips to his cheek, his temples, his nose, his mouth. Sun streaming in through the window and casting a halo behind your hair.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Atta boy.” Sam nudges Bucky’s arm, grinning wildly.

They turn to Natasha as she nods in approval before setting her cards down on the table with the kind of look in her eyes that tells Bucky the game was over before it even began. Royal Flush.

“Not again!” Sam whines, slumping down into his chair.

“It’s starting to feel cruel playing with the two of you.” Natasha reaches into the center and gathers the mountain of chocolate to drag it towards her towering pile. She starts to unravel a mini-Twix, keeping a taunting eye on Sam as he glares back at her. The chocolate passes behind parted lips and she bites down with a contented hum.

Sam rolls his eyes. “You owe us drinks, ma’am.” He gestures to his empty glass.

Natasha smirks, conceding easily as she stands to grab their glasses. She turns to Bucky. “You want a refill, Barnes?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

As Natasha makes her way back to the kitchen, Sam sneaks a few M&M’s from her pile and quickly plops them into his mouth with a cautious glance over his shoulder. Bucky begins to shuffle the cards and he can feel the burn of Sam’s stare even before he opens his mouth.

“What do you want, Wilson?”

“When’s Y/n coming back? For real.”

Bucky glances up. Sam’s arms are stretched out along the backs of the empty chairs beside him. He’s relaxed into his position, chewing on the stolen chocolates as he raises an eyebrow.

“End of the week... like I said.”

Sam leans in closer. “That a question?”

“No,” Bucky retorts shortly, though Sam clearly isn’t buying it. He exhales a tense breath as he bridges the deck. “She’s supposed to call tonight. Longest stretch without a checkpoint since she left.”

Sam nods. “What about the three minute calls?”

“Last one was four days ago. Same day she checked in with Fury.”

“You worried?”

Bucky slices the deck. Shuffles it for the fifth time. Bridge. Repeat. “Course not. I’m sure she’s fine. I’m not worried at all.”

“You sure?” Sam chuckles, leaning back into his chair with another quick grab of a few stray green M&M’s.

“Fuck off, Wilson.”

That gets Sam laughing. He reaches across the table and snatches the cards out of Bucky’s hands before he can shuffle for a seventh time. He flashes Bucky a smile, dimples into his cheeks and all.

“I’m dealing this round.”

Bucky nods, letting the tension slip easily from his muscles. He pushes out a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

But then, a glass shatters behind him and Bucky jolts up to his feet.

“Nat? Are you--”

He freezes in an instant, tension burning through him like marble; the full force of a train straight to his chest and knocking the wind from his body, fracturing the stone to pieces around him.

Natasha stands just a few paces ahead of him, her hands clasped at her mouth in an array of shock and horror, glass shattered at her feet. Ice along wooden floors and the smell of vodka burning into the air.

Bucky almost doesn’t recognize you. There’s a slump in your shoulders, a far off look in your eye like you can’t quite focus on what’s in front of you, and a knife in your hand that won’t stop shaking.

But that’s not the worst of it.

You’re covered in blood. Deep red seeping into your hair, sticking thick and wet to your face and down your neck; trails of it along your cheeks like raindrops against a windowpane. It soaks into what remains of your suit, ripped and torn, exposed skin stained with grim and dirt. You look like something out of a horror movie.

“Oh God,” Sam mutters out, pulling Bucky from his trance.

He wants to sprint, wants to scream for help and sound every alarm he can find, but instead, Bucky only manages broken exhale as he slowly walks towards you. He moves with cautious steps, a hand out towards you defensively, like he’s approaching a frightened animal. It’s what you used to do when the line between him and the Soldier blurred, how you’d seek him out amongst the trauma and distortion and bring him back home.

“Y/n?” he calls gently and finds his voice rough in his throat.

You don’t respond, don’t even look at him as he stands within a foot of your reach. Nat and Sam are close behind, but they hold their distance.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Bucky asks as evenly as he can manage, eyes glancing down over your body in search of injuries. There’s too much blood and he doesn’t know how much of it is your own. He wants to tug you into his arms, tell you that he’s got you, that you’re safe now, but for the first time since Shuri removed the triggers from his head, he’s afraid to touch you.

Your lips part, a few short blinks of your lashes, and you mumble out, “I came to find you.”

Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It’s too flat, too void of emotion, and it rips Bucky right to his core. It’s a defense mechanism, he knows that. You’re still in there somewhere, he just needs to get you through this first.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he tells you, trying his luck as he sets a hand on your back. You don’t flinch, but you don’t lean into him either. He shares a worried glance with Sam and Natasha before he turns back to you, pushing out a smile. “You did good.”

“How did she get all the way here from the Hanger without anyone stopping her?” Sam questions, eyes trailing over the mess of blood in your wake, footprints following you from the staircase by the elevator.

“She’s covered in blood and God knows what else,” Natasha whispers back. “They were probably afraid of what might happen if they did.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from you, vision tunneling on the mess of blood rooted in your hair and the stains of red on your face, your chest, your hands. Natasha and Sam’s voices become muffled beside him as he slides his hand down your back and gently lays it over your grip, still shaking as you hold onto the heel of the knife as if your fist had molded to stone around it. The tremors stop as he holds your hand.

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers, impossibly soft that not even Nat or Sam hear him, “I need you to give me the knife, alright? You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

It takes a moment, but your grip on the knife slacks. It falls to Bucky’s palm and he gently guides it out of your reach and hands it over to Natasha. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knows what you’ve done for him when the Soldier has taken over his mind, when he didn’t feel like himself and needed reminded who he was, where the ground was solid under his feet.

He knows what he needs to do.

“Nat,” he starts, but she’s already a step ahead of him.

“I’ll go find Steve,” she says, like she can read his mind. “I’ll tell him what happened, see what he knows about her assignment that would have led to this.”

Bucky swallows back the bile in his throat and he nods. “Sam--”

“I’ll sweep the jet, see what I can find,” Sam replies quickly. He sets a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, gives it a slight squeeze, and pushed out a tight-lipped smile. He was your friend long before he was Bucky's. The determination reads in his eyes.

"Thank you,” Bucky whispers.

Sam and Natasha disappear down the hallway and then, Bucky is left alone with you. He’s suddenly made aware of how harsh your breathing sounds, like you’re gasping in air through a straw. You stare beyond his shoulders, though he can tell you’re not looking at anything at all. You’re existing. It’s all your mind can cope with.

“Love?” Bucky calls, willing his voice stronger than it is. “Can you come with me?”

You don’t respond. Bucky clenches his jaw and tries again.

“I’m going to take you to our room, alright?”

He thinks it’s better not to present you with choices. It never worked well with him when he got this like; too much stimulation. He knows you’ll resist him if you need to. He slips his hand along your back to guide you towards the bedroom and you take a step as he does.

You’re limping, he notices, as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. He tries to push his mind away from what caused such an injury, what could have possibly happened to result in the amount of blood drenched over you.

That’s Sam and Natasha’s job. Bucky’s only concern is you right now, in this moment, bringing you home, making you feel safe. He guides you to the bathroom.

“I’m going to start the water, okay?” Bucky tells you. You used to do the same for him, telling him what you were doing step by step in an effort to orient him. It grounded him back to his reality, brought him down from the plane of existence above his own head.

The room starts to fill with steam, enough to fog the mirrors, and Bucky tugs his shirt over his head. He removes his sweatpants, but he resolves to leave his boxers on.

“Sweetheart?”

You look in his direction and Bucky can’t help the wash of relief as it floods through him. You don’t smile and it’s almost as if you’re looking straight through him, but it’s something. Progress.

He extends a hand to you, waiting patiently. Though you do not take it, you step a take closer to him, then past him as you walk into the shower fully clothed in your tattered suit. Bucky steps in behind and closes the glass door.

There’s enough room inside that he can stand comfortably behind you as you approach the stream of water. You stare at it for a moment before you reach out and let the water fall over your hand. You watch as the water around the drain begins to turn a dark red.

“I’m going to wash this off. Is that okay, honey?” Bucky reaches steadily for the loofa behind you, though he pauses as he feels the texture of the sponge: exfoliating mesh. It’ll be too much for you in this state. He resolves for the body wash squeezed into his empty palm.

“You let me know if you need a break.”

Still, there’s no response.

Bucky pushes back the burning lump in his throat and gingerly reaches towards you. He places a soap lathered palm against your shoulder and finds your muscles so tense they could have been made of steel or the vibranium seared into his own arm. You stare at his chest as if you could see through to his heart, maybe beyond that to the shower wall behind him, as he begins to peel the dried blood and grim from your skin.

The water at his feet becomes muddied and red, the water slipping down your legs tainted by the aftermath of violence laid upon your body. He’s careful to only use his flesh hand as he washes you, something softer and kinder than the harsh touch of metal.

You start to relax the more he works, your rigid stance easing as the blood cleans from your body. Your suit is still plastered to your skin, ripped and torn and cut open, and Bucky knows he needs to get this off of you. There’s blood behind the fabric, seeped behind the open slashes.

He thinks of the softest clothes he has to dress you in when you’re clean and dry, something too big for your frame that smelled of fresh laundry or maybe the sweatshirt draped over the chair – the one you liked to wear when he was out on missions because it smelled like him. He just wants you to feel safe, to feel warm and protected.

But he needs to get you out of this suit first.

He reaches for the zipper at your chest and the next thing he knows, he’s pressed up against the shower wall, his head pulsing at the impact as you grip tight to his wrist. You’re panting, eyes unfocused at the center of his chest.

He lets you hold him there. He doesn’t try to resist though he knows with his strength he could easily overpower you.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Bucky,” he tries, his voice soft against the fall of water behind you. “I’m not going to hurt you, love.”

You don’t move, but your breaths start to come in a little more even. Your grip falters on his wrist though you don’t let go. His heart feels like it’s shattering inside his chest, stray shards embedding themselves into his stomach, his ribs, his lungs.

“Honey, look at me,” he pleads. “You’re safe now. You’re home. Let me take care of you.”

It takes a moment, but your eyes begin to trail up his collarbone, hesitant sweeps along his neck, his jaw, and then – his eyes. The hard resolve upon your features begins to crumble. Your lip quivers, your hand gripped tight around his wrist slacking in the tremors, tears burn into your eyes and Bucky doesn’t waste a moment before he gathers you into his arms, presses you tight to his chest and encases you against him.

It's like something finally clicks, a floodgate burst open, because you’re clutching onto him like a lifeline. He can feel the sob as it travels up your spine and shakes your body as you cry. He’s grateful for the mist of the shower that hide his own tears as he rubs gentle circles along your back, easing you the best he can. It’s torture seeing you like this and feeling so powerless to help.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there with you, but eventually, you stop crying. The exhaustion begins to take hold and your legs begin to shake under you, too weak to hold yourself up.

“I’m going to take your suit off, okay? You’ll be more comfortable without it,” Bucky says, gesturing to the zipper. You follow his gaze in understanding and then, you nod.

The suit already clings tight to your skin without the added pressure of the sticky residue of blood drenched into the fabric and the soak of water from the shower. He slides the zipper down to your navel and slowly peels what's left of the sleeves off your shoulders.

There’s cuts and slashes underneath, wounds where blades had cut through your suit and nicked your skin. They’re superficial, better than they could have been if not for the suit taking the brunt of the attack, but they’re still painful to look at.

Bucky helps you step out of the suit and he leaves it in the corner of the shower. He glances at your underwear and you slide it down your hips without question.

“Can I wash your hair, honey? Please?”

You nod and Bucky works quickly. You’re starting to shiver as the water loses its heat, so you stand a little closer to him, seeking out his warmth. It removes just an ounce of the boulder sitting upon his chest.

When he’s finished, the water at the drain is clear again. The fresh scars upon your body and the distant look in your eye the only evidence remaining of what happened.

Bucky reaches around you to turn off the water. He pulls a towel from the rack and begins to gently pat it over your skin until you’re dry. Then, he scrunches out as much of the water as he can from your hair, before he leaves the towel resting on your shoulders to soak up the rest.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you as he finished drying himself off. “I’m going to go grab some clothes for you.”

He doesn’t even make it a step out of the bathroom before your hand is on his wrist again. He stills, looking back at you. Your eyes fall to the floor.

Bucky swallows back the burn in his throat as he nods. “Okay. Okay, honey. Can you come with me?”

You nod.

By the time you’re dressed in a fresh pair of his boxers and the t-shirt he slept in the previous night, you can hardly keep your eyes open. He wonders how long it’s been since you slept, if maybe it was since the evening he spoke to you four days prior. You sway on your feet as Bucky guides you to the bed.

He lays you down, pulls the covers up to your chest and quickly rushes around to the other side of the bed to crawl in beside you. You come into his arms, curling up against his chest, and Bucky tries to pretend for a moment that this is just another night, that you just returned from a successful mission and there’s a relief in holding you again.

But he can’t shake the crippling dread as it burns into his skin. Even as your breaths fall even and you slack into his arms, Bucky stares up at the ceiling, eyes brimming with tears. He doesn’t sleep at all.

***

A few hours later, the soft tap of a knock draws Bucky from his trance. He blinks a few times, realizing how long he’d been staring up at the ceiling before he lifts his head and finds Steve peering in through the doorway. There’s a solemn look on his face as his eyes flicker towards you.

Bucky gently slides out from under you, careful to place a pillow under your arm where you’d been laying upon his chest as not to wake you. The bed rises a little as he stands and he takes a moment to brush the hair from your eyes before he makes his way to the door. When he meets Steve in the hallway, he’s careful to leave the door to the bedroom open a crack, just in case.

“What did you find?” Bucky asks.

Steve sinks down onto the couch. A hand brushes over his face.

“That bad?” Bucky can already feel the nausea beginning to take hold.

“We recovered footage from her last know whereabouts – the safe house in Juno,” Steve says. He leans forward to rest his elbows upon his thighs, staring out into the empty space of the kitchen. He sighs. “She was ambushed, Buck. The feed cut out a few minutes into the fight.”

“Who were they?” Bucky chokes out. His throat is made of sandpaper.

“We don’t know,” Steve admits, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Mercenaries, probably. Could have been hired in retaliation against SHEILD. Her mission was to identify the point of contact for an illegal arms distributor that was shipping assault rifles into Canada and carrying them over the border. She wasn’t supposed to see any action, Bucky. It was a surveillance op.”

Bucky doesn’t realize how tight his hands are clenched until he looks down to find puncture marks in the palm of his right hand from where his nails buried into his skin. He thinks of the woman who left him behind that morning, with sun kissed skin and a smile so sweet it made his heart melt, who has barely spoken in the hours since returning home, who’s bright eyes have dimmed into something empty and lost.

He’s missing something, he’s sure of it. Maybe if he could just see the footage for himself, identify the bad guys, track them down... maybe he’ll be able to fix this. He could bring you back, make you smile again. Killing those men who hurt you will be a small consolation prize for his efforts.

Bucky is determined as he stands. “I want to see it.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve shoots back. Bucky doesn’t even need to clarify before Steve puts an end to it. “What purpose will that serve, Buck? You don’t need to see the tape, okay? Just trust me on this. I’ve got everyone we have analyzing that video frame by frame. If there’s anything on it to lead us to those assholes, we’ll find it.”

“I have to do something, Steve. I can’t just sit here. Not with her like that...” Bucky glances back at the door to the bedroom. He can’t muster the energy to conjure the image of you standing before him drenched in blood that was not your own, a vacant look in your eyes as if you could see straight through him.

“She needs you here,” Steve argues, rising to his feet. “What do you think will happen when she wakes up and I’ve gotta tell her you’ve run off on some vengeance mission? That you’ve left her alone to face this by herself?”

“That’s not what I’m doing—”

“Yes, it is!” Steve clenches his jaw as his voice echoes into the hall. It’s quiet for a moment and they listen for the bed to squeak, for any sign that you’re awake, but they’re only met with silence, Steve relaxes again. He takes a step forward and places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It startles him for a moment, but he can feel the tension as it melts in his muscles. “Just be here for her, man. When there’s something to know, I’ll tell you.”

Bucky keeps his stare on the thin crack in the door, the moonlight peering in from the window and seeping out into the hallway. He listens for the even breaths as you sleep soundly for the first time in days and he knows Steve is right. He doesn’t know if he could leave you like this even if Steve handed him the direct files of every man who laid a hand on you.

“I should get back to her,” Bucky resolves, offering Steve as much of a grateful smile as he can manage. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Steve understands.

***

It takes days before Bucky can get you to leave the bedroom. He’s only been able to get a few words out of you here and there, short answers to direct questions, and you can’t hold his eye for very long, but he takes it as improvement.

It’s the small steps.

He remembers you saying that when he was at his worst, when he could barely get himself out of bed, when he could hardly touch you without fear of breaking you in half, when the guilt tore and ate through him unchallenged.

So, every time you lift you head when he speaks, when you glance in his direction, when you nod in answer of a question, when you curl against his side and seek out his warmth – it matters. It’s more than what you were able to do the day before and that has meaning.

When you finally do venture out into the living room, Bucky is sure to keep a hand on you at all times. Whether it’s wrapped up tightly in your own, pressed gently to the small of your back, resting against your thigh, over your shoulders – it helps to ground you, remind you that he’s there. You start to drift off into yourself otherwise.

Meanwhile, everyone else is walking on eggshells around you.

Tony turns out of the room before he can even step foot into the kitchen when he sees the back of your head over the couch. Peter is constantly shoveling food into his mouth to keep from his usual rambling one-sided conversations. Steve is deceptively quiet, constantly glancing in your direction as if he’s just waiting for something to set you off. Even Natasha keeps her distance, which surprises him. She stays in the room but she keeps to the corners, observing, like Steve.

Sam, on the other hand, was never one for subtleties.

“Hey kiddo!” Sam throws himself onto the couch beside you, bowl of popcorn in his hand as it jumps up into the air before landing back safely in the bowl.

You flinch at the sudden intrusion next you and Bucky all but stares daggers into Sam for startling you. Bucky was trying to keep your environment as calm as possible as not to set you off into one of those dissociative states again. It could take hours just to get you to acknowledge his voice after that and Bucky can only take that so many times before he’ll simply crumble.

“You know what I’ve been dying to watch?” Sam says aloud, as if someone is listening to him. He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“Sam, no.” Bucky warns as he pulls you closer to his side. That movie has far too much violence, even for an eighties film. He doesn’t know how you’ll react to it.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam shoots back. He settles into the couch beside you, grinning as he turns in your direction. “Come on, Y/n. It’s been ages since we’ve watched Indie. I know the first is your favorite anyway.”

Bucky is all but ready to clock Sam ten ways to Sunday when you mutter out a quiet, “okay” and Bucky stills completely. It's the first time you’ve even acknowledged anyone besides Bucky since you came home. He stares at Sam with wide eyes, but Sam doesn’t seem to be surprised at all.

Instead, Sam simply sinks into the cushions, turns on the movie he must have already lined up in the queue, and leans the bowl of popcorn in your direction.

Indiana Jones starts his first trek into the cave in search of the Golden Idol and you reach your hand into the bowl. A few bites of popcorn within the first minutes of the movie and it’s more than Bucky has been able to get you to eat without coercion in days. A whisper of a smile crosses your face as Sam almost chokes on the handful he shoved into his mouth.

Sam Wilson might be a massive pain in Bucky’s ass, but he’s a damn good friend. He’s the only one who hasn’t treated you like you’ve lost your mind. He gives you a sense of normalcy when the floor has been pulled out from under you.

For that, Bucky owes him everything.

***

Bucky finds out a week later that there are no bad guys to track down, no one to enact vengeance on for the trauma they’d put you through. There is a reason you came home covered in blood and grime with barely more than a few superficial scratches on your body.

You’d killed them all.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks Steve, hands planted firmly on the conference table. The night sky is littered in cloud covered stars beyond the windows, crickets chirping in the distance. Bucky stares down at the mug shots of a dozen men now presumed dead.

“We’re sure.” Steve slowly reaches out to gather the images, sliding them back into the file and out of sight. “We’re still working on who sent them but it was probably the arms dealer she was sent to identify. Fury’s sending out a team in the morning to bring him in.”

“That’s... that’s good.” Bucky doesn’t have the strength for revenge anymore. He’s grown tired of carrying it in his chest, on his shoulders, weighing him down as if sinking him to the trenches of an ocean.

“How’s she doing?” Steve asks, gesturing towards the doorway as they begin to walk back to the elevator.

“Better,” Bucky replies honestly.

He’s even seen you crack a smile a few times watching movies with Sam in the living room, maybe even heard a breath of laughter when Sam dropped an entire bowl of popcorn and threw a fit about it.

You’re talking to Bucky more, asking questions, starting brief conversations outside of the necessary ‘yes’ and ‘no’s, humming to yourself as you shower with Bucky standing just a few feet away. It’s something. Small steps.

“She’s strong, Buck. She’ll get through this.”

Bucky takes a deep breath as the elevator doors chime open. He presses the button for his floor. “I know. I just hate seeing her like this in the meantime.” The elevator reaches his floor and he waits as the doors begin to part. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Steve nods. “You got it, brother.”

Bucky makes his way down the hall from where he’d left you just a few hours earlier. You’d insisted that you’d be alright on your own while he met with Steve. Sam is still sitting on the couch watching Netflix just a few feet outside the bedroom, leaving a blanket of security in Bucky’s absence. He can hear Sam singing along to the theme song as he passes by.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he approaches the living room, but a sudden, gut wrenching scream stills him in his tracks.

Sam jumps up from the couch, popcorn spilling to the carpet and Bucky stares back at the cracked door to the bedroom with wide eyes. He exchanges a glance with Sam and as another scream echoes out into the hall in a broken cry, the two of them rush into the room.

Bucky shoulders his way through the door, breaking the hinges on the top of the frame as he stumbles his way inside. You’re lying on your stomach, arms clutched under the pillow, sweat dampened sheets kicked off down by your feet. You’re whimpering, tear tracks into the pillowcase and your whole body is trembling.

“Y/n?” Bucky calls as gently as he can, his voice breaking in the effort. He moves closer to the bed, his hand hovering over your shoulder, almost afraid to touch you. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

You cry out again, face contorting in pain as you press your face into the pillow.

“I should get Cho,” Sam says behind him, starting to inch towards the door, but Bucky barely hears him as he runs into the hallway.

“Come on, honey,” Bucky tries again. He sinks down to his knees beside the bed. His heart is stammering in his chest. It’s pounding so loudly he’s sure the whole compound can hear it. He feels the tears burn in his eyes as you start to sob. “You’re safe. You’re alright, love. I’m here with you. I’m here, baby.”

Bucky lets his hand ghost over your shoulder and he barely has a chance to react before you jolt upright and there’s a sudden, stinging sensation across his chest. Your eyes are wide, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. It takes a minute before Bucky sees the hilt of the knife gripped tight in your fist.

“Bucky?” you gasp. “What are you—Oh my God...”

The knife drops from your hold as your hands clasp against your mouth. It falls at Bucky’s knees. You’re trying to stifle a sob as it threatens to consume you whole and Bucky tries to reach out for you, but you scramble away from him, fearful eyes staring below his collarbone.

Slowly, Bucky follows your gaze to his chest. There he finds that his shirt is torn in a long, pristine cut. Blood begins to soak into the light grey of the fabric from the open wound underneath. The knife you’d held in your hand bares his blood upon the blade.

“What have I done?!” you cry, shaking your head as you scurry off of the bed and into the corner of the room. You sink to the floor and Bucky shakes himself of his stupor to rush towards you.

“I’m alright,” he tries to reassure you, though he knows it’s no use. “Baby, I’m fine. It’s nothing. It’ll heal in a few hours. I’m okay.”

“Oh God, Oh God! No... I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to--” Your words are barely distinguishable, slurring together in your slobs, and you can barely catch your breath. You shake your head, fresh tears streaming on your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m-- I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Bucky coos. He can feel the itch of a tear as it passes his jawline. “Honey, I need you to breathe for me. Please, let me hold you. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

But your eyes are glued to the open sliver of his t-shirt, the blood as it soaks into the cotton, and the slash underneath. It only makes you cry more. Its uncontrollable, like you might pass out if you can’t allow yourself to take in enough air, and Bucky feels like he’s reaching out into a fucking void because there’s nothing he can do for you.

“Sergeant Barnes,” a stern voice calls suddenly from behind him. Helen Cho stands in the doorway with Sam just beyond her shoulder. She steps into the room, uncapping a syringe. “Hold her down.”

You’re in hysterics as Bucky pulls you into his arms. You don’t resist as you fall against his chest, but he can feel the unease with which you sit in your own body, like your skin is crawling and you’re caged inside of yourself. He knows the feeling well.

You barely notice as the needle punctures your neck, heavy head falling to rest against Bucky’s shoulder. He eases his left hand down your spine, hoping the chill of the metal will help soothe you as your breaths become more even and the sobs fall weak and far between.

“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispers. You start to close your eyes, giving into the sedative. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just rest, love. I’ve got you.”

No one relaxes until it’s clear you’re out cold. Sam lets out a heavy sigh from the doorway, slumping into the arch. Helen sinks onto the floor beside Bucky, tossing the syringe into the disposal bag before she rubs a tired hand over her face.

Bucky feels like he can hardly breathe. He waits until Helen and Sam retire to their own rooms before he allows the lump in his throat to consume him whole, before the tears on his face mirror the watermarked stains on his shirt. He doesn’t move from the floor until sunrise, unwilling to disturb your sleep.

***

“I don’t know why you haven’t left me yet.”

The words pass your lips and they puncture straight through Bucky’s chest - like a knife embedded through his skin, nicking over bone and tearing through flesh. He feels sick, a wave of nausea crashing through him as he turns to look at you.

Your eyes are swollen red, lips chewed raw. It only takes a flicker of your gaze to the long faded pink scar across his chest to know what’s on your mind.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says firmly.

You shake your head, unconvinced. “I could have killed you.”

“Don’t you go underestimating me, now,” Bucky teases, lighting his voice despite the burning ache he feels in his chest. He smiles at you but you can hardly meet his eye.

Your legs are swung over the bedside, hands wringing in your lap, reddening the skin. Your breaths are shaken, lower lip trembling, and he knows you’re trying to hold back tears. He can practically feel the lump building in your throat, suffocating you.

He sighs, sinking down to his knees in front of you. His hands reach out for your own and you flinch at his touch. It takes a moment before you can remind yourself who’s hands are holding you, who’s love you’re surrounded in, and you relax.

He thinks of the woman who taught him how to love again, who woke him from a decades long nightmare with the sweet touch of her hand and the adoration in her smile. He conjures the image of you he preserved before you left on your last mission, with sun kissed skin and laughter in your chest, as he stares up at the dark circles under your eyes, the frown upon your lips, the aching claws of shame draining you of the light you possessed.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He tips a finger under your chin and guides you to meet his eye. He smiles, softening under your gaze.

“You hold so much space in your heart for compassion and forgiveness,” Bucky eased, stroking his thumbs gently along the backs of your hands. “You never hesitated once to absolve me of my sins as the Winter Soldier. It didn’t matter how may nights I woke up empty, not knowing where or who I was. It didn’t matter how much I thought I was a burden to you and the team, or whether I deemed myself worthy enough to be loved by you. You were patient with me, kind beyond what I ever believed I could deserve. Can you not reserve some of that for yourself, too?”

He watches the sob creep up your spine before it breaks. There’s little more either of you can say and he resides to holding you in his arms, caged protectively against his chest where not even the demons lurking in the back of your mind can find you.

He knows, eventually, you’ll be okay. You taught him that. Even when the tunnel was its darkest, when he could barely see beyond the tips of his fingers, and the sun was cast over in shadows -- you showed him that as long as he kept walking, he’d find the light again.

***

“Come on, Y/n, what is the matter with you?”

Bucky hears you grumbling to yourself in the kitchen. He wipes the trail of sweat off his face from his morning run as he approaches the island covered in stray dollops of pancake batter, bottles of maple syrup, and mixing bowls. He smiles as he leans against the counter, waiting for you to notice him.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you groan, catching Bucky out of the corner of your eye as you dump a plate full of burnt pancakes into the sink. Your hair a little out of sorts, a bead of sweat dripping down your temple. It’s almost endearing if it wasn’t for how fast your heart was beating. Bucky could hear it down the hall.

“Missed you.” He shrugs casually, testing a smirk and you started to smile in return; all shy and sweet and full of the woman he adores. He glances to the mess in the kitchen and the smoke piling on the ceiling. “What happened here?”

“Pancakes aren’t my strongest suit.”

Bucky laughs at that. “I can see that.”

You sigh, scratching at the back of your neck. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, Bucky.”

Bucky can feel his heart sinking but he holds the smile to his face. “You do a thousand nice things for me all the time. Just being here is enough for me, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” you say under your breath, eyes falling to the floor by his feet. “After everything I put you through since that awful mission-”

“Hey, hey -- Don’t do that.” Bucky crosses the kitchen and places his hands gingerly on your cheeks, guiding your eyes back to his. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you hear me? You survived. You’re still surviving and I’m just... I’m so proud of you, Y/n.”

You part your lips to say more, to argue against him, but it dies on your tongue as Bucky smiles at you as if you hung the moon and the stars and every damn

“You don’t need to bring me coffee in the morning,” Bucky says before he presses a kiss to your forehead, “or bribe Stark into making new tech for my arm,” then a kiss to your nose, “or make me burnt pancakes to thank me for loving you through this.”

He pauses as he pulls back. You’re watching him with an expression somewhere between awe and relief, but it’s the warmth of your smile that does him in completely.

“We take care of each other, okay? That’s what we do,” Bucky says, leaning in to kiss your lips sweetly until he can feel the smile grow against his mouth. He pulls back, chuckling a bit under his breath. “Besides, I’m the last person who is going to be scared away by trauma.”

You laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer to his chest. Engulfed in the sweet smell of maple and butter and batter, Bucky feels a wash of calm for the first time since you left on that mission.

He thinks you may have finally found your way home.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years ago

Text

A Helping Hand - Bucky Barnes x Reader (f)

(Gif: @sebastianruinedme )

Summary: After a stressful week, you try to wind down with some personal time but nothing quite hits that spot. And a certain Super Soldier may just be more than willing to help you.

Warnings: 18+ Smut - Masturbation/toys, Oral (f receiving), fingering, neck play, arm/hand kink, dirty talk, a faint Dom theme if you squint, swearing – honestly, Bucky should just be a kink in himself.

Word count: 5k+ words full of hot playtime.

A/N: This is just filth, to be honest. I was feeling a certain way after watching episode 3 of TFATWS and seeing that scene with Bucky cleaning his hand and… ideas happened, and this was born. There’s not really a plot… simply enjoy.

Smut under the cut!!

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal

Part 2

There was something to be said about the advancement of toys in recent years.

There were hundreds of them. All different types. For all different things.

Rabbits, waterproof vibrators, pulsating and pounding ones, ones that felt like oral, handsfree vibrators, remote control vibrators – the list went on.

You had a lot. Tucked in a drawer of your dresser in a pretty box that just made you go all tingly in the knees every time you saw it.

You were proud of your collection.

And boy, did you love them.

They never let you down, ever.

But unfortunately, tonight was just not one of those nights.

It has been a tough week.

Not only had you taken a beating in training yesterday, but you were also late for an appointment across the city, which resulted in being yelled at by Fury.

You really regretted decided to help him when he needed it.

There wasn’t a lot going on lately, so you offered to help Fury when he needed it.

Usually, you were on his food side.

Yesterday, not so much.

Everything seemed out to get you, and after the shit show of the week, you just wanted to treat yourself. So, you’d holed yourself up in your room on your floor of the compound, had a long, luxurious soak in the bath, and then decided to work out your anxiety and tension with one of your many, many friends.

And for the first time in a while, they just weren’t hitting that spot.

Literally.

You groaned, throwing the third toy - this one a rabbit that was one of your most trusty companions - on the side of your bed.

For the last forty minutes, you’d been dancing between three different toys and your fingers.

You’d tried being on your belly, your side, and your back. You’d even tried a pillow.

But nothing was the right pressure on your clit, no toy or finger felt deep enough inside, and you couldn’t hit that spot inside without getting a wicked cramp in your wrist that forced you to stop.

You sat up, every nerve in your body wound to a knife edge, leaving you frustrated and tempted to throttle someone.

Or get someone to throttle you.

Preferably whilst pinning you to a wall... or a desk.

Or anywhere really.

You just needed something, anything to get out this frustration and give you the release you’d been desperately chasing all night.

It wasn’t even a case of hovering on the edge - you couldn’t even get there. The fire and heat just stayed a kindling ember in your belly, and never reaching that explosive fire.

After getting up and downing a measure of whiskey whilst watching the rain, you decided to try a last-ditch attempt with a different toy.

This one was a curved vibrator, with a thicker rounder head for supposedly perfect pressure on your g-spot.

Simple, straight forward.

Surely, if none of the others had done it, this one finally would.

After settling back on your bed, you took a little more care this time, even going as far to light a few candles to add an ambiance to the room rather than have it pitch black with the sounds of the rain.

You worked yourself up this time, building it slowly, teasing yourself with brushes of your fingertips over your throat and breasts, setting your skin ablaze.

You pushed yourself to the edge a little, and then worked over with your vibrator.

Until ten minutes later, when you literally launched the vibrator across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding thud, that echoed your hiss of frustration. “Fucking hell.”

A shit week, a shit day, and you couldn’t even fuck yourself well enough to be able to wind down and get some sleep.

There was a sudden knock and then Bucky’s voice echoed through your bedroom door. “Darlin’?” There was a slight hint of his Brooklyn accent peeping through at the end, stirring something within you.

You startled, sitting bolt upright and your head snapped to the door, “Bucky?” You had the good sense to lock the door, but still. He was right there.

His shadow moved beneath the door, and you realised he was leaning against it, “Is everything alright? I heard banging.”

Well, no not really. I’ve been trying to get myself off for the last hour and nothing appears to be working and I’m sitting here naked whilst you’re the other side of my door calling me Darling in that ridiculously hot accent that shouldn’t even be that hot. But hey, apart from that, everything’s great.

You slid off the bed, padding across the room after dropping your toys back in their drawer, glaring at it as you passed. You slipped a robe on before making your way across the fluffy rug to the door, “Yeah, I’m okay...” You unlocked the door, tugging it open.

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, all broad shoulders, long lines and soft smile.

His searing blue eyes were instantly locked onto you, a smirk playing on those gorgeous lips.

He cocked his head, standing there with his arms crossed, and you noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Just a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans that hung sinfully close to his hips and... no boots. Just socks.

Like he’d taken his shoes off before waking into your apartment.

Ever the gentleman.

His arm was bare, the soft light of the hall bouncing off of the black vibranium and sparking the gold. You’d always loved his arm. The sheer power of it, the way you’d seen it shatter a man’s ribs instantly and tear through a brick wall like it was made of glass. The same hand that tickled behind the ears of a stray kitten in Prospect Park and test the ripeness of plums at the market.

You wanted that hand around your throat.

Eyes the colour of the Arctic sea roamed over your body, from your slightly mussed up hair to the flush along your neck that disappeared in the dip of your dressing gown. “Mm... are you sure about that?” He tilted his coyly, a smirk playing on his lips and you had a feeling this expression had been one of the trademarks since the 40’s.

You narrowed your eyes at him, more than aware that he was seeing far more than you wanted him to, “I’m fine.” You turned from the door, leaving it open for him to come in, “How comes you’re up on my floor, anyway?” You peered over your shoulder at him as you padded across the room to the drinks cart.

Yes, there was a bar on your floor, but why couldn’t you have a cart in your room? Tony hadn’t even needed to ask when designing it.

Bucky walked in, his footfalls silent like a cat, that training never quite leaving him, “I couldn’t sleep. No nightmares, just restless.” He added the last part quickly, in response to the concern that tightened your expression.

It was nothing unusual, Bucky coming up here to your room.

You often found each other after nightmares or rough days, seeking comfort and distraction from the darkness that lingered.

Some days and nights, you went out, needing an outside diversion from the thoughts.

Other times, you stayed in, watching films, talking, training or just... sitting quietly, knowing that the other persons presence was enough protection and reassurance. Words weren’t needed… just company.

You handed him a drink, plopping down on the end of your bed and you watched him sink into the couch opposite, “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Since everything with the War, Bucky was working on fitting back into a routine, into ‘normal’ life - or what could be considered normal for people like yourselves.

He was undergoing his mandatory therapy sessions, and they seemed to be helping him.

He was back in contact with Sam, and the pair even worked a few jobs together now and then, even if they did bicker like an old married couple - it provided great entertainment when you tagged along.

He leant back on the couch, settling his left arm across the back. He always looked at home on your floor, relaxed, like his mind could shut off a little. “Nah, I’m okay... Thank you though.” He shot you an easy smile again, one that he probably hadn’t used in.... decades. “What about you? Why are you up so late?”

Mimicking his shrug, you kept your expression neutral, making sure your eyes didn’t drift to that certain drawer, “Rough week. I was reading to try and drift off.”

“Mmmhm...” Bucky’s hummed response told you instantly that he did not believe you one bit. “What were you reading? Cosmopolitan’s best guide to toys?” That shit eating grin graced his face and he motioned gracefully with his left hand... to the corner of the room.

The vibrator you’d launched was sitting on the floor, nestled in the rug, the soft mint green silicone practically a beacon.

Okay.

Okay…. So. There were two ways you could respond to this.

Either play it off, deny it and change the subject.

Or…

Turning back to him, you shrugged again, “Oh, I’ve read that back to front. And made a few additions myself.” You cocked your head, a faint flutter in your belly as you awaited his response.

The barest flicker of surprise danced across his beautiful, rugged features before dissolving into something confident and smouldering. “Well, it looks to me like their guide isn’t true to review tonight. Something tells me you’re having a little bit of trouble.” His voice had begun to lower into a deeper, the natural roughness of his voice coming out.

It stoked that fire within you, warming your blood and curling low in your belly.

“And if I was? What would you suggest to help?” It was almost impossible to remain sitting still as the atmosphere folded and changed. There was one obvious route to your back and forth… and you wanted it.

Wanted… him.

And if you were honest, you had for a long time now. There was just something about him that you’d always been drawn to, a simmering tension that settled whenever you were together.

Bucky rose from the sofa in a fluid movement, walking toward you slowly, casually, but with the grace and prowl of a wolf eyeing up its next meal – you.

And fuck, you wanted him to devour you.

He slid his hands into his pockets, feet silent on your wooden floor, “Well… I would say that as wonderful as your toys may be… they’re just that. Toys. They can’t… feel what you like.” His eyes burned through you with each of his steps. “They don’t hear the noises you make when they hit the right spot. They don’t get to see the way your body reacts, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip because it feels overwhelmingly good.”

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and that only added to the growing wetness between your thighs as his filthy, beautiful words.

Bucky stopped in front of you, removing his left hand and touching his fingers to your chin to tilt it up to face him, “They can’t know the little things… the deeper angle, that extra finger or sweep of the tongue… they can’t make you so wet that it runs down your thighs and they can’t make you arch off the bed as you shatter into starlight…” He sighed softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I’m afraid they just… can’t make you come the way a real person could.” He applied a little pressure to the underside of your chin, and you rose to your – unsteady - feet instantly, putty in his hands.

Holy fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him.

Your teeth had indeed sunk into your lower lip, and your breathing had grown shallow. It was an effort to keep your thighs firmly locked together… Because you were just as wet as he had said.

The dark flame in his eyes told you that he knew the reaction you were having to him. He brushed a cool thumb over your lip, then tugged it gently to free it from your teeth and at the same time, he leant his head down to your level, “They can’t make you come like I can, darlin’.” This close, his warm lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice reduced to a husky rasp that only further drew out that Brooklyn accent.

The soft moan that left your lips was almost pitiful, but you didn’t care, “Shit.”

You breathed the word, earning a deep chuckle in your ear before Bucky pulled back, only enough to see your face, “You want me to help you? Give you a helping hand?” His words were low and seductive, but he was looking between your eyes, making no more moves until he knew you wanted this.

If you changed your mind, he would leave right now, and say no more about it.

That very thought pained you.

Something had always hovered between you both… and maybe now was the time to let it out. You shared a few kisses on nights out and he had featured heavily in your fantasies night after night, wishing your fingers were his, the toys were him….

You met his eyes, your own clear and sure and you kept that gaze as you parted your lips. Then swept your tongue along his thumb and tilted your head down just enough to take it between your lips. The vibranium was smooth, cold and it felt oddly delightful on your tongue. “Make me come, Bucky. Prove to me you’re better than the toys.” Your voice was low with need, a soft pleading note for him there as you gazed up through your eyelashes.

The Arctic blue of his eyes deepened to near midnight, his pupils blowing out as he watched you talk around his thumb, your tongue sweeping over the metal and he almost purred, “Oh, baby, you won’t need toys when I’m done.” And then he was on you.

He gently pulled his hand from your face, instead placing it lightly around your neck, the heavy metal settling on your collarbones and that alone drenched you.

He looked between your eyes, checking one final time and then his mouth was lowering onto yours, his lips warm, plush and ever so inviting. Instantly, he licked a teasing line along your lips, which you would have parted for him without the request.

Bucky’s tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against yours in hot strokes as he explored every corner of your mouth.

He tasted divine, and even more so when his thumb lightly tipped your chin back and he traced the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth, licking over the ridges and showing you exactly what that tongue could do.

A groan left your lips, and you slid your hands up his arms to those shoulders, those gorgeous broad shoulders that all you wanted to do was dig your nails into them and use for support as you rode him.

A deep curl of delight and joy was unfurling within the heat in your belly, because you needed this, needed more of him and his hands and his tongue and his words… and you were finally getting it

Hell, he had only just started kissing you and you already could have fallen apart just from that.

“Why have we not been doing this all the time?” Was the only thought that your already fuzzy mind could come up with as he pulled away slowly from your lips, only to begin pressing hot, open kisses against your jaw that were all teeth and tongue. He seared a path to your neck, kissing all over until he found that particular spot that made you whimper and arch into his body.

Bucky laughed low against your neck, the sound vibrating, “Oh, baby, you were struggling, weren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess…” He used his hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, before biting at your skin, sweeping his tongue over the hot and sucking a deep mark there.

A slight whine rippled in your throat, fingers pulling as his shirt and your chest pushed against his, the firm heat of him making your nipples tighten, especially when he pushed into you.

Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, tugging at the cord of your dressing gown and it slipped from your shoulders, leaving you bare and open to him.

He licked down your neck, his tongue smoothing over the shape of your collarbones and then down your sternum to your breasts. He butterfly kissed the soft flesh, then almost delicately sucked at your rleft nipple, lifting his vibranium hand to squeeze the other, “So beautiful…” He mumbled it half to himself, his dark mussed up curls soft against your skin.

One of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, slightly tangling in the hair at the base of his head and you pushed your chest further into his mouth, “Tease.” The word was a soft gasp, your eyes closing in pleasure and your lips parting.

He chuckled, pulling back to blow a cool breath on the wet skin, watching your nipple harden and then he moved to give the other the same treatment, “Oh, I’m a tease, am I? I can stop if you like.” He grinned around the delicate skin, just slightly grazing his teeth as he tugged your nipple and then he continued his trail of kisses down your body, slowly sinking to his knees. “I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop though, darlin’.” His right hand grasped your ankle, and then he ghosted warm fingertips up your leg, past your knee and then pausing at your inner thigh, at what he felt there, “No. No I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop at all.”

The cocky bastard grinned once more against your stomach, before dipping his tongue inside your belly button.

“Bucky…” You couldn’t hide the whimper in your voice, nor the way your hips rocked forward in a plea. It was almost painful how much you needed him to touch you, needed to feel his lips and his tongue.

“Shhh, baby, I know.” His hands slipped up your waist, as soothing as his gentle coo against your belly button and then he brushed his lips lower and lower… and then finally, he pressed a soft butterfly kiss to your pubic bone.

A low groan tore from his throat, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he saw you, swollen and positively dripping for him, “Oh, darlin’, look at you…”

The sheer desire and awe in his low voice caused heat to flush along your cheekbones. You weren’t shy by any means, but the almost primal admiration in his voice was something you’d never heard before, the pure want and desire to make you feel good and worship you.

Bucky admired the sight before him for a single moment, before lifting his eyes to yours and then he dove in, immediately devouring you like he was starving. His deft tongue slipped through your slick folds with ease, and he moaned again at your taste, at your smell, everything.

He pressed his tongue flat against you before sucking at your clit, with such an intensity that you almost choked. It was a simple movement, but it shot electricity through your body and made every single nerve stand on end.

He let that coil of energy begin to build, and then he licked back down, his hands sliding down to palm at your ass cheeks before digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you in further so he could bury his nose against your clit and his tongue – fuck, his tongue pushed inside of you, hot and heavy. It just felt so, so good, his nose putting pressure on your bundle of nerves, his tongue pumping inside you.

Your hands flew down to his hair, winding through it to keep him there, keep him doing that, to keep him fucking you with his tongue, “Buck-”. You weren’t sure what you were begging him for, only that you just needed to say his name, needed to do something.

Your hips began to rock in time with his thrusts, and you became aware of it only when Bucky’s muffled moan reverberating through you.

He liked it, no... he loved this, that you were grinding against his face as his tongue worked inside you, tasting parts of you no one else had ever gotten right before.

“Fuck, Bucky, keep doing that – I’m-” You cut off with a high moan, your head tilting back as you rocked into him faster, chasing down that high that was so tantalisingly close. It hadn’t taken long, you were so worked up from your failed attempts that you were already there.

Bucky’s began to lick and suck you with new fervour, his head moving in time with the jerks of his hips, feeling the way your walls were tightening around his tongue. His fingers dug harder into your ass, and you felt the silent command almost, Come.

And you did.

You cried his name out to the sky, every nerve in your body winding to near painful tautness before you shattered on his face, your first orgasm ripping through you.

Bucky didn’t stop, working you through it and drawing it out further and further as he lapped up every single drop you gave him, moaning himself like it was the most tantalising thing he had ever tasted.

He stopped only when your grip released on his hair, the sensitivity of your nerves almost painful, your legs shaking like crazy and he lifted his hand from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening. He rose from his knees, nudging you back onto the bed and instantly crawling up your body, “You have no idea how good you taste.”

You whimpered slightly, catching your breath as you watched him crawl up you, eyes burning like sapphire fire, his tongue licking slowly over his lips as he savoured you. Words were beyond you, desire still coursing through your veins and you were a little in awe at how quickly – and hard – he had brought you to your first orgasm.

Bucky grinned devilishly, “That won’t be your last.” He lowered his mouth back to yours and as you tasted yourself on him, you grew instantly wet for him again.

His body brushed into yours and you felt how painfully hard he was through his jeans, the sounds and taste of you getting to him of course.

Your fingers had barely brushed against his restrained length when he shook his head, nipping at your lower lip, “Oh no, baby, this is all about you.”

You ignored him, palming him through his jeans and he moaned lowly before his eyes flashed, his hand suddenly back on your throat and he moved his hips away so you couldn’t get to him. “I said no.” It was almost a snarl, “This is about you. Not me.” His hand tightened just slightly around your throat, making it that little bit harder to breathe and your eyes rolled back at how delicious it felt.

It was a huge kink for you, the idea of someone – of Bucky - taking control, being in control of your body even it was just for a little while. You didn’t need to think or do anything. Only feel and be at the mercy of his touch.

You relented, legs falling open for him and you tilted your head back, searching for his lips.

Bucky granted you the kiss, a slow, languid kiss at first that was all simmering passion and tangling tongues, the taste on you still lingering on his lips.

He palmed your breast again, tugging and squeezing the flesh until he scratched his nails lightly down your ribcage and belly.

Yes, yes-

He wasted no time, no more playing and his fingers slipped lower, circling over your clit with a delicious pressure that had you instantly moaning into his mouth.

He toyed with your clit a little more, before gathering your wetness and then sinking two fingers inside you, pushing all the way into his knuckles, then drawing back out slowly.

As he withdrew, you moaned long and slow into his mouth and he began a steady rhythm. Pushing and curling his fingers inside you a few steps, then circling and pulling at your clit, ever so subtly switching it up with each pass so you couldn’t predict what he would do.

It felt amazing, but… there was something still missing. It still wasn’t quite enough to send you over that final edge… it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about.

No, it was his left hand. That dark, golden vibranium hand that was currently seated around your throat.

The knowledge of what it could do, the sheer power in it that could easily crush your windpipe or shatter your jaw with a single flick of his wrist.

That is what you needed.

Those cool, powerful fingers inside you, working you over – that was the best toy.

It was like he could read your mind somehow, or the way your body sung to his tune. He lifted his head, looking down at you with those searing blues and he cocked his head, a slow grin lighting his gorgeous face, “Oh… This-” he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and ever so slightly brushing up against that spot, “isn’t quite what you want, is it, darlin’?”

Holy Christ, he was going to destroy you before you even got what you wanted.

You looked up at him, panting, hips rocking to the slower thrust of his fingers and you shook your head.

Bucky swore softly, panting himself and he squeezed your throat once before lifting his fingers, “You want these, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, you ducked your head, taking his three fingers into your mouth and immediately gliding your tongue around them, up and down in slow, dirty strokes.

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky’s hips jerked slightly against yours, his mouth parting as he watched you suck his vibranium fingers, hollowing your cheeks, eyes rolling back in your head like… like it was something else entirely.

He groaned, swore again and then almost ripped his fingers from your mouth and from between your legs at the same time.

Your entire body mourned the loss, feeling empty, clenching around nothing but mere seconds later, he plunged those three vibranium fingers inside of you, slick with your saliva and how unbelievably wet you were.

It stung a little, but only added to the feeling as your hips rose off the bed, “Shit, shit-”

They felt… like the best toy you could ever imagine. Smooth, cold, and hard enough that you could feel every faint ridge of the joints as he slid them in and out. You reached out, grabbing his arm with one hand and the bed with the other, needing something to hold onto as instinct took over. Your hips rode upwards, back arching as you rocked his fingers in deeper, feeling them in your spine almost. It was better than you could have imagined.

Bucky dropped his head to your chest, spreading his mouth over your breast and his other arm slid over your hips, pinning them to the bed so you were forced to take it. “You wanted this, baby… You take it.” He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast before smoothing his tongue over it again, working an alternative rhythm to his fingers and thumb again, so that your brain couldn’t keep up with which one to follow. It knew only the waves of fire singing through your veins.

Time may have very well dissolved, because you could only feel pleasure, tinged almost with pain.

The thick, hard stroking of fingers as they stretched and wrecked you.

The circling, hard-soft-hard pressure of his thumb on your clit.

The bite of his teeth on your breasts, neck and chest, followed by the wet press of his tongue.

The way he couldn’t help his hips slightly rocking against your leg.

This was almost like a fever dream, expect your brain couldn’t have come up with something this mind melting. Not even if you were really, really worked up.

The noises in the room were absolutely sinful. The unrestrained cries and moans from your lips, Bucky’s groans and his filthy words, the wet pump of his fingers inside you – it was obscene, filthy and completely, painfully mind-blowing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, please-” You had no idea what you were begging for, but every single nerve and muscle in your body was coiling tighter and tighter, your hips jerking against his arm as he pinned you down, forcing you to take this, to feel everything he was doing with no relenting. Tears were beginning to blur your eyes and the pleasure he unleashed upon you was almost painful.

Bucky somehow moved his fingers harder, deeper, the ability of the tech in his arm allowing him to do so, “Let go, baby, come on, let it go for me..” He dropped his head, biting down on your neck and he pressed his fingers against that spot inside you, flicking your clit with his thumb and then it all just snapped.

Waves and waves of hot fire flooded your body, dragging you up to the stars, further. It ripped the air from your lungs, made you half scream his name in a never-ending prayer.

It just didn’t stop.

Bucky kept moving inside you, drawing out every single second of your mind-shattering orgasm, letting go of your hips so you could grind them into his hand. “That’s it, baby… Look at you, so beautiful like that…” His praise spurred you on, making you feel almost like a goddess as you flooded his hand.

He stopped only when you slumped back onto the bed, sucking in deep breaths as you tried to piece yourself back together.

Better than toys indeed.

A little while later, you stirred from a light dose to see Bucky lounging on your couch again, cleaning the grooves and metal of his fingers with a soft cloth.

The sight of him concentrating, taking such care and detail with the clean-up, the cleanup from the mess you had made, had you instantly wet again. “Bucky.”

He looked up, hearing the low thrum to your voice and a smirk crossed his lips.

You had a favour to repay for his helping hand, after all.

#well #that happened #i am not sorry #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #arm kink

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oioinanami · 4 years ago

Text

home. (nanami kento x f. reader)

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: coming home to you after a long tiring day is everything nanami ever wanted in life.

contains: domestic fluff, established relationship, a bit of sexual suggestiveness

Smooth jazz music fills the apartment when Nanami Kento comes home. His lips curl into a tiny smile when the scents of different spices tickle his nose, and he carefully takes off his shoes, jacket and glasses, before loosening his tie. You are inside the kitchen, humming along to the music while chopping some vegetables to add to the curry you‘re making for dinner tonight. Nanami waits until you’ve finished chopping the zucchini and bell pepper, quietly observing how you lay down the knife to wipe your hands on the kitchen towel. Only then does he step into the kitchen to wrap his strong arms around your waist and pull you flush against his broad chest. You squeal but immediately relax into his arms when he mumbles a soft “Good evening, love.” into your ear. You turn around to smile up at him and gently cup his cheek with one hand, thumb rubbing over the stubble on his chin. He nuzzles deeper into your palm before turning his head to press a soft kiss against your warm skin. “How was your day?”, he asks gently, and you smile. “Nothing out of the ordinary. Work was uneventful and so slow I was allowed to go home an hour earlier. Mina says hi by the way, and asks if we want to come over for a game night on Sunday.” Your boyfriend kisses the tip of your nose, before humming in confirmation. “Sure, sounds good to me.” You purse your lips, drawing your eyebrows together in silent worry while your eyes travel over the dark circles under his eyes and the tired lines around his mouth “You look exhausted, Kento.”, you finally say, but Nanami just gives you a soft smile and shrugs. He has to admit that the sudden surge in curses over the last few weeks has been exhausting. He dislikes nothing more than having to work overtime, simply because it means putting work before coming home to you, but sometimes it just can’t be helped - and he‘s nothing if not responsible. “Nothing a quick shower, your infamous curry and a bit of extra sleep this weekend can’t fix.”, he answers soothingly, and you stand on your tiptoes to press a loving kiss against his lips, loud mwah-noise included. “Fine. Then go move your cute butt into the shower, dinner will be ready in about 15 minutes.”, you reply, and he raises one eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “My butt is not cute.”, he says, voice laced with quiet humor, and you grin at him, eyes sparkling with barely hidden glee. “Oh, it is very cute. Now go, I need to finish my ‘infamous curry’.” And with that you step out of his warm embrace and turn towards the stove again, clearly dismissing him to go get his much needed shower.

The hot water does wonders for his stiff, aching muscles. So for a few minutes, Nanami just enjoys the water gushing around his steeled body, the bathroom quiet except for the sounds of the shower and his own steady breathing. Suddenly, your voice cuts through the serene atmosphere: “FIVE MINUTES LEFT UNTIL I’M STARTING TO EAT - WITH OR WITHOUT YOUR CUTE BUTT!” Nanami can’t help but smile, quickly turning off the shower and beginning to dry himself with one of the big fluffy towels that always smell like your favorite laundry detergent.

You’re just setting the steaming plates onto the dinner table in the dimly lit living room when your boyfriend leaves the steaming bathroom, wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist. You raise both eyebrows and cock your head to one side, eyes roaming his body appreciatively before landing on the wry twist of his mouth. You’re about 89% sure he’s flexing his muscles on purpose now, just to see the blush spread over your entire face until it has reached the tips of your ears. “I like sticking to the rules, so dinner first, then dessert.”, you try to say nonchalantly, a bit annoyed at your own reaction to Nanami’s half-nude body. Even after years of dating and living together, your boyfriend still has the same effect on you - the effect being the sudden activation of something you lovingly call your ‘monkey brain’.

“Meaning?”

Oh now he’s teasing you.

“Meaning you better put on some clothes or I cannot be held responsible for my next move.”, you reply and take a step closer, your hand traveling over his stomach, making his abdominals clench, before you take his chin between your fingers, pulling his face closer to yours. “But I’ll happily have some dessert later.”, you whisper against his lips, and he grins wolfishly. “Good. Then I shall behave and get dressed.” With that, Nanami covers your mouth with his, and before he can pull away again, you quickly deepen the kiss, tongue brushing against his bottom lip. He begins to smile, and cocks one eyebrow. “I thought dinner first, then dessert?” You sigh, and nod. “Yes, yes. So please just go, you heathen.” His deep chuckle makes heat spread through your entire body, and his intense gaze isn’t helping either, but then he finally leaves the living room, broad figure slinking away in the darkness of the hallway. You exhale deeply, cupping your own face to cool down your blazing cheeks. “Damn that man and the weird power he has over me.”, you mumble, only half joking, before finally sitting down at the dinner table, taking a few deep gulps from your glass of water. A few seconds later, your boyfriend reemerges, now clad in dark grey sweatpants and a simple white shirt, hair still damp and feet bare. You sigh dreamily, rest your chin on your palm, and just stare at him. Nanami always looks very put together, usually wearing suits and ties, which you also love on him, but this? Him looking so laid back and just overall boyfriend-y? That’s a whole other level of hotness. “You’re drooling.” You jump when his voice interrupts your thoughts, and shoot him a playful glare. “Am not.”, you mumble, “But now that you’re finally here and dressed, let’s eat - bon appétit.” He just purses his lips in an attempt to stifle his pleased smile before he sits down and lifts his spoon. “Bon appétit, love. Thank you for making dinner.” And with that, the two of you begin eating.

“Want to finally finish ‘Alice in Borderland’ before going to bed?”, your boyfriend asks after basically having wolfed down two plates of your delicious curry, and you nod immediately. That’s one of the many great things about Nanami - he’s not easily impressed nor easily invested in something, but once he is, he really is. Meaning that even though his schedule has been crazy busy this week, you guys still managed to binge-watch almost all episodes of the relatively new Netflix show. “Absolutely, let me just clean up first though.”, you say, already standing up, but Nanami suddenly wraps his long fingers around your wrist to tug you towards him until you’re standing between his legs. He presses his face against your stomach and buries his nose in the soft cotton of your shirt, deeply inhaling your scent, both arms tightly wrapped around you. You chuckle and carefully run your fingers through his hair, nails gently raking across his scalp. He shivers and a tiny moan escapes him, making your whole body tingle with want, but you quickly shake off the feeling. “Rough day?”, you ask quietly, but Nanami just shrugs. You rarely ask about his work, knowing he prefers to keep it as far away from you as possible. Of course you know he’s a powerful sorcerer, know he is perfectly capable of handling any and all situations no matter the danger, but other than that, he rarely if ever tells you about his missions, always keeping you in the dark but also safe, as he says. “You know you can always talk to me if you need to.”, you say softly, and your boyfriend pulls back to give you a small smile. “I know, love. Thank you. I’m really grateful to have you.” You feel your throat close up with unshed tears, and just nod once, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against his forehead. “Me too, Kento.” He lifts his head to brush his lips against yours before suddenly standing up. “You already made dinner, so I’ll clean up. You go move your cute butt over to the couch and wait for me.”, he demands, and you lift one eyebrow. “Oh, so you can call my butt cute but I’m not allowed to?” Nanami grins. “You’re more than welcome to call your own butt cute too, I never once said anything against that.” You playfully smack his chest, which basically feels like you’ve just punched a brick wall, and shoot him a playful glare. “That’s absolutely not what I meant and you know it.” He just gives you a smug smile before wordlessly taking the dirty plates and carrying them towards the kitchen.

Half an hour later, you’re lying between Nanami’s outstretched legs, back pressed flush against his chest while he’s wrapped both arms around your waist. “Ready for the last two episodes?”, you ask, and your boyfriend just hums in confirmation, his breath tickling your neck and making you shiver. “Let’s go then.” And with that, you press play.

With your back to him, you’re unable to see Nanami’s gentle smile while he gazes down at you, warm and soft and safe in his arms. While he feels like the world of sorcerers is currently going crazy due to the sudden appearance of Sukuna’s new vessel, you continue to be a steady and grounding presence in his life. Mostly unknowing of and therefore untainted by the world of curses and darkness he decided to be part of, you’re the light he will always search for and return home to. You don’t even understand the impact you have on him, how grateful he is to you for bringing so much warmth and laughter into his life, to be the person he can confidently call his home. You giggle at something said on tv, and almost unconsciously, he pulls you even closer to his chest, pressing a chaste kiss against your sensitive neck and making you squirm in his arms. “Later, Kento.”, you chastise him, and he just hums, nuzzling deeper into your soft hair, before intertwining his long fingers with yours. He already knows that one day soon, your hand will have a ring on it - the one he bought months ago but still keeps safely tucked away in the deepest, darkest corner of his closet, just waiting for him to ask you the most important question of his life. For now, he’s just happy to finish ‘Alice in Borderland’ with you safe in his arms.

And to have dessert later - don’t think he forgot about that.

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