#purpled fluff

[strange-birb]

I love her

💜💜💜

[mattsfootcramp]

Matt and Chris p!links

MDNI!!

All from twitter/X! you have to have an account to watch them!!!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Matt:

Creampie whole riding him

Rubbing sub!Matt

Car sex

Shoving his cock down your throat

Letting you ride his face for the first time (it's girl on girl but it was the only good one I could find)

Chris:

Regular night with chris

Fucking you in matts car

Watching his cum drip out of you

Fucking the attitude out of you

Letting you ride him

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Taglist:

@bernardsbendystraws @hysteria-things @sturniolo-fann @iluvjakeyy @spicybabysworld @monroesturnnss

[selarina]

Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: college bf!gojo, long-distance, fluff, smut, established relationship, summer, phone sex, nudes, light angst, emotional tension, insecurities, gojo is rich and clingy! Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.6k words

Author's Note: had "Good Looking" by Suki Waterhouse on repeat as i wrote this. can you tell?

Read on AO3

You had thought coming home for the holidays would mean endless days spent with Gojo, caught up in each other with nothing else to do in this sleepy town. Here, time moved differently, like honey trickling from a spoon.

Time spent in college had been different— there were classes, assignments, and the whole college thing — but now, time with him would be luxurious, unhurried, just the two of you, without the world pulling you apart.

But it had been two weeks since you last saw him.

To start with, your mother, in that peculiar way mothers are, still treated you as if high school had just ended yesterday. And then there was the summer ritual – three weeks spent with your grandmother, a tradition that pulled you three states away, leaving Gojo behind in all his boredom. The first week of summer had been his, or at least partially, for even then half of it was lost to the tournament that kept him longer on campus. Now, only a single constrained week and a month remained, 

“So, you’ll be back by then?” he asks, a kind of hope edging in his voice. You almost feel bad.

“I don’t know—” you speak up. “I always spend three weeks. I don’t want to leave earlier.”

“It’s only a week early and it’s my birthday, baby,” he whined, his plea childish, like a boy who doesn’t understand why he can’t have everything he wants.

“I know, but we can always celebrate later,” you offered, knowing full well it wasn’t the answer he wanted.

“Okay,” he says, and you hear it, his voice is thin and worn. It’s not the first time he’s asked you to come back earlier, nor would it be the last. “How’s it going in Midsommar-land anyway? You need to start sending me more pictures or I’ll forget how you look.”

You scoffed, but there was a smile in it. It was the least you could do. “I promise, I will.”

You chat on about things, meandering through familiar territories. And when you finally ran out of things to say, Satoru started asking you about colors, shapes, chickens, and just about anything he could think of to keep the conversation going. 

Four hours had passed, and the weariness in his voice was clear.

“Satoru.”

He hummed in response, his voice soft, almost dreamy.

“Go to bed,” you say gently.

“But I don’t want to,” he mumbled, the resistance fading even as he spoke.

“Yeah,” you said, understanding. “I know. I’ll call you tomorrow anyway.”

“Mmkay,” you hear him yawn through the crackles of the phone. “Don’t forget — pictures.”

You hummed in agreement, ending the call.

You fell back onto the bed, feeling the dull ache in your elbow from holding your head up for so long as you spoke. 

The ceiling, plain and blue, stared back at you as you tried to think of what you would do today. And then it struck you — pictures first.

Your fingers moved quickly, perusing through the squares in your phone’s gallery, searching. But the images were all wrong— food, your grandmother, endless trees, and greens, but not a single one centering you.

You frowned, scrolling back to the last picture of you —a simple mirror selfie. The first week of summer, it dated. You were standing clad in Gojo’s tournament jacket and shorts. The memory brought a smile to your face.

You got up then, moving with purpose — like a mad scientist, you started to dig through your suitcase until you found it. You took your top off, as you pulled the jacket on. The heat was far too horrendous for both items layered on top of one another.

You fell back onto the bed again, the pillow soft beneath your head. You held the camera up — your hair spreading around your white pillow covers, with your face in focus.

You realized you looked tired, dark circles blooming like dark mold under your eyes, but your grandparents would return soon and you wanted to get this over with now and for all. 

Click.

You drew your hands back a bit more, making sure the jacket engulfing you was visible.

Click.

Your eyes caught a glint— a silver shine at your neck. Of course. You reached for it, a delicate gold necklace with a blue jewel at its center, Gojo’s 6-month anniversary gift to you. You remembered the guilt you felt then, for you had given him a silly joke of a book in return.

It now lay over your — his hoodie — sitting against the hoodie, a small, almost hidden detail.

Click.

The phone was warm in your hand, the screen glowing softly in the dim light. One more, you decided. The last one.

You listened, straining for any sounds in the silence—footsteps, voices—but there was nothing, just the quiet of the empty house.

You pulled off the jacket, your movements quick but deliberate, and you lifted the phone above you, adjusting the camera before snapping a shot of you with your bare chest. Bare, but not entirely so — the gold necklace still graced your neck. 

The moment passed as quickly as it came, as you pulled the jacket back on in haste.

You selected the last two photos, sending them in quick succession. The order mattered, after all. 

—

The next morning, you had risen a bit too late in the afternoon. The light of the afternoon sun already slicing harshly through the curtain. The evening yesterday was eventful with the bonfires you helped build, and food you helped grill. It had been lovely. Exhausting. Glorious.

You immediately reach for your phone. Almost giddy with anticipation. 

But when you opened the screen, there was only one message from Satoru.

Satoru <3: Pretty 

The text specifically replied to the first picture you had sent, conveniently leaving the second unacknowledged. Your brows knitted together. 

You tapped his contact and pressed the phone to your ear, the silence of the room amplifying each drawn-out ring.

Once. Twice. Then, the line crackled, and his voice came through, light and smooth.

“Afternoon,” he drawled. “Did you just wake up? It’s late.”

“Pretty?” you ask, agitated. 

“I am? Thank you,” he says, you can almost hear the grin form on his mouth. 

“Satoru,” you reply, it was your turn to whine now.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, feigning innocence. Oh, he was loving this, wasn’t he?

“Just pretty?” you asked, your patience stretched thin but still intact. You felt small, however, in an odd way you couldn’t explain.

“You’ll get more than that,” he said, “if you say you’ll come to my birthday.”

A groan escaped you. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered. “No more pictures for you. Ever again.”

And you only smile when you hear him fumble — words overlapping one another as though he’s finding one that’s appropriate enough to satiate you — to convince you to do both. 

“I just want you here,” he said finally, the simplicity of the statement catching you off guard. “I really do.”

“You’ll see me two days later,” you countered. “You don’t even care about your birthday.”

“I don’t,” he admitted easily. “But everyone else does. You know my mother will make a whole thing out of it — the birthday will be loud. And annoying. I need you with me. Please—”

“You only want me there because it’ll be annoying,” you replied, your frown deepening, though a certain softness crept into your tone later. “It’s only two days. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Yeah, how? you’ll send me more pictures?” he asks, his voice lithe.

“I don’t know,” you teased, the earlier irritation melting away, as it does. “You didn’t seem to like the last one.”

Silence. 

“I liked it,” he finally said, his voice lower now, almost reverent. “I did.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your voice lower, mirroring his. “What did you like about it?”

“I liked you,” he said. “You’re pretty.”

“I am?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Very.”

“Why thank you,” you said, the gratitude in your voice genuine, yet playful.

“I’m looking at it right now,” he continued, his voice taking on a breathy quality as if he were speaking more to himself than to you. “Pretty,” he murmured, devout.

“What’s pretty about it?” you prompted, curious and engaged now.

“You —” he says. “Want you here with me, so bad.”

“You want me there with you?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?” you ask.

“I’m— I’m in my bed.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah,” he says. 

“Where are you?” he asks then.

“Well, I just woke up,” you replied.

“So, you’re in your bed too,” he surmised.

“Yeah,” you replied, pulling the cover up to your chest. “Hey,” you decided to add. “And guess what?”

“What?” he asks, chewing on his lips. “I’m wearing your hoodie too,” you said, and though he could not see you, you could almost sense his reaction.

"Fuck," he exhaled, the word barely more than a breath. "And, what else?"

“Um—” you start to feel a bit awkward. “Shorts. Black shorts.” Do specifics matter, you start to wonder?

“Bra?”

You glanced down, though you already knew the answer. "No," you whispered, the word slipping out before you could stop it before you could hide behind something safer. You cleared your throat, speaking up, clearer this time. "No."

“Fuck,” he says again. The mental image of you wearing his sweatshirt without any bra was driving him a bit hazy. 

You rushed to break the tension, "Your turn."

"Huh," he responded as if he had lost track of the conversation, of where this had started.

“Tell me what you’re wearing.”

“Well, just sweatpants and a t-shirt,” his voice casual. 

“Take them off.”

He chuckled, the sound soft, surprised. "As my lady pleases."

You heard rustling sounds, and you let your imagination wander to an image of him in his room. You’ve never seen his room, save for some hints in the many pictures he loves to send you, but you haven’t been to his place. Yet. 

Based on what his dorm looks like, he’s such a boy. It doesn’t have a theme, just a mixture of things he’s collected erratically placed in places he could if you get the gist. 

You wonder what color his room is. 

You realize you’ve wandered too far, the tension that first filled the space between you two as he speaks is gone, as you’ve indulged your mind.

"They’re off," he stated, his voice bringing you back, grounding you in the present moment. "Now take yours—wait! Take only your shorts off. I like you in my hoodie."

You smiled at that, and just as you’re about to take it off, your hand lingering at the waistband, ready to comply when—

“Hey, sweetheart,” your grandmother’s voice cut through with the sound of your door hinging open, bringing you to notice that there is a world beyond the two of you.

"Grandma, what—" you stammered, your heart racing as you scrambled, about to cover yourself, though you realized a second later that you didn’t need to. You were still fully clothed, still just talking on the phone. You sighed. "What happened?"

“Oh, nothing, dear but if you’re not too busy… could you help Yuuji with the birds? He hurt his wrist this winter, poor thing, and I think he could use your hand.”

“Of course,” you sighed with a smile, a small and reluctant thing, forcing its way to your lips. “Just let me get dressed, and I’ll be down.”

“Tell that friend of yours you’re always talking to that I said hi,” she added, a warm smile in her voice.

You nodded, almost absently, the phone still pressed to your ear as she left the room, the door closing with a soft click.

“Grandma says hi,” you relayed.

"Tell her your friend says hi back," he responded, his voice carrying an edge now, a note of irritation that was impossible to ignore.

There were too many things left unsaid, too many disappointments lining up on the horizon—birthdays you wouldn’t be there for, a family you hadn’t yet told him about.

You felt the fairness of it, just a bit. There are many things at play right now — you hadn’t told your family about him, you wouldn’t be coming in time for his birthday — too many things disappointing a boy who’s used to having it all. "I’m sorry," you said, the words sincere. "I’ll call you in the evening. Same as yesterday.”

He made a sound that was neither agreement nor refusal, just a noncommittal hum. "Have a nice day," he muttered, and the line went dead, leaving you alone in the silence.

—

It was warm, and windy as you drove back home to see Satoru Gojo. You drove alone, aside from your backseat companions – jars and jars of condiments from Grandma.

His house was even more elaborate than you had first expected – a whopping red and white brick mansion. It was a mansion you thought one would only see in their extravagant imaginations but there it stood, just beyond the long stretch of a well-furnished garden. 

As you pulled up – a man appeared. He was middle-aged, and greying at the temples. His manner was brisk, so formal, as he offered to park your car, and you simply let him. You assumed he was a chauffeur for the estate. 

Standing before the entrance, you feel as though the mansion seemed bigger than when you first laid your eyes on it from afar. Looming. Its sheer size made you a bit dizzy and small as you stared up at it. 

You walked up, your hand reaching to press the small buzzer on the side of the ornate door.

“Oh!” The voice belonged to a woman with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. “You must be here for the young master’s party?”

Young master. Satoru. You nodded, stepping inside.

And then you walked and you walked, and you started to wonder if they should invest in a vehicle for an inside the house. 

Walking through a high hallway, you finally made your way into what seemed to be a living room or just a big room where there were a bunch of people pacing and talking about with drinks and sticks with food in their hands. 

You assumed you finally arrived at the party, as the bright-eyed woman nodded at you as she left you to find your own steps now.

A breeze flew through the room just as you walked in, blowing the curtains in at one end and out like flags as you walked into where the concentration of the room lay.

The only seemingly still object in the room, amidst the whipping of the curtains and the moving guests, was the enormous white couch in the middle. And that’s where you saw him, Satoru, lounging, with a glass perched on the bridge of his nose as he spoke to a boy. The boy you barely glanced at — he was of no consequence just yet. 

You approached, your eyes noticing the lines of his black shirt as it ruffled with the breeze. With each step closer, your courage grew, pushing to make your presence known to him, and the guests that surrounded him. 

A sudden boom echoed through the room, and you turned just in time to see the same bright-eyed woman from earlier closing the long windows with a decisive motion. When you looked back, you noticed Satoru’s gaze had already fixed itself on you.

His brows, you could see, even through the glasses, emerged upward, in surprise.

Without thinking, you reached for his glasses, slipping them off as you spoke. “Hi,” you said. A giggle, a nervous giggle following you.

“You came,” he murmured, almost in a daze. 

“Yeah,” you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday. What do you make of me?”

[purple-babygirl]

in the far corner of the forest IV

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 6,540

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: mentions of hand injury, idiots in love, feels, jealousy, racism against orcs, angry behaviour, shouting, fight gets slightly physical, bruised arm, crying, angst (i'm sorry). I think that's all.

A/N: good news result in long chapters. thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone who has wished me good luck with my interview, you guys are angels. please enjoyxx💜💜

~

“You’re in love.”

“I’m what now!?” Bucky chuckled dismissively as he dropped his axe.

Bucky had spent half a day at home, refraining from going to work because of his hand’s condition, but as much as he loved staying home with her, he knew he wasn’t made to take a break.

So he thought he would visit, talk to Sam for a bit and maybe get some pent up ‘feelings’ out on some tree logs. His metal arm was still working just fine after all.

“I said, you’re in love with your human wife,” Sam repeated, smiling so warmly that Bucky wanted to smack him.

“I got her a few weeks ago.” Bucky shook his head in denial of the mere idea of him falling for anyone, let alone a human.

He did love Sam and Sarah, but that was it. They were the only humans he could tolerate. He hated the rest of them. Hell, he hated the human half of himself.

Bucky was just trying to make life easier for himself, that was all. He has been through enough conflicts and he didn’t need this in his marriage too. He deserved to live a normal life like everybody else.

Yes, he was courting her, and maybe he did constantly crave the feel of her body against his ever since she let him hug her the night of the injury, and he was definitely getting hopeful now that she hadn’t tried to run for a whole half day, but that didn’t mean he was in love! Did it?

“And now you’re in love with her.” Sam smirked, knowing how much it drove Bucky crazy that a female human had him on his knees for her love.

“Quit saying that!” Bucky stood up, ready to walk away from his annoying friend.

“Why does it make you so angry that you’re in lo—”

“Don’t,” Bucky warned him, eyes angry and glaring.

“—ve?”

“I am not in love with her, okay! She’s human! Plus, that girl drives me crazy! Do you know how many times I had to bring her back after she’d tried to run in the first two weeks? Five fucking times! That’s almost once every two days, Sam. And she only had one foot working!” Bucky ranted heatedly, desperate to negate his best friend’s theory.

Was he in love with her? And if Sam could see it, did that mean she could too?

“Well, why do you care to bring her back? Why not just let her run?” Sam shrugged, internally dying for Bucky to acknowledge his feelings.

“She could die out there! Humans are weak.”

“So?” Sam probed, intentionally ignoring Bucky’s remark about humans’ strength.

“So— so I signed all those things when she was offered to me. She can’t— I can’t—”

“You can’t?”

“I can’t let her get hurt,” Bucky admitted lowly, sitting down on a log with a loud sigh.

“Why does that make you so upset?” Sam dug deeper.

“Because I think you’re right. I think I might be in love with her.” Bucky rubbed his eye with his good hand, pushing his hair back angrily.

“And?”

“And she thinks I’m the devil.” Bucky’s face fell to his palms.

“Did she ever say that to you out loud?” Sam asked, touching the end of his sharpened blade.

“She doesn’t need to, Sam. I see it in her eyes every time I find her after she’d tried to run away.” Bucky’s voice was broken like his friend has never heard before.

“I thought you said everything was better after your injury?”

“Yeah, but that’s not gonna last forever.” Bucky gave a sad grin, “she’s soon gonna go back to seeing me the same as before.”

“Well, it’s up to you to change her mind, Buck.” Sam patted his friend’s shoulder, giving a squeeze.

Bucky sighed once more before getting up.

Sam was a human. A very handsome one with much less scars and non-icy skin. He would never understand. It would never work. She hated him.

He could continue trying, but it wouldn’t change anything of the way she felt about him and their marriage. She had told him time and time again how she felt about both.

“Going home already?”

“Yeah, I can’t miss the running away bit. It’s my favourite,” he sighed, Sam's laugh trailing behind him.

“Smile at her for a change.”

“Shut up.” I do smile at her. I only ever smile at her.

“Sarah loved the jam by the way!” Sam yelled.

“I’ll let her know!” Bucky yelled back before exhaling sadly.

Sam would never understand. Her taking pity on him those past couple of hours was nothing more than sympathy and likely even guilt.

Sam would never understand that of all the eyes in the world, it seems like Bucky has managed to fall for the only ones that knew how to hurt him, the eyes that would only look at him as a disgusting, frightening monster.

~

When Bucky got home, everything was creepily in place. His door was closed like he had left it and he actually had to use his key to open it for the first time in a while.

Stepping inside, the warm smell of roast chicken welcomed him back.

The house was warm because all the windows were actually shut, too. It was all so calm and homely; the orc was seriously worried.

And then he heard it: his human wife’s sweet voice, humming the melody of a song unfamiliar to him. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen.

Bucky carefully shut the door behind him, not wanting her peaceful mood to end so soon as he tried to take lighter steps to where she was.

Much to his dismay though, she needed something from the other side of the kitchen and when she turned around she saw Bucky and gasped, jumping embarrassingly high.

“You scared me!” She whined, holding a hand to her heart.

“Sorry.” Bucky smirked, entertained by how cute she looked when startled.

“Welcome home,” she mumbled with a bit-back grin, holding onto his forearms before getting on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on Bucky’s cheek.

She never told him, but she was unbelievably thankful when he didn’t specify which type of kiss he expected weeks ago, and even more thankful when he didn’t object to her pecking his cheek before burying herself under the covers.

Life with Bucky has gotten undeniably familiar lately and leaving him was all of a sudden an idea that didn’t interest her as much as before.

Everything he was saying and doing has brought her closer to him without her even comprehending it.

As the days passed, she had realized running away was too exhausting, too risky, and for what? It wasn’t like she had a home to run to or a treasure buried somewhere or a lover worth escaping her orc for.

Her orc.

Hers.

A word she never felt the meaning of until the day Bucky made her his wife.

Bucky was the first and only one to present to her a taste of something she has never had: the feeling of exclusively owning things.

The smile that graced her face when she brushed her hair the first time with the brush Bucky got her was new and unprecedented.

Her brush, he called it.

Her shoes. Her chair. Her towel. Her clothes. Her books. Her side of the bed. Her cottage. Her kitchen.

And her husband.

Everything was brand new and completely hers.

Nothing was handed down to her, nothing was used before the minute her fingers had touched it. None of the things Bucky gifted her had previous owners, including him and his heart.

Most importantly, she didn’t have to share any of it with anybody.

“You’re home,” Bucky said, a surprised yet very happy smile lighting up his handsome features.

“I thought the wife was supposed to say that,” she replied playfully, going back to the bubbling pot.

Bucky raised his eyebrows at the good mood she seemed to be in. He was liking this.

He watched her sprinkle some black pepper into the soup as he came behind her.

She could feel the heat of his body surrounding her even when they weren’t touching and it had her heartbeat going crazy.

“Thank you, little human,” Bucky whispered, before he leaned down and pecked her cheek as well, his stubble and blunt tusks tickling her jaw.

She felt her whole body jolt with electricity at the simple graze of his lips and tusks on her skin as she closed her eyes.

Bucky left the kitchen and went to the bathroom but she was still hot as if his warmth never left her.

And when she opened her eyes and absentmindedly reached her fingertips to touch her cheek, she found herself smiling too.

What was happening to her? What was this foreign feeling lifting her off of her feet in the middle of the kitchen?

“Sam’s sister loved your strawberry jam by the way!” Bucky shouted to her from the bathroom, making her jump again before smiling to herself.

He didn’t use Sarah’s name on purpose, not wanting to ruin her happy mood as he had noticed how angry she got every time he would say it.

“I’ll make her more tomorrow!” She replied with a grin, proud of her hand’s work, her jealousy long forgotten after Bucky’s words of the night before.

After all, how could she be jealous when she was the one that Bucky was looking at like that?

~

When she finished setting up the table and Bucky didn’t come out of the bathroom, she got a little worried.

He never took too long during his showers, and now that he only had one arm to use, she thought he would cut his showers even shorter.

What if his wound was bleeding again and he didn’t want to tell her and was trying to fix it by himself inside the bathroom? She knew she should have stopped him from going to the yard!

“Bucky.” She knocked on the door softly, wanting to make sure he was okay.

“Yes, little human?” Bucky instantly opened the door for her.

And he looked like a dream.

Steam has surrounded him inside the bathroom, water drops from his still-wet hair dripping down his muscular, bare chest and for the first time since Bucky has been naked around her, she found herself looking at him. Actually looking.

Bucky’s chest was so broad, beefy and ribbed down to his abdomen. Scars of all sizes and shapes littered the beautiful, icy greyish skin, a reminder of the battles he had fought and all the sacrifices he had made.

Her heart clenched at the sight, a pang of sympathy coursing through her as she could only imagine the pain he must have had to endure.

Still, she found her hands tingling in curiosity, desperate to know what tracing the healed skin would feel like under her fingertips.

Bucky was a sight for sore eyes, a sight that both captivated and unnerved her, stirring a flurry of unfamiliar emotions in her chest that she struggled to contain.

She averted her gaze, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her at the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

“Are—” she chocked, her voice barely above a whisper as she coughed it out, “are you okay? You took a while.”

“Yeah, I’m just having a hard time drying up my hair with one arm,” Bucky reassured her, chuckling lightly at his dilemma as he let the towel around his neck drop.

He was completely oblivious to the way he just made her face burn up as her thoughts spiraled out of control.

“Come.” She took Bucky’s hand in hers, careful not to squeeze his palm, and led him outside to their bed.

It took Bucky a second to move his feet, but when he did, he felt like he was being carried on top of a cloud.

She felt herself drawn to him in a way she couldn’t quite explain, her heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness, curiosity and… desire. A new sensation was tingling all over her body, specifically in places she didn’t need to be tingling right now.

Positioning herself between his parted legs, she reached to take the towel from around Bucky’s neck.

His eyes watched her, surprise flickering in them as he realized what she was going to do, unable to believe what was happening.

Sensing her nervousness, Bucky offered her a reassuring, grateful smile, silently encouraging her to continue.

And as she began to carefully pat his damp hair dry, her touch tentative and her eyes focused, he felt warmth welling up inside him.

She couldn’t help but steal glances at his bare shoulder and chest, her cheeks burning with embarrassment at the engrossing sight. It was a feeling unlike anything she has ever experienced before, her heart racing with unparalleled excitement.

The awkwardness of the situation began to fade bit by bit as she focused more on the task at hand, in its place growing an overwhelming sense of closeness and familiarity.

Bucky’s hair was so soft under her fingertips as she took the towel up and down the brown locks. She wished she had given herself a chance to touch it more before.

As she finished drying her orc’s hair, she met his gaze with a shy bite of her lip, her eyes sparkling with newfound confidence.

Bucky reached out to take her hands, his smile appreciative as his lips pressed a deep kiss on each palm, silently thanking her for her kindness and care.

~

“I didn’t know your cooking was so good. You surprise me every day,” Bucky praised, as she filled his mouth with more lentil soup, trying not to think of his conversation with Sam or the way his body was still on fire from the mere act of her drying his hair for him.

He couldn’t even believe she was feeding him after seeing him struggle to keep the food on his spoon using his left hand.

“All the girls at the orphanage know how to cook. They teach us all sorts of things and make us to be good housewives,” she replied, suddenly nostalgic of her days at the orphanage, curious to know how, where and when Bucky got the chance to see her back then.

Bucky didn’t say anything, busying his mouth with chewing some bread as his smile shrank.

She didn’t look happy. Why did she stay then? Was she planning on running away at night that day? Maybe she put something in the food?

“I’m glad you like your dinner though,” she said, breaking the thick silence with a soft smile as she fed the orc a piece of chicken.

“Why didn’t you try to leave today?” Bucky couldn’t hold back.

She was taken aback by his question. She thought he wanted her here.

Was he finally done? Did he want her out? Was he not going to look for her this time? Has Bucky given up on her? Was he going to leave her be had she gotten out today?

Most importantly, she didn’t know how to answer because it seemed like she was done running away from her new life with him, and she didn’t know if she could admit that.

“I– did you want me to?” She asked, her voice strained as she tried to hold in the tears.

“No! No, of course not!” He assured her quickly.

“Then?” She chewed on her lip.

“I don’t want you to stop running if it makes you feel alive,” Bucky told her, his blue eyes gushing with love he didn’t intend to show, “I’m willing to go to the ends of the earth to find you.”

“What?” She wasn’t expecting this at all, all the tingles she had hardly managed to shake off after drying Bucky’s wet hair coming back to attack her.

How were these words coming out of an orc! And why did they make her heart stutter in its beats?

“I love your fiery spirit and I’m afraid I’m killing it by keeping you here against your wishes. I never want to be the one to snuff your fire out.” Bucky admitted, eyes sincere as he watched her.

She just stared at him for a moment, stunned as her heart skipped yet another beat.

If he only knew that he was the one who had managed to bring this fiery personality to life.

Bucky respected her silence and went back to enjoying his dinner, not wanting to push her for a reply. She could take her time.

She kept staring at him in confusion for another minute before taking her almost untouched plate and getting up.

She almost ran to the kitchen with her hand on her heart.

What was going on with her? Her heart wasn’t seriously beating this loud for the orc. Could it be?

He sounded so selfless and spoke so gently like he has never before and she was overwhelmed.

His words were doing things to her that she has never felt before. What was wrong with her?

She knew she had caught herself staring at him without a shirt just minutes ago, maybe admiring his eyelashes as he slept in some early mornings, but she rendered it curiosity and nothing more.

She shook her head, her thoughts startling to her as she emptied her plate in the garbage and started washing it vigorously.

Bucky no longer had an appetite, sighing at her reaction.

He told himself he could understand, but it was still hurtful the way she jumped out of her chair.

He left his plate on the table, not wanting to invade her privacy by going to the kitchen before leaving the cottage altogether.

He probably shouldn’t have said anything.

~

She revisited the subject the same afternoon though, not wanting there to be any misunderstandings between her and Bucky. Not any longer.

“I don’t wanna leave anymore,” she admitted timidly, making Bucky’s smile betray him and his usual frowning.

“But I don’t like being locked away in here all day either,” she said carefully, scared to upset him.

“Where do you wanna go? The forest is dangerous, little human.” Bucky was back to frowning at the thought of anything bad happening to her again.

It was torture for him when her foot was still healing and he was the most relieved when it finally did. He couldn’t just let her roam around when she didn’t know the area.

“Take me out when you come back from work maybe? Or even on your day off,” she suggested, desperate to see the world.

“And go where?”

“Anywhere. We can walk around the woods before it gets dark, you could show me your shop, I could meet Sam? Or we could even go to the market!” She suggested eagerly.

She has been locked up for so long and she didn’t want to continue her life like this.

Bucky actually thought about it and he didn’t hate the idea. Taking her out with him would ensure her safety. He would be by her side and he would protect her. He also liked the thought of taking her out and properly courting her even if she didn’t know that that was what he was doing.

He said he didn’t want to kill her spirit by keeping her in here and she gave him the solution.

“Okay.” Bucky nodded at her with a smile.

“Okay?” She exclaimed happily, not believing Bucky would actually take her out to see around.

“Okay.” He nodded again reassuringly, her happiness making him laugh.

“Well, don’t you have tomorrow off?” She asked suggestively, gesturing to his hand.

Bucky laughed, nodding, “put your shoes on.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” She involuntarily gave his healing hand a squeeze, kissing his cheek before running to get her shoes.

Bucky swallowed hard, hoping he would be able to hold himself together and not completely melt under her sweet company.

“You’ve got to promise me though,” he said.

She looked at him questioningly as she slipped one foot into a shoe.

“No running away, little human.”

“No running away. Promise.” She promised, shaking her head with a shy smile.

Bucky smiled big, taking her smaller hand in his as she grabbed her basket in the other, ready to browse the market with her husband.

Her husband. That was starting to sound unquestionably comforting.

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“What?” She tilted her head with a grin.

“You owe me a kiss,” Bucky said, his tone serious.

“No, I don’t! If anything, I just gave you an extra kiss!”

“Yes, you do. From that morning. You’re still one kiss behind!”

“I just made up for it!”

“Doesn’t count. That one covers the night before.” Bucky shrugged, a smile etched on his lips.

“Okay, fine.” She kissed Bucky’s cheek, “stop going around saying other girls’ names though.”

Bucky laughed, “I only know one!”

“Still too many,” she whispered under her breath, but Bucky heard it, smiling from ear to ear as he took his hand in hers, taking the right path out of the woods. ~ It was a beautiful afternoon, full of warm sunshine and fruitful deals. She has got some pretty good stuff for really good prices.

She couldn’t believe Bucky actually gave her pocket money.

He didn’t want her to have to ask him for money every time something caught her eye. He wanted her independent, fulfilled and brave as she bought herself whatever her heart desired.

Her heart was so full and her smile was inerasable.

Bucky didn’t let go of her hand all day and she actually liked it so much that she never complained. The feel of his calloused skin against her soft palm wasn’t like anything she has felt before.

She didn’t want to let go of his hand even while looking at the different stands and booths at the market.

But she eventually liked the flower stand too much and told Bucky she would take a look at them while he continued buying them the fruits he was picking.

“Good afteroon,” a smooth voice interrupted her admiration of the potted plants before her, making her look up for a second.

“Good afternoon.” She smiled coyly.

“Any favorites?” The handsome man inside the booth asked her.

“All of them,” she giggled softly, the sound catching Bucky’s ears at once.

The man laughed back, “okay, I think I have something special for you. How about this one?” He brought her a purple flower from the batch hidden behind him inside the booth.

“Oh, how beautiful! What is this one?” She wondered, amazement sparkling in her eyes at the sight of the pretty petals.

“That is a Globemaster Allium. Pretty, isn’t she?” He asked, staring at her desirously as she looked at the flower.

“Yes, she’s stunning!”

“I’m Cole by the way—”

She heard Bucky clear his throat next to her and looked up at once, the innocent awe in her eyes softening the orc a little.

“Look, Bucky! Isn’t this the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” She pointed to the flower pot excitedly.

Bucky leaned in, his frown scaring her a little, her breath hitching when his lips tickled the shell of her ear, “no, little human, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She chocked on her own saliva, hiding her hot face with her hand as she coughed, “Bucky!” She whined with a shy smile.

Where did that come from!

“Let’s go,” Bucky said with a nod of his head, eyes stern as he glared at Cole.

“Can—” She held his wrist, “can I have it?” She asked softly, gesturing to the flower pot.

Bucky wanted to say no. He didn’t want her to have this farmer’s flower. But he couldn’t say no to those hopeful, beautiful eyes of hers.

“Fine.” He watched her get the money out of her pocket and she smiled gratefully as she almost set them down on Cole’s counter.

“It’s on the house,” Cole said, still smiling dreamily at her.

She could all but swallow as she gave a polite smile back before looking up at Bucky for help.

“Take your goddamn money.” Bucky made a quick job of paying for the flower, taking the money from her and slamming it on the counter, making the whole booth shake.

He quickly took his wife home, deciding that was enough socialization for the both of them for the day.

She wasn’t going to lie, she was loving jealousy on her orc. It felt so intoxicating to have someone love her so much that he was jealous of other men talking to her.

She wouldn’t tell Bucky, but she would probably spend the nights of the next week smiling at the wall every time she remembered how he held her hand back home just a little bit tighter that day.

Her own heart was running wild at the sight of the orc now and she didn’t want it any other way.

~

“Now you know how it feels,” she teased with a smile as they were getting ready for bed.

Bucky couldn’t let it go, talking about how they were never going to stop by that farmer’s flower booth ever again.

“That’s not the same! I was never into Sarah! But that man was openly ogling you!” Bucky grumbled, his frown digging deep into the skin of his forehead.

“He was just being nice, trying to sell his flowers,” she laughed, upsetting Bucky even more.

How couldn’t she see it? The guy was all over her!

“He was flirting and you were all giggles and blushes.” Bucky copied her, going to the bed and burying himself under the covers, facing the wall.

He understood now why she had done that.

“Hey, that’s my spot!” She joked, not knowing if Bucky was being serious.

“Not tonight,” he murmured from underneath the covers.

“Bucky,” she whined, uncovering her orc’s face.

Bucky didn’t reply, pushing himself closer to the wall.

She tried to bring him on his back by the shoulder like he so easily did her a couple of night ago, but he was too strong for her and his body wouldn’t budge.

She huffed, “okay, you left me no choice.”

Bucky remained still, wanting to see what she meant by that as he felt her shift behind him.

Before he knew it, she was on top of his bicep, trying to slot herself between his body and the wall.

“What on earth—”

“You started it, Bucky!” She said, voice determined as she kept pushing, trying to squeeze herself in the small space accessible.

Bucky looked at her in amusement for a second before moving back, making her body drop as larger space became available.

She landed with the tiniest “ouff” on the mattress, facing Bucky on her side with her back to the wall, its coolness helping soothe the heat rising to the surface of her skin.

That was the closest she had been to Bucky since their hug the night of his injury, face to face as his passionate sapphire eyes watched hers.

“Hi,” she whispered, heart in her throat.

“Hi,” Bucky replied with a charming smile, smoothing some of her ruffled strands back in place.

She stared at the orc’s eyes, not the slightest bit scared of the fact that she was trapped against the wall by his huge body.

“You’re not the only one who wants to be loyal to this marriage, Bucky,” she said, surprising Bucky and herself, “I don’t want the farmer. I don’t want anyone else.” but you.

Bucky smiled in disbelief, taken aback by her words, and she took it as permission to move closer to his chest. He instinctively wrapped her up in a protective hug, wondering how he was able to hold himself back from kissing her.

She pushed her face into her orc’s chest, his scent and warmth engulfing her into a protective bubble.

She couldn’t believe she said the words she has just said and it made her bury her burning face deeper in Bucky’s arms.

He could only hug her tighter, his nose in her sweet-smelling hair as his smile grew bigger.

This moment right there was everything Bucky has ever wished for. He could die a happy orc right then and there.

~

It became a habit for them to go out to the village on Bucky’s day off. They were both having a great time, getting closer and falling harder.

Cole hasn’t spoken to her again after learning that the snow orc was actually her husband, and she respected Bucky’s feelings and never approached Cole’s booth no matter how pretty the plants on his stand were.

Market outings were their thing now and she wasn’t going to let anything ruin that.

She didn’t want anyone else’s attention but Bucky’s anyway. His hand has almost fully healed and she could now squeeze it all she wanted whenever she got excited about anything they encountered.

One thing did occur that annoyed her though and that was the way the jewelry lady would look at her every time she and Bucky would pass by. The woman had so much pity in her eyes when she saw her hand in an orc’s and she hated it.

She despised the way people misjudged her orc when he was far better than any human man she could’ve ever ended up with.

Yet, the lady kept giving her those pitiful looks, probably thinking Bucky had enslaved her or something.

But enough was enough.

When Bucky was busy looking at the knives, she made her way to the jewelry lady, determined to put an end to the ridiculousness.

“He is my husband,” she sternly told the lady in the jewelry stand, taking the chance that Bucky wasn’t listening.

“Oh.” The lady quickly gave a kind smile, turning from concerned about her to happy for her, “I apologize for misjudging you, dear. I was only worried about you. We’ve all heard stories about him.”

“Well, that’s all they are. Stories.” She ferociously defended, her eyes still stern.

“I’m sorry,” the woman sincerely expressed her regret, squeezing her hand.

She nodded with a small smile, accepting the older woman’s apology.

“I don’t see a ring on your hand.” The jewelry lady gestured to the collection of rings in her glass box with a wink.

“Oh.”

The sentence caught Bucky’s ears as he turned away to look at her embarrassed face.

“We didn’t get time to buy one. It all happened so quickly,” she explained awkwardly and Bucky’s expression fell.

“I have a pretty collection if you wanna take a look, and don’t worry about the price,” the older lady suggested kindly.

“No, it’s okay—”

“Choose what you like, sweet thing,” Bucky whispered to her, immediately by her side when he saw her eyes skimming over the jewelry, “I’m sorry I’m not familiar with the human marriage traditions. I should’ve gotten you one sooner.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You don’t have to,” she reassured with a tender smile.

She didn’t need a ring to know that she was Bucky’s.

“I want to. I want you to wear my ring, little human.” Bucky raised her hands to his lips, placing the softest kisses on her each finger.

Her heart surged as a shy smile spread on her lips, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Okay.” She nodded happily, feeling like she was in a dream and she never wanted to wake up.

Though very expensive, Bucky ended up buying her the ring she chose. It was the prettiest gold ring with a moss agate blue diamond.

She tried to talk him out of it, wanting to pick something cheaper, but Bucky wouldn’t have it.

She has never felt as special as she felt with Bucky’s ring on her finger. It was the prettiest thing from the most handsome orc.

And in that very moment, she was the happiest that she trusted her gut; that she gave Bucky, and herself a chance for this marriage to be something more than a contractual deal.

Bucky couldn’t believe she has finally let him make her his. When he slipped that ring on her tiny finger, he felt like he was king of the world.

While walking back to their cottage, a new dream got unlocked inside of her, one that included her and Bucky and their very own little stand in the market.

“Can we stop by the shop before we go home?” She asked tentatively.

“Sure, why? Did you forget something there yesterday?”

She has been to the shop a couple of times, curious to meet the important people in Bucky’s life and possibly have friends of her own, too.

“No, just wanna show Sarah the ring,” she said, a shy smile lighting up her happy face.

Bucky brought her hand to his lips, kissing her ring finger this time, “to the shop it is.”

~

Everything was going amazingly and she wished with all her heart that it would stay that way, but unfortunately, the very next day was a day for another fight that none of them saw coming.

Bucky still hasn’t recovered from her little stunt a few weeks ago and today he came back to find the cottage empty again.

He should have locked the door. He shouldn’t have trusted that a ring on her finger might stop her old habits or give her a magical change of heart.

What about all the small moments she had shared? Did those mean nothing to her?

Bucky’s anger and feeling of betrayal wiped away everything nice that had happened between the two of them, only remembering that she never wanted to be here in the very first place.

“Why are you so adamant about making me lose my mind?” Bucky asked, pushing her inside and slamming the door behind them.

“I’m not! Would you just listen?!” She yelled back, startled by the harsh treatment.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Bucky shouted as if he didn’t hear her.

“I was just—”

“Wandering through the forest alone is dangerous, I’ve told you time and again, and yet you keep doing it!”

“Would you listen to me?!” 

“No! You acted like you would stop running, so what changed?!” Bucky threw his big arms in the air, making her take a step back.

Bucky looked bigger than he usually did when he was livid like that.

“I wasn’t running!” She repeated, her voice tinged with anger of her own at the distrust.

“Stop lying!” Bucky growled, roughly grabbing her by the arm.

“I’m not lying,” she insisted as she tried not to wince at the way Bucky held her forearm, her jaw clenched defiantly.

“Then what were you doing up the hill, huh?” Bucky unconsciously squeezed her arm harder.

“You’re hurting me.” She tried to pull away, but Bucky wouldn’t release her.

“You think you’re the only one who has fucking feelings?” Bucky shook her in his hold, unintentionally bruising her further.

She cried out but it fell on deaf ears, “Bucky, let me go!”

“Do you think what you do doesn’t affect me just because I’m not a goddamn human?!” He forced her closer, making her tears fall as he barked in her face.

His words hung heavy in the air, echoing through the spacious room.

“Bucky, please,” she tried again, not wanting to fight anymore.

Bucky finally listened, suddenly shocked at his actions as he let her arm go.

It’s been so long since he had made her cry and he just ruined everything good he had worked on building with her.

She just stood there, whimpering in pain as she held her arm to her chest.

Bucky watched her roll the sleeve of her winter dress up to look at her arm and there they were: thick fingerprints on her flesh.

“I— I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to get closer to look at her arm, swallowing hard.

To his surprise, she let him.

“I’m sorry, little human.” Bucky wiped a few of her tears away, regret evident in his voice.

“I wasn’t running,” she repeated, pushing her hands in the pockets of her dress, “I was collecting berries to decorate the cake I made earlier.” She pulled handfuls of now ruined wild strawberries, raspberries and blackberries out of her pockets and dropped them on the wooden table for him to see.

She left Bucky alone to stare at the berries and went to the kitchen.

And boy did he stare.

He felt so stupid and ashamed at the way he had reacted. He just hurt her and she wasn’t even trying to leave. He wouldn’t let her explain either and had unjustly judged her.

She got out a cold water bottle from the fridge, pushing it to her bruised arm.

Bucky walked into the kitchen, shame branded on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, not knowing what to do to correct his mistake.

“What do you think?!” She irritably snapped at him, waving her bruised arm in the air.

“I just wanted to help!” Bucky barked back.

“Well, I don’t want your help!” She shouted.

“Fine! Don’t want it!” Bucky walked out, his feet stomping on the wooden floors.

He stormed out of the cottage, violently slamming the door behind him.

Bucky then realized what he has just done and how he had made the situation even worse. He kicked a rock so hard he was sure it flew to the other side of the forest as he saw birds flying disruptively.

“Damn it!” He yelled out loud, slamming his fist to the door, making her flinch inside the cottage.

The fight between the orc’s rough exterior and his rather tender feelings for her was torturing Bucky. What he meant to show was that he cared about her and was worried for her, but instead he’d done what he’d done.

She, on the other side of the wall, irately got out of the kitchen with the trash bin and swept the berries from the table, throwing them in the garbage.

When Bucky got inside again, she was cleaning the stain of the berries from the table, her features still twisted in a frown.

He opened his mouth, trying to think of anything he could say to fix this, but nothing came out. With a sigh, he left the cottage once more, leaving her all alone.

She sat down with a huff, throwing the cloth in her hand across the room.

She let her tears run in frustration.

It was supposed to be a peaceful night where they enjoyed a delightful desert that she has worked hard on making and was going to work hard on decorating.

She was trying to start a life with him. Why did he have to ruin it like that? She wasn’t running. How could she make him believe her?

She desperately wanted, needed Bucky to trust her.

She cried harder, feeling helpless in the face of her orc’s rage as her heart clenched at the thought of a happiness gone so soon.

Part V

~

Tag List:

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[aweina]

ᥫ᭡. your name , mike schmidt ( suggestive )

say my name until you lose your breath …

tags gn reader. established relationship. fluff. kind of self-indulgent. teasing. mike + sleeper build combo.

“it hurts mike.”

your body was shaking like a withered leaf — limbs tense with a burning sensation.

“yeah?” he tilts his head a bit, a sadistic twinkle in his eyes.

you couldn’t last long anymore.

“yes! it feels like i’m gonna – ”

your poor face nearly slaps against the cold wooden floor if it weren’t for mike’s rough hand breaking your fall. he saved you from an embarrassing bruise that you would’ve had to heal for a week — what an angel. but even then, you let out a muffled painful cry against the wooden floors. the nonexistent muscles sculpted on your arms ached, the wind in your lungs struggling to spill out from your lips.

mike shakes his head as he soothes your forehead with a sweet brush of his thumb, back against the edge of his undone bed.

“i still can’t believe you can’t do push-ups.” there was a playful condescending tone in his voice that you couldn’t be mad at because he sounded hot.

you lifted your head, an exaggerated pout on your face. mike smiles at that, tracing his hand over your chin to tilt your gaze towards his. a hue of green and gold in his brown eyes — a little detail you loved about him.

“physical education was my lowest grade you know.”

the gruesome memories of being cruelly yelled at for not participating in group activities or the echoing of shallow cheers during the mile, you being the last person standing. yeah, not a great time.

“really now?” he asks with feigned surprise — a quirk in his brow.

you glared at him, getting up with wobbly feet and nearly toppling over. mike catches your fall again, gently guiding you on the bed. it was a little embarrassing, but he didn’t seem to complain.

“yes, mr. high school footballer.” now it’s mike’s turn to roll his eyes at your teasing, taking a seat back on the cold wooden floor.

what you would’ve done to see him in a football uniform — now stuffed in the depths of his mundane closet. not long ago, you happen to see crinkled photos stuffed in the drawers, old high school photos of mike. a youthful glow to his face, the curls in his dark hair longer, strong arms sadly covered in the sleeves of his jersey. high school you would’ve fawn over him, you’d like to also think he would with you — through the bulky clothes and thick framed glasses.

“whatever. i’ll show you how it’s done.”

a lazy hum vibrates your throat as you carefully watch mike stand up, stretching out his muscles just like he always did. the same sneak peek of his coarse happy trail never failed to make your heart skip a beat, letting out the same tired yawn with a lousy scratch through his messy locks. you tuck yourself in his soft sheets, the comforting smell of warm cotton and woodsy cologne nearly lulling you back into a doze.

every morning, he would do push-ups like this. you’d have an empty space beside your sleeping form, panic filling your heart. it’s then you hear deep grunts, the noise making you blank out with a blush — until you look over and see him in his third set of push-ups. dripping sweat sticking between his skin and the thin fabric of his t-shirt. mike subconsciously coerced you into waking up early. with the sun still beneath the clouds, you check him out while you’re smothered under the sheets he tossed on top of you. conversing about what you’ll do that day, what you wanted for breakfast, who’s turn to wake up abby.

if it weren’t for his deep breathing and quiet groans, you wouldn’t have to be so aroused every morning — like now.

planting his palms flat and arms extended towards the freezing floor, mike‘s position was much more stable and proper that you were attempting to replicate. his upper body bobs up and down, bare feet perfectly planted on the ground. you quietly admire mike’s hidden physique, counting each push-up with a whisper. his elbows barely buckle with each bend, keeping a steady pace without breaking a sweat. completely in contrast from the suggestive noises spilling from his soft lips, breathless and sweetening.

“say my name.”

he stops mid push-up, a confused look written all over his flushed face.

“i … w – what?” from how winded he was, his confusion sounded like a low whine — the familiarity leading back to this exact bed.

“say my name while you do push-ups.” beneath the sheets, you hid a sly smirk — the wink of sleep long gone from the excitement bubbling in your chest.

“yeah … okay sure baby.” mike’s genuine cluelessness was laughable. his doe eyes was unmistakably innocent, naturally obedient to your command.

now every completed push-up he executed perfectly was tied with a sweet tune of your name. the quiver in his voice was sweetly addicting. a breathless drawl drags at the end of your name — tired hiccups escaping his throat. reaching towards his limit, he growls your name with each grunt. how does he not notice how he sounds? fuck, he sounded so cute yet so possessive, but you refrained yourself from throwing yourself at him.

with one last bend to his arms, your name comes out as a desperate whimper. hot panting forced through his lips, drips of sweat running down his brow bone. mike crashes back beside the edge of the bed, his head bent back to the plush mattress. you gaze down at him with a soft smile, brushing away the damp strands of hair — still snug under the warm covers that combat the biting cold of the early morning.

“i know why you asked now.” mike mumbles tiredly, reaching up with aching arms to brush your hair in return. a cocky smile on his face.

“i was wondering when you’ll catch up.” you press a soft kiss on his lips, another on his dampened temple.

“you have a dirty mind, you know that?” mike blushes at the showers of kisses, chuckling at your little perverted plan.

“yeah i do. now do it with your football jersey.” he rolls his eyes the second time this morning, sneaking in a warm kiss on your chin before he stands up — cracking his tense neck with a hard tilt of his head.

“or i’ll just get myself a glass of water.” mike jested with a dry strain to his throat, taking your soft hands and tugging you on your feet.

you happily held his hand. both of your bare footsteps pattering through the cold, darkened hallway — careful not to wake up abby from her room.

“orrrr you can take a shower with me?” you suggestively whispered in the shell of his ear, nearly wrapping yourself on his aching arm — barely irked by the fabric draped on his shoulders that was dosed in sweat.

mike grinned in amusement, knowing you both already shared the shower during early, much more rushed mornings.

although, it never hurt to hear it from your lips.

“yeah sure baby.” his voice deep and rich in your ear, pecking a gentle kiss on your bed hair.

mike guided you both to the dimly lit kitchen, a sickly flirty exchange stuffed the cold hallway — quiet mumbles and fleeting touches.

besides the discipline he puts himself through every cold morning, mike learned to love them, especially when you’re there to admire him — despite the fact you would pretend to be asleep. he knows, but he likes to play your game every now and then.

add. note : okay i’m extremely unathletic, so i hope someone reading relates too. and can you tell that i got this idea from tiktok … (￣ ￣|||)

[yujinsmom]

a day w bf gunwook! 🤍

pov: he has a rare day off and takes u out on a full day long date

a/n: if anyones wondering all the pics are from pinterest, except for the movie ones those are mine

₊˚🧸ྀིྀི⊹ ˚˖𓍢 🫧 ‧₊˚ ☁️ ⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ꒰ა🪻໒꒱ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚✩彡 ₊˚🧸ྀིྀི⊹

[purple-obsidian]

Heyyyyy pookieeee-i saw your Jason todd fic and wanted to ask,what do you think he will be like teaching his gf how to drive?

(Because nobody in my freaking life taught me how to drive yet so I have to sit like a duck and wait for someone to pick me up when I wanna go somewhere pleaseeee let me drivee-)

be brave (jason todd x fem reader) wc 800

⭓ fluff isn't my normal cup of tea. but for you, pookie, i can make an exception ;) sorry this took a while to answer, hope you don't mind i made this specific to driving a motorcycle. that's just what felt right when i was meditating on this prompt so i went with it. enjoy.

"Jason, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"You second guessing me, princess?"

"Yeah, maybe I am. I could kill us!"

Jason scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief. "You think I would let that happen? Ever?" With cocky grin, Jason walks over and stares down at you, noting the apprehension on your face. "Remember the day we met? You told me you had a bucket list. Things you wanted to do before you died."

"Yeah, I only told you that because I thought I was going to die. You rescued me. I got plenty of time now, I don't have to learn how to drive tonight. Its already dark." You reach your hand up reflexively to rest against his chest as he gets closer. Its a habit of yours. You always find yourself drawn to the steady beating of his heart. Its grounding, and you need some of that right now.

"The road is well lit. We're miles from the outskirts of Gotham, no traffic out here. Just you and me, baby. Why not now?" His large hand rests over yours, pressing it more firmly against his chest. His heart is beating slow and steady, and his piercing green eyes are filled with admiration. "You and I both know that every day we have together is precious. Why wait to do the things you wanna do? Besides, I'd feel better knowing my girl can drive my bike if she needs to."

Jason knows you too well, calling you his girl like that makes you feel weak in the knees. Your own heart beats faster as you break your gaze away from your boyfriend smiling down at you, looking over at the motorcycle he brought you here on. For some reason, it looks more intimidating than it did a few minutes ago. You swallow the lump in your throat before looking back at him. "I'm nervous."

"I know." He states matter-of-factly. Of course he knows, he can read you like a book.

"I've literally never driven anything before. Like ever. I haven't even-"

"Shhh." Jason's hand leaves yours and cups your face gently. His other hand is on your waist, keeping you close. "You don't have to be good at it right away. I don't expect you to be. But you're smart. And you're perceptive. And I know after a little practice, you'll get more confident. I won't let us crash, baby, promise."

Jason really does know you too well. He can see the rebuttal forming on your lips before he finishes speaking. So he leans down to kiss it away before you can verbally express your doubts. The tinge of frustration you feel at being cut off isn't enough to keep you mind from turning to mush from the kiss. His lips are so warm, his breath tastes like spearmint, and his touch gives you butterflies.

But the kiss ends all too quickly. You know he cut it short it on purpose, not wanting your brain to turn off completely before you try and drive for the first time. "Sorry, babygirl, can't give you too much. How could you drive if you're all drunk from my kisses? Hm?"

He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in how cute you look when you're speechless. A moment later, Jason releases his hold on you and turns towards his bike, walking to it with a bit of pep in his step and smugness in his grin, leaving you stammering for a second as you try and string together a coherent thought.

"F-fuck you, Jason." You say after a moment. He always knows how to shut me up.

"I love you too." He grabs his helmet and puts it on before tossing you yours. It's an easy catch, but you're still giving him a dirty look.

"Why did we have to do driving first?" You grumble, accepting your defeat. "Pretty sure seeing the pyramids was also on my bucket list. Along with an abundance of other fun things, like riding in a helicopter, or swimming with dolphins. Or what about joining the mile high club? I'd think that one would be your first priority."

Jason is beaming, watching you put your helmet on and get ready to ride. Even as you scowl at him and mutter complaints, his heart melts at how easily you folded. All it took was a kiss. He always gets his way. He knows you can't say no to him. Jason Todd has you wrapped around his finger, and the vigilante couldn't be any happier about it. He looks you up and down to admire your body before replying, "Stick with me, princess, and I'll make all your dreams come true." He promises. "One at a time. I'll show you the pyramids. I'll fuck you in a plane. But first…"

He grabs you by your waist with both hands and effortlessly lifts you up off the ground to set you down on the seat of his bike. You yelp in surprise, quickly grabbing his hands to steady yourself. "First, you gotta be brave and learn how to ride your boyfriend's bike."

⭓ masterlist ⭓

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

A cold winter day, and for some reason Howdy is unusually fluffy and Barnaby loves it

NO YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND i think about them w/ winter coats So Fucking Much its not even funny-

[rosy-cozy-radio]

my grandma just made me a really nice blanket and it’s so cozy and pretty and I’m in a good mood :D

[elsecrytt]

so i had a thought.

what if 236 is actually jujutsu tech propaganda?

mei mei is broadcasting this entire thing, right? what better way to protect gojo from bounty hunters etc., than convince the entire world that he's already dead?

the final battle happened offscreen, with significantly less fanfare. gojo rescued megumi, defeated sukuna. the day was saved.

at a cost.

gojo gave up everything - at least, everything he valued. the six eyes, his abilities as a sorcerer. he assumed that would make him a normal man, and he was right -

what he didn't realize was that it would also make him blind.

so now... you live in a nice apartment complex. a guy moves in next to you.

you can't help but notice he happens to be blind - at least, he's wearing a blindfold, uses a cane, but he's often swearing and stumbling through his porch, over his entryway. he is very, very blind.

you, wondering what the fuck up is with your obviously blind neighbor who seems to have no sense of self-preservation.

he walks into objects all the time, especially hitting his head on things, since he's so tall. forgets his cane when going out. the dude just left his door open the other day, like, WIDE OPEN, who DOES that?

helping gojo learn, not only how to be human, but how to be disabled. how to not be disgusted with being disabled.

gojo learning that being blind isn't the end of his life, nor the end of his happiness - life is still worth living, even without one of his senses.

helping gojo mourn his lost sense while still finding things to enjoy. gojo who learns to cook by taste, by feeling heat or texture, with your help. gojo learning to organize things so he always knows where they are from memory.

bringing gojo audiobook versions of your favorite stories even if he teases you for your taste. he listens to them when he has nothing to do, which is most of the time, now.

he goes out on walks all the time because he doesn't have a job, you learn. while it's nice to not have to work, you can tell he comes from money, his life comes with a gaping hole inside it, one that isn't entirely explained by the blindness.

gojo who's overstimulated all the time because he no longer has infinity as a barrier, but somehow also as touch-starved as ever, alone in a foreign country away from all his students and colleagues.

gojo, who has only ever done Big Things with his life, who has only ever been an Important Person doing world changing things, now, just an ordinary guy.

he barely cares what happens to himself now. it's not that he wants to die, or anything. it's just that he doesn't have a reason to live.

and that wouldn't change overnight. not with cooking lessons or audiobooks or friendly greetings whenever you see him by the door. not with smiles or waves (he can't see them) or a braille rubik's cube you find online (how did he solve it in under a minute??) or karaoke (he has an AMAZING singing voice, and he knows so many songs better than you do?).

it wouldn't change overnight, because nothing worthwhile forms in a day, or two, or even a week or a month.

but gojo's life doesn't have to be amazing a day after he's gone blind. or a week. or a month. it's okay if it's difficult, he learns, it's okay if he hates it, hates himself, hates every choice that brought him here, even if he would never take it back.

it's okay. it gets better. with you there? it's getting better.

[nknoxe-n]

˚ ༘♡ ┊❛ Paint Me Like One Of Your French Girls ❜┊˚ ⋆｡˚

Nagi lounged lazily on your bed, his fingers idly tapping the controller as you booted up Mario Kart on the PlayStation. The familiar beeps and whirs filled the room, but his mind kept wandering back to the moment he arrived. You’d hastily shoved a notebook into your drawer, a flash of movement that had piqued his curiosity.

You were usually an open book and always said what was on your mind, it was something he liked about you because there was no hassle when it came to figuring out how you felt or if you were keeping secrets from him, not that he'd care anyway. It was odd seeing that nervous look on your face when you'd fumbled to put the notebook away, he'd never seen you so flustered over something so small.

“Ready to lose?” 

Your voice brought Nagi out of his thoughts as you'd picked up a controller as well the plastic casually held in your hands, although you'd decorated your main controller with a few stickers and the joysticks with rubber caps that'd resembled cat paws.

“Hmm,” Nagi replied noncommittally, his eyes drifting to the drawer. He was usually indifferent, content to let things be, but he couldn't help but be kind of nosy.

Time passed quickly as the two of you played game after game, Nagi won most of them, but you'd gotten a few wins against him before there was a game change. The idea of Minecraft was much more relaxing than getting butt hurt over Mario Kart, since Nagi couldn't really 'beat' you in this one.

Nagi glanced over as your stomach groaned, and you got up. “I’m grabbing snacks. Be right back.” You flashed him a quick smile, "Want anything?"

He nodded in response, his eyes drifting up to meet yours, "Uhm can you make me lemon tea...?"

"I'm not brewing you tea Nagi- I'll get you some chips or candies"

Nagi glanced at the door, ensuring you were out of earshot. With a sigh, he hauled himself off the bed. It was a hassle, but he was intrigued. He shuffled over to the drawer, opening it carefully. The notebook was right where you’d left it. He flipped it open, his eyes widening slightly at what he found.

Page after page of sketches, doodles, and notes. But one drawing stood out. It was a detailed sketch of him, capturing his relaxed demeanour perfectly, the kind of precision that spoke of countless hours of observation and care.

His usually indifferent expression softened. He traced the lines of the drawing with his finger, a slightly shocked, look forming on his lips he didn't expect something like this, when had you even drawn this? 

Footsteps approached. You returned, snacks in hand, catching him in the act. “Nagi, what are you doing?”

He held up the notebook, the drawing facing you. “Didn’t know you could draw like this,” he said, his tone as lazy as ever, but his eyes held a hint of warmth and genuine surprise.

Your cheeks flushed a dark red, the tips of your ears dusting with colour, snatching the notebook from his hands with a scoff. “It’s nothing, really- Just something I do when I’m bored.”

Nagi sank back onto the bed, picking up his controller. “It’s something,” he murmured, he didn't need to say much, but you almost seemed expectant when you stared into his dull grey eyes "It's uh... good"

"I know" You huffed before ruffling his hair, it was something Nagi had experienced from Reo countless times, a habit you just happened to pick up, he didn't care of course it would be such a bother to start caring about something so meaningless "You shouldn't snoop through people stuff Nagi"

"Sorry...?"

"Whatever" You'd grinned devilishly, he watched the TV seeing your block character start to hit him with a sword trying to kill him, his reflexes were just a bit faster though. When he finally got into a playing position he started chasing you around critting you out even if he had low HP"

"The kill is fair game now, maybe you can draw me winning this fight"

(Ik you can't play Mario Kart on PlayStation without an emulator or whatever it's called, just pretend it's an AU where you can for my dignity😭)

[desihopelessromantic]

JJK FRIENDLY REMINDER:

gojo probably has PTSD (Post Toji Stress Disorder)

[agusrkive]

“D0 U WANNA SEE MY CAT?”

gone wrong

summary: woman faces the consequence of inviting an innocent guy into her house who just wants to see her ‘cat’.

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5

[purple-babygirl]

don't call me daddy IV

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x little!f!reader

Word count: 5,540

Summary : In a world where littles are openly themselves, they volunteer to help and be helped by willing caregivers. In spite of himself, Bucky finds himself stuck with one and to keep the nagging away, he has to learn how to be around her with everything that that entails.

Warnings: crying, a flu, coughing, shots, age regression

A/N: forgive me for the lateness with this one. i was very sick, like bed-ridden sick, and when i got a little better i got to writing right away. please be kind to me with this one, i'm still high on meds:" please enjoy xx💜💜

~

“Call me daddy.”

“What?” She was suddenly pulling away as if Bucky was made up of scorching metal.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” He asked with a small smile, wiping any residue tears on his face.

What she wanted… he was only suggesting that she called him daddy because he thought it was what she wanted? Was this his way of returning the favor because she hugged him after a nightmare?

Now she was really hurt.

Bucky was unknowingly emphasizing the fact that he didn’t want this type of relationship, didn’t want her. He was only doing it to show gratitude.

“No.” She shook her head, getting up from the floor.

“No?” Bucky was genuinely confused as he followed her with his eyes.

He thought he was finally making things right, giving her what she wanted.

“I wanna go back.”

“What?!”

“I wanna go back, please take me back.” Her voice wasn’t even sad or frantic, only small and disheartened.

“Back where?! The couch is right there if you wanna go!” Bucky became angry again.

He felt rejected and he felt small. Was it his touch that made her pull back? Was it the daddy thing? Was he so repulsive?

“No, back, out of here.”

“Back where?! It’s the middle of the night!” Bucky raised his voice in frustration, the nightmare nerves barely out of his body.

Has she lost her mind? Why was she acting like this now? What was he supposed to do to please her and her little mind?

“Take me back to Mrs. Morrison,” she insisted calmly as she collected her slippers and stashed them back in her bag.

He looked at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, not getting what happened or where he went wrong.

She wasn’t even tearing up, it was like a switch has flipped inside of her.

“Just— just talk to me, okay? What happened?” Bucky fervently needed her to stop, needed to understand.

“Bucky was right. This isn’t gonna work. Please just take me back.”

Her words reopened Bucky’s wounds that her sweet gestures had once closed. What did she mean “isn’t gonna work”? Was he just deemed irredeemable? Again?

“But why?!”

“I just wanna go back.” Was all she gave him; no explanation and no reasons.

Bucky wouldn’t understand.

“You know what? Fine! I’ll take you back first thing in the morning. Go back to the fucking couch, stay away from me!”

She silently got the wolf stuffie, leaving it on the kitchen counter, and went back, no crying and no trials to correct him on his choice of bad words.

Did she really want to leave? Was she really going to leave him come morning?

~

When it was lit up enough, Bucky went for a run, trying to blow off some steam because he felt like he was about to explode.

Why did he let her in? He shouldn’t have done that. She didn’t deserve to get this close, no one did.

Did he seriously think he was accepted and understood by this stranger after 7 days of time together?

No matter what the purpose she was serving was, she could never understand how hard Bucky had had it.

Still, something kept pulling him to her. Something inside of him didn’t want her to leave him. Not now that he was used to her; that he wanted to be used to her.

It's been only a week and Bucky was ready to give human relationships another chance. She made him feel like healing wasn’t a faraway dream.

He was going to try and talk to her one last time and if she still wanted to leave, he would gladly let her.

When he opened his door, she was dressed and waiting for Bucky on the couch, ready to go.

“So you were serious about leaving?” Bucky asks as he kicks his shoes off.

“Yes. Bucky is gonna take me back, right?”

“If that’s really what you want?”

She didn’t trust her voice so she just nodded.

“Why?”

“Just because.”

“Talk to me like I’m talking to you!” Bucky snapped.

She remained silent this time, not ready for a fight.

“Why do you wanna leave? What did I do?”

“Bucky didn’t do anything.”

“Then what is it?!”

“That is it.”

“What?!”

“Bucky didn’t do anything. Bucky didn’t even look at Doll’s file. Bucky never even called Doll Doll.” Only now did her tears come back, rolling down her cheeks with ease as she spilled out all that she’s been holding inside of her, “Bucky never wanted Doll.”

“I— I didn’t have time to look at the file. We were in a hurry so I picked the first one in the batch!” Bucky tried to explain, but quickly realized what he'd said.

A sob escaped her at the revelation that she was picked at random, that it could’ve been anyone else and that he really never wanted her.

“That’s not what I meant. I— listen, at first maybe I didn’t want you, but it’s different now!”

“Bucky never even picked me?” She cried, her broken voice crushing his heart.

“I—”

“Please take me back.” She wiped at her face, trying to steady her breathing.

“But—”

“Please, Bucky, please.”

The way she begged him with teary eyes and a shaky voice made Bucky stand up despite himself to put his shoes back on to take her back.

He might’ve not gotten a chance to explain himself, but he’s done her enough damage and he wasn’t going to continue being the reason she cried when she has been the reason he stopped.

“Let’s go.” Bucky pursed his lips and opened the door for her, her bag in hand, knowing it will never be the same when he came back.

~

“Doll, now that you’re big at least tell me anything, dear. Did he do anything—”

“He didn’t do anything, Mrs. Morrison. I promise you. Bucky was nothing but a gentleman with me.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing. I just think I wasn’t ready. I shouldn’t have listed my little self as ready.” She shook her head with a polite smile.

Mrs. Morrison wasn’t buying it, but she couldn’t push her anymore.

“Alright, dear. I’ll go finish the report so Bucky’s therapist can get her copy in the morning.”

“Mrs. Morrison, please,” she held the older woman’s hand imploringly, “Bucky didn’t do but good. Make sure you’re just to him in your report.”

“Okay, doll. Whatever you say, dear.” She woman shook her head, giving up the argument before standing up and leaving the room.

It wasn’t the full truth, but she did believe she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t going to be ready for a long time, so it was better if she just went back home and let herself be grounded a little.

~

“Please, I need to see her.” Bucky begged in front of Mrs. Morrison’s desk.

“Not before you tell me what you did to her, Mr. Barnes!”

“I— I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s what she said too, but I know it’s not the truth!”

“Wait, what? I— please let me see her.”

“She’s not here, Sergeant Barnes.”

“What? Where is she?”

“Home,” the woman replied shortly, still mad at Bucky.

“I thought that was where they lived?”

The woman shook her head in disappointment, “you never read your copy of the file, did you?”

Bucky remained silent, too embarrassed to speak. Why did everyone keep asking about the damn file!

“No, they don’t live here. She went back to her life at her house.”

“Well, can you give me the address?”

“Of course, not! That’s private information and you two don’t even seem to have ended on good terms!”

“Please? I need to fix this.”

“You already had time to do that, Mr. Barnes.”

“Well… At least give me a chance to apologize.”

“I don’t know.” The woman hesitated.

“Please, I’ll do anything.” Bucky begged sincerely.

“Anything?” Mrs. Morrison smiled suddenly, making Bucky worry a little, but he meant his words nonetheless.

“Anything.”

~

“Corgi, calm down!” Bucky heard her sweet laugh as she approached the dog’s barks.

“You call your corgi Corgi?” He asked her with a smile.

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” Her smile quickly disappeared and a surprised frown replaced it.

“I—”

“Okay, I finished moving the new planters to the right side like you wanted— hello?” The man who cut Bucky off was offering him a hand.

Bucky shook it coldly, his signature frown staring the man down, “hey.”

“I’m Adam,” the man said with a friendly smile.

“Sergeant James Barnes.”

“Bucky, this is Adam, my best friend and neighbor, Adam, this is Bucky… a friend.” She introduced them, not sure of what to say about Bucky.

Meanwhile, Bucky felt something weigh down on him. Was it the fact that he wished she said more than just “a friend”? Was it the presence of this Adam guy? Was that… jealousy?!

“Right, so I’m gonna go now, but call me if you need anything, okay?” Adam said, looking at them both suspiciously.

“I will. Thank you for today, Adam. You’re the best.” She gave the man a hug, smiling from ear to ear as she did it, too.

That was a smile Bucky has never seen.

“I know I know. Bye, Corgi! Bye, Sergeant, nice to meet you!” Adam shouted as he walked out of her porch.

Bucky only nodded even though he knew the man couldn’t see him. He didn’t care if he was rude. Who was that anyway?

She was expecting Bucky to talk when Adam was gone but he just stood there, fiddling with the bag in his hand as he stared at her, so she didn’t say anything either.

She was done initiating. If he came all the way here on his own, he could start a conversation on his own.

“Who was that?”

“Really? You came all the way here to ask me that?”

He stuttered and swallowed, knowing fully well that he had no right to such a question.

“You seem different.”

“You mean big?” She smiled sadly, noticing how much more comfortable Bucky was dealing with her like that.

Bucky nodded guiltily, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, I do have a life and responsibilities after all.” She shrugged, gesturing to her house and the puppy by her feet.

She was disappointed to say the least. First, he gave her a terrible week with him, then he returned her and never looked back and now he was on her porch for no clear reason or explanation, questioning her and her life?

Still, she felt a spark of hope in her chest at the fact that he was standing before her. There must’ve been a reason he came and it couldn’t be so he could fight more.

Bucky felt embarrassed, tongue-tied with guilt as he’s forgotten everything he has been wanting to say.

Then the sky started speaking for him, thundering loudly and making her jump with a hand on her heart.

“Oh, it’s gonna rain. Let’s go inside.”

For some reason, he assumed she was talking to the puppy but when she kept looking at him, Bucky gratefully moved his feet.

~

Her house was the epitome of coziness. It was a true home and it was nothing like Bucky’s.

It had actual furniture, colorful pieces he knew were carefully picked. It had wallpaper and picture frames and kitchenware and cute mugs and plates.

Only now did he know how much shit she could’ve given him for the place he made her stay in, but she didn’t.

“Bucky!”

“Yes?”

“I asked about your favorite tea.” She smiled, motioning to a number of varieties on her shelves.

“A coffee would be fine.”

“I’ll just make you earl grey with me.” She shrugged, ignoring his choice for a coffee at this relatively late hour of the evening.

“Hey!”

“It’s my house, my rules, old man!”

Wow! Big her was kind of feisty and it was making Bucky smile.

“What do you have there?” She asked, looking at the small plastic bag that Bucky’s been carrying in his hand.

“Oh, I— this is for you.” He handed her the bag, cheeks burning as he was still brand new when it came to such gestures.

“Oreos! And wolfie!” She called out happily when she looked inside the bag, “thank you so much!” She squeezed the tips of his fingers, smiling at him like he’d gotten her a rare diamond.

When she let go of his hand to open the package and taste the cookies, Bucky felt fear settle in his chest at the idea of having lost her forever.

He watched her try to hide the hug she was giving the white stuffed wolf before slipping it to her curious dog, “careful, Corgi.”

She didn’t lecture or blame him about his treatment of her, yes, nor did she even bring up the week she stayed at his house, but would she be willing to forgive him? Would she give him another chance?

Instead of screaming at him, she was sitting him down on a comfortable couch that had a soft blanket draped over it and serving him tea and cake. What kind of angel was she?

“If you don’t like it, I’ll make you coffee. But taste it first,” she set the tray with tea cups and a plate with a couple of cake slices on the little wooden coffee table and Bucky knew the smell of this tray was the only thing missing from her living room.

Now it was all perfect. It suited her so well.

“I made lime key cake this morning so you’re in luck. It goes really well with earl grey,” she told him, trying to get him to talk, to tell her why he was at her place a week later at 9 in the evening.

But he only nodded.

She didn’t push him. She has done enough coaxing and enough pushing. She didn’t have to do that anymore. If Bucky wanted to talk, he would have to talk on his own.

But he didn’t.

An hour later, she was getting sleepy and the rain was pouring even harder.

“I— I better go.” He stood up, patting his pockets nervously as if to make sure his belongings were in place.

So he came all the way here for nothing? He found her house and rode on his motorcycle all the way here for nothing?

“No way, you can’t drive your motor cycle in this rain!”

“I’m a super soldier, I don’t get sick,” Bucky argued with a smile, heart swelling at the idea that she still cared for him.

“I don’t care. The roads are slippery. It’s dangerous!”

“But—”

“No buts. You can have my bed, let me show you the room,” she said, never giving him space for a reply as she led the way to her bedroom.

“You really don’t have to. I can take the couch.” Or the floor

“The couch is mine. Corgi cries at night and doesn’t like to sleep alone. He’s still just a puppy.”

“Why don’t you just move his crate to your bedroom?”

“Because there’s a system in this house, Sergeant. We’re disciplined people.” She smiled playfully, “good night.”

And just like that, Bucky was alone in her bedroom, with her bed and sheets and blankets, where all the pillows smelled like her hair shampoo and the air was light and sweet. He was in heaven.

Bucky took his jacket off, draping it over the armchair by her vanity and her perfumes caught his eye.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he couldn’t help himself as he picked up the first bottle and neared it to his nose.

Oh, lord, was this sexy. He imagined himself eating her up if he was to smell this perfume on her skin. It was captivating and it went well with her playful grown up personality.

He tried another bottle and it was a softer scent that he knew all too well. It was the one she wore when she was staying at his house. It smelt angelic, soft and welcoming.

Bucky had to stop himself from going down the line of perfumes because he didn’t think he could keep going.

He’d better go to bed and try to catch a few hours of sleep before the mind attacks started.

Grabbing a pillow that smelled like her, Bucky made himself as comfortable as could be on the wooden floor next to her bed, draping her overly soft blanket on his body.

~

“You call it a disciplined house but you don’t even have a dining table,” Bucky teased as he helped her bring the rest of the plates to the coffee table.

He was right actually. She lied last night. She could easily take Corgi to the bedroom with her, but what kind of hospitality would that be to give Bucky the couch when it was his first time visiting?

“At least my coffee table has space for more than 2 noodle cups,” she teased right back, hardly biting a smile.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at her sassiness, smiling like an idiot at how easy she made everything.

Talking was easy around her. Existing was easy around her. Breathing was easy around her. And oh did he miss her.

“So…” she trailed, pouring orange juice in Bucky’s glass.

She couldn’t stay silent anymore. She had to understand why Bucky found her house and came to her after he’d clearly proven he didn’t want her. She wanted and tried to be the bigger person, but if he had something to say, she was ready to hear it now.

“I— I came here to say I’m sorry,” Bucky finally said the words that have been sitting on the back of his tongue for so long.

“Bucky…” she locked her eyes with his for a second, unable to read him, “you didn’t have to come all the way here. I didn’t tell Mrs. Morrison anything.”

The way she reassured him broke his heart. It was as if she wholeheartedly believed that all Bucky cared about was the final report.

But he cared about so much more. He cared about fixing this. He cared about her.

“I know. I did.”

“What?!”

“I told her everything.”

“Bucky— why?”

“I had to make it right.”

“Well, what did she say?” She chewed her lower lip nervously, worried everything has been ruined for Bucky.

“She made me serve a few hours at the institution and only when she got everyone’s approval did she agree to give me your address.”

“Everyone’s approval of what?” She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“Of my storytelling skills,” Bucky replied proudly, putting some cheese on her plate for her when he noticed her freeze.

“Your storytelling— what?!” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, a huge smile breaking on her face.

“I spent a few nights reading bedtime stories to the residents there and I’ll have you know I did a pretty good job, though most of them wanted lullabies so I stole some of yours—”

“Hold on! You, Bucky Barnes, read bedtime stories and sang lullabies to littles at the institution?”

“Yes, I did.” Bucky nodded with a shrug.

“You did all of this so you could have my address?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I missed you, doll.”

“Doll?” Her eyes instantly teared up at the sole use of the name coming from him.

“And to tell you that I got to meet everyone that was available at the same time you were and none of them could ever compare. They’re all amazing people, but none of them made me feel like you’ve made me feel in that short week,” Bucky admitted softly, eyes hesitant to leave his fingers.

“I was terrible to you and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m sorry. I know now that I should’ve been better.”

“Bucky, it’s okay,” she said with a content smile, simply satisfied with his presence as she passed him the bread. That apology was genuinely enough for her.

“No, doll, it’s not. I— I did the opposite of everything a caregiver should’ve done. It's just… you made me nervous, scared.” Bucky admitted.

“I scared you?” She scoffed in surprise. She wasn’t expecting this one.

“Yes. The way you were fully yourself, the way you weren’t afraid to show it, the way you did the effort to relieve yourself of whatever you were suffering from, it all scared me. How you openly cried when you needed to. It scared me because I didn’t know how to be like you. I didn’t know how to choose trust and kindness again after everything that had happened to me. Your courage scared me.”

“Oh, Bucky.” Tears rolled down her face as she desperately felt the need to hold him and kiss every inch of him better, “why didn’t you talk to me? I would’ve understood.”

“I tried… that day… but talking about it made me wanna close up on myself even more. It made me more scared. It wasn’t easy. It isn’t easy. And I can’t help it,” Bucky’s voice trembled as he fought his own tears.

He couldn’t believe he said those words out loud to someone else.

She left her seat and went to sit next to Bucky on the couch, her hands finding his and holding onto them for dear life.

“But when I came home to an empty living room after dropping you off at the institution, I knew what I'd lost. I realized what an asshole I’ve been to you. And I missed you. I missed you so much when I closed the door and you weren’t on the couch looking at me,” he poured his heart out to her with tears in his eyes.

She squeezed his hand more, trying to hug his fingers with hers but they were too short to fully cover his hands.

“You don’t have to give me another chance, but I felt like I could’ve died if I didn’t tell you how sorry I was and am. I’m sorry I didn’t give myself time to understand you and appreciate you for everything that you were, doll. I’m sorry I was so stupid and let you slip away from my hands. I’m sorry I was undeserving of your kindness and softness and love,” Bucky told her with tears pouring down his face, matching hers as she finally got to listen to all that he had to say.

“I really am sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to be a good daddy to you and I’m sorry I didn’t try to learn. It’s all my fault because you, doll, deserve someone who would bust their ass trying for you,” Bucky sighed, “but if you’d let me, I’ll spend as much time as you’ll allow me doing that.”

“Thank you for finding me.” She threw herself in his arms and Bucky felt his soul come back to him as he held her tight to his body.

“Thank you for welcoming me back in despite everything I’ve put you through. I know I don’t deserve it.” Bucky squeezed her closer, the smell of her hair calming his senses.

“You’re welcome.” She pulled back to wipe his tears away, giving him a smile prettier than anything he’s ever seen, “now let’s eat before the eggs go cold.” She wiped her eyes quickly before grabbing the spoon and putting some eggs on Bucky’s plate.

“Does that smile mean you forgive me, doll?” Bucky asked hopefully.

“I forgive you, Sarge.” She smiled at him, what was in her heart showing in her eyes.

“You won’t regret it,” he promised, putting some food in his mouth to stop any upcoming tears.

They ate silently in peace for a second before Bucky spoke out.

“Seriously though, who was that Adam guy?!”

“Way to ruin a moment, Bucky,” she teased.

But Bucky didn’t smile. He remained silent waiting for her answer with a tiny frown.

“I told you he’s my best friend and he lives next door.”

 Bucky’s frown deepened slightly. So that man got to see her every day huh?

“With his wife,” she added, biting back a smile as she watched his face relax.

“Don’t toy with me like that, doll.”

“I couldn’t help it. This is all new to me and I’m having fun!”

“Does he come here a lot?”

“Yes, Bucky. It’s what friends do, they visit,” she laughed.

“I don’t see Sam that often and we’re fine.” He shrugged unconvincingly, making her laugh more.

“He’s a good man, you’ll come to like him. Plus, he helped me a lot those past weeks and took care of my garden and Corgi while I was away so I owe him.”

“So I’m seeing a farmer now?” Bucky teased.

“Oh look who’s not so quiet anymore!” She teased back with a giggle, “at least my fridge never runs out of tomatoes.”

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky asked, his face serious again.

She nodded in reply, a smile gracing her patient features.

“Why did it bother you so much when I told you to call me daddy?”

She hummed, letting go of her fork.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna answ—”

“It made me feel like you were returning a favor. Doing something because you felt like you had to do it, like it was the right thing to do, but not because you really wanted it. Yes, I wanted to call you daddy with my whole heart, but only if you wanted it too. It hurt because at the time I knew you still hadn’t accepted me for who I was and was just saying that so you could repay me for the hug I was giving you.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bucky shock his head in remorse, “I will never understand how you managed to put up with me for a whole week.”

“It’s because I know what it’s like to feel unwanted, Bucky. I know what it feels like to be unloved and unaccepted, especially by those who should give you unconditional love.”

“Family?” Bucky asked with a sad smile.

She nodded with a similar smile, “I know what it’s like to be more than your pain and anger with others only seeing the snapping and frowning. Little me doesn’t want anyone else to feel unloved like that because she knows how bad it all is. So she gives. She’s patient and she’s kind and sometimes I don’t think I could’ve accessed that part of myself if it wasn’t for her.”

“How so?”

“Grown ups are more cautious because they always have the consequences to things like vulnerability right in front of their eyes. We’re more likely to be afraid to show our hearts because we know we could get hurt bad because of it. Little me isn’t scared of that. She wakes up brand new every day. She wears her heart on her sleeve and trusts her love to do the magic.”

“You’re an amazing person.” Bucky raised her hand to his lips to press a timid kiss without much thought, “I guess I have a lot to learn from you, doll.”

“Don’t say stuff like that!” She whined playfully, cheeks going hot as she turned away shyly, “plus, do you have a death wish?” She raised a playful eyebrow.

“It’s true though— what?”

“I didn’t give you permission to kiss me,” she teased, reminding him of the time she kissed his cheek on her first day at his house.

Bucky smiled sheepishly, whispering out an apology even though he knew she was joking.

Bucky stopped himself when she started coughing abruptly.

She’s been coughing a little here and there since morning, but he didn’t think anything of it.

She shook her head, still coughing as she ran to the bathroom, needing to find any sort of cold medicine. She knew what this was.

Bucky hurried behind her, “what’s wrong?”

In a second, she was bending forward, coughing her heart out.

“Are you okay?!”

She shook her head again, trying to calm down, “I thought it was just a sore throat but it’s getting worse.”

“Let’s get you to the doctor,” Bucky said, worry eating away inside his chest as he watched her cough more.

He quickly grabbed her jacket and keys, leading her out to her car.

~

“It’s because I let you sleep on the couch, isn’t it? You got cold,” Bucky said, running his fingers through his hair nervously as he paced around the room.

He hasn’t stopped blaming himself since they’d returned from the doctor’s. She caught a bad flu and Bucky quickly believed it was his fault.

“No, Bucky. It’s not that.”

“You don’t have to defend me, doll. It’s because of me. I’ve managed to hurt you again. And I don’t even use beds. I should’ve never let you sleep out here.”

“Hey! Calm down please! It’s not you... It was me.” She released a sigh, biting her lip.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when the rain got even worse after you went to bed. I thought I’d come out and cover the motorcycle so that it wouldn’t get all muddy and you’d have a hard time cleaning it,” she explained, fiddling with her fingers.

“That’s still because of me,” Bucky sighed.

“Come on, it’s not like you made me!” Her hoarse voice tried to reassure.

Bucky only ran his fingers through his messy hair again, not knowing what to say or do to make this one right.

“Bucky, please, I’m sick. All I want is for you to stay beside me and not blame yourself.” Her frown was back to her beautiful face and Bucky didn’t like it, “can you do that for me?”

He didn’t like how sick and scratchy her voice sounded either so he wasn’t about to make talk more with a throat like that.

“I’ve already proven I suck at taking care of you, doll,” Bucky chuckled sadly.

“Do you want forgiveness or not?” She joked.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’m right here.”

“Is it dangerous for you though? I don’t want you to get it too.”

“I can’t get sick, remember?” Bucky smiled, rubbing her back lightly, “I’m your nurse now.”

“Is that so?” She giggled.

“Yeah.” He nodded confidently.

“You’re definitely not dressed for it,” she teased, giving him her tongue.

“Oh, are you into that kinda thing, doll?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile she has never seen before on his pink lips.

“Bucky!” She squealed, hiding her face with the covers, making Bucky laugh.

The sound was heaven to her ears and despite being awfully sick, she couldn’t wish for a better outcome for Bucky’s visit.

“Shit, here it comes again,” she gulped before starting another fit of harsh coughing.

“Bad word,” he whispered to her, making her smile tiredly as she continued coughing.

~

“I don’t wanna go,” she whined as Bucky gently forced her arm inside her jacket.

“We have to. You need your shots to get better.” Bucky covered her head with the hood of her jacket to make sure she was warm before leading her outside.

“But shots hurt,” she whined more with teary eyes.

“I’ll be right there, remember?”

“That’s not gonna do anything!” She whined further.

“Hey!” Bucky pretended to be hurt as he helped her inside the car.

She sighed with a grateful smile, “fine, hugs or I don’t go.”

“Hugs it is.” Bucky smiled back, taking seat next to her before starting the car.

~

“No, no, no, please. I’m not ready, I don’t want it. Give me pills instead, give me pills,” she cried in Bucky’s chest as she saw the doctor get the shot ready.

“Doll, it’s okay, I promise. I got you,” Bucky said, feeling as helpless as ever.

He wished he could get the shots for her, but it wasn’t possible. He could feel something different about her. She looked like she was slipping into her little headspace and it made Bucky nervous, oh so nervous, that he might mess up and not be able to deal with her again.

She barely calmed down enough for Bucky to help her small hands lower her pants just enough for the doctor to have space to push the needle in.

She moaned in pain as she hid her face in Bucky’s chest, crying for real when she felt the strong medicine inside the needle spread inside her.

“It stings. It stings bad,” she sobbed, hands clutching Bucky’s shirt as he covered her behind again and made sure she was properly covered.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. We’re going home now, it’s over,” Bucky cooed, rubbing and patting her back with his big hand.

“It hurts, daddy,” she sniveled in his ear and Bucky froze.

Those innocent teary eyes looking up at him like that made him feel a lot of things. But most importantly, they made him feel like he could do this. He could take care of this sweet girl without messing up this time. Her love would show him how.

“I got you, doll. Daddy’s got you.”

~

part V

~

Tag List:

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[aweina]

the way mike brushes abby’s hair and cradles garrett’s face … i firmly believe that he just loves to just admire you and cannot help but trace his hands over your temples and cheeks. his touch a little hesitant at first, scared you might disappear — scared he might hurt you, so the brushes from his fingertips are always feather light. he loves to study your facial features, permanently memorizing each little detail just because he wants to. it’s the feeling knowing you’ll never escape his mind, that you’re somewhat there when he’s away from you. every single fleeting touch on your skin and hair still ghost over his fingertips — in fact, he could even smell your soft perfume on his palms. you drift along his dreams, pulling him away from all his hellish nightmares, with a smile so bright and with eyes much more brighter. he could never forget you, he doesn’t really want to. 

[knightmareaceblue]

Merry Christmas and happy holidays to everyone! And especially to @water-lemon-alex, who's my AVA/AVM Secret Santa recipient! Sorry to keep you waiting, I... didn't have as much free time leading up to Christmas as I anticipated. Still! I hope you like it.

The request was for Second and Purple interacting, either romantically or platonically. Don't know if this counts as romantic or not, but I'll tag for ships anyways. Happy New Years, everybody!