#sunny talks ☀︎

[sunandflame]

Any Katakuri lovers here? 👀👀👀

[sunnyreblog]

new avatar because cute ✨

[sunandflame]

LAST TEASER OF "THREADED IN FIRE"

SWEETHEARTS, IT'S ALMOST TIME! This is the final teaser. I'm currently at 31K words. There's only one last little part and the epilogue left, which I’ll try to finish tonight. In the meantime, I’m putting together a taglist for the fic—please comment if you’d like to be tagged!

Meanwhile, enjoy this tiny snippet...

Then he saw it. 

In the dark sky, the figure turned just enough for the moonlight to catch them.

Feathered wings. Not leathery like his pteranodon form. But vast—long, black, glossy feathers catching the wind. And then the unmistakable flare of a flame between their shoulder blades.

He halted mid-flight, wings beating once to steady himself as shock struck him like a blade to the chest.

No…

It wasn’t possible.

He was the last.

He had to be the last.

Yet before him, midair and burning like a phantom, was someone else. Someone with wings, with flame, with the ancient markers of the gods they used to be. Her body was massive—nearly his own height, easily towering over any ordinary human. A brief flash of white hair escaped her scarf, and brown skin caught the glint of firelight.

A woman.

He could tell from the form, from the frame. Powerful, but not like his own. Different.

His instincts screamed—questions burned through his skull—but his body refused to move. For the first time in decades, he faltered in the sky. Was this an illusion? A trap? A trick of his memory? But no hallucination would burn with that kind of flame.

His mouth went dry beneath the leather mask.

She’s Lunarian.

And that changed everything.

[sunandflame]

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Even after a long day and wine?” she teased, cheeks warm.

“Especially then.” His hand cupped her cheek. “You carry joy like no one else. I crave it more than wine.”

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Would you perhaps gift upon me some Age Regression facts about the SK boys?

Fictional Agere serial killers give me serotonin, and i need some serotonin this week (and any facts about your other AUs :D i love them all)

wanted to wait to answer this so i was on my laptop-

HI YES ABSOLUTELY!!! I'll share some facts both old and new as kinda like a refresher, and I'll talk about them individually.

SUN☀

is mostly nonverbal, but will make noises to indicate what he wants

likes to play games, do arts and crafts, will watch cartoons

comfort items are an old plush of himself from the Pizzaplex and a blanket with circus elephants on it

has a binky, but doesn't use it as often as Moon

mostly regresses due to stress or it happens because of a traumatic trigger

calls Moon "bubba" (and Moon calls him the same thing)

responds to "Sunny" rather than just "Sun"

he walks on his knees or will crawl to move around

does not like being by himself, he will freak out and panic

responds better to softer and kinder voices (kinda like how pets respond better to baby talk)

getting angry around him makes him think you're upset with him and he'll cry

needs a lot of reassurance

likes to be read stories (a favorite is "Very Hungry Caterpillar")

MOON🌜

was actually the first to show signs of regression pre-fire

also goes nonverbal, hardly making any noises unless he's crying

he needs to hold part of you, whether it be your hand or your sleeve. He needs constant physical contact. Anywhere you go, he will want to follow

has a binky he likes to use

comfort item is a blanket of his own, which has sleeping forest animals on it

also watches cartoons, but prefers watching things like videos of aquariums with calming music. Less stimulating

likes to nestle in a pillow fort and read stories

like Sun, regresses due to stress or traumatic triggers

prefers to be in comfy loose clothing when regressed

behaves very timidly, and won't do anything unless you say it's okay to

responds to "Moony"

responds to kind and patient voices, similar to Sun

will want to hear his brother's voice and will "ask" you to give his bubba a call (Sunny will do the same when their roles are switched)

wheeeee fun facts!

[pepperpeltz]

☀🔪🐈‍⬛

Happy pride month! I'm gonna be making one of these and with attached headcanons for all the main cast, starting with Sunny.

- Bisexual, goes by he/him (but if he knew what it was, he'd definitely be genderfluid). Had a crush on Aubrey and a slight one on Basil when he was younger.

- Runs like an actual furnace, always super warm. His hands are very sweaty all the time.

- Has sh scars from isolation period. They all healed awfully because he refused to ever go to hospital for deep ones.

- Didn't lose his eye after the fight, but it he can't see with it anymore (has a barely noticable lazy eye). He prefers to wear an eyepatch over it to cover it (yes, he does think he looks badass with it).

- Was the biggest Captain Spaceboy fanboy when he was younger. Made a bunch of fanart that he refuses to let anyone see.

- Selectively mute after accident, but slowly got better at talking more post good ending. Speaks in absolute monotone with a deepish voice.

- Experiences a lot of sensory issues. Really picky eater due to food textures and loathes wearing anything other than shorts.

- So, so pale. Literal vampire. Burns super easily in the sun.

- DRIEST TEXTER. Leaves everyone on delivered for weeks by accident.

- Unintentionally funny. Sarcasm is his main form of humour, but can never tell when other people are being sarcastic.

- Love language is quality time and acts of service.

- His best subjects were history and science when he was in school, but was also relatively good at languages (took French in school and can also speak a little Japanese).

[sunandflame]

🔆 TAGLIST TIME 🔆

Hey sweethearts! I’ve decided to create a taglist for my [character] x reader fics to make sure you get notified when your favorites drop ❤️

✨ How it works:

If you want to be tagged in future fics for a specific character, just comment with their name under this post! I think it's obvious that you also have to follow me...

For example:

“Rob Lucci” → you’ll be tagged in all rob lucci x reader posts

You can of course request more than one character—just list them all in your comment! (You can also name Characters that are not listed down below!)

If you want to be tagged in everything, feel free to just write: “All” 💕

I’ll be adding a list down below so you can easily see which x reader taglists you’re in!

Let’s spread the love (and the thirst) together 💋

Alber x Reader:

@7wanne @kisechiii @iglb12 @spicy-gordita-crunch @itspronouncedshi-theed @lessie-oxj @thatanonymouschocolate @mellyrally @sagyunaro @celestedangelica @hunbunbumdum @i-love-cat-bitch @cryptip0wer-blog @haru-naechi @nin-dy-tro @poe-slittleraven13

Dracule Mihawk x Reader:

@iloveseraphims @tomatop @hethia @kisechiii @thatanonymouschocolate @sagyunaro @celestedangelica @cryptip0wer-blog @katmihawk @lessie-oxj @nin-dy-tro @poe-slittleraven13

Katakuri x Reader:

@hunbunbumdum @thatanonymouschocolate @sagyunaro @celestedangelica @cryptip0wer-blog @lessie-oxj @nin-dy-tro @poe-slittleraven13

Kuzan x Reader:

@shanksbaby @7wanne @thatanonymouschocolate @sagyunaro @celestedangelica @hunbunbumdum @cryptip0wer-blog @toga-003 @nin-dy-tro @poe-slittleraven13

Kyojuro Rengoku:

@echantedtoon @erexart @poe-slittleraven13

Loki x Reader:

@echantedtoon @nin-dy-tro @poe-slittleraven13

Rob Lucci x Reader:

@auryborealis @tenaciouskittenanchor @7wanne @hethia @thatanonymouschocolate @mellyrally @sagyunaro @celestedangelica @kreaturehorder-blog @cryptip0wer-blog @katmihawk @toga-003 @nin-dy-tro @superbeaglewitch @poe-slittleraven13

Sir Crocodile x Reader:

@tomatop @hethia @kisechiii @thatanonymouschocolate @justmylifeme @sagyunaro @celestedangelica @cherubyim @cryptip0wer-blog @lessie-oxj @nin-dy-tro @superbeaglewitch @poe-slittleraven13

Trafalgar Law:

@hunbunbumdum @thatanonymouschocolate @sagyunaro @celestedangelica @cryptip0wer-blog @katmihawk @nin-dy-tro @superbeaglewitch @poe-slittleraven13

All:

@thatanonymouschocolate @sagyunaro @celestedangelica @cryptip0wer-blog @nin-dy-tro @poe-slittleraven13

[sunandflame]

Men or women or non-binary. You all are my babygirls. Idgaf.

my personality trait, i’m sorry.

[deanbrainrotwritings]

dean’s 45th birthday | MASTERLIST

most of these will be 18+ stories that include sexual or dark themes, individual warnings will be added for each one

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 2 JANUARY

sempiternal [smut, 2.2k]

description — part II of gimme half. vanilla is a basic flavour. but sometimes it’s just the right thing for mornings like this.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 4 JANUARY

southern constellations [smut, 2.5k]

description — part II of trends and phases. there’s nothing quite like taking dean just the way he takes you.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 6 JANUARY

summer’s stellar gaze [smut, 2.2k]

description — part III of gimme half. on a mini-roadtrip to the bunker for something dean left behind, she decides to test dean’s word and his promises.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 8 JANUARY

my love will never die [smut, 5.2k]

description — part II of heartbreak feels so good. dean hasn’t seen her in two years, but there she is on Halloween this time, and she fulfils one of his most questionable fantasy.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 10 JANUARY

desire (the wanton song) [smut, 2.8k]

description — dean looks delicious in a suit, that’s it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 12 JANUARY

sweet kansas honey [smut, 1.5k]

description — invited by her friend to a bee farm, but Dean wasn’t invited to their cute day out. Dean gets pouty… and, ya know, horny.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 14 JANUARY

swords, dragons, and diet coke [smut, 4.7k]

description — Halloween dressed as the Scooby gang… her dressed as Daphne… things can only go right from there.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 16 JANUARY

closer than this [smut, 2.2k]

description — part IV of gimme half. something quick. something hot. in between busy tasks. when everyone else is distracted.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 18 JANUARY

two hearted [smut, 4.8k]

description — playing pretend, doing risky things, improv, Valentine’s Day is more than “unattached drifter Christmas” now.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 20 JANUARY

living loving maid (she’s just a woman) [smut, 3.2k]

description — being Dean’s wife, doing very kinky stuff with each other, it’s the best thing ever.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 22 JANUARY

down by the seaside [smut, 3.5k]

description — sunshine and sunny beaches. Dean’s always talking about the beach, toes in the sand… a couple of those little umbrella drinks… her, in a sexy bikini.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ 24 JANUARY

celebration day [smut, 5.9k]

description — cowboy Dean, that’s it! yeah, yeah, I’ve got a thing.

taglist

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DEANBRAINROTWRITINGS 

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[okamirayne]

Latching onto the ask of the previous asker to tell you that the KakashixGenma brainworm is still burrowed deep in my grey matter <3

I sometimes imagine how a talk between Shikamaru and/or Neji with Genma and/or Kakashi would go, especially when it comes to (homosexual) relationships between ninjas. I think Genma especially could provide really compelling insight for Shikamarus situation, seeing as he has been in... very similar ones, with Naoki and his fate. We all know how well he coped with that particular aspect of his life BUT it's still veeeeery interesting to think about for me. Their dynamics have so many parallels to me and I'm always like 👀

If circumstances were different and they could really open up to others, I think they all could get a lot from an heart to heart with each other.

I hope you're well Rayne! I'm really happy seeing you post, I love the writing quotes I see from you <3

BtB is still on my mind and I don't think it'll ever leave. I hope life treats you well and that you let yourself have the rest you need and deserve <33 Just know I'll be there when you publish writing again and I'll also be there in the meantime. Like a little German Gremlin in the corner. Totally normal, don't mind me.

I've discovered matcha latte for myself recently and the entire process of making it feels like self-care(tm)

Sending you aaaall the best wishes and good vibes, my friend 💜🍵 (my emoji keyboard has these on the "frequently used" tab bahaha)

Well hey there, dear Sunny Side Up! ☀ @sunlightrays

*toasts you with tea*

Latching onto the ask of the previous asker to tell you that the KakashixGenma brainworm is still burrowed deep in my grey matter <3

Ah yes, that worm is a wily little bastard, no?😆

I sometimes imagine how a talk between Shikamaru and/or Neji with Genma and/or Kakashi would go, especially when it comes to (homosexual) relationships between ninjas.

Oh damn. In the BtB-verse? That talk would possibly go something like this:

Shikamaru:

Neji:

Kakashi:

Genma (not appreciating Kakashi's bitch move of' take-the-wheel so I can' fuck-this-no-jutsu my way outta here'):

If circumstances were different and they could really open up to others, I think they all could get a lot from an heart to heart with each other.

This is true. As it happens, Genma would sooner deep-throat his senbons than cough up the vulnerability required for that conversation...but then, get him in a weak (or strong, depending on how you look at it) moment and he just might go there if the ungodly stars aligned.

As for Kakashi...yeah, I'm thinking he'd opt for completely severing his vocal chords. While he's way more likely to have an honest heart to heart with the younger generation than Genma, when it comes to the deeply private nature of Kakashi's own personal experiences with intimacy or love? Yeah. No. Even Genma is more likely to open that vein. And it wouldn't be willingly.

Shikamaru and Neji are more likely to talk to each other and address things more healthily, but they'd both struggle (especially Neji) with broaching that kind of topic with any senpai or sensei...that being said, Neji might not get a choice in the matter...Gai-sensei would get him in a mental and spiritual headlock and proceed to break him down psychologically through sheer force of Youthful Will, the Big Green Bastard of all things hot-blooded, including romance.😅

I hope you're well Rayne! I'm really happy seeing you post, I love the writing quotes I see from you <3

Ah! Thanks, sweetie. Appreciated. 🥰 Great to know! I'm happy to share the writing quotes and inspo as I come across it, hoping it'll resonate with others.

BtB is still on my mind and I don't think it'll ever leave. I hope life treats you well and that you let yourself have the rest you need and deserve <33

Thank you, Sunny sweetheart. Truly. 💜🫶🏼💜 I hope my response finds you in good health, heart, and head-space!

Just know I'll be there when you publish writing again and I'll also be there in the meantime. Like a little German Gremlin in the corner. Totally normal, don't mind me.

Your support is precious. Thank you! 🫶🏼 Ha! German Gremlin. Brilliant. We're none of us normal here, doncha know?! This Batshit Brit salutes you.

I've discovered matcha latte for myself recently and the entire process of making it feels like self-care(tm)

😍 Oh, my dear comrade in Tea Cups, I am delighted for you! Have you tried it with ceremonial or imperial grade matcha? It's a special green-velvet treat. Granted, not cheap. I save it for special occassions. 🍵

Sending you aaaall the best wishes and good vibes, my friend 💜🍵 (my emoji keyboard has these on the "frequently used" tab bahaha)

🥰 Absorbing them with hella-gratitude and sending the positive vibes and best wishes a'flowing right back at you, Sunny! Shine on, luv. 💜🍵☕️💜

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Growing Pains CH2 (MWC Day 8!)

Pairing: RE2 Leon Kennedy x Male(Intended) Reader Summary: College AU/Meet-cute(?) The cute guy that Claire hangs out with finally works up the courage to talk to you. Words: 1,662/200 Warnings: a few curse words but that's to be expected. Notes: Leon is super shy and awkward, I haven't read through it but when I was writing the dialogue and the text between it felt pretty chunky so if anyone has notes about that please let me know, I'm experimenting a little with the paragraphs, let me know if you liked the smaller ones better.

Navigation | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Friday felt like it would never end, like you’d never be able to catch a break. You had to feel grateful, though, it hadn’t rained yet and your weather app told you it would be sunny all day. The extreme difference in the weather kept you reeling, back home the temperature and weather were usually consistent with the month, but after moving closer to school you'd noticed that the weather was a lot more sporadic here; yesterday it had been freezing and pouring for the majority of the day, getting as low as 10 °C with a warning for hail. Today was the complete opposite, the temperature had been between 26 and 32 °C with absolutely no clouds in sight. The extreme (and unwarranted) differences in the weather had left you staggering to catch up, you’d woken up that morning absolutely drenched in sweat and blinded by the sun. Having set your thermostat to keep up with the freezing temperatures outside and the poor insulation of your cheap apartment, since it had been cloudy all week you never bothered with your curtains or blinds but clearly that was a mistake. 

You probably shouldn't say you hated Chicago, it was nice sometimes and the students here were pretty respectful. You could count on one hand all of the times you’ve actually had a bad customer experience and all of them centered around finals or exams. You look up as the bell dings and a customer enters, he’s huge, completely dwarfing you in size. As soon as he steps up to the counter you recognize him, his pale skin, and the weird markings on his face. You’ve heard Claire complaining about him time and time again, he was apparently so strict that no one in his classes has ever passed. 

You highly doubted that no one’s ever passed but since she never gave you his name, and only referred to him as the Evil Tyrant of the West Wing, you could never fact-check her. Evil tyrant or not, you still had a job to do and money to make so, you put on your best smile and greeted him politely. He orders a black coffee and a triple shot of expresso, you’re a little intimidated by his voice, and maybe his order but you know plenty of guys with his stature and intimidating aura who are actually sweethearts. The order is simple, youve made it so many times for the poor professors who used to come by in the dead of night, it's pure muscle memory at this point. Getting his order made and totaled up on the register takes little to no thought, he waits like he's got better things to do, and before you can tell him he tosses the exact total onto the counter, paying without thanking (or tipping) you. 

He scoops up his two drinks before marching out of the shop. His footsteps are loud and heavy, clunky boots dropping down hard onto the linoleum like you used to do as a pubescent 16-year-old throwing a tantrum, you think about how every time you did that your mom would call you disrespectful and she’d take away your phone. At that thought small smile forms on your face, you can't help but feel a little amused at the image of your tiny, 5’4 mother disciplining a man about as tall and wide as a skyscraper. “What an ass.” You huff and glance back down at the tip jar, it was a measly four bucks and some change, mostly quarters. You’ve had worse tips, at least this could buy you a water and maybe some peanuts or sunflower seeds if you chose right. 

You lean against the counter and cast a glance out of the big windows at the front, the guy Claire eats with is out there looking like a terrified puppy, he’s gripping the handles of his bike tightly as the tyrant guy chews into him for something you can only imagine. You watch as the tyrant storms off, pretty dramatically, Claire's friend puts up his bike and locks it to the pole before coming inside, he flinches when he sees you watching and shakily pulls off his (stupid-looking) helmet. “You- uh… Did you see all that?” His voice shakes slightly and he fidgets with the helmet nervously “Maybe.” You shrug wanting to cut the guy some slack. “Was it something you wanted me to see?” He shakes his head and you go back to the register, “Then I guess I didn't see anything.” He visibly relaxes but his steps toward the counter are a little shaky, you’re already tapping his order into the register by the time he gets up to the counter. “I didn't even order yet…” He sounds a little flustered and you look up to see that his cheeks have gone pink. “You get the same thing every time.” You counter, tapping the green total button on the register, “What if I wanted something different.” His voice evens out like he's getting more comfortable. “Did you?” - “No.” You chuckle at the absurdity and shake your head. 

“2.95 big guy.” There's a pause and you look up expectantly, he's looking at you star-struck but as soon as you make eye contact he fumbles for his wallet, dropping his helmet in the process. “Um- im so sorry…” He apologizes quickly, handing you a five and bending to pick up his helmet. “S’fine.” you pause to put his cash into the register and pull out his change. “Two-oh-five is your change.” You hand it back only for him to drop it into your tip jar, he smiles and takes his cookie when you hand it to him. “Is- uh. I mean- is Claire not here today?” He fumbles a little, tearing off pieces of his cookie. 

You shake your head “Nah, not yet. Summer’s always slow.” He nods along with you, it's obvious he knows Claire isn't here. You look over at the windows again and check your watch, it's just about closing time. “Why is that?” He breaks the silence as you log out of the register, you look up at him a little caught off guard, “Hm? Why what?” His cheeks go pink and he fumbles for words- “Um… I mean- uh. Why is summer always slow?” You nod, understanding what he meant, and go back to the register with a shrug, “Luis says it’s ‘cause of the heat, no one wants hot drinks.” He nods slightly and finishes off his cookie, crumpling up the napkin as he lingers. It's not hard to see that he wants to keep talking to you and you almost feel bad for him, you finish logging off and nod in the direction of the trash can. “Bet you a free drink you can't get that into the trash from here.” You know you shouldn't be handing out drinks but he's too cute and it's the first thing that pops into your head. 

He visibly lights up, his eyes get wider and his back straightens “Alright.” He looks back at the trash can by the door, taking his attention off of you. You can't help but admire him while he lines up his shot, he's got a cute side profile, he's pretty tall, and his hair looks nice and soft. He raises the napkin over his head and tosses it in, you tear your eyes away from the muscle in his arms to see the balled-up napkin bounce off the window and into the trash. He looks back at you with a shit-eating grin on his face, you shrug and smile back while turning to grab a cup. “I was on the basketball team in high school.” He says sounding more confident than he had earlier, you snort as he reveals this crucial information after he wins your little game. 

“Guess I set myself up then, huh?” You get a cup and turn back to him, “Whatchu want?” He looks proud of himself, his shoulders relaxed and held back confidently. You can't help but think he looks handsome when he’s confident like this, the worry lines on his face disappear, his brows unfurrow, and he actually looks his age. “What if…” He trails off, his demeanor turning anxious again. He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing with the effort, “uh- w- what if… I got your number, instead of a drink?” A smile forces its way onto your face, he looks so nervous he might give himself an aneurysm. You huff playfully, unable to resist, this has to be the highlight of your week. 

You turn away from him to brew an iced coffee, It might be a little mean for you to draw this out, to make him worry more. “You want milk and sugar?” But you’ve always struggled with self-control. There's a long pause, before- “Ye… um yes please.” His voice is small and there's a slight shake if you listen close enough. You feel a little bad for doing this but you continue, you never pussy out. You finish brewing his coffee and in a smooth, well-practiced motion, you slap a sticker on the side and mark it with your name and number, putting a little x underneath. 

You hand it to him and without giving him time to think or breathe you herd him out of the shop. “Gotta close, call me later.” You shut and lock the door as he stands in front of it bewildered, his brain takes a while to catch up and you see him look down at the coffee in his hand and start to turn around but you’re faster; turning off the open sign and closing the blinds with a speed that you should be using for more important things, like getting dressed when you’re late to class, or finishing an essay that's about to be overdue, not being mysterious to the cute guy who still hasn't given you his name.

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A/N: it's getting easier and easier to write already, it didn't take half as long as yesterday's did to get 1,000 words. It feels so much good to actually feel happy writing. I can't help but feel worried it's not going to last forever with my fluctuating mental health but I've been looking up a few books to help improve my writing, grammar, flow, and punctuation and I've been seeing a lot of these writers saying that it's okay for you to be worried about that and to just push through.

[sunandflame]

Listen to Mama Peach.

Also same goes for Europe. The next days going to be incredible hot. Take care of yourself and go braless if its needed!

friendly reminder from your hot girl writer:

it’s summer in the northern hemisphere and in the US, it’s fucking HOT. If you’re on medication (especially SSRIs) make sure to check how they interact with the heat and take the proper precautions!!

Drink water!!

Wear whatever tf you want. It’s hot. Wanna wear a crop top? Go braless? Do it, it’s too fucking hot to care

Make sure to nourish your body and rest when you need to 🤍

[alexartink]

🌠 ⭐ INTRO POST ⭐ 🌠

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☀: Boxes Made By: @/Devil-Myriad

🎵: STRAWPAGE STRAWPAGE STRAWPAGE!!!

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📷: My discord: _alexartink_

🎶: All the stars have different links!! Go ahead and click :3

🌠: Hello, I'm Ash3r/Ash/Luci/𝑭𝒊𝒛𝒛𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊/Octavia [Host]

☁: 15

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🕸: Inspiration: Jakeneutron/ToppyDreemurr/ChanceWrightVA/TSAMS/Corey Levier/Corey Wilder/Micheal Kovach/Brandon Blabber/Elise Lovelock

🐾: Therian/Furry/D.I.D w/Alters/Social Anxiety/Depressed

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🥀: Commissions: Open

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[daisybeewrites]

like real people do iv.

“about that night, the bugs and the dirt / what did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth?” — Hozier

cw: allusions to canon-typical trauma, shield being questionable but dw it was before hydra came out, getting into Sunny's story, angst and comfort y'all

part iii | series m. list | part v

pt. 4: flutter

You leave before anyone can say goodbye. Steve slept in — he’s got some sort of cold that wasn’t around in the thirties and thus he isn’t super-immune. You slip out when Bucky brings him a bowl of sliced peaches and oatmeal, planning to finally have a go at cooking in the kitchen (if only to make sure you ate before what you had described as ‘the longest day of the week at the garden’). 

There’s a small sticky note on a box of cherry chocolate protein bars sitting on the counter, signed for James - ☀︎, but no sign of you. Everything is back exactly as it was the night before. 

Yelena likes to steal snacks, so he pockets the note and hides the box in his room. 

Probably bets that you left, anyway. Last night, Bucky talked. Genuinely talked. He couldn’t really see you, with the window behind you, even with enhanced vision. Maybe that made it easier. In the darkness, he didn’t have to be perceived. Or maybe it was because of the quiet, even while you talked, the building world settling down to listen. Eventually, between stories and secrets, the rule of three fell away. 

You told him the story of the scar behind your right ear (a cat scratch that never fully faded), but skirted around his other questions regarding your childhood. He left it alone. You asked him about his. He talked quietly about his old home until his chest ached. He skipped over your questions about the war. You put on a nature documentary. Bucky made tea. You watched the sun start to rise from the lounge window.  

Bucky’s running on the forest path when Red Wing appears ahead of him. 

“You’re getting predictable,” Sam says gleefully. “You’re making habits, grandpa.”

Bucky glares at the bird-robot but doesn’t move to hit it. If he looks carefully, it’s kind of cute. 

“What do you want, Sam?”

“Not me. Fury. What did you do?” 

Bucky grimaces, “Nothing.”

“Must have done something.”

“Maybe he likes reminding me that he’s the one holding my leash,” he mutters. Bucky stops abruptly, letting the comment hang in the air. He collapses against his knees, the overwhelming feeling of being caged in returning like a phantom limb. His metal hand rests on the back of his neck, cool fingers digging into the pressure points there. 

Sam stays quiet for a minute. “You say the word, we’ll figure out a different arrangement. You know that.”

“Like what, Sam?” 

He doesn’t snap. He’s too tired. But Sam is silent on the line. So he gets up and walks back to the compound, letting Red Wing follow him without comment. When he gets to Fury’s office, Nat is already there, making easy conversation with Nick. 

“She mentioned,” Nat says. “Any chance I could get some details on that assignment…?”

Fury laughs. “Nice try, Romanoff.”

“Might be better if she hears it from me,” Nat smirks, eyes flicking to the hall. “Just saying.”

Bucky raps on the door but walks straight in. It makes his hands shake, a loud voice in his head screaming at him to brace. For something, anything, because he didn’t wait for the order to enter. He’ll have to ask Nat if that ever goes away. 

He stands in the center of the room, arms crossed. Fury looks expectantly at Natasha. 

“I would like to stay,” she says easily, slipping into the chair in front of Fury’s desk. He rolls his eyes. 

“What is this?” Nick says flatly. Not really a question. An order.

Natasha stills for a moment. Bucky catches the side of her smile. “Three spy organizations walk into a bar…” she murmurs. Fury rolls his eye and sits back in his chair. Bucky feels like he’s just witnessed an almost entirely silent argument, growing increasingly confused and impatient at the obvious covert conversation going on between them. He crosses his arms, trying to catch a slip in Nat’s mask for a clue as to what the hell is happening. 

“I’m your apology sponsor,” Nat remarks dryly. Nick doesn’t take his unimpressed stare off an equally unimpressed Natasha when he speaks. 

“I have been informed by Ms. Romanoff and an anonymous third party that employing concealed surveillance in a civilian residential area without probable cause is against SHIELD code 9-c-02.” He tosses a thick handbook on the table. “You’re an agent now, read that.”

Bucky picks up the book, peering inside. It’s a manual, but it might as well be the phone book with how many sections and pages there are. Bucky doesn’t say anything. 

“Nick,” Nat says flatly. 

He sighs. “And… pardon me, for not informing you of such methods when they pertain directly to you.”

Bucky looks up sharply at this. “Sorry?”

“Apology accepted. Both of you leave.”

Bucky turns on his heel and exits, scowl deepening, wishing he had stayed frozen so he didn’t have to deal with this shit. Nat passes him in the hallway. 

“You’re growing on him,” she sing-songs. 

“I’d rather not.”

—

It’s a regular Saturday at the garden. From the time the first person walks through the gate to when you lock up, you are simply Sunny from down the street. It’s peaceful, in spite of the heat. Charlie brings some baked goods from his mom and leaves them out for others perusing vegetables. A few people come and help you with tasks, but the sun is high in the clear blue sky and most everyone would rather stay indoors with the AC. 

“The heat island gets worse every year,” a familiar, warm voice calls. You turn your head from watering the latest seed trays and sprouts to see Tía striding up the path. Carrying her intricately carved walking stick, a bag of supplies and seeds from the NYBG in one arm, she heads directly for you. You open your arms and hug her, circling her small frame and holding out your soiled gloves so as not to dirty her shirt. 

“Yes, it does,” you agree. “You look nice! Heading somewhere special?”

“Off to socialize our way into some big donations,” she says, winking and adjusting her dark green blazer. “You know míja, this tactic would work better if you went.”

You offer her a bright smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek to stop her from seeing the look flashing across your face. Memories of silky dresses and fine jewelry to make you sparkle, returned with blood stains and smelling of gunpowder. Draw them in. Make them love you. Complete the mission. 

“So young and beautiful,” she fusses, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. 

Exactly. 

Your phone starts buzzing and you sigh in relief, and can’t stop the grin that curves on your lips. You almost drop your phone into a bucket of fresh soil. 

Bucky is calling. 

Calling. 

Tía reads the screen, takes one look at your face, and shakes her head. 

“Dearie, I have to go. I just needed to stop by and see you,” she smiles, pats your cheek, then walks away, confident as ever with her fancy walking stick and curly grey hair tied back in a bun. You smile after her, then refocus on your phone.

Okay, so it isn’t entirely out of the blue. But you hadn’t expected it. The only person that calls you is Tía. Natasha just… shows up. But now, this. 

Last night was odd. You didn’t mind talking about yourself. Hendidn’t complain about the nature documentary you picked. Bucky held you like something worth holding, leaving room to breathe. That’s what convinced you not to sprint away when he started asking questions — he held space. He didn’t push. And you talked about things you never do. You leaned against the rough stone of the walls you’ve built and considered, for maybe the first time, if they were strictly necessary anymore. If it wouldn’t hurt to let a couple people in. 

You press the green button quicker than you’d like to admit and glare at the oak branch where a tiny camera had been hidden just hours earlier. Thank god for Nat. She found the first one on the perimeter, brought it back to Tony to check out. 

You don’t like people intruding on your space. So now you have a ziploc bag of crushed surveillance bugs in your tote. 

You press the phone between your ear and shoulder. 

“Hi,” you greet. Your heart is racing. He couldn’t hear that over the phone, right?

“Hi, sunshine,” he says. “Do you speak Russian?”

“Почему?” You smirk as hear him sigh on the line.

“Just curious?”

You switch the water setting to mist for the newly seeded trays. Some are already sprouting. 

“Any other languages?” he asks. You can picture him, reclining on the couch, or walking around the compound, phone to his ear. 

“Enough of the romance languages to do my job, a little Japanese from my stint in Osaka, some Lithuanian from a girl I dated,” you list. “Jack of all trades, master of none.”

He hums. “But better than a master of one.”

“You haven’t answered my question,” you point out, continuing to mist the sprouts. They were getting a bit soggy now. 

“Wanted to talk.”

“About?”

He goes quiet. You almost check if the line’s gone dead. Then, “Just to you.”

You hold the phone away from your ear for a moment and squeeze your eyes shut. Deep breath. Don’t be weird about this. 

And you’re definitely not weird about it. Just normal monarchs, testing out their new wings in your ribcage. Fluttering directionless and hopeful. 

“What about you?” you ask, slightly breathless. 

“You want the full list or the abridged version?” He quips. You wish he knew how facetime works so you could see the little smirk on his face, the one so clear in his voice. 

“Give me a sample,” you say, coiling the hose as best you could with one hand. 

“Tu ai adus culoare în viața mea,”  he says. 

“I…” you say lamely, breath caught in your lungs. You laugh to fill the silence. “That’s beautiful, James.”

“You speak Romanian?” he asks, an edge of nerves creeping in. 

“Not a word,” you say, laughing. “But it’s a beautiful language.”

He laughs, the same low rumble as the night before. 

“You- Uh,” he trips on his words. So close. “You’re beautiful.” 

He says it so quietly it could have been static, like he’s hoping the receiver won’t pick it up. Wherever he is, birds are chirping. 

“Back at ya, handsome,” you say, blushing. Okay, so maybe you’re glad he doesn’t know how to facetime. You crane your neck, paranoid about more cameras. Maybe he would double check for you next week. 

“Did you eat?” he asks suddenly. “You left without breakfast.”

“Yeah,” you say airily. You snagged some tart blackberries off the bush and split half a slice of challah with Laurens when he dropped by to check on his newly planted carrot seeds. 

“Mm,” he hums. “A meal?”

As if on cue, your stomach growls. “Well, no,” you say. You can easily imagine the Look he’d give you if he were here. “Thanks, Mom, but I’m okay. Did you eat?”

“I had one of the bars you left.”

A smile curls your lips. The last stragglers are trailing out of the garden as the sun blessedly sets, allowing the little square of green to start cooling. 

“Thats not a meal, you hypocrite,” you tease, and don’t bother to guard the smile in your voice. It’s getting late, most people have left.  “You like ‘em?” You lived on those things during the first months of the Blip — alone in a strange house with some of your closest friends turned to dust. 

“They’re pretty good,” he says. “Sweet. But I expected nothing less from you.”

You groan. “No, stop. Don’t listen to Natalia, less game! I beg of you,” you plead, aiming for joking and getting lost somewhere between nerves and flat seriousness.

He’s quiet for a moment. Static crackles over the line.

“Okay nevermind, I miss it,” you rush out. He laughs, a short exhale of breath.

“I’ve gotta go,” he says finally. “See you later?”

You nod, then remember he can’t hear you. 

“Count on it,” you say. 

“Abia aștept,” he whispers, then the line disconnects. You're left standing in the garden, biting back a smile as you stare at the bed of milkweed. Oh, boy. 

—

“Smooth, Barnes.”

Bucky glares over his shoulder at Sam, who has been standing in the living room doorway for God knows how long. He’s sneaky. And, well, Bucky was distracted. Sam enters the room fully, flopping into one of the chairs across from the couch and sighing. When Bucky doesn’t react, Sam sighs again. 

“What?” Bucky gives in. 

“Nothing.”

He blinks once, slowly, the lightness from speaking with you fading as Sam smirked like he knew something Bucky didn’t. 

“You irritate me.”

Sam grins. “Ah, three words. Nice.”

“Forget I asked,” Bucky says, getting up to leave the room. 

“You do that a lot,” Sam observes. 

“Don’t analyse me,” He retorts, pausing in the doorway. 

“Just saying. You’re always running away from conversations.”

“Maybe I only do that with people who annoy me.”

Sam shrugs. “You want pizza? I’m putting in an order.”

Bucky is too tired to keep up with this conversation. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Which is how Bucky ends up sitting on the floor of Yelena’s room with Sam, watching Jurassic Park with three mostly empty pizza boxes between them. 

“Bucky, I didn’t know you and Steve were actors,” Yelena says dryly, as two dinosaurs amble across the screen. 

Bucky shoots her a glare as Sam laughs out loud. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, but hides a smirk by taking another slice of pizza. The night continues on like that, Yelena occasionally cracking jokes and Bucky giving her the rest of his pizza because, in all honesty, frozen pizzas are just not the same as a greasy slice from the city. And maybe he felt a little sick after two slices, and didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t actually had pizza in eighty years.  

He’s just thinking that you’d like this Ellie Sattler character, the botanist, as she checks on a sick triceratops when Yelena speaks up. 

“How is Sunny?” Yelena asks suddenly, like she’d been thinking the same thing. “I heard—”

Sam shakes his head subtly, and Yelena stops long enough for Bucky to look over and catch the movement. 

“What?”

“The surveillance situation—” Yelena tries again, only to be interrupted by Sam having a very unconvincing coughing fit. She glares. 

Sunny. Surveillance. 

“Is she working again?” he asks carefully. Cautious. Unsure if he wants to know the answer. Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, but it’s too late. Can? Open. Worms? There. 

“God, I wish,” Yelena groans, ignoring Sam’s reaction. “I’d kill to have her help on some of these missions. They’d be much more fun with her around.”

Sam picks at his nails. 

“You know something.” 

Sam shakes his head. “I just got off probation, man. They’re threatening to take away Red Wing.”

“Okay, to be fair, you were the one who decided to fly into the burning building to save that damn cat,” Yelena points out. He shushes her. 

“My point,” Sam continues, “is that you aren’t even supposed to know. You figured it out through your freaky sister telepathy.”

“No, I saw Natasha dropping the cameras off at Stark’s lab,” Yelena argues. “And you aren’t supposed to know either!”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what are we talking about?” Bucky bursts, feeling his left eye twitch and a headache kick up behind it. He used to be a sniper. Not a care in the world about intelligence or counterintelligence or covert surveillance. Just find a nice ridge, do some mental math, and shoot the people trying to kill Steve. Simpler times. 

“Natasha bogarakat talált elrejtve a kertjében,” Yelena rushes out, stealing another slice of his pizza. He’s not worried about it. 

“Hey, I haven’t learned that one yet!” Sam cries, exasperated. 

“If they give you orders in English, is it really insubordination if I break them in Hungarian?” Yelena asks, faux-philosophical tone and raised eyebrows hiding a smirk. Sam just breathes deeply. 

“’Please, Sam! Help us train the next generation of Shield!’ they said. ‘It’ll be fun!’ they said,” he mutters. 

Bucky’s brain is still playing catch-up. 

“Wait, Nat found what where?”

Sam sends Yelena a warning look. Bucky has never once wished to be telepathic until now. 

“Guys.”

Sam lets out a long-suffering sigh as a bunch of velociraptors chase a Jeep on the television. 

“I was going to tell you more delicately. Thank you, Yelena,” Sam says, exasperated but appeased when she drops two garlic breadsticks on his plate with a shrug. “Sunny hasn’t mentioned anything?”

Bucky shakes his head. 

Neither of them say anything more. 

Cameras. Bugs. 

Oh, sure. Another thing to spin around in his head until Thursday. 

—

The week drags on, meetings and weeding and visitors taking up your days and texting with Bucky, however few and far between. He texts like a grandpa, you point out, and he uses ‘LOL’ for the first (and last) time ever trying to prove you wrong. It doesn’t work. 

You are much too excited for work on Thursday. A couple women are there in the morning,  picking the last of the strawberries and an early bell pepper. You offer them nutrition sheets, freshly printed in bright ink, thanks to Bobbi bringing color cartridges for the printer. They take them and promise to come back soon with bell pepper seeds. 

Two p.m. rolls around slowly, with an ache in your shoulder and spring in your step. You hear car doors closing from your spot under the oak, planting an assortment of peas  in the freshly overturned earth. 

“Should get sun in the morning but are spared the scorch,” you murmur. 

“Not when you’re around, babe,” Nat says. 

“Are you implying I’m hot, Romanoff?” you say, turning to find her smirking and leaning casually against Bucky, like he’s a wall. 

“Like the sun.” She winks. “I can think of at least one person who would agree.”

Bucky is suddenly very intently focused on a coral honeysuckle vining along the trellis, petals curled and ready to bloom. You roll your eyes at Nat and grin. 

“You staying today?” you ask. She shakes her head. 

“Nope. Just making sure this guy doesn’t run off,” she says, handing him what looks like a button. “And to deliver this.” 

You recognize the EMP instantly. 

“Your trail cams have a wireless set up, right?” she asks.

“Do you think we have wireless trail cams?” you ask, tutting. “It’s okay, I’ll reboot them later.”

Bucky holds up the tiny object, recognition dawning. His face twists into a deep frown. 

“I still can’t believe they set up surveillance here,” Nat says. “Considering it’s mostly you puttering around and talking to yourself.”

“Okay first of all, unnecessary,” you say, laughing. “Second, I took down what I could find. Did a full sweep for the first time in ages.” 

Your fingers brush Bucky’s wrist as you take the small disc. You eye his arm, the plates shifting slightly under the fabric of his long sleeve. 

“Will this affect you?” you ask, searching his eyes. “I can wait to go around with it later.”

He shrugs. “Shuri said it shouldn’t be affected by most EMPs.”

“It should be charged enough to fry the mics, but let me know if it dies and I’ll get a couple more for you,” Nat says.

You hand the button back to Bucky, who’s looking up in the trees. He hasn’t made eye contact since arriving. 

“What was Fury thinking?” you mutter. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder all week. Feels like old times.”

Natasha crosses her arms, clearly still upset. “Might not have been his orders,” she says. “There’s a lot of people who want eyes and ears on your man.”

The words don’t really register as she says them. You’re too busy checking Bucky’s expression for, well, anything. He’s completely neutral in a way that tells you he feels anything but. 

“Outside of SHIELD?” you ask, already knowing the answer. 

“I already shut down the systems for any SHIELD monitors,” she says, pointing at the button. “That is a safety measure for anyone else who may be interested.”

Your lips press into a thin line. “If I find a single shred of evidence the CIA was here I might actually take Fury up on his offer for a job, if only to go visit Langley with top level clearance and a government-issued gun.”

“You’re a popular lady,” Nat says, smirking. “Bucky’s just a bonus.”

You glance at him and make a brief second of eye contact. He’s staring, looking like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. Like a habit, you reach out and squeeze his arm softly, meeting cool metal under his sleeve. You wonder vaguely if the arm registers pressure, if the touch would even transmit as comfort. 

“I should probably get everything set up,” you say. Nat follows you to the office and slips you another EMP, this one obviously stolen with the serial number filed off. 

“Called in a favor. Knocks out everything,” she says. “In case I missed something.”

You hear what she’s saying — in case SHIELD is falling apart again and she doesn’t have the full picture. She’s not too prideful to put people’s safety at risk. You set this one in your desk drawer next to your old firearm. 

“Weren’t you supposed to turn that in?”  

“Officially, I dropped it in Japan. So, uh, no,” you say, smile returning. 

Nat shakes her head, smiling. 

“Did Fury chew you out about the mics?” you ask, concern peeking through your casualness. “I’m sure he didn’t like Tony getting his hands on them.”

Nat laughs once, a burst of dry amusement. “I would’ve liked to see him try. I did most of the chewing.”

You crinkle your nose in a smile, kissing her cheek. “Thank you, Natasha.”

“Don’t mention it, Sunny.”

Bucky appears in the doorway, pointing outside. 

“Joe and Laurens are here,” he says, a strange expression crossing his face as you bump the drawer shut with your hip. He couldn’t have seen, right? It’s at an angle.  You smile. 

“Be right there!” you reply cheerfully. Pulling them out of your bag, you toss the blue gloves he wore last week. He catches them with ease, shoving the left one on so quickly you think for a moment he might tear the poor glove. 

“I think he short-circuited when you touched his arm,” Nat murmurs, all too amused. 

“Please,” you reply, just as quietly. You don’t want to admit how much you wish that were the case. 

“I’m serious!” she exclaims. At your dubious glare, she sighs. “Fine. Don’t believe me. But I get to say I told you so when the two of you—”

You hit her shoulder with your own glove, knocking some soil on her tee. She brushes it off airily. 

“Nat, he has his own stuff. I’m only concerned with making sure he’s got a safe place to figure it out,” you say. “We’re friends.”

Her brow arches as she slips on her sunglasses, but doesn’t say anything. 

Fuck. She’s got you all figured it out, no doubt. Perks of having a highly trained agent as your best friend.

Though, you were the first to tell she liked Steve. So. Perks of having a best friend. 

“Is this payback for when I bet on you and Cap?” you ask, steering her out of the office to meet your volunteers in the garden. She shrugs, lips curling into a smirk.

“Maybe. Sam’s still mad about losing, by the way,” she says. “Come by soon okay?”

You nod, sending her off down the path. You finish tugging your gloves on and round the corner, taking in the sight of the veggie garden. Joe is talking with Del and Bobbi. Ryan stands behind them, arms crossed and baseball cap low over his eyes. Pete is silently showing the fruit trees to a young guy, who must be the new volunteer you registered on Saturday. 

But what really gets you is the sight of Bucky and Laurens, already in rhythm, Bucky shaking out a bag of mulch around the butterfly beds while Laurens rakes it. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. 

Del notices you and pulls you over, following your gaze.

She elbows you. “Smile a little wider, I don’t think he got the hint.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, a laugh bubbling up. Bucky looks over and the bag of mulch accidentally slips. He looks like he tries to apologize, but Laurens just gives him a quiet nod and spreads the excess mulch around the edge of the pink coneflowers. A white butterfly flutters away, which he stops to watch. Bucky pauses, too, his shoulders visibly dropping and his scowl softening. He hesitantly puts his hands on his hips to stand like Laurens, mirroring him as they watch the cabbage white flutter around. 

Gods, he’s endearing. You look away before the pesky butterflies in your chest can wake up. 

A tap on the shoulder pulls your attention as Del and Bobbi join Joe weeding the spinach bed. Ryan is beside you, seemingly sheepish. 

“Hey,” he mumbles. He kicks a rock, watching it tumble in the dirt. “Mama said she told you what happened at school.”

“You were standing up for her. Just, next time, don’t use these.” You hold up your fists, suppressing a grin. “Thumb still hurting?”

He shakes his head.

“Good. You can do serious damage if you don’t use the correct form,” you say. You check over your shoulder. Del and Bobbi aren’t paying any attention. “Here.”

Using your body to shield your hands, you show him how to position his fingers in a fist, thumb tucked outside of the knuckles and under. “For self-defense only, capisce?” You raise your brows as he mirrors you, and nudge his hands up to cover his jaw. 

“And protect your head. I got hit in the jaw once during training, I was out like a light.” You snap for emphasis. 

Ryan tilts his head. “Training for what?”

You smile, and the lie slips out easily. “Boxing tournament.”

He nods. “Cool.”

You hold up a hand and let him punch once, making sure the impact point is his knuckles, and give him the okay. Tapping his fist, you jerk your head back towards the little group at the leafy greens. “Go join your moms. And don’t let me hear about any more fighting from you. Kids are stupid and you know better.”

He nods and jogs off, smile back in place. You take a deep breath, collecting some unused pots and throwing a discarded trowel in the top. You turn and run straight into a solid wall of muscle wearing cedar cologne — Bucky. 

His hands come up to your arms to steady you, despite you holding your footing. 

“Boxing tournament, huh?” he says. 

Your smile grows. “Hush, you.”

He takes the pots and follows as you collect more here and there. 

“Listen, I wanted to—”

“I need to ask—”

You both freeze. He gestures for you to go first. 

But he’s looking at you like he has nothing better to do than listen to whatever you have to say, and it’s just slightly more terrifying than being on the other side of a loaded gun. 

So you pivot. Physically turn away and continue gathering pots and tools. 

“Will you wash these out?” you ask. Now you’re the one avoiding eye contact. “Hose is over there, shouldn’t take long. I’ve got some volunteers — off-shoots — from my roses at home I want to plant in ‘em. They’re the state flower, you know.”

You’re rambling. You know you’re rambling. 

He hums, corners of his mouth lifting. “I do know, actually.”

You make rounds as an excuse to not be near him anymore, on the likely chance he looks at you like that  again and you spill your guts to him. You help Bobbi tug a stubborn weed. It lands in the compost pile with Joe’s bucket of leaves, raked from under the magnolia. It’s a peaceful few hours. He doesn’t try to bring it up again (whatever ‘it’ might be) and the volunteers carry on conversation. 

And then chaos walks through the rusty iron gate in khaki cargos carrying a bag full of sweet potato slips, her hair in a bun and mischief in her smile. Your head snaps up from where you and Bucky search for the monarch caterpillar, torso half-hidden in the pollinator bed. 

“Tía! I didn’t expect you today!” You beam, already standing to hug her. She puts a hand on your shoulder and steers you to the side, fixing her gaze on Bucky. You try not to be offended. 

“I’m glad to see you, too, Sunny. But I’m here to meet the new volunteers,” she says, eyes twinkling. She has the look of a mother about to pull out baby photos to embarrass her kid. “James, is it?”

Bucky stands, whisking his baseball cap off. A few strands of dark hair fall in his face, but he ignores them. Tía holds out her hand and Bucky removes his glove to shake hers. 

“You’ve got strong hands. Good for gardening,” she says with a matter-of-fact smile. “Paloma Manzano, good to meet you.”

“Sergeant James Barnes, ma’am.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you turn back to the pretty flowers in front of you to avoid grinning like a maniac. 

“What a gentleman,” Tía says. “What does mi sol have you doing today? Something fun, I hope.”

You clear your throat. I’m right here, you think. 

“We’re, uhm, looking for a caterpillar,” he says, clearly flustered. 

You look back up, squinting against the sun. Tía kneels next to you and points at the back of the bed, on the stem of a pink swamp milkweed.  

“How did you find it so quickly?” you say, awe (and maybe a little frustration, you had just looked there—) lacing your tone. Tía shrugs. 

“I may be old, but my vision is just fine,” she says. Then, Tía steps back, appraising him.  “Now James, where are you from?”

Bucky flinches under the sudden attention. “Oh, um, Brooklyn, ma’am.”

“Where in Brooklyn?”

“Brooklyn Heights, ma’am,” he answers. “But I moved to Red Hook with Steve before enlisting.”

“You served in the military,” she states, less of an inquiry than an observation. 

“Army, the 107th.”

“With our Steve,” she says. None of this is new information for her. Steve, despite being a SHIELD agent, is a chronic oversharer when it comes to his friends, or a nostalgic anecdote from his childhood, or the mission he went on last week. Tía nods, approvingly. “He speaks very highly of you.”

You watch in real time as Bucky holds back what you’re sure is a self-deprecating remark, and instead offers a tight smile. 

“He’s my best friend, ma’am. I could say much better about him,” he settles on. You reach out again, brushing his shoulder with your glove and accidentally depositing a smear of dirt. He doesn’t pay any mind. 

Tía beams. “Oh, please don’t call me ‘ma’am.’. If my math is correct, I do believe it’s quite unnecessary.” She winks, and Bucky ducks his head, a small smile working its way across his face. 

“Afraid I can’t do that, Mrs. Manzano,” he says. “My Ma would have my head.”

Tía laughs, delighted. “Well, señor, we don’t want that. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

He blushes, and you definitely can’t blame it on sunburn. 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She turns to you, then, and you suffer a similar reaction to Bucky under her scrutinizing gaze. 

“Sunny, don’t lie to me,” she begins. 

Oh, god. Where is this going?

She fixes you with a hard stare. “How many hours did you work this week?”

“I… actually don’t know,” you begin. “Tía—”

“Tsk, you work too hard! I always tell her,” she shakes her head and reaches up to pinch your cheek. You crinkle your nose and fight the urge to swat her away. “Look after her, James. Make sure she’s taking breaks. That’s an order!”

He salutes very seriously, and you snort. He pushes your water bottle into your hands and raises his brows. 

“I got my orders, sunshine,” he says, like he can’t help it. You narrow your eyes but can’t help the upwards curl of your lips. 

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” you mutter, but drink the water anyway. You will never, ever admit how nice the cold water is in the heat. 

“There. You’ve already got some glow back,” she says. “One time, I found her passed out at her desk—”

“Okay! I think he gets it, Tía,” you interject, sliding an arm around her shoulders and trying to lead her away. She doesn’t budge. 

“Fine! Fine! But míja, you didn’t mention how handsome he is,” she whispers. He hears her. Obviously. 

The only thing that saves you from dying of embarrassment is that Bucky is just as flustered. He rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his feet. Your face is burning. You wish you had the superpower to command the earth to swallow you whole. 

“Tía, please,” you beg. She pats your cheek and sighs dramatically. 

“Can’t have any fun anymore,” she says wistfully. “Ah, well. Young love.”

“God help me,” you breathe. Bucky looks like he might combust. 

Tía is unaffected, gleeful even, if her smirk is any indication. “Did I see Ryan back there? He’s gotten tall!”

You nod, grateful for the change in subject. “Did Del tell you—?”

“Oh,” Tía says, eyes lighting up. “That other kid had it coming. He’s a troublemaker, but I heard he was suspended from the team.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh no, was Ry—?”

“No, not Ryan,” Tía says, grasping your arm. “I’ll go catch up with the Joneses.”

Tía walks off, leaning on her walking stick more than usual and laughing at her own joke. 

“She’s fun,” Bucky says. 

You smile fondly after her, still recovering from the rollercoaster of a conversation. “Yes. She is.”

“You passed out at your desk?”

You turn to him, tilting your head. “That’s what you got from all that?”

He shrugs. His eyes are trained on you like he’s trying to assess whether or not you need to sit down. “That was the important bit.”

You feel your lungs constrict. You narrow your eyes, biting back a smile. “Stop analysing me!” 

“Can’t help it, sunshine,” he says. “You heard Mrs. Manzano. Gotta look after you.”

“You’re ridiculous. I was a senior special agent at one of the top spy organizations in the world, you know,” you point out, indignant. 

He frowns. “You’re a bit young to be a senior agent,” he points out. 

“Compared to you? Yeah,” Your smile fades when he doesn’t laugh. You turn to the milkweed and squint at the caterpillar. “I got an early start.”

Bucky clocks the shift in your energy immediately. Like you were hoping he wouldn’t. He extends his hand like he wants to reach out, but pulls back, his fingertips only ghosting over your arm. 

“How early?” he asks. 

You shrug, focusing on your breathing to control your heart rate. 

“Early.”

“Early?”

You force your jaw to un-tense. “I was six.”

There it is — the change. Like the air before rain, charged and lit with unspoken questionsBucky freezes, frowning deeply, then his shoulders drop and he steps forward. “You’re shaking,” he says softly. 

“Maybe the rest of the world is shaking and I’m perfectly still,” you argue. Bucky grants you an almost-laugh.  

In all truthfulness, you’ve volunteered that information to three people your entire life: Yelena Belova, Sam Wilson, and now Bucky. Everyone else found out without asking, from a file or a rumor or the mythos of your work. 

“Can I help?” 

You shake your head. 

“Was it…” he stutters, breathing out a stilted sigh. “You and Nat…?”

You bite your cheek. “No, just SHIELD.”

 “Peggy would’a lost her mind if she knew they had kids working as operatives,” he scoffs. 

“I wasn’t working until later, though,” you argue, feeling suddenly protective. “Got my badge at fourteen and had to practically beg Maria and Fury to even let me on Comms.” 

It’s not like you were in the field that young. Not really. And it’s not like you think about it often. To you, it is just what was. It was good, for the most part. You give him a pained smile. “I used to have a poster of Peggy on my wall, you know.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, cursing yourself for the slip.  He’s too observant to brush off your redirections and offhand jokes, and you have work to do. “We should check on the others.”

He lets you lead the way. You find everyone standing in a circle, listening to Tía tell a story about her neighbour’s dog that ran away and came back dyed teal. You’re pretty sure it’s a direct reference to Rebecca. 

“It’s getting to be that time, folks,” you say brightly. “I’d love to keep y’all forever, but I know you’re busy people.”

Everyone breaks away, saying their ‘see ya’s and patting your shoulder. You begin tidying as volunteers wander off. Joe traps Bucky in a conversation by the sunflowers. The newest volunteer comes over, helping you collect trowels. 

“Hi, I’m Peter,” he says. He extends his hand to shake, his grip surprisingly strong.

“Your application said Benjamin, I thought,” you say, already on edge from the past week, but— oh, he’s just a kid. Can’t be more than twenty. He doesn’t have the look of an undercover operative. Who are you kidding, there’s exactly two spies in this garden and it’s you and Bucky. You relax, forcing yourself to smile. “Sorry. Long day! I must have misremembered.”

Peter shakes his head vehemently. “No, it’s okay. You’re right. It’s my middle name. I’m trying something new.”

You nod. “So, Peter or Ben?

“Peter. It was a short-lived experiment,” he says sheepishly. 

“What brings you out here, Peter?” you ask, moving on to re-wrap the hose — Joe did his best, but it’s a bit wonky and bugging you (for no reason, you think, why can’t you just leave it be?). 

“School project. I’m taking a class at Brooklyn College for the summer,” he explains. “But I really like it out here. Worth the we—” he chokes. “Sorry. Worth the wait for the train.”

“Where are you coming in from that you have to take the train?” you ask, bewilderment entirely replacing suspicion, the hose be damned. 

“Queens.”

Your jaw drops. “You came all the way from Queens? They have these over there, you know.”

He shrugs. “The assignment said to find a community project in Brooklyn.”

“If you say so, Pete,” you say. His own smile slips for a second, then returns. You tuck this information away for later. You only have room for one tragic backstory at a time and for the moment, it’s yours.

“Well, thank you for coming. I hope we see you again!” you say, smiling warmly. 

He nods eagerly. “Definitely. It’s beautiful out here. I feel like I can actually think.”

You look around. Golden light spills over bright green leaves waving in the wind. Pops of colour catch your eye. The raised beds, still looking new despite being a few years old, stand tall. 

“Thanks,” you say. “We put a lot of work into it.”

“Well, I gotta sw— um, swing out! That’s a new saying!” he says, grabbing a backpack and walking out behind the rest of the group. He waves as he disappears into the sunflowers that line the path. 

“Weird kid,” you say, waving back. “I like him.”

“You’re good with kids,” Bucky says, sidling up from seemingly out of nowhere. “I saw you with Ryan earlier.”

You shrug. “I’ve worked with a lot of them.”

“Which job?”

“…both.”

“Ah.”

You turn your head up to study him, but he’s already looking at you. Your shoulders draw up and you cross your arms, noticing for the first time that the rocks that line the path are spaced in a pattern — dark, light, dark. 

“I’m sorry, James,” you sigh. “This was supposed to be a safe space, away from work… your work. Our work, I guess—” you exhale sharply, jaw set. “It’s supposed to be a place to leave behind all that stupid shit, and then Fury went and put up cameras without even giving me a heads up and now I’ve just dumped more crap on you, and it’s such an inconven—”

“Hey,” he interrupts. You don’t look up. 

His hand lifts to your shoulder, then up to your jaw. You try not to lean into the touch as he pulls you gently to look at him. 

“Do I look like I’m inconvenienced?” he asks. 

You meet his eyes. He honestly looks more relaxed than he has since you first laid eyes on him. Your chest rises and falls in a painful breath, like your lungs can’t get enough oxygen. 

“You do have to drive like an hour to get here,” you whisper. 

“Again. Do I look like I’m inconvenienced?” He drops his hand, his calloused fingertips brushing your neck. His tone remains light as he continues, “I thought you were taking an assignment or something. Bugs in the garden? Easy work. Expected, even.”

Your own hand comes up to curl around his wrist. You measure his pulse. There’s nothing about him that’s not steady, you decide. 

“What were you going to ask earlier?”

Bucky straightens up, shifting his weight. His free hand comes up to run through his hair. 

“It’s nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about the bugs?” he breathes, barely loud enough to hear. 

You wilt a little, wishing you had spoken up earlier. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just—” you sigh. “I guess I thought I was protecting your peace, or something.”

Bucky shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I lied.”

He doesn’t respond. Just stands in silence, the sun turning molten gold and elongating both shadows and time around you. 

“You know the funny thing?” Bucky says lowly, gauging your reaction. You glance at him skeptically. “I wasn’t even worried that you were lying. I was just worried about you.”

Your heart stutters. For someone with trust issues (you, and probably also him), those words felt like getting hit by a freight train. Your experience is limited to jumping off of trains. You’re unprepared for how much the admission means to you. You count his pulse, realizing it might be a little weird that you’re still holding his wrist. His heart rate is quicker. 

“You’re gonna be late,” you murmur, finally letting him go. 

“Can’t be late to walk you home,” he says. “Steve didn’t wait up. I’ve got a date with two agents in an illegally tinted SUV after this, and I don’t think either of them are particularly concerned about my punctuality.”

You bite your lip. “Look who’s suddenly talkative.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“And I’m doing a damn good job at it, too,” you point out. 

“C’mon sunshine, give me something,” he says, softer. “Are you alright?”

Your breathing evens out. The garden is not blurring around you, like it has so many times before. The birds chirp and shuffle through the grass. 

“I’ll be okay.”

He lingers, close enough to breathe the same air. His fingers twitch, like he wants to reach for your hand again. Shaking your head, you lean into him, wrapping your arms around his back slowly. Giving him the same space he gave you in the lounge, comforting and present. His arm slips around your back and you melt a little closer. 

You stay like that, the peacefulness of the garden enveloping you.

“This is really unprofessional of me,” you mutter against his shoulder. He laughs. 

“You’re off the clock. I think it’s fine,” he says, but pulls back anyway. “Ready to go?”

He walks you home, a black car tailing you the entire way. The urge to duck into an alley and lose them presses on you. The weight of the week — finding the first mic on the bench while cleaning and subsequently upending the office in a panic, the scorching sun, the endless paperwork — it all melts bit by bit as the sun dips behind the houses and you and Bucky are cast in twilight, your shadows on the pavement linked arm and arm. 

Bugs in the garden. Ha. 

a/n: i think i'm reeeeeeally funny for the pun hehe... also! backstory! how about that!

[canines-alter-creation]

Hey Guys!!! Its Us!!! (We Were The Anon That Got The Builder's Choice A While Back, If Your Wondering Jupiter Is Doing AMAZING He Loves Writing Classical Music & Easing The Body To Sleep) But I Personally Have A Problem, As An Alter, I Am Very Touch Deprived, So I Was Wondering If We Could Have Someone To Help (If You Need Smth To Base My Personality Off Of I Am Just Your Standard Golden Retriever Personality) Again!!! This Is Optional, Feel Free To Send This To The Bottom Of Your Que ~ Sincerely, Sunny, From The Society Of The Depressed Mushroom🍄☀︎

HII! We+ finally got around to this request! So Our+ thoughts on this based on what you told Us+ about you, is to make a Black Cat type person to balance you out! I hope you like them!!

(Obviously not all beings described will turn out as written, but I hope it is helpful regardless!)

> Name(s): Jax, Axel, Blade, Orion, Storm, Void, Vortex, Moon

> Pronoun(s): he/dark/void/space/cat/paw/fluff/tail

> Age: similar to Sunny’s age 

> Gender: masc identifying, catgender, starbodiment, destria, stellarene, starmarked, nocturlance, voidcattic, mooncatic, gothcattic, punkcattic

> Sexuality: queer, very opposites attract but might have a 

> Role: personal soother, relational handler

> Source: brainmade, alterblogic

> Faceclaims:

> Sign-offs: 🐈‍⬛, 🐱, 🌑, 🌙, ⭐, 🐾

> Song theme:

> Front triggers(pos/neg/neu):

+ Sunny, metal and rock music, abandoned places at night, cats

/ Sunny being in front but not actively fronting, his job in general, things that remind star of Sunny

- anyone who upsets Sunny, people who don’t respect the system, mean people in general

> Likes/dislikes:

+ Being alone, night time, Sunny, coffee

- Pretty much everyone else, being touched without permission, being in large crowds

> Personality: “Black cat-esque”, moody and easily annoyed. They can be sort of bitey and hissy towards strangers. Doesn’t like to be provoked or talked to for no reason. May seem somewhat dismissive of others, just because they’re an introvert and prefer to be left alone. Sunny is the exception. Sunny is the only person that he’ll smile to, or allow to touch him or spend excess time around. Likes metal music or other kinds of loud music, but prefers to listen in headphones mostly alone. 

> Ways they do their role: Is a personal soother for Sunny, spending time with them and providing support and comfort. While he has other interests and hobbies, mostly prefers to be around Sunny if doing them. May also be a relationship protector for the whole system, being the only person able to lay down rules and boundaries in outer relationships, making sure that the body is respected and loved in the way that makes them happiest. 

> Inner world occupation or behavior: Might have an apartment or small room/house to himself. The walls are covered in posters and band merch (real and imagined bands). Prefers to be alone, and might spend time in various indoor places being alone (library, cafe, museums, etc). May also like going outside at night to hang out in parks, skateparks, and various abandoned areas. 

> Possible outerworld behavior: Largely solitary alter, only likes to front around people if Sunny is there to be social with them. May like to curl up in bed just listening to music or making art. Likes Sunny’s friends because they’re Sunny’s not because he has any particular attachment to them.

[cerebrum-cupcakes]

The Marvelous Miette

Sunny Street Performer

⋅•✧───────────── ☀︎ ─────────────✧•⋅

Given Name: Bái Mì​yá/ 白蜜雅

Weapon: Sword

Element: Pyro

Gender: Female

Constellation: TBA

Region: Fontaine

Affiliations: Court of Fontaine, Liyue Harbor

Special Dish: Sunny Skies (Crepes Suzette)

⋅•✧───────────── ☀︎ ─────────────✧•⋅

A popular street performer in the Court of Fontaine who elevates classic tricks with the use of her vision. Bubbly, headstrong, and a playful flirt, Miette wants only one thing in life: to have fun. Her thrillseeking behaviors have lead her into trouble more often than not, but her confidence has kept her afloat on her adventures.

⋅•✧───────────── ☀︎ ─────────────✧•⋅

Additional Information:

She goes by her stage name, Miette, in public, and uses her given name, Mì​yá, in private.

Her parents are Liyuean diplomats who brought her abroad for work, which meant she spent a large amount of her formative years in Fontaine. While she still feels a connection to her birth nation, she considers Fontaine her home, and chooses to life there as an adult.

She visits her extended family in Liyue for major holidays, such as the Lantern Rite Festival, Moonchase Festival, and up until recent story events, the Rite of Descension.

Her decision to live full time in Fontaine, plus her decision to work in entertainment, is the source of many a disagreement with her parents. After a lot of arguing, her parents eventually caved, but insisted on funding Miettes house and job training so it would be up to their standards. Both parties are stubborn, but love each other dearly.

Her primary acts in her performances include yo-yo tricks and juggling, with the aforementioned objects usually being set on fire. She's also skilled at gymnastics, capable of doing a full straddle split and several different flips.

She supplements her sword attacks with a yo-yo for a more ranged option during combat, using her yo-yo to smack distant enemies or lasso them closer. Just like with her acts, she tends to set her tools of choice on fire.

She can also use her vision to summon strap-on roller skates, which she uses to get around quickly. In a hypothetical gameplay situation, this would function as an alternate sprint.

She admires Lyney and Lynette as performers, but personally thinks their acts are a smidge boring. She understands the appeal of "real" magic, but she'd much prefer to see something be set on fire with a vision to up the stakes.

She's best friends with Aurelian, a relationship that started as a rivalry, playful on her side and serious on his, that later grew into an inseparable bond.

She has a scar on her left palm that she claims she got in an "epic sword duel" that gets more and more exaggerated with each retelling. In reality she fumbled a knife during practice for a juggling act. She also has a small scar on her chin that she got when she fell down the stairs as a child.

She loves spicy food and frequently complains about how hard it is to find good li style food in Fontaine. She also likes eggs because of how versatile they are in cooking.

Despite growing up in both Liyue and Fontaine, she can't stand tea. Her parents often scolded her for dumping her tea out when she was younger.

Her voice is chipper and upbeat, and she tends to talk loudly without noticing.

She supplements her income by doing odd jobs for the adventurers guild, primarily deliveries and bounties.