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schooloftieflings · 3 years

Text

II, Past and Future

— Boy, where ar’cha? — The old man asked, looking around the warehouse in the docks. This memory was vivid in Tief’s mind. Still vivid.

— Bo-o-oy? C’mon, I know ye are 'ere… ‘got a new chord for ye! C’mon, quit hidin’.

Tief was hiding behind a large box of something. He couldn’t read back then. But he memorized many melodies, many songs, so much…

Tief wasn’t showing himself. Seth chuckled, sitting on a chair in the middle of the room.

— Aight pal, ol’ papa Seth will try to entertain ye’musical thirst. Now, tell papa, what’s this a’chord? — He said, tuning the lute. His lute. The lute that now was in the corner of Tief’s room, on which he played magic.

Geth, Cess and Doht. Three most useful chords. He didn’t know what they were called in reality, in fact, Seth didn’t know either. But Tief knew how they were labeled in his mind.. These three were the most common, simple, useful. But after using them so many times, they became dull.

But this chord… Seth played some new tone, something interesting. Major. Bright. Warm. In the light of the cracked oil lantern on the table he played.

He didn’t memorise it well back then, but now he could play it with ease without thinking. The Ayem-meht Nehtiya chord. Tief didn’t know what this language was, he knew it, but couldn’t speak in it, he could sing it, but didn’t understand what he was singing. Seth was saying that this language is “spooky”, and always said he liked it. It was fiery. Fiendish. Of his tiefling nature. And Tief didn’t quite like it. He was curious about what it was, but was afraid of it, as it was something completely unknown for him.

He remembered Seth’s melodies. The Duckling Song, In Tabernia, Ol’ My Rucksack, Black Cape Mystery… But he couldn’t remember the exact look of Seth’s face. Tief was always afraid to look into people's eyes, because once he scared some lady on the street. It was his most early memory.

Tief remembered Seth having white hair, long to the shoulders, and a moustache looking like a lowercase-N. He remembered him being tall and skinny, with a breathy voice, as if he was a castaway in a desert and didn’t drink water in months. But when he sang… His voice became soft, like silk, like the fur of a kitten. Everytime Seth sang Tief lullabies, Tief felt like he was a kitten, and Seth’s song was a petting hand.

It was all around six years ago. In spring, Seth was visited by some men. Tief could hear them talking. He heard their words. “Tax”, “Payment”, “Owe”, “Credit”, “Fucking Fiend Bastard You Keep In Here”. Tief was hiding in the dark behind the boxes and barrels.

Then he heard no words, but a sound. A sound of a dagger piercing into flesh. A gulping sound of Seth as he fell on the floor.

They left.

Seth was sitting on the chair, his hand red, his stomach stabbed and bleeding.

— Sunny, dear… — He called him. — I can see yer’ eyes, boy, c’mere… — Seth was weakening. Tief was crying, a small child, walking to him slowly with tears in his eyes, sobbing with the most bitter sorrow.

— Sunny, it’s fine, I’m okay, see? Tis’ jus’a scratch… — Seth was pale. His eyes were full of fear. But not of death. He was afraid of what would happen to Tief.

— Yer’a good boy, sunny, don’t be afraid. I’m sleepy, okay? ’member my lute? I ‘ive it to ye. Ye deserve it. Yer a good boy sunny. You play very well, with those claws, yes… — Seth petted Tief’s cheek with the clean hand.

— Good boy… Take it, it’s yours. Now ye’ll b’free to wander, run ‘way from ‘ere… This place’s bad. Play music and don’t let go of the lute. ‘member me, sunny… ‘member my words: Yer a good p’rson, a good boy of papa… Good… Boy…

Tief was crying the whole day over Seth’s lifeless body. He was still warm, his hand on his shoulder, a slight sad smile on his elderly lips, a trail of salt from a dried tear.

— ‘tis bastard’s dead already, go look for the fiend spawn… — Tief heard in the dark of the night, as two people walked into the warehouse. He took the lute, and fled.

...

So the night passed, in the morning Tief still felt pain in his back. He woke up slowly, with grunts, with little gasps of pain.

— Ouch… — He held the hit place, on his lower back right under the ribs, on the left. Tief was struggling to fight the pain when he reached to check his goods. In place. Two golden coins among 6 silver ones and 43 coppers. It was such a big lot…

But the paper… What was it? In the morning light coming from between the planks, he looked at the paper. It was… A letter. His hair went on end. He could read, but… It was hard. He would try…

To: The tiefling bard child playing in the Serreip Sed district of Revenland.

From: SoT

If you can read, then read carefully. If not, then to the one reading this message: please speak the letter the way it’s written without skipping anything.

We from the School of Tieflings are giving you an invitation to our school. The given two galleons might be enough for you to buy suiting clothing and everything listed below, it will be useful if you wish to study at us:

A suitcase full of comfortable semi-formal clothing. Preferably a good amount of spare socks

An empty book or diary (x5)

A cape with a hood, comfortable and weatherproof to some degree

It is allowed to take any possessions, such as jewelry, musical instruments, talismans and so on with you. We are waiting for you in the village of Cargealdor, in the Amperholm territories. Look for a tall male tiefling with red skin, or let yourself be seen by him.

Everything best, Prof. Aiv Avlis

Tief was confused. He did understand most of the message. But why? Why was he invited there? It made no sense. And why was it so important? Was this… Prof Aiv Avlis the man who gave him those two golden coins? It must be, right?

His back hurt, and his head ached. He needed to do something…

— Here mister officer, he’s under the stairs. Yes he lives ‘ere, go take ‘im.

Tief’s eyes went wide as he heard the voice of John Billiehorn, one of the brothers who owned this building. Officer? A guard was there to take him to jail, or worse, execution. He was trapped, framed, with no way out. His claws were the only thing he had to fight back.

...grabbing the lute, the hat, the fortune of coins (which he put in the little pouch-pocket on his raggy clothing), and the blood-stained letter tucked into her top clothing, he limped a little while the guard was coming.

— Right here officer, here’s the door yes. He’s still sleeping, yes, a lazy freak he is… — John Billyhorn spoke in his grumpy manner.

— Turn around, sir, leave us. He’s needed to be… — The guard, probably a huge man, judging by his deep voice, didn’t finish the phrase, but Tief knew what he meant. Through the planks he saw the great pike that the guard had…

The guardian of peace opened the door in one great swing move and looked inside.

Inside, there was no one.

— Huh? — He grunted confused. Tief was there, on the ceiling of the room, flat, his tail between his legs. Now.

Tief dropped on the floor holding the pike by the shaft, sticking it into the ground and rushing past the guard and John Billiehorn. The guard shouted in shock. Tief’s lower back still hurt sharply, but he ran. To the fence and over it, onto the street…

There were two more guards. One of them got time to blow in the whistle, and thus alerted the other. Tief hesitated before running away with all the stamina he had, hungry, wounded. He was running for his life.

The morning lights were shining bright, the sun rising, people were waking up. It was around 10 o’clock in the morning, and the city was already sprouting with life.

Tief knew a route. On the bazaar he rushed to one specific place in the backstreet, and there easily and fastly climbed a wall. One of the guards almost hit him with his halberd. Now, on the roofs, he could get anywhere he wanted.

Running on the red roofs of Revenland, he soon got the chase off his tail, leaving the guards alone in the streets, tricked.

`Iya rohtuneht

Iya hefhed-le-ekem

Roht-e oameht

Iya’llyr bedtekem`

He instinctively sang, feeling his ancestry's magic flow. His pain got numbed, and stamina somehow reloaded.

And he ran, ran fast, until he reached the highway. There were many carts and coaches going in and out of the city. He sneaked down on the ground and sat by the way. He was hoping to get out of the district, and then to some better place. Blood rushing, heart thumping in his chest loudly, Tief let himself relax a bit.

Here is a good cart. With hay, and that was all. Quickly, he stood and rushed to walk by it’s side. No one was looking at him, which was strange, considering his looks. He felt it was magic, but didn’t have time to think about it. He jumped in the hay, and hid there. Breathing through the hat to have some better air, he laid there, relaxing.

Hay in the district. Maybe it was coming from the Emirpal district? There were mostly farms, perhaps this cart was just passing by…

It was pure luck to find a cart like this. A single horse, the rider, and a lot of hay to hide in.

— Didn’t even… break… a sweat… — He spoke, at first feeling fresh but suddenly feeling tired, and the pain in his back coming in a great wave, strong enough to knock him out completely…

...he woke up after some time. His first thought was “I am a wanted man”, before he looked around in the hay scared. Memories came back and he tried not to whine from the pain in his back. This was no good, he needed rest. But where? He felt paranoid. Anywhere he would go he would be met with dangers. And there…

Where was he now?

He carefully looked out of the hay, towards the cart’s direction of movement. Other than horse arse and the tired looking farmer, he saw only one thing.

Golden plains of wheat. As far as the eye could see, and a little town in the far.

— Holy name of Ueid! Fiend! — The farmer shouted scared, startling the horse. Tief backed away, showing himself.

— Please, have mercy! — Tief shouted instinctively, covering himself. — I just needed a lift, I’m sorry sir! I-I can pay!

The farmer had a pitchfork by him, and now had it in his hands. He stopped the horse.

— Ayh? Pay? Who's ya fiendling!? Tella name!

— I-I’m…

— Now!

— Ex! — He said. It wasn’t his true name, but it was close to it. He didn’t trust anyone to give them his true name.

— Ex? Aight aight, — The farmer said putting the pitchfork away. — Ex! How much do you have, in coins?

— T-thirteen coppers… — Tief lied bluntly.

— Nghrh… Give me five of ‘em ‘n ye’ll be fine. Just sit in ‘ere, c’mon! Give the coins!

— Y-yes sir… — He tried not to tinkle his fortune, and tried to act sad to give such a big part of his already small balance. He pulled out not five but six, giving them to him.

— P-please, I need to see my dad…

— Shoo! Shutcha and sit still, bunny- — He said taking the coins and putting them in a little linen pouch.

Tief gulped nervously, sitting by the man, who now was looking nervious.

— Knew’t, Ueid… Knew’t there’s s’one in’e cart ay… Is that a cithara?

— N-no sir, this is a lute.

— You stole it.

— No! It’s a gift…

— ‘en play somethin’. — Was the dry answer of the man. Tief uncomfortably took the lute and cleared his throat. Tuning it, he put the hat with the letter on his own head, and played the first chord. The man raised a brow of interest.

`When you ridin’

Past fields of rye

Shining gold

That pleases’ the eye-

When you ride

Your way back home

Know there’s someone

Awaits you to come-`

— What’s that song?

— I-I made it up just now sir-

— Are you reading my mind? How do you know about my wife?

— I-I- sir, forgive me, but I am not gifted with the quirk to read minds. It was just a poking guess… — Tief said, still playing the tune.

— ...aye like it. — The man said, looking a little thoughtful. — Ya know ‘at song, “Raise yer cup, an’ bottoms up, bottoms up!”, aye?

— I know it yes!

— Oi matey! Play it, let’s sing together-

Tief asked for a moment to tune the lute, and then nodded. The man started singing, very out of tune:

`Aye who’s coming with me to walk long way’t’e’sky?

I love boozey, let’s jus’ drink that thing dry

Whatta place, whatta place ‘ere to be-

Have a cup fromme bottle, hava’drink ‘ere with me!

Raise yer cup, bottoms up - bottoms up!

Raise yo cup, bottoms up - drink it up!

Aye who’s comin’ with me to a quest?

Whoza comin’ with me, oh with me an’e rest?

Whoza comin’ with me, whoza comes is the best

Whoza coming with me, raise yo cup - take a rest!

Raise yer cup, bottoms up - bottoms up!

Aye raise yer cup, bottoms up - bottoms up!

Raise yo cup, bottoms up - drink it up!

It sounded awful, truly, but Tief managed to fit the bad rhythm and the horrible accent of the man with a suitable melody. The man demanded to sing again, and thus the song was sung thrice.

— Phew, ‘ery nice...

— Actually the song’s different lyrics sir, it goes…

— Do aye look ‘ike I care? Tis’ my cart, I sing the way I want.

This… Was a good point, truly. Tief thought about it. “My cart, my songway” - that was the idea he got solid.

— Aight, here’s your coppy matey, ‘atas nice. — He threw Tief one of the coins he gave him, and laughed a little madly.

They soon arrived at that town Tief saw from a distance. Tief thanked him, and walked off. The sun was setting, and he needed to find a safe place for tonight.

Tief walked through the streets, and finally had some time to think.

— I’m in another town… Where do I go next? — He didn’t quite believe the letter he still had in his hat, nor did he trust that Profaiv Avlis person.

School of Tieflings… What was that? He didn’t know at all, he didn’t even dream of going into a school for he knew he wouldn’t have the money for that. He learnt to read Common by walking through the city with Seth, as he showed him the signboards of different merchants. “Butcher”, “Smith”, “Locksmith”, “Clothing”, these words he learnt to read first. Then Seth teached him how to read and write whatever he pleased. Many walls in the docks were covered in meaningless word-experiments, “oongooloostoo”, “biblidygook”, “vararansque”...

Tief stopped.

There were several town people looking at him, but it wasn’t bothering him much right now. What catched his interest was a large sign by a three-story building.

Tavern Duglew

Was written on a wooden sign with pyrography. Tief easily read the word “tavern”, but “Duglew” was a little odd for him. He thought a little bit.

It was getting dark, late evening, and inside the tavern there was some light. Tief inhaled and with courage walked in.

The insides of the house were pretty poor: several square tables placed in rows, chaotic placement of chairs made it look like they were dancing around each other. There were some people - all humans, a mature woman and two men, all smoking cheap weeds and looking at Tief confused. The woman spoke first.

— Bar’s closed kid. Shoo-

— I need a room. — Tief said confidently. He knew he had the money, and could afford the luxury. He never slept in a real bed before, but saw those through the windows and in Billiehorn’s house.

— A room?

— Yes. For two nights paying in advance. — As Tief said this, the faces of all three went long.

— Y’see lil’ pal, it ain’t for free y’know…

— How much?

— Half a stag for a’nite’n’day. — One silver coin for two days? Tief couldn’t believe his pointy ears.

— Here I have one, show me a free room, — Tief said, pulling out the coin. — Servin’ food?

— Offerin’ ‘eakfast’n’lunche deal. — The man with darker and longer hair said.

— Good then.

After a quarter of an hour, Tief was in his room alone. Hungry and his stomach growling, he thought about what to eat. There must’ve been leftovers in the kitchen which he could have bought, perhaps… Not leaving anything in the room, he walked out of it and downstairs. There were several new patrons, four men drinking and talking with each other quietly.

Walking to the dark haired man of the staff, Tief spoke.

— So is there anything to eat, sir?

— We have some bread and cold stew. Want me to heat’t up a bit, chum?

— Sure, how much will it be?

— Seven coppers.

The said coins were already being placed on the counter as Tief nodded and walked to take a seat at one of the tables. Everyone here seemed pretty friendly, though he still kept his ears sharp and eyes peeled.

He ate the pork stew, and the bread, now feeling so sleepy and tired… Tief slowly made his way to his bed and found himself sleeping tight.

Tief didn’t have dreams, he had memories. Some were pretty distant, some current, but now he was thinking about the Billiehorn Roost. He remembered petting the peepers several times when nobody watched, these fluffy little chicks…

Then, unexpectedly for himself, he woke up covered in cold sweat. He found it difficult to breathe, laying on his stomach. Confusion grew into fair fear, because Tief couldn’t move. Outside it was late night, but he could see in the dark as if it was nothing but slight dusk.

— ‘s he asleep? Y’sure?

— Shutcha, let’s-a see… — Behind the door of his room the familiar voices talked among themselves. Tief made a crippled sound, trying his best to move a muscle.

— The dreamnut must’ve got ‘im ‘lready, ‘ike a log he’s… — One of the men said, opening the door with an audible creak.

Tief made a scared squeak, looking at the silhouettes of the two.

— Ueid of all saints!

— Easy, it’s only his glowin’ eyes, focking fiend’s a liver huh. Take his cithara, — One of the male silhouettes said. Tief wanted to scream, trapped in his body and unable to move at all. His head felt dizzy, he had trouble telling where’s the ground and where’s the ceiling.

— Look in’e chest, ‘s goods mus’be ‘ere… — Said one while the other tried to walk past Tief, who was laying helpless on the bed. Tief teared up huffing into his pillow as the men looked for his money.

— Look a’dat! — He raised the pouch with the tiefling kid’s money. — He’s a thief-ling oaye mate?

— Shall’e kill ‘im?

— Aye-

`Dohtiekem hefhed ilthyahkem bedtast ardoht’seht-`

— Whot was’at? Y’said something?

— A-nope-

Tief was feeling fear and hate, raw magic flowing in his mind and forming in subconscious thoughts in the ancient language he knew from very birth:

`Cesshokekem oht’neht yahkemou’roht bedt-lackoht hekheme’art’seht-`

One of the two men coughed a little into his fist. Tief was hearing thunder in his mind. The other man stepped to him and pulled the pillow from under Tief’s head-

`Dohtiekem hefhed ilthyahkem bedtast ardoht’seht

Cesshokekem oht’neht yahkemou’roht bedt-lackoht hekheme’art’seht

Hefhede’elyr tayem’hekem webrathekhem ohthefhed mehtekem-`

The man pushed Tief to lay on his back and placed the pillow on his face, smothering him.

— D’ya hear ‘at?

— Prolly ‘e wind- — The second one answered coughing once more, now uncontrollably while smothering Tief.

Tief tried to hold his breath. He was afraid to die. He was betrayed, he was poisoned with paralytics, he was helpless and robbed, but in his mind was still reading the darkest curses known, even when slowly drifting asleep, unconscious:

`Hefhede’elyr tayem’hekem webrathekhem ohthefhed mehtekem

Sehtwall’oweb yahkemo’uroht bedtraineht’seht ayemn’doht dohtiekem

Dohtiekem, dohtiekem, dohtiekem-hefhedoroht’ekemveroht-`

At this point, Tief was prepared to see Seth in the afterlife, drifting to complete darkness. He heard something distorted, but couldn’t tell what it was. He heard his lute falling on the ground, but was too late to think about it…

#school of tieflings #scofti #scofti chapter

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howlingbarnes · 7 years

Text

Falling Up - Part Six

Characters - Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count - 2555

Warnings - Fluff, Language, Drinking, Vomiting, Cliffhanger

AU - Prof!Bucky

Song - Falling Up by Mike Dupree ft. Maddi Jane

A/N - This is my one of favorite parts. Finally to just us and Bucky.

Falling Up Masterlist

Your hair blew in the breeze as you kept your face slightly out the window while the car glided down the road. In an attempt to sober yourself up, you somehow figured this was the best option.

You were wrong, all it managed to do was mess up your hair and make your face cold. After rolling the window back up, you looked over at Bucky who seemed too focused on the road before him to notice your drunken antics. He looked so serious and deep in thought. His hand gripped the leather of the steering wheel tightly while the other rested on his leg. You looked over his features for the millionth time, still in pure awe of the Barnes genes.

“Bucky?” You barely peeped, causing his eyes to leave the road instantly. They flashed between your face and the street in front of him.

“What’s the matter, doll?” He asked while turning down the radio. “Are you feeling sick? Do you need me to pull over?” He left no time for answers between his questions but you could feel him easing off the gas pedal a bit.

“No, that’s not it.” You answered, honestly a bit shocked that he cared about your well being this much.

“Did you change your mind?” He adjusted his grip on the wheel as he spoke. It was almost like another nervous tick, but you couldn’t be sure in your drunken haze. “Y/N, do you want me to bring you home instead?”

“Home?” You chuckled and laid your burning forehead against the frigid window. “No, I want to see where you live, dear stranger.” You reassured him, as you began to write on the condensation forming from your breath.

“Are you sure? I mean, heh, I’ve seen your house.” He paused for a beat and raised a brow at you. “I don’t think my place stands a chance.” He sounded almost as if he was trying to convince you that his home was the last place you wanted to be.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You slurred as your drawing into the window began to actually take form. Bucky cleared his throat as the car slowed to a stop in front of a large, brick apartment building.

“Nothing bad, I just…I’m a bachelor. I don’t need much.” He shrugged before reaching over and unbuckling your seatbelt. He froze for a moment, looking out the window as if he was lost in thought. Meanwhile, in your drunken state, you could feel your face gravitating closer and closer to the crook of his neck. His body heat was astounding but his scent was drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Just when your nose was about to make contact, he turned his head. The five o’clock shadow on his face lightly brushed against and scratched your cheek. His eyes locked on yours, the look on his face perplexed as he wondered what you were doing.

“You smell really fuckin’ good.” You blurted out and Bucky couldn’t help the laugh that vibrated his throat as he sat back up.

“Thank you. Put these back in your pocket.” He replied, pulling your keys from the ignition and handing them to you before stepping out and going around to open your door. “You ready?” When he asked, it almost sounded like a warning more than a simple question. You looked up at him while your hand slipped into his, which was open and waiting. As much as you tried to brace yourself, the second you stood, you felt the Earth shift and your balance quickly gave out. Bucky was fast to catch you, his thick arms wrapped around your waist.

“Do you need me to carry you?” Though the question was a joke, Bucky realized just what he’d gotten himself into the second your face lit up. You said nothing, but the way you smiled told him everything he needed to know, still he asked. “You want me to carry you?” His tone was flat and the question was obviously rhetorical, yet you nodded to let him know that you were serious.

“Alright,” he sighed, “How do you want to do thi-“ his words were cut short when your arms snaked around his neck, you jumped up and wrapped your legs around his waist. “Yeah, this is gonna be easy.” He sighed, reached under your thigh, into his pocket and pulled his keys from the pocket of his jeans. You buried your face into the warm crook of his neck and closed your eyes, inhaling his smell and enjoying the rose as he carried you to his apartment. One of Bucky’s large hands gripped the back of your knee and the other held the keys but rested gently against your back.

After an interesting struggle getting to and unlocking his door, Bucky lowered you to your feet. HIs scent became much more intense than it had been before, filling your nose and infiltrating your senses. Your vision blurred for a moment before the small room illuminated. Compared to the family home that your parents pretty much handed to you, Bucky’s studio apartment was the size of your master bedroom.

“It’s nothing like your place but - uh - hopefully it’ll do.” You could almost feel the embarrassment radiating off of Bucky as he spoke. He dipped his head shyly and pushed his hands into his pockets, but you shook your head and smiled a bit.

“Are ya kidding me?” You slurred, “This place is perfect! S’cozy and cute!” You exclaimed as your smile widened so big that it was contagious enough for Bucky to smile back.

Suddenly, you felt a heat rush over your body. This wasn’t a pleasant heat, and nausea accompanying it was making matters worse. Your inebriated mind wanted nothing more than to tear off the uncomfortable business suit you’d been wearing for the past nineteen hours or so. That’s precisely what you did; button after button, you ripped your shirt open. Your slacks quickly followed, joining the small pile of your belongings that was already forming on the floor right by the door. Bucky watched with a mixture of confusion and shock plastered on his face.

“Whoa!” He nearly shouted as he rushed to close his door, being sure that none of his neighbors would happen to go out into the hall and catch a glimpse of you in your lingerie. “Wh-wh..what’re you doing?” He barely managed to get his words out.

“M’hot.” You mumbled before stumbling forward to double over across the back of the leather armchair that sat toward the middle of the room. “Don’t feel good either.” It wasn’t until you groaned and your legs decided they didn’t want to hold you up anymore that Bucky came back to his senses. He rushed to your side to catch you before you hit the floor and brought your arm across his wide shoulders for support.

Bucky helped you through the small room to the even smaller bathroom. The moment your bare feet hit the tiled floor, you basically fell to your knees in front of the pristine porcelain bowl. You felt the warmth of Bucky’s fingers brush across both of your cheeks and the loose strands of hair in front of your face disappeared as he fisted your hair in one hand, careful to just hold it and not tug. He crouched down behind you, his knees rested gently against either side of your rib cage. A violent gag shook your whole body, the lump in your throat shifting slightly and your mouth began to salivate. The only thing making you feel better besides the thought that this would be over soon was the soothing circular motion Bucky’s free hand was rubbing into your back and the way he shushed you. He stayed with you the whole time you lost your lunch…and dinner, being sure to praise you after each outburst with “That’s good, get it out” and “You’re okay.” The only time he left your side was when you finished, allowing you time to compose yourself. He had even given you a new toothbrush and a washcloth so that you could freshen up.

“How ya feelin’ champ?” Bucky chuckled as you emerged from the bathroom barely sobered up and still only in your lingerie set. You looked at him and grunted. “Do you want some clothes?”

With his hand extended, offering a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. You pouted and nodded, taking the clothes from him.

Getting on the clothes turned out to be more of a task than you were expecting. Holding the pants low and only a few inches from your leg, you had lost count of how many times you’d picked up your leg, struggled it close to the hole of the sweatpants before losing your balance, and putting it back down. Bucky, however, hadn’t lost count; this was the fourth time you’d done it. Though he was fighting the urge to laugh, he knew you weren’t getting anywhere. He made his way behind you and gripped your waist tight enough to hold you in place. After finally getting you into the pants, he grabbed the t-shirt and held it at the ready for you to pop your head through. When you did, he tugged the material down, waited for you to get your arms in, and pulled it the rest of the way down.

“Bucky.” your voice came out small as your hands fell gently on his chest. His shoulders tensed, the dim light of the room danced within his brilliant blue gems as they stayed fixed on you. Your fingers played with a loose string on the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing.

“Yeah?” He replied. His voice was breathy, barely above a whisper. His eyebrows raised in anticipation of your answer.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” You watched Bucky’s shoulders relax after you uttered the words. “I’m sorry, it just looks really comfy an-” he put up his hand, cutting your words short.

“It’s alright, I know you don’t feel well. Of course you can sleep in my bed.” He answered, gesturing toward the unmade bed. He smirked before guiding you over to and helping you into it.

The moment you laid down your head, the room began to spin and shake. Bucky turned to you, concerned after flipping the small desk light off when tortured moans and groans started to come from you. He found you curled up in the fetal position, wrapped up completely in his comforter, your body gently rocking and your eyes squeezed closed tightly. Unsure of what to do, he sat in his armchair and waited for it to pass.

After a long thirteen minutes, Bucky came to realize that you weren’t going to fall asleep on your own. You needed something more than a warm bed. He chewed on his thumb nail and his leg started bouncing as he sat and thought of what would help you.

“Fuck it.” It wasn’t long before he verbally convinced himself to go through with his idea. Any other time, the feeling of the bed sinking down behind you under Bucky’s weight would’ve felt like just that but not right now. Right now it felt like you were on a carnival ride, the ones that jerk you around and make you feel lightheaded.

“Come’re.” That was all he said. When you flipped over to face him, he was watching you expectantly with a pillow on his lap. His fingers wiggled, gesturing you to scoot closer. Bucky’s fingers instantly started caressing your head, the soft locks of your hair sliding between his fingers like water. He continued this until your breathing calmed and evened out. You weren’t expecting what happened when you closed your eyes; Bucky began to recite a poem. His voice had to be, hands down, the most soothing thing in that moment. As much as you wanted to stay awake and hear the whole thing, you were out like a light just before the last verse.

“And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent”

Bucky had finished the poem, unaware that you had passed out only a moment before. A light snore emanated from you, making Bucky chuckle. Finally, he pulled his fingers free from your hair. He couldn’t help but stare at you, admiring how beautiful you were. Even after you’d been sick, even though you were drunk off your ass, you were still gorgeous and Bucky took note of that. He etched this moment into his mind, burned in a special place within him forever before slowly and carefully sliding from beneath you.

The next morning, you woke up in a way you hadn’t in weeks. You woke up calm, peacefully, despite the hangover, and not by the doing of an alarm or a phone call. Sunshine poured through the tan curtains, filling the room with its happy welcome of a new day. At least, that’s how you would feel if sunlight wasn’t your worst enemy at the moment. Taking in your surroundings, you realized that you adored the tiny apartment even more now that you could actually see it. Next to you on the nightstand was a large glass of water and two aspirin. Though you were sure you’d never been more thirsty than you were in that moment, you couldn’t fight the urge that was pushing at the back of your mind.

As quietly as you could, you slid out of the warm cocoon you spent the night in and padded lightly over to the large armchair where Bucky was still asleep. Your heart melted at the thought that he chose to sleep in such an uncomfortable spot just so that you could have his bed.

Standing behind the chair, you hovered over him. You drank him in; the sunlight brought out the memorizing color of his hair and his skin looked softer than you could comprehend. You were starting to notice things about Bucky that you couldn’t believe you missed before. For instance, how did you not see those amazingly long eyelashes? Or how about the cute shape of his ears? Bucky was gorgeous…he was also starting to wake up. There was nothing you could do from where you were to even try to look natural, so you didn’t. Bucky’s eyes fluttered open and the first thing that came into view was the upside down face of a girl that took too many shots the night before.

“Morning.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “How are you feeling?” He asked, unphased by what he woke up to. You groaned before walking to the side of Bucky. Sitting on the arm of the chair, you rested your elbow on his shoulder.

“I feel like shit.” You glanced at the clock before returning your attentions to Bucky, “And before you even ask, no, I’m not going to work.” Bucky laughed, his toothy grin dazzled even in the morning before a brush.

“Good, I wanted to hang out anyway.” He stood and started for the bathroom. “Let’s start with breakfast, you need something greasy.”

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#falling up #falling up part six #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #prof!bucky au #prof!bucky x reader #marvel reader insert

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