#thunderous fics
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Little Disaster - Unexpected Chaos
6.5k of chaotic boyfriends suddenly having to manage living with a baby.
Gift for @lvnesart for the 4ggravate exchange (@4ggravateweek)
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#thunderous fics#4ggravate#I finally wrote them 4 together and not divorced TT#alhaitham#kaveh#tighnari#cyno#genshin impact fanfic#sumeru boys#4ggravate Exchange 2023#4ggravateExchange
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Echo that thunders
Bucky Barnes x female reader
summary: The life you and Bucky built has crumbled. Or so you think. But maybe some ruins can be reconstructed, if true love is given a chance?
warnings: angst; lots of feels; hurt/comfort; divorced couple; mention of past infidelity; marital problems; both Reader and Bucky are self-blaming and self-punishing idiots; and obviously are still deeply in love; they need therapy and I encourage that; reconciling intimacy (yes, I mean sex with feelings and tears); Alpine is almost squeezed to death with love (truly affectionately);
word count: 6k
Author's Note: This is my entry for Eight Types of Love challenge from @the-slumberparty. I took a twist on pragma: exes with feelings.
Bucky Barnes Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Every week the hollow in your chest would ache and you’d try to cram it with sweetness of fleeting moments: catching the pure joy and love on your little boy’s face, mulling your sorrow with pastries that you’d eat alone, then quiet your longing with laughter and shouts of your friends.
You made it look like it was easy, like you didn’t die a little every damn Friday when you drove your son to his father’s place.
Maybe you’d feel better if it was the mother missing her baby boy for the weekend, but the wounds opened not for the few days of empty nest, but because seeing Bucky ripped you to pieces.
You wouldn’t avoid it, though. He loved your son so much, was so happy to spend every possible day with him and you would never take that away from either of them.
Even if it hurt.
Truth be told, you wouldn’t let anyone take that away from you, either. Because the pain of seeing Bucky was also sprinkled with that fluttering, bittersweet feeling. Love that you still harbored.
You didn’t think it was possible to ever stop loving Bucky.
As you proved, it was possible to divorce him, but it didn’t sever the hold he had on your heart and soul.
So you welcomed the ache in your chest as an invisible iron fist clenched its cold claws around your heart, when Bucky smiled and waved at you from the sidewalk in front of his building. You knew he waved at your little boy, who was already bouncing in his seat, but you couldn’t help the smile spreading on your lips in return.
“Hi, rascals!” Bucky greeted you, the same way he’s been greeting the both of you ever since your son was born.
He waited for you to round the car after you parked it, loosely wrapping an arm around your middle and giving you that awkward half-hug.
You assumed it was as awkward for him as it was for you, though for different reasons.
Bucky was simply nice, trying his hardest to maintain a good rapport with you for the sake of your son, while he had to be repulsed by you inwardly. For you, the hug was difficult, because you always craved to bury yourself within his arms and feel that protective, loving hold.
“Hi,” you smiled and ducked under his arm, before he noticed that pathetic longing shining in your eyes.
You went to retrieve a small bag and backpack with Stevie’s clothes and belongings, while Bucky unbuckled your son from the car seat and scooped the boy up in his arms. Joyous squeal “Daddy!” melted you all over again, reminding you how ecstatic the boy was every time Bucky returned home - no matter if he’s been gone a few days on a mission, or just an hour running errands.
When you turned to them, the sight of them grinning at each other froze you on the spot. You were aware that Stevie shared some of Bucky’s mimics, but it was that moment when your boy pressed his cheek to Bucky’s and they both looked your way with lopsided grins that shattered your heart into pieces.
You squashed the flare of sorrow inside, saving it for later when you’re alone with a pint of ice cream.
Bucky had suggested a couple of times that he could come pick Stevie up from your place, but you were too scared of seeing Bucky back in the apartment where you all used to live together. Where the love and happiness were supposed to be forever.
You were scared he’d come inside and see that you still had a few photographs of him on the shelves.
You reasoned that it was for the sake of your son, so that he felt his dad’s presence at all times, but you couldn’t fully let go of Bucky yourself.
“Hey,” Bucky took the bag from your hands, but left you holding Stevie’s backpack. “Can you come upstairs for a second? I wanted to talk something over.”
He always invited you under the pretext of talking over some details regarding Stevie, but ended up dealing with it in two sentences and then coaxing you into a neutral small talk that left you all the more missing him.
Yet you couldn’t force yourself to say no.
“Sure.” You nodded, squeezing the strap of the small, red backpack in your trembling fingers.
Bucky’s apartment, which he got after you filed for divorce, was small, but clean and spacious enough for a four year old and a cat.
Alpine stuck her head from behind a wall when you entered. She made a tiny meowing sound and walked forward, but the second Bucky put your son on his feet the cat bolted away. Stevie of course followed, running after the furball with glee.
“So I know there’s still plenty of time to plan summer vacation-” Bucky started, leading you toward the counter separating the kitchen from the living room- “but Sam invited us to Louisiana, to spend a few weeks at his sister’s place.”
“Oh.” It was instinctive, that very first thought about your baby boy being away for weeks. In a different state, nonetheless.
However, you promised yourself to not be an overprotective, controlling mother. And you trusted Bucky with your son at all times.
“That sounds fun.” You relaxed your shoulders and smiled. “I’m sure Stevie will love it. Especially if you take him on a boat.”
He was in a marine fascination phase. At least once every few weeks you had to go to the aquarium and turn on Discovery channel instead of morning cartoons.
“Maybe I’ll manage to re-do his bedroom, while he’s away with you,” cogs in your brain started turning. “It’d be a fun surprise when he gets back.”
“Won’t you need help with that?” Bucky asked, perking up. “We could do that on the weekend when he’s with your parents? You know I’d be happy to help. We can rope Sam into it, too.”
He sounded so eager. For a fleeting moment you enjoyed the warmth at the thought of the two of you doing something for your son together, but you quickly reminded yourself that Bucky would do absolutely anything for Stevie, including dealing with your presence.
“Umm, sure,” you swallowed nervously, “if you’re not on a mission.”
You regretted saying it, seeing a flash of guilt on Bucky’s face.
It was a sore subject and bringing it up hurt you both.
You always admired Bucky for what he did, how much he risked to save others. It didn’t change the fact, however, that saving the world meant neglecting you at times. He tried his best, you knew he did. Still, it hurt when you spent some nights and celebrations alone.
“We’ve made some changes on the rooster.” Bucky didn’t look at you as he talked, instead focusing on taking out ingredients from the fridge. “It’s doable to book some dates as non-active.”
“That’s good!” You tried to sound genuinely happy for him, while inside you felt a wave of rage that the accommodation wasn’t made when you needed it in the past. “All of you deserve rest and to, you know, live your private lives, too.”
“Yeah.” Bucky’s shoulders drove up in tension even as he nodded.
You stayed quiet for a long moment, the sound of your son’s giggles coming from the bedroom where he chased Alpine filled the space, but didn’t ease the sudden heaviness.
“I better-” you started at the same time that Bucky began:
“Do you want to-”
Both of you paused, but before either motioned at the other to finish, you were interrupted by a pitiful meow and soft paddle of your four year old’s feet.
You both turned and watched your son wobble as he carried Alpine. Though carried was a bit of a stretch to describe two tiny arms tightly wrapped around the upper half of the cat’s body, with its head barely sticking out and two front legs sticking upwards while the rest of the furry body dangled down.
You quickly covered your mouth to stifle the burst of laughter, but Bucky behind you couldn’t help the snort.
“Buddy.” He moved around the counter and crouched in front of Stevie. “Alpine knows you love her lots and want to play with her, but this is a bit uncomfortable for her.”
You thought the cat is an actual saint for not having yet scratched Stevie for all the love she was getting from him.
“Hey!” You chimed in, reaching for the small backpack. “You forgot about the present you have for Alpine.”
“Mousey!” Stevie dropped the cat almost instantly and ran towards you.
“A present, huh?” Bucky placated Alpine, scratching her behind the ear while she rubbed against his leg.
“Made it with mommy!” Your son beamed proudly after you fished out the small toy from his backpack. “For artses-” which was his version of saying art classes. “But mommy said it’s perfect for Apine.”
It was a bright blue, slightly askew, crocheted mouse. With a very, very long tail. You thought it would be perfect for Stevie to hold the end of the tail and slide the mouse across the floor, so Alpine could chase it.
“It really is,” Bucky nodded, noticing that the soft toy had caught Alpine’s attention. “Why don’t you run around with it, play nicely with Alpine, while I make us spaghetti?”
Stevie didn’t have to be told twice. Alpine seemed eager for this kind of play, as well. Chasing a new toy surely was more preferable than being squeezed to death.
Bucky straightened. His tall, broad figure filled your vision. He was much closer now, with no counter separating you. He looked after your son fondly, then his soft gaze switched to you. Not for a second did the affection fade in his eyes as he looked at you.
“Thank you,” he almost whispered, touching your shoulder gently.
You wanted to blurt out that there was nothing to thank for, but you understood what he meant. The same way you were grateful for his concern whenever you had a cold and he took Stevie so you could rest (bringing you some chicken broth on his way), or that he picked you up when your car died. The small gestures each of you displayed, that betrayed care neither of you seemed to be able to lose.
Bucky’s hand slowly slid down your arm and because you were so lost in the blue of his eyes and the tenderness of the moment, you forgot to brace yourself for the small sting that his touch brought when he passed your forearm.
You winced.
Unfortunately, Bucky noticed.
Instantly, he stilled. His hand remained on your forearm, but his touch eased. His gaze flicked from your face to the spot covered by your sleeve and up to your face again.
“What is it?” Worry pinched his features. “Are you injured?”
He moved even closer, angling his head so he could maintain eye contact with you, even though he towered over you. He gently took your wrist into his metal hand and carefully rolled your sleeve up.
“It’s nothing. It’s-”
Words died on your tongue when Bucky’s gaze hardened, a muscle in his jaw twitching, as his gaze landed on the injured spot.
There were no visible bruises. Not to you, anyway. You mostly felt the tenderness of that area than saw any marks. But Bucky’s senses were enhanced and he definitely could see the difference in the smallest changes of your skin, the barest hint of different pigmentation.
And, much to your dismay, you could never lie to him.
“Who did that?” Bucky kept calm, but you sensed the concern bursting into protective rage inside of him.
“Someone, who is no longer in the picture.” You replied, tilting your chin up. “I may have not expected it happening, but once it did, I wouldn’t chance it repeating.”
The whole attempt at dating was so uncomfortable for you, but seeing some pap pictures of Bucky with an unknown female had made you impulsively agree to the fifth invite from a guy from accountants.
It was irrational and irresponsible - as some of your past mistakes. There was nothing that suggested Bucky and that woman were connected in any way beside the work area. They weren’t even alone in that place. It’s just that he had his hand on her back and she was giving him a flirtatious smile.
Well, your jealous brain told you it’s flirtatious. The same brain that forgot to remind you that it was no longer your business if and whom Bucky was dating.
So you went on the stupid date yourself, feeling all kinds of wrong during it. Then got a glimpse of what shit you almost got yourself into, when you wanted to end your date short and the guy called you a tease. His hold on your forearm when you tried to leave was forceful enough to leave a painful reminder.
“I’d still like to know the name.” Bucky’s gaze shone a dark glint; plates in his metal arm moved in a reflection of muscles tensing.
“No need.” Placing your free hand on his chest to soothe him was a habit, you didn’t even realize you were doing it. “I promise you, he won’t ever find himself near Stevie.”
Bucky frowned at that. Suddenly, he was letting go of your arm and cupping the side of your face instead.
“Baby,” it slipped out of his mouth as mindlessly and naturally as you touched him.
“I know you’d never let anyone hurt our son. But no harm should come your way, either. The guy deserves having his fingers dislocated.”
Bucky wasn’t a violent person. His past, which was beyond his control, painted a certain picture that some people still believed in. But you knew how soft-hearted and kind he really was. He used force and combat in missions, but his teammates knew he would be the first one to show mercy and pull back his punches.
However, he was protective. And when he entered that mode, he could be very scary.
Your fingers on his chest clenched slightly, gripping the fabric of his soft, blue henley; as if you were trying to stop him from marching away and finding whoever posed as a threat.
You felt the steady thud of Bucky’s heartbeat beneath your palm, the rhythm of his breath. You sensed the moment his muscles slightly relaxed.
“How about-” hands cupping your face slowly slid down and away, but Bucky didn’t put any distance between you- “you stay for dinner and we’ll talk more about it later?”
There was nothing to talk about, really. Or maybe there was, but it shouldn’t be Bucky giving you the talk. His concern only messed with your head and your heart, leaving you with incomparable longing and aching solitude when you went back home.
You opened your mouth to refuse his proposal, but your son suddenly found himself nearby and torpedoed your resilience.
“You gonna stay mommy?” He looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes.
Bucky and you made sure to be together for important events like Stevie’s birthday, or kindergarten recitals, or even for the 4th of July. But day to day everything happened separately. You didn’t share meals, or walks, or trips the way you used to when you were married.
You were aware of the impact it had on your son, but one can’t be divorced and still spend every day with each other.
However, you couldn’t find the strength at the moment to crush your son’s unexpected spark of joy at the prospect of something so simple like spending the afternoon with both of his parents.
You couldn’t deny your deep, wallowing desire to spend some more time in Bucky’s presence, either. As self-harming as it could be.
“Um-” you swallowed nervously as you looked down at your little boy. “Yeah- yes, I’ll stay. You know I always liked your daddy’s cooking.”
Your heart nearly burst when Stevie launched himself forward, wrapping his small arms around yours and Bucky’s legs. Then he was running away, with even more bounce to his skip than before.
To your relief, Bucky easily switched the topic to casual conversation as you joined him in the kitchen to help prepare dinner. He told you a few latest, funny stories; gushed about a new book series he started reading; asked about your dad’s knee surgery.
Falling into this comfortable pattern of domesticity with him was too easy. Like you haven’t been living separately for the past year, nursing deeply hidden resentment (which you expected from Bucky) and heartbreak. You knew it would hit you harder when you got back home, step into that silent, empty bedroom, which once upon a time was your nest of safety, laughter and love.
All of which you blew up.
You didn’t protest too strongly when Bucky fed your son an extra portion of ice cream after dinner, you were too distracted with your own ache that was spreading its nasty vines over you.
You played with the melting scoops in your own bowl as Bucky picked up a half-asleep Stevie and carried him to the bedroom. Alpine trotter right after them. From the occasional pictures that Bucky sent you when Stevie was staying at his place, you knew that the cat would jump onto the bed next to your boy and fall asleep with him.
When Bucky returned and sat beside you on the couch, his presence almost toppled you into a sobbing fit.
Once upon a time, you’d cuddle on the sofa in your living room and talk for hours, or watch shows, or make out. Even sitting in silence, while Bucky read a book and you browsed social media, was comforting and easy.
There was nothing easy about it now. Because that desperate need to crawl into his arms and have him chase the sorrows away couldn’t be sated.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” Bucky’s quiet voice surprised you.
You blinked as you looked at him, slightly confused with what he was talking about.
“I know you’re responsible and very strong. You’re more than capable of looking after yourself and don’t need my meddling in your intimate life.” He said, staring down at some spot and not meeting your eyes.
The words intimate life sounded as if he almost choked on them.
“I know it’s too late to mend what I fucked up.” He sighed, bowing his head even lower.
Your heart ached, seeing him so resigned.
“James Buchanan Barnes, what the hell are you talking about?!” Instinct to rush to his aid kicked you from your stupor.
The anger at yourself heightened as once again you saw first hand how much you hurt him. Bucky wasn’t flawless, but he didn’t deserve what you’ve put him through. To know that your actions added to his tendency to self-blame, only made you hate yourself more.
“It was me who fucked everything up.” You countered, setting the bowl on the coffee table with a loud thud. You shifted on the couch, turning your body so that you could face Bucky directly.
“I broke what we had. I- I broke your heart and you never deserved such awful treatment!”
Neither of you deserved all that pain, but it was on you to take the responsibility for it.
“I’m not gonna lie, the divorce hurt more than falling off that damn train…” Bucky’s voice quivered with emotion; his fingers shook slightly as he wiped his palms on his thighs.
“Divorce?” You paused, slightly stunned. “I mean, I know it was hard. For both of us. But I knew I needed to set you free after what I’ve done.”
It was Bucky’s turn to frown, his muscles pinching in a quizzical look as if he didn't understand what you were aiming at, at all.
“Bucky, I cheated on you!” You hissed loudly, but minding your voice enough to not wake your son.
There it was. The heaviest of truths which triggered the whole domino effect and which both of you avoided naming directly.
But Bucky deserved it - you admitting your faults. There was enough on his shoulders and you couldn’t stand the thought of him taking this burden onto him as well, when it was yours to pay for.
Bucky’s face cleared of confusion, however his frown deepened.
“What I know is that you were hurt, alone and inebriated. A state some douchebag took advantage of.” There was an undertone of anger in his tone, but not directed at you.
You shook your head in exasperation.
Leave it to Bucky Barnes to be an understanding, chivalrous knight. It was a wonderful trait, but shouldn’t apply on all occasions, to all people. It definitely should be directed at you. As much as you’d love to follow that reasoning, you had enough self-awareness and responsibility to not go easy on yourself.
“Being drunk doesn’t excuse what I did.” You stated.
“It wouldn’t, if that was your aim.” Bucky argued. “But tell me, did you go to that bar because you were looking for a hookup? To get back at me?” He rushed with his counter arguments.
When you tried to turn your head slightly to avoid his gaze, he squeezed your chin between his fingers and gently guided you to look back at him.
It was hard. To face him when the memories of that awful evening replayed in your head, bringing back a wave of shame and regret. You vomited three days in a row after that night; and only the first half of the first day was due to the alcohol. All the rest was stress and guilt.
“No, you didn’t.” Bucky continued when you remained silent.
“You went there, because it was our anniversary and I wasn’t home. I was on a mission. Again,” he sighed regretfully, aware of how his absence weighed down on you. “You went to the bar which we often went to on our dates, before we got married. Probably cursing my ass for absence on another important day and drinking the pain away.”
That was true. Your parents took Stevie for the whole weekend, starting Friday. It was supposed to be a carefree, romantic time for you and Bucky. Even if he would need to just be lazy in bed for an entire day, to recharge after a mission, you still would be together.
While Bucky returned from one mission, he jumped onto another one right away. He called you to say that he’d be later than he first anticipated, but in the craze of it forgot what date exactly was it.
You were understanding. Or, well, you tried to be. There was a whole monologue you gave yourself as you paced the floor of your apartment, convincing yourself that your husband was saving someone. So that someone else could return to their family.
But you still felt bitter and angry that your husband didn’t return to you for something that was supposed to be important to the both of you.
When you went out to that bar, which wasn’t that far from your place, your plan was to have a drink or two and wallow in self-pity. Perhaps to be passive-aggressive, take a picture of yourself all dolled up and send it to Bucky with happy anniversary wishes.
That was it.
Then that man joined you. For a conversation, at first. Two drinks turned into four. Then five. To be honest, at some point his face got a little blurry. He had dark hair, like Bucky. Had his arm wrapped around your middle the way Bucky often did.
At some point your drunk brain was certain it was Bucky fucking you, not some stranger you just met at the bar.
“I could’ve chosen to stay at home.” You argued, clenching your fingers into fists so hard that your fingernails needled your skin.
“I could have drunk a bottle or two of wine alone in the safety of our home and sent you angry, slurred messages. Or wait for your return and throw something heavy at your head.” There were so many choices to be made that night.
“Instead, I made a mess of our lives…” the words fell out of your lips in a broken whisper, your eyes filling with tears.
“And I forgave you.” Bucky said softly as he released your chin.
“Hell, I don’t even think I was angry with you.” He huffed, running a hand through his hair in a nervous manner. “Oh, I was pissed and hurt!” He gave you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to protest. “I even tracked that man and… well, let’s not talk about things that thankfully didn’t happen once I saw him.”
“Most of all, I was angry with myself,” Bucky suddenly deflated.
“Why?” You frowned, barely stopping yourself from reaching out to caress his cheek.
“Because I let it happen.” Bucky sighed and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. “It was my constant absence that started those clouds over our heads. I was so focused on redeeming myself that I took on more missions than I should.”
A part of you wanted to contradict him, to convince him that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. But there was also a part of you that was still resenting him for doing that, for constantly choosing others over you.
“I think I also wanted to feel needed, which is why I joined teams even though they could’ve handled things without my presence.” He shifted again, sitting across the couch with one leg bent, so he could face you fully.
He was more hesitant as he reached out for you again. Though you didn’t flinch away, he still dropped his hand as he revealed his own guilt:
“I forgot that you needed me, too.”
You still did. But you wouldn’t dare to tell him that.
“What you do is important. You save lives.” You said quietly, but there wasn’t as much heat to it as you’d like to present.
“I didn’t save us.” Bucky’s words opened the gate to the feelings you tried to stifle for many months.
You almost lifted your fist to angrily rub away the tears threatening to spill, but Bucky reached for you faster. His warm palms rested on your fists; he squeezed them gently.
“Baby, I remember when you mentioned therapy.” He admitted, wincing at the memory of signals which he ignored. “You tried to say it so casually, I know you were afraid of telling me directly that you needed me to save our marriage. I dismissed it.”
“You hate therapy. I didn’t want to force you into it.” There wouldn’t be any point in attending any sessions, if Bucky would stay guarded.
You understood his hesitance, too. The mandatory therapy he went to a few years back was hard for him, not only because of the topics he had to deal with, but he didn’t feel emotionally safe or comfortable with the appointed professional.
“I disliked my assigned therapist.” Bucky pointed out, with a slight eye roll. “There are hundreds of therapists in this city. I’m sure there’s at least one that I could connect with.” Suddenly, he shook his head. “Or hell with how much I like a therapist, it should be about me connecting with you!”
He let go of your hands and cupped your face instead.
“I wonder-” he leaned forward, closing the distance between you. “I’ve been wondering, if I didn’t fuck up by signing those divorce papers so easily.”
He did it without much questioning. Which only strengthened your notion that he was repulsed by you and couldn’t wait to be as far from you as possible. You didn’t blame him.
“I understood that. After what I’ve done.” You whispered.
A single tear rolled down your cheek, stopping on Bucky’s thumb.
“I couldn’t look you in the eye, because I was so ashamed. I wanted to give you a chance to find someone worthy of you.” More tears flowed.
Bucky tenderly wiped them away.
“I don’t think I’m worth a single hair on your pretty head.” He said, resting his forehead against yours. “I signed those papers, because I thought you were going to find happiness with someone else. That you wanted to build a life with someone else.”
“I don’t think that’s possible.” You would shake your head, if Bucky wasn’t holding you in place.
If his hold didn’t feel so overwhelmingly wonderful.
“Why not?” Bucky asked, incredulously. “You’re the most amazing, kind, smart, beautiful-”
“Because I’m in love with you.” You blurted out.
Your eyes widened when you realized what you said. Scorching shame mixed with a sudden wave of cold fear as Bucky slowly pulled away and stared at you in shock.
He was still cupping your face, though.
“Say that again, baby?” Bucky’s tone was a whisper, like he was afraid he’d burst some magical bubble if he moved or spoke louder. “Please,” he squeezed your cheeks slightly.
Maybe the best choice would be to take those words back. Or to start listing all the arguments to why it didn’t matter. But you couldn’t lie to Bucky. You never could. Especially not when he was looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes, filled with hope.
“I love you, Bucky,” you confessed. “I never stopped loving you.”
Tears streaming down your face were warm, but they felt much colder when compared to the warmth of Bucky’s lips on yours.
He kissed you with reverence and despair, like the first gulp of breath after drowning in murky waters for much too long. There was nothing but his closeness, beckoning you like a flare in the darkness. You followed the coaxing of his lips, the unspoken vows he sealed with his mouth.
You weren’t even fully aware of your body moving, yielding to Bucky’s smooth maneuvers. Until the full weight of him rested on top of you.
He provided both that shield of safety and heavy temptation that had your legs spreading to accommodate him.
“I never stopped, either.” Bucky croaked out as he broke the kiss; his lips still brushed against yours as he spoke.
“I love you so much. So much, baby.” It crushed your heart to see his own cheeks glistening with tears. “Please, can we try again? Let me mend it. Please.” He begged.
Bucky sounded so helpless and so hopeful at the same time. If your heart was set in cold stone, it would still shatter for him like a fragile glass.
“I should be the one mending it,” you pressed your fingertips to his cheek.
“Us. We’re going to do this together,” he briefly closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.
“Always together,” you agreed and tipped your lips upwards, tempting Bucky into another kiss.
Months of distance surely added fuel to the fire of need, but Bucky’s touch always had the power to ignite your desire. Him being on top of you, the kiss deepening, his hand traveling down your side - your body responded instantly.
You wrapped your arms around him; one hand combing through his hair, the other mapping his broad back. Your legs were already spread to accommodate his hips between yours, but as Bucky continued to kiss and touch you, your knees drew up higher and your hips rolled against him.
Bucky’s responding grinding was most welcome, but he suddenly froze.
“Baby,” he groaned, almost in pain. “I don’t want to ruin the moment, but if you keep doing that I’m going to lose it.”
“Need you,” you whined.
You grabbed a fistful of his hair and slipped your other hand beneath his blue henley. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at him and rocked your hips into his once again.
“Need to feel you!”
For months you were deprived of any intimate touch, somehow not in the mood to even give yourself a release with your pitiful toys. To even think of anyone beside Bucky ever touching you like that made you nauseous. And you missed it so much!
Missed the way Bucky played your body. The way he felt inside of you.
“Bucky, please!” There was urgency in your tone that made Bucky snap to attention.
His gaze held yours for a moment longer, as if assessing that you were as sure as you sounded. A glint brightened his steel blue eyes and he swiped his tongue over his bottom lip in the most sensual way. That had your clit pulsing wildly.
“You always beg so prettily,” he murmured against your skin as began chaining kisses along your jawline. “I’ve got you, baby.”
Bucky braced his weight on his metal arm as he used his other hand to pull up the layers of your tulle skirt. You shivered, nipples pebbling, as his touch shifted to the inside of your thigh and wandered upwards.
He pressed the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, finding your panties already damp. It wasn’t a novelty how quickly your body responded to Bucky’s ministrations, but it seemed that longing for him sped up the process.
Bucky swallowed your moan in a messy kiss as he pressed harder on your nub. While you loved the way he sometimes drew this pleasure out, how long he could spend just fingering and licking you, it wasn’t what you needed at the moment.
You dropped both of your hands to his hips then slid them between your bodies to fumble with Bucky’s zipper.
“Fuck!” He cursed, dropping more of his weight onto you when you freed his cock out and wrapped your fingers around him.
“I’m afraid I won’t last long this time,” he groaned, tugging the fabric of your panties aside. “I’ll make it up to you, baby, I promise. But, fuck, it’s been so long since I felt you-”
“Uh-huh,” you nodded fervently, not really listening to him.
All your focus was on that throbbing need that spiked even higher as you guided the tip of Bucky’s cock inside you.
It was everything - the stretch of his girth spearing through your neglected pussy, his scent and warmth, his mouth sucking on your neck, his moan at the feel of your tight walls gripping him - that had your body seizing in the most rushed climax. Already, while he was barely halfway in.
You dug your fingernails into Bucky’s hips as your legs shook; your upper half curling up, face buried in the crook of Bucky’s neck to muffle your cries of pleasure. Your walls clenched so hard it was almost painful, then fluttered in a crescendo of aftershocks.
“Sorry, sorry,” you babbled, falling onto your back and squirming as the orgasm continued to tingle in every part of your body.
“Sorry?” Bucky choked on breath. “My girl cumming for me so fast is an ego boost beyond any other,” he chuckled.
He always had the ability to make you fall apart rather quickly, but that was a new record. Provided by suppressed sexual tension and emotional connection you were deprived of for so long.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Bucky cooed as he continued to slide into your fluttering cunt, “I’ll give you more.”
He shifted his hand, so that his thumb brushed over your swollen clit. He moved with no rush, but each of his thrusts was deep, nearly painfully so. As if Bucky sought more of that connection; needed it as fiercely as you.
As promised, he made you cum again. Then shuddered within your embrace as he followed you over the edge. And though your heart was thundering in your chest from the exertion, it was the first time you felt complete and at peace since a very long time.
You welcomed Bucky’s full weight as you laid spent, your hands drawing soothing patterns on his back. His cock was still nestled inside of you; neither of you wanted to lose that intimate connection too soon. You rested, listening to each other’s breathing and soaking in the comfort of being together.
When Bucky fucked you again a while later, it was more languid and sensual. He made breathless vows of love, curling his metal fingers around your throat and squeezing just enough to spill more of your warm tears. He confessed his need for you in his life as he increased his pace, tilting your ass with his other hand, so he could spill deeper inside of you.
In the morning, as he woke up early with the intention of going to the bakery and getting fresh treats for your family breakfast, there was so much brightness in Bucky’s eyes. So much love and happiness, like on the day your son was born.
As you looked at your own reflection in the mirror in his bathroom, you saw the same spark in your own eyes.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#eight types of love challenge#the-slumberparty#navy and roo's slumber party#echo that thunders#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagine
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and a yellow moon glowed bright
Years later, when Ivypool herself is only a memory and before she’s completely lost to time, she’ll look over ThunderClan, wherever they might be, and still look for her daughter in every face.
The stories have it wrong already, and the truth will be dust before long. Bristlefrost isn’t alive in their memories. She’s twice-dead, drowned in black, choking water, a light snuffed out too soon. Bristlefrost was the prodigy — the daughter cats dreamed of, the first to find her voice and her paws, the leader of her siblings, the apprentice who did not graduate even earlier than she did because there was no prey in the forest to be found, not because of any failings on her part.
Cats starved, that long winter. Not Bristlefrost. Never her daughter, her clever, resourceful last-born. And she had once occupied this spot, designated for deputies, even though she’d never had an apprentice of her own. Would never have an apprentice of her own, now, even though she deserved it more than anything. Even though she’d deserved to stay deputy, but had given the role over with a smile, no hint of dark ambition in her gaze.
Ivypool steps into the deputy position under a brand-new leader with a whisper instead of a bang, the pounding of blood in her ears the only reminder that cats had been here before — that cats had died here before, and that Bramblestar’s first deputy becoming leader was a fluke, an odd quirk of fate. It hasn’t been done in living memory, nor long before that. Leaders do not usually step down, and when they do, they rarely stay with their Clan, or even within reach of their territory. First deputies do not often become leaders in turn. Usually this event is a bittersweet one, with a body or bodies laid out in the clearing, their eyes closed swiftly to avoid the rigor of after-death, but this is almost-peaceful, with only the murmurs of those who could not easily accept change as detractors.
Ivypool will die long before Squirrelstar. She’s—surprisingly okay with this, but she thinks she’s been at peace with her death since before Hollyleaf had stepped between her and a deathblow from one of the only friends she’d ever had.
(“You were my friend!” Ivypool screams in her worst nightmares, Hollyleaf’s blood dripping from her pelt.
“I was never anyone’s friend,” Hawkfrost murmurs in return, something aching-sad in his voice, Hollyleaf’s lifeless form pinned under his claws. “I was born to what I am. We’re the same, you and I.” He pushes the black cat away from his paws with disgust — not for the body, but for Ivypool herself. Blood bubbles from the horrible wound at the corpse’s throat. “She should have been the one,” he says sometimes, in the ones that shatter her already pieced-together heart. “She died in your place.”
“I know,” Ivypool says, and she does know — she knows it more than anyone else alive.)
“It should have been Hollyleaf,” she says to Squirrelstar, quietly, at the end of one of their dusk meetings.
Sorrow flashes in Squirrelstar’s gaze, but it’s buried as soon as it comes. “It’s you,” she says. “It has always been you.”
It is not a truth — not in the way Ivypool remembers them from her childhood — but it is not a lie, either. Hollyleaf chose her, in the way dying deputies might choose their successor. She is always an echo of another cat burned by starlight. It is a comfort, sometimes. In others, she begs the spirit who’d saved her life for mercy, for clemency, until she runs out of breath.
(“I’ll find her,” whispers a voice Ivypool had almost forgotten, in dreams she forgets as soon as she wakes. “I’ll walk the skies ceaselessly, I promise you.”
But there is no bringing Bristlefrost back, and a part of Ivypool has died with her.)
When Ivypool wakes, her Clanmates breathe around her, steadying her rabbit-quick heart. Fernsong’s tail wraps snugly around her flank, Thriftear curled only one nest behind, and she does not lose her breath at the way Flipclaw’s dark tabby stripes curl over his spine. She hasn’t in a long time, she knows, but the impulse is there, sharp as ice underneath her ribs.
(She’d once thought his brown tabby pelt a punishment from the stars. She loves her son, would give her life for him, but the feeling that StarClan may have meted some punishment down in the shade of his pelt remains long after he’s received his warrior name.
She’d begged Bramblestar to give him a suffix that was as unassumingly kind and silly as her son always was. Instead he’d given him -claw, as if to remind her of her failings. She is not sorry to see his form slip into the elders’ den, bereft of the nine lives he’d once so jealously hoarded.)
#ivypool#thunderclan#bristlefrost#squirrelflight#squirrelstar#brambleclaw#bramblestar#flipclaw#thriftear#fernsong#waca#warrior cats#wc#wc fic#thunder spoilers#ivypool's heart#i wrote this a while back and then the erins punched me through a brick wall with that super edition announcement#and i have to wonder if they're using 'heart' because they're trying to erase the OTHER 'heart'#which. yeah. yeah.#crazy how that works#work in progress#if they fridged a woman to fridge another woman i'm going to riot
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So there's a take that crops up every so often in the Breath of the Wild fandom, and it goes something like this:
Windblight Ganon is such a piece of cake! If Revali were as talented as he claimed to be, he wouldn't have been defeated by it, so clearly he's just an arrogant blowhard.
I disagree. Because while Windblight might have been relatively easy for the player to defeat, circumstances conspired against Revali in every possible way.
Strike 1: The Blight Ganons were tailor-made to defeat the Champions
While it's not stated outright, the Blights seem to be custom-made to put their respective opponents at the worst possible disadvantage. So while Link can avoid the whirlwinds on the ground, they would be very disruptive to Revali's Gale (something he's only been able to do consistently for a short while). Arrows, too, can easily get blown off course by the wind even when using a heavy bow (so can a Rito, who is presumably lighter than a Hylian).
If, on top of that, it was raining (implied by memories #16 and #17), then Revali's favoured bomb arrows would have been useless. Not a great recipe for a fight.
Strike 2: Rito don't see well in the dark
Botw is a game that doesn't tell you a lot upfront, but you can find a wealth of information in every little corner. Case in point, in Gerudo Town there's a Rito named Frita. And she has a very interesting tidbit to share if you talk to her at night.
[Image ID: A Rito named Frita in Gerudo Town says: "Us Rito... We haven't got the best night vision, to be honest."]
When the Calamity emerged, an unnatural darkness blanketed the land. A darkness that persists from its appearance all the way through Link and Zelda fleeing and their final stand at Fort Hateno, up until Zelda temporarily sealed the Calamity (memories #15, #16 and #17).
That’s without even mentioning the laser show Windblight Ganon puts on. Ever encountered a car with LED lights on a dark road? Now imagine how Revali felt.
Strike 3: Revali had to fly non-stop for hours to get to Medoh
After sinking some hours into playing botw, you probably get used to warping all across the map via the shrines. Going from Lurelin to Rito Village is a matter of seconds. And if the Sheikah had been able to unlock the Sheikah Slate fully in the past, that would have been a massive boon to the war effort.
Unfortunately, they didn't. Which means that, when Calamity Ganon emerged, all the Champions had to take the long road to their Divine Beasts.
Now what does that mean for Revali? We can hazard a pretty good guess, but we don't have to, because the art book tells us: Revali flew straight from Lanayru East Gate to Rito Village. It's hard to tell exactly how long that would have taken him, but I'm estimating that would be about 8-10 hours flying non-stop.
[Image ID: A map of Hyrule showing the presumed routes the Champions took to get to their Divine Beasts. Revali's is a straight line across Hyrule.]
Which means Revali (like the other Champions) was probably already exhausted by the time he got to Medoh.
Aaaaaand that's three strikes, he's out!
But if that's not enough for you yet, here's one more thing. Admittedly, this is less solidly canon than the previous parts, but it's conjecture that, in my opinion, is backed up by the Champions' Ballad DLC.
Strike 4: Revali lacked his best weapon and may have been injured
The artbook shows us another salient tidbit. Revali could have detoured if he wanted to, but he didn't: he flew in the straightest possible line across Hyrule Field.
Hyrule Field, better known as the center of the chaos at the time.
Can we really expect a Champion, especially a Champion who's so eager to prove himself, to not stop and at least try to help? And while trying to help, what might have happened to him?
When you fight the Blights in the illusory realm, you gain a set amount of equipment, implied to be what the Champions carried with them at the time. And with Revali, something's missing.
[Image ID: The bow inventory during the DLC fight against Windblight Ganon. It includes a Falcon Bow, Duplex Bow and Phrenic Bow.]
Where's the Great Eagle Bow?
Would Rito Champion Revali, greatest archer in known Rito history, really not be carrying his signature bow, when every other Champion carried their favoured weapon?
This, combined with his route straight across Hyrule Field, makes me suspect that he did engage the Guardians, lost his bow, and may even have gotten injured in the process.
So there you have it. Just about everything was against Revali in that fight. And while Link, and by extension the player, may have had an easy time of it, they went into it at full health and with all the advantages of the Sheikah Slate.
Meanwhile, Revali arrived at Vah Medoh after a frantic hours-long flight only to be thrown into a fight he didn't expect against an opponent tailor-made to counter his every move, while he was unable to see properly and lacked his best weapon. And he still managed to put up one hell of a fight.
#botw#revali#meta#look I didn't write my first botw fic about this very thing just to have this nonsense persist#Revali is exactly as good as he claimed to be#and the Champions were thrown into a fight that had them at a massive disadvantage#(sidenote: Urbosa doesn't have the Thunder Helm either even though it probably could have saved her)#(Presumably she didn't want to detour when they were so pressed for time and she didn't expect a fight on Vah Naboris)
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What's Eight Plus Seven?
Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five
Pizza order successfully placed, Steve dials Robin's number next. He doesn't need to talk long, just... hear her voice. Maybe get some verbal support.
"Buckley residence."
"Thank God it's you," Steve sighs in relief to hear Robin's voice on the other end. There was a little bit of dread that her mom might have answered and then he'd be stuck on the phone while she tried to chat with him.
"Whoa. Was hosting the nerdfest that bad?" Robin asks, laughter in her voice.
"Uhh," Steve starts, because he's eloquent like that.
"Oh no. Was is that bad? What happened?"
He feels a flood of warmth for Robin's immediate concern. "No, no, nerdfest was fine. I, uhh, mostly I'm calling because Eddie and I are gonna, like, hang out and talk and I just- I dunno. Wanted to hear your voice, first."
"Oh. Really? Well. Here's my voice. This is you hearing it."
He laughs at that. "Thanks. It's just, I think it's gonna be, like, a bathroom floor kind of conversation, except in my living room on a couch."
"Oh! I can be there in ten if you need me."
"Nah. This is just- me needing to hear your voice, and also a warning that I might have to crawl through your window and fall apart on your bed later. Just don't know how this is going to go."
"I'm here if you need me. Are you going to talk about Freshman First Day?"
"We, uhh, already did. Mostly. There's been apologies and now we're gonna talk. Get to know each other. Play 20 questions, I guess."
Robin laughs at that. "Alright. Ask him if he's ever going to get me the sandwich he owes me from back in November."
"What?"
"You know, his whole cafeteria speech thing? Stepped right on my ham and cheese. It did make him slip and almost brain himself, and he did apologize. Told me he owed me a new sandwich. I never got it. Ask for me."
"We'll see. Okay, I'm going to go but, thank you. Love you."
"Love you, too. Window will be ajar."
Steve hangs up, then opens the fridge. He debates grabbing them beers but opts for soda. Back in the living room Steve finds Eddie sitting like a normal person on the couch, one leg bouncing relentlessly. Even with his superficial knowledge of Eddie, he can tell he's nervous. Not nervous Eddie would be perched on the back of his couch, ruining the cushions with whatever junk is on the bottom of his shoes. Probably.
"Soda?" Steve offers, plopping himself on the other end of the couch, hand outstretched for Eddie to take the beverage.
"Thanks." The bouncing of Eddie's leg pauses for a moment while he's opening and chugging half the can in one swift motion, then the bouncing starts again.
"Hey, man, relax. You didn't seem nearly as nervous when you were trying to sneakily hang out earlier."
Eddie lets out a big sigh. "Yeah, well, I didn't know you hated me then."
"I don't hate you."
"Oh, shit, no. Not what- I meant, like, past tense. Hated as in, used to hate. Not present tense."
"Ah. Well, I don't think I 'hated as in used to hate' past, like, three months into my freshman year. This is going to be the most self-absorbed shit ever, but, like, once I became popular, I couldn't be bothered to hate you. Didn't have the time to put towards that."
"Oh, of that I've no doubt. That was absolutely the read everyone who tried to interact with you got."
Steve ducks his head to hide his own embarrassment by fiddling with the can in his hands. "I thought you wanted to do, like, 20 questions or something."
"Oh. Serious? You'll do it?"
"Yeah."
"Right then. What even are the rules for 20 questions? Is it 20 questions each, or in total asked?"
"I dunno, man. I don't think people actually keep track. I think we just ask questions until we're done with talking. I guess the rules are don't lie, and if you don't want to answer a question, then don't. Pass on it, or whatever."
Eddie nods but he's still nervous, leg still bouncing. A look on his face so close to fear it makes Steve ache a little. He knows too well what far looks like on Eddie, experienced a week's worth of it.
Steve can start. Ease them into this. "Do you got a favorite color?"
Eddie shifts then. Turns sideways on the couch to lean against the armrest and face him. "Wait. One more rule. No mocking answers. You may laugh once at an answer."
"If you are about to tell me it's hot pink, I cannot follow that rule."
"It's not hot pink. Jesus. It's, uhh, brown, actually," Eddie says, rolling his can between his hands. "It used to be red but. I dunno. When I think of red, now, I think of the sky in the upside down and how that was almost the last thing I ever saw. I think of blood, and bleeding out."
And here he thought he was easing them into this with the most basic of questions. Eddie's already being vulnerable. "Follow up question, if you'll allow it. Why brown?"
"What's wrong with brown?"
"Nothing. Just thought you'd pick black or something," Steve gestures to all of Eddie.
At that, Eddie looks down at his mostly black outfit, the only part of it with any color is the DIO album art on his shirt, then back up. "Fair point. I guess brown just makes me think of home. The wooden porch, the paneling, brown dirt road that leads to the trailer. It's also, like, a good eye color. Exhibit A," He waves his hand in front of his face, batting his eyes exaggeratedly. It pulls a laugh from Steve.
"I can't argue that," Steve waves towards his face, where his own eyes have been described by many a girl as ranging from hazel to honey, but Steve just thinks of them as brown. "Your turn, man."
"You, tragically, had never heard of Ozzy before we met. What's your music of choice, and why is it the Top 40?"
"Like everybody didn't hear you singing along to I Wanna Dance With Somebody last week when it came on the radio at the Byers' Barbecue-"
"Whitney is a national treasure and I will not be slandered for knowing the words to any of her songs."
"Yeah, yeah. I guess it was just the Top 40, but really I don't have a preference. I just let other people pick the music. And, uhh, with the multiple concussions I don't listen to as much music as I used to. The migraines are brutal. It's never the music that brings on the migraine but like, it never helps, y'know?"
Eddie is nodding. "I do know. Like when you get sick and vomit, you avoid the last thing you ate, even when it turns out to be the flu and not food poisoning. Like, you know it wasn't the mango milkshake that made you throw up, but you avoid the mango flavor anyway."
There's definitely a full story in that somewhere. Maybe Steve will ask about it later. "Kinda? I don't avoid music but I don't think I've put a record or cassette in the player in months. Anyway, my turn. How'd you learn to play the guitar?"
"Wayne. He started teaching me before I live with him. Just a few chords when we'd visit every so often when I was little. Really got to learn after he took me in. I was eleven, if memory serves."
"Am I allowed to ask about your parents?" Steve interrupts.
"Yeah. Speaking of parents," Eddie's nervous again, bouncing his leg.
"It's your turn. Ask."
"I know the high school reputation. Big house, no parents. I might have even snuck over a few times to sale here when I knew a party was happening. Rich kids will pay whatever price you name, y'know? So, guess the actual question is, what's the deal there, with your parents?"
Steve would laugh except he has no memory of ever seeing Eddie at his house prior to all the fuckery that's gone down. He was too in his own head to bother with other people back then. And the real kicker? He probably bought from Eddie, at his own house, with his supposed grudge and all. God, he was such a dick. "Yeah. Lots of business trips, for them. The used to ship me off to spend a month with my grandparents when I was little, so they could take those trips. Guess once I was old enough to watch after myself, those trips started to happen whenever, instead of just over summer."
"What, they left you here alone as a kid? Even during the school year?"
Eddie sounds so scandalized it'd be funny if it wasn't so sad. Steve says, "I wouldn't say kid. I was fourteen, so, like, a teenager. But, yeah, gone a lot. More and more with each passing year. I mean, they've been back, but like, for a day or two. Mom switching out what jewelry she wanted and dad bit by bit emptying his office." He pauses with a frown, remembering now the last time he did see his parents face to face. "It was about halfway through senior year. The last time they were here. They didn't even come to my graduation."
Eddie sucks in a breath and Steve can visibly see him hold back some choice words.
"Anyway, long sob story short, I'm still just a rich kid with absent parents. They don't charge me rent or anything, but I pay to keep the lights on."
"That just adds so many more questions to my list."
"Well, it's my turn now, so. What got you into Dungeons and Dragons?"
Eddie looks surprised, and then guilty. "I've always liked fantasy. And, uhh, my Freshman First Day, the DnD booth was set up in the cafeteria, an okayish looking dragon drawn on the poster taped to the booth's edge. And, uh, I approached..."
"No one told you to fuck off?"
"I didn't tell you to fuck off."
"Might've hurt less if you had," Steve hadn't even meant that to be insulting, or insinuating, but it doesn't land. He'd been aiming for teasing and missed the mark, given the way Eddie jerks back, like he's trying to put more distance between them. "Oh, shit, Eddie, I didn't mean- I was-"
The doorbell rings out and both jump, turning to the front door like it might bite them. The bell chimes again, and it's then Steve remembers he ordered pizza. Wordlessly Steve gets up and deals with that. Pays for the pizza and gives a tip, stops in the kitchen long enough to grab some napkins, then folds himself back onto the couch, placing the pizza box on the cushions between them.
The time away from the couch, less than three minutes in total, Steve thinks, was enough to calm Eddie again, since he starts the teasing, "greasy pizza box directly onto the cushions! That'll never come out you know."
Steve shrugs and grins, flipping the box open to grab a pizza slice. "That's a problem for Future Steve."
Eddie grabs his own slice, and they just eat their first slices in silence before Steve breaks that, "I really wasn't trying to- earlier, I was trying to joke. About Freshman First Day. Not, uh, not like, pick a fight. So, if you still want to talk, I think it's your turn to ask a question. Any question. A big question."
"Alright. A big one. Who is Christopher?"
"Okay. Uh, just, give me a moment. I'll answer and I'm gonna be real honest right now with you, so just let me get through this, ok?"
Eddie nods, reaching for a second slice of pizza.
Steve gathers his thoughts, and speaks. "Christopher was my cousin. His family lives in Washington, so I don't see them much. You know that 'shipped off to the grandparents' thing I told you about earlier? Christopher, and his younger siblings, Amber and Robert, also came out to visit.
"I think my grandparents loved to have us all there. My cousins were there for family time, and I was there to just... not be in my parent's way, I think, but the reason why doesn't matter. The important bit. Christopher was two years older than me, and I thought he was the coolest person in the world. I wanted to be just like him. That last summer we spent together, he told me all about the game of Dungeons and Dragons he'd played with his club at school.
"It made me want to play. I was a kid who loved fantasy, too. I had to pretend to leave that behind when I got into middle school; too afraid of disappointing my dad for still liking make believe. I didn't know at the time that making him proud was just something I'd never achieve.
"Anyway, Christopher introduced me to the game, told me the entire campaign they'd run at his school, and then sent me those books. He's the reason I was at the booth that day. If Christopher could play sports and be a nerd, maybe I could, too? But, uh, that didn't go how I planned in my head. And, then. Then," Steve stops here, a knot in his throat but his eyes dry. It's not that he doesn't still mourn the loss of Christopher, it's just that the tears have dried up long ago. "Christopher committed suicide, that year. Halfway through the school year. I think... I think even if I had joined your club, if you had let me take that flier, I would have dropped out after the funeral. I'd wanted to join so bad so that Christopher would be proud of me."
The room has lost focus, now. Steve is staring forward but he doesn't really see Eddie anymore. It's like he's fallen into his thoughts and nothing else exists anymore. "It's a bit fucked up, but being older than me, I think I looked for approval in him that I didn't find in my dad, or maybe I wanted to be him because his parents were so proud of everything he did and I wanted that. Approval. I- it's- I think I used to confuse the two. Approval and love. Maybe I still do? I dunno.
"I guess I just wrapped all that up, the need for approval, Christopher's suicide, my love for fantasy, and shoved it in the same bottle deep down that I kept my anger at you in," Steve blinks himself back into the present. Takes in Eddie's face, a mix of sad and fond, like he wants to wrap Steve in a hug. Steve would probably let him. "That wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry."
Eddie shakes his head no. "You don't have to apologize to me, Stevie. I get it. You wore your jockness that same way I wear The Freak. Like armor. You weren't wrong, earlier, when you said we were dumb kids who learned to lash out and hurt first, so we couldn't be hurt. I was fucking, no, I am still like that. I mean, I just lashed back out at you when all you did was point out how I'd acted to you."
"Yeah, well, life gives everyone a shit hand sometimes. I used to capitalize on that. Kick people when they were down. It's- it's humbling and, like, awful, to unpack that. I know I'm still working on it, but I didn't have to do it alone. Robin and Dustin have been there for me. Great. They call me on my bullshit and it's easier to take then, hearing it from people I know who care about me."
"Guess I better ask find someone to call me out then."
"Haven't you already?" Steve asks, gesturing to himself.
Eddie barks a laugh. "I- yeah, I guess. You sayin' you care, Harrington?"
"Of course I do, man. We wouldn't be doing this -talking about deep shit and getting pizza grease all over my couch- if I didn't."
He watches Eddie turn red, and hide behind his hair. "Could just be doing it for the kids."
"I could. Guess you'll have to trust I'm not. That I also want a do over."
Eddie shoots him a big smile, dimples on full display, and Steve's happy to let go of his grudge if it means Eddie will smile at him like that more.
-
((Looks like there's going to be one more part. Thought this would be the last one but the boys wouldn't cooperate so next part.))
#steddie#my fic#what's eight plus seven?#platonic stobin#Steve is a recovering rescue dog and Robin is his thunder blanket#dialogue heavy. like. so heavy#they're 'playing' 20 questions so like the whole fic is just talking
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alright which BoB fics are we adapting… bonus points for predicting who they’d cast
#band of brothers#hbo war#for ME I would like to see: part five of rivers always reach the sea#and under thunder and rain#come and make the hymns of you#the history of our flesh#I guess this is just a fic rec post in movie clothing#can’t even consider who they’d cast as Eugene…#mike faist babe heffron ?#and like. Nicholas galatzine as joe. David corenswet for web
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a thunderstorm woke me up and now my veins are running on pure caffeine and (unfortunately) i have jamil on the mind.
so now i'm thinking about what if yuu has an extreme fear of thunder
imagine there's a thunderstorm in the middle of the night.
you've just been weirdly anxious, and when jamil inquired, you begrudgingly admit that you're afraid of thunder.
it's embarrassing. why would you be scared of thunder, they're just loud sounds. it’ll pass.
jamil had to stop himself from making a judgmental remark. even if jokingly.
he’s deathly afraid of bugs, he literally has no place to make fun of you for it.
at least with bugs you can get rid of them, but you can’t just fight the weather unless you’re a powerful mage.
so the least jamil can do is to comfort you.
maybe listening to music sharing headphones.
or make you focus on his voice instead so you don’t pay attention to the loud noises. either by chatting or reading a book together.
of course, maybe he could also use snake whisper on you so your mind would effortlessly cease those fears.
jamil would if you asked. but he’s not going to offer it himself.
(besides, it’s a bit weird if he’s using his unique magic on you again, considering whatever your relationship is at this point.)
and it’s not like that idea would even cross your mind when all you could think about was the agonizing dread of oncoming thunder.
plus it kinda sounds crazy knowingly asking someone to put you under mind control.
every time thunder boomed you found yourself clinging to jamil's clothes. burying your face in his chest. as if you were holding onto him for dear life.
he'd laugh if he knew you weren't deathly afraid of it. so he'd make soothing gestures instead.
the thunder was still unbearable, but eventually you found comfort in jamil’s warmth.
it really helped to drown it out. at least mostly.
this seemed to be a better outcome anyway than forcing you to just forget about it.
and it would’ve been easier, sure. but how many times could you get the chance to cozy up to jamil
and on the other hand, jamil kinda wanted this moment to last. how many times could he have an excuse for "relaxing" with you.
as much as it makes you suffer, him wanting this moment to last longer meant wishing for the thunderstorm to last longer as well.
jamil hopes you can forgive him for being selfish in that regard.
#hi hello i’m offering yall jamil enthusiasts something to chew on i guess???#i don’t have a fear of thunder anymore but this was fun to think about#kinda embarrassed too bc i dont often write hsdkljfalskdj#anyways shout out and much love to all writers bc how do you do full on fics#i barely survived making this bullet point one#[—#twisted wonderland#twst#jamil viper#jamil x yuu#★ my writing#—]#what are the right tags for this uhhhh#perhaps i should stick to drawing#also my heart’s about to explode#vietnamese coffee at night is.
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Canvas of Love
Thor x reader
Summary: a fleeting shadow of jealousy tests the unyielding bond of two intertwined souls.
****
The storm outside mirrored the tempest in your heart as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the rain streaking down your window. It had been a rough day, one that felt heavier because Thor wasn’t there to share the burden. He was away on a mission with the Avengers, something about a rogue Asgardian artifact that needed retrieving.
You missed him, more than you cared to admit. His absence left a gaping void in your life, a void you tried filling with work and friends, but nothing seemed to work.
It was on one of these lonely evenings that you met Alex. He was charming, funny, and most importantly, he was there. You two had hit it off instantly, and soon enough, he became a regular part of your life. A good friend, you reminded yourself. Just a friend.
Thor knew about Alex, of course. You'd mentioned him casually in your conversations. But what you hadn’t mentioned was how much time you were spending with him. It wasn’t intentional; it just never came up. Or maybe you were afraid of how Thor would react.
Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your reverie. It was a message from Thor: “My love, I will be home tomorrow. I have missed you dearly.”
You smiled, a warm flutter in your heart. You typed a quick reply and set the phone aside, your thoughts drifting back to Alex. He had invited you to his art exhibition tomorrow. You were looking forward to it, but now Thor was coming home...
The conflict in your mind was like a knot, tightening with every passing moment.
Thor arrived the next day, his presence filling the apartment instantly. He was like a force of nature—strong, vibrant, and utterly captivating. You ran into his arms, the familiar scent of him enveloping you, bringing an instant sense of peace.
“I missed you,” you murmured against his chest.
“And I, you,” Thor replied, his voice a deep rumble. He pulled back, looking at you with those intense blue eyes. “Tell me about your week. Did anything interesting happen?”
You hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “It was the usual. Work, home... Oh, and I’m going to Alex’s art exhibition tonight. He’s really excited about it.”
Thor’s expression changed subtly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before he masked it with a smile. “That sounds delightful. Would you mind if I join you?”
The question caught you off guard. “Of course not! I’d love for you to come.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Thor was his usual self, loving and attentive, but you couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was amiss.
The exhibition was lively, the gallery buzzing with the chatter of the city's art enthusiasts. Alex’s work was the center of attention—vibrant, abstract pieces that spoke of passion and chaos.
“Your friend is very talented,” Thor commented as you both stood before a particularly striking canvas.
“He is,” you agreed, watching Alex interact with the guests. He hadn’t seen you yet.
Just then, Alex spotted you and made his way over, his face lighting up. “You made it!” He hugged you, a little too long, a little too close.
Thor’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he extended his hand. “I am Thor. It is a pleasure to meet the man behind these extraordinary works.”
Alex shook his hand, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “Thanks, man. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The evening progressed, but the tension between Thor and Alex was palpable. You tried to ease the atmosphere, laughing a little too loudly at jokes, and engaging in conversations a bit too enthusiastically.
As the night wound down, Thor’s mood seemed to darken. You couldn’t take it anymore. “Do you want to go home?” you asked.
Thor nodded, and you both excused yourselves.
The walk home was quiet, the silence a stark contrast to the noisy streets around you. You could feel Thor’s turmoil, his usually calm demeanor now a stormy sea.
Once inside, Thor finally spoke. “Do you have feelings for him?”
His question was direct, his voice steady but laced with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Was it...jealousy?
“No, Thor, of course not. He’s just a friend,” you replied, your voice earnest.
Thor looked at you, his gaze searching. “I trust you, but tonight, seeing you with him... it stirred something within me. A feeling I have not known before.”
You moved closer, taking his hand in yours. “Thor, you have nothing to worry about. I love you. Only you.”
There was a vulnerability in Thor’s eyes that you had never seen before. He was a god, a warrior, but in that moment, he was just a man, in love and afraid of losing you.
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I know, my love. It is I who must apologize. My reaction was unwarranted. You have given me no reason to doubt your love.”
You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love for this extraordinary man who had become your world. “It’s okay, Thor. I understand. But know this, no matter who comes into my life, you will always be the one I choose. Every time.”
Thor kissed you then, a kiss that spoke of love, trust, and a promise of forever. In his arms, you felt safe, loved, and home.
The next few days were blissful, as if the incident at the gallery had never happened. Thor was more attentive, more present, and you felt your bond strengthen.
You decided to talk to Alex, to set boundaries, to make sure he understood that your relationship was strictly platonic. Alex took it well, understanding and apologetic.
As you lay in bed that night, Thor’s arms wrapped around you, you realized how lucky you were. Love, true love, was hard to find, and you had found it with Thor. He was more than a partner; he was your best friend, your confidant, your home.
“You are everything to me,” Thor whispered, as if reading your thoughts.
“And you are my everything,” you whispered back, snuggling closer.
In that moment, everything felt perfect. The past was behind you, and the future was a canvas waiting to be painted, bright and full of love.
And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that no matter what life threw at you, as long as you had each other, everything would be alright.
#thor#thor imagine#thor angst#thor fluff#thor fanfiction#thor fic#thor fanfic#thor god of thunder#thor x reader#thor odinson#thor odinson angst#thor odinson drabble#thor odinson oneshot#thor odinson one shot#thor odinson imagine#thor one shot#thor oneshot#thor odison x reader#thor odison imagine#thor x y/n#thor x you#thor blurb#thor mcu
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toes in, ankles deep
Written for STWG daily prompt: new beginnings
(happy belated birthday to @pearynice and @stevesbipanic since this prompt fell on their birthdays!)
Rating: T | CW: mentions of past drowning, mild cursing | Words: 1078
Steve is determined to swim with Eddie in Lake Michigan.
--
Steve looked out on the serene waves of Lake Michigan, the familiar panic curling around his lungs at the thought of the open water. The sun was overhead and shining bright, and yet he shivered. Steve still had nightmares about the way that thing gripped his leg, dragging him down, down, down under the water and far from the surface.
The memory always brought a roll of shame in its wake, whispering that he should be over this, that it’d been years since nearly drowning in Lover’s Lake, and that there were no monsters hiding in the depths of Lake Michigan.
“Are you sure about this?” Eddie asked, stepping over their picnic to stand beside Steve. “We can walk the beach for a bit before heading back to the car.”
Steve gave Eddie an assured look. “I want to do this. I miss swimming with you.”
Moving to Chicago was their new beginning, and for Steve, this lake was part of their effort forward together.
Their first time to the lake, Steve only made it toes in and ankles deep before retreating to shore. The third time he made it to his shins, and by the fifth, he made it to his chest and dove under the water.
Eddie always wrapped Steve in a soft beach towel afterwards. He pressed kisses and love into Steve’s goosebumpy skin, making sure Steve knew how brave he was, and how proud he felt.
But even though Steve swam many times before, the fear still bubbled up in his chest.
“I’m right here, okay? Won’t let anything happen,” Eddie reminded him.
Steve swallowed and adjusted his grip on Eddie’s hand.
Lake Michigan was rippling glass against the midday sun and Steve shivered as he stepped into the cold water. He watched the water rush over his bare feet before retreating, pulling pebbles of sand from in between his toes. Steve sucked in a breath, remembering how tightly that thing wrapped around his ankle, and how powerless he felt as the surface disappeared above him.
Steve pushed away the thought of how easily he could be pulled in again, even in shallow water. He turned his gaze to watch a group of teens take a running start into the water, stepping and splashing loudly before they dove under and resurfaced with splashes and laughter.
Jealousy made Steve’s shame return; he wished it was that easy for him each time.
“Shh, hey,” Eddie crooned, his voice closer. “It’s okay. We’ve got time. There’s no rush.”
Steve felt the way Eddie’s words softened the harder edges of his panic. It was true, he could take his time. And he knew that Eddie would stand in shallow water as long as he needed.
Steve let out a groan of annoyance. “It just…shouldn’t feel this hard. It’s been like, four years, Eds. Now it’s just getting pathetic.”
“Stevie, you’re so far from pathetic. And the fact you’re determined to swim again despite being afraid is impressive as fuck.” Eddie nodded over to the group of teens who’d now moved on to a handstand contest. “They have no idea there could be monsters in this world. What I wouldn’t give for that ignorant bliss sometimes.”
He gave Steve’s hand a squeeze as he stood on his tippy toes to press a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “I’m right here,” Eddie softly reminded him. “We only go as far as you want to.”
“Maybe you could, um, go first?”
“That can be arranged,” Eddie guided, taking Steve’s other hand with ease and turned so he faced Steve instead of the lake.
Steve looked down at both their feet, seeing that Eddie already stood in ankle-deep water. Determination bit at his fear. He wanted to swim, and he wanted to swim with Eddie.
Eddie took a step backward and Steve took one forward, holding both of Eddie’s hands tightly. He concentrated on their intertwined hands and the sturdiness of Eddie’s steps. Steve’s feet stepped an inch forward and his feet sunk into the sand below.
Toes in, then, ankle-deep.
Another step and Steve was up to his calves.
Then, knees.
Steve never let go of Eddie’s hands and Eddie encouraged him with every step. And when Steve was chest-deep, he tensed. Going under was the second-hardest part, but he’d made it this far. His feet still touched the sandy bottom, and he let out a breath.
Just as something brushed his arm.
He splashed it away with a gasp and Eddie was right there, just in time to see the tangle of seaweed bobbing away in the water.
“Just seaweed,” Steve gasped breathlessly, taking a minute to rest his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. He let out a shaky laugh. Then, he looked ahead to the open water, feeling braver.
“Wanna dive in? Together?”
“On three,” Eddie nodded.
Steve squeezed Eddie’s hand as they counted down, and on three, Steve pushed off the sandy bottom and took his last breath before diving under the water.
The cold hit full force and he resurfaced quickly with a gasp. A surprised smile split across his face as water poured from his soaked hair. He pushed it off his forehead and couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him as Eddie resurfaced next to him. Eddie’s dark eyes looked bigger with his hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks.
“We’re swimming,” Steve laughed.
“We’re swimming,” Eddie echoed. “You did it.”
Steve’s chest expanded as his fear dissipated, letting Eddie pull him closer.
“And do you have any idea how amazing you are?”
“At this?” He shook his head. “Took me a good ten minutes to make it in.”
“But you made it in.” He nudged Steve. “Look at you, conquering fears and making it look easy.” Eddie’s own smile curled into something more, and he leaned into Steve in search of his lips.
“You always make it easier,” Steve confessed before Eddie’s lips, kissing away the chill of the lake water. Eddie tasted like everything safe, everything encouraging, and Steve couldn't help himself as his hands found their way into Eddie’s curls.
Eddie pulled him closer and Steve’s legs wrapped around Eddie’s waist, smiling at the way the man could easily hold him up underwater. He tightened his legs around Eddie’s waist as he returned his lips to Eddie’s mouth.
And wrapped in Eddie with the heat of the sun on his back, in the open water of Lake Michigan, Steve was at peace.
#stwgdailyprompt#new beginnings#steddie#steddie fic#steve harrington#eddie munson#stwg#steddie in chicago#steddie fluff#established steddie#steddie angst#acasualcrossfade writes#thunderously halo writes
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she just needed a king and a princess
#i got butterflies in my tummy as i was drawing this <3#maria rambeau#carol danvers#valkyrie#brunnhilde#ship name? marvol? macaval? Carvalmar? valcaria? havent tried with brunn.. cabaria? mabro? lmaooo#art#mytrinkets#the marvels#captain marvel#fan art#tessa thompson#lashana lynch#brie larson#thor love and thunder#shout out to that love lost love found fic. made me go crazy for them#referenced that pic of the victorious cast#wlw#sapphic#ot3
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Untold Memories
Words: 640
Ship: Haikavehtham (unspecified roles)
Characters: Alhaitham, Kaveh
Summary:
Kaveh brings Alhaitham to Fontaine to meet his mom. Turns out, she used to be friends with Alhaitham's deceased parents and tells him stories he's never heard.
Notes:
People liked it on Twitter so I tried to fix it a little and post it here.
It's my first time publishing a fic directly on Tumblr so please be kind.
After dating for long years and having been 'together' for even longer, Kaveh took Alhaitham on a so-called vacation.
In truth, he just wanted to see his mother and let her know he was okay and that he finally found his life companion who would be there for him. Hopefully, forever.
Kaveh wanted her to meet Alhaitham, the man who had forcefully stormed into his heart without knocking or giving him a chance to close the doors before he found his presence irreplaceable. She needed to know that he was not alone anymore.
But instead of catching up on how their life had been, or their plans for the future and the home he wanted to build for both of them, or the thousand things he had wanted to tell her... he found himself looking and listening at his mother, gently holding Alhaitham's hand and telling him old stories of her youth.
She had recognized her old friends in Alhaitham's upon seeing him. As it turned out, his handsome boyfriend looked exactly like his dad, who was once friends with Kaveh's father.
From the moment Faranak had voiced the names of Alhaitham's parents he looked... lost. Lost and broken.
Almost childishly.
Kaveh had never seen his partner look so small and meek.
He surely still looked serious and stoic, but Kaveh could see beyond that mask; how his annoying smirk had faded into a tensed line, how he barely talked, just asking follow-up questions in a monotone voice, listening attentively at all the stories Faranak had to say without commenting of them as if he was scared to taint them with his input. And Kaveh just observed them, cheek resting on his hand as he sipped a strong coffee; trusting Alhaitham to know himself and his limits and silently listening to the stories of young scholars who thought they had a long and happy life ahead of them.
Later that day, they said goodbye to Faranak and went up to their hotel room to spend the night. There would be more time to catch up with his mother during the travel, so Kaveh did not mind. That was Alhaitham's moment, not his.
His boyfriend did not talk. Not as they climbed the stairs or as they entered the room. Nor when Kaveh manhandled him out of the fancy clothes he had forced him to wear, or when he pulled him into his pajamas.
Even then, he just sat down on their bed and when he talked he did it only to meekly ask for a hug.
Of course, Kaveh easily obliged; climbing on his lap and wrapping Alhaitham in an embrace. His big hands clasped Kaveh's cape, who had been too busy caring for his quiet lover that even forgot to change his own clothes.
Almost immediately, he felt wetness on the shoulder Alhaitham had hidden his face and heard the ragged breathing between quiet sobs. For a long while, he allowed him to cry in the comfort of safety; in his arms.
They had talked a bit about it, long ago, but as Alhaitham had mentioned over and over again, there wasn't much to say. He knew next to nothing about those persons who were never able to become part of his life. But Kaveh always knew there was something more behind all of it.
Slowly petting his back and combing his hair with his fingers, Kaveh held him in his arms as he mourned for his parents and for the little child who never got to grow up with them. For that love he never got to experience and those persons he never happened to meet.
Kaveh stayed by his side, being the grounding touch, the lifeline, the trail to follow back home once he reconciled with the little child and the loss they never came to accept.
Took some free PNGs and made them Kaveh gold to make it prettyyy. did it work?
I usually write longer things buuut I never tried to turn a threadfic into something decent >.<
It grew around 200 words tho while fixing it haha
#thunderous fics#genshin impact fanfic#haikaveh#kavehtham#haikavehtham#alhaitham#kaveh#alhaitham x kaveh#kaveh x alhaitham#genshin fanfic#genshin impact#alhaitham angst#light angst#alhaitham needs a hug#fontaine#faranak
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i literally never do this but if you like good omens you should read the parent trap on ao3. it's an ineffable husbands parent trap au with warlock and adam as the twins, and it follows the plot pretty by-the-books but has a bunch of tweaks to adapt the plot beats to warlock and adam's characters, as well as chapters covering the backstory of aziraphale and crowley's relationship and its downfall. highly highly recommend.
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i’m pretty sure this was done on the tlt subreddit once before but i haven’t seen it here and i’m curious to know tumblr’s opinions on the topic! personally i like the second two much more than the first—gtn didn’t really grab me that much and i wouldn’t have even called myself part of the fandom until i decided i might as well give htn a go and immediately got sucked in—but i’m guessing that most people’s experience is different, since the first book seems like the most popular based on the impressions i’ve gotten. also feel free to put in tags where you’d rank the short stories (as yet unsent and doctor sex) relative to the books! i would have stuck those in the poll too but there are. 120 different ways to order 5 unique objects
#personally it’s always going to be ayu >/= htn > ntn > dr sex > gtn for me#i do think that gtn might have had a chance against ntn if i had read gtn in the same mindset that i read nona (i.e. already completely 100%#obsessed with the world and characters) but there’s no way either of them could possibly hope to compete with the EXPERIENCE that is htn#and ayu is absolutely perfect for what what it is (character study of judith subtle worldbuilding exercise etc.)#like that short story more than anything else to me is where it’s clear that muir has written fanfic before because in the best possible way#ayu feels like one of those extremely high-quality 10-15k oneshot fics that you read and find your entire life permanently changed by#also the night that story leaked on this website was my destiel night so i will always have a fondness for it tied to that experience#the locked tomb#polls#if this HAS been done on here then i’m sorry and i’m not trying to steal anyone’s thunder! i just really want to know
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a little illustration to a role swap AO3 fic, since Tanjiro is indisposed, Nezuko reprises her brother's role with Kanao.
(and follow-up doodle)
#kimitsu no yaiba#nezuko x kanao#kanao fanart#nezuko fanart#nezuko kamado#demon slayer#demon slayer fanart#demon slayer nezuko#role reversal au#role swap#kny kanao#okay last one for a bit!#The fic is called: How Thunder Follows on AO3 if you interested :o
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Wille's Month 2024 (@youngroyals-events ) Day 2: Summer
Read the drabble below or on ao3 (cw for implied sex)
Wille sleeps peacefully until about 2 am, when the first flash wakes him up. He blinks, a bit disoriented, barely noticing how the room keeps brightening for a split second before the darkness returns.
It isn’t rare for him to wake up in the middle of the night, but usually it’s because he had a nightmare.
Those nights, he curls himself into Simon's side, burying his face in his curls and inhaling his scent, to try and calm his rapid heartbeat down. Sometimes, Simon wakes up and they'll talk, Simon pressing Wille against him, smoothing his hair and whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Other times, when Simon is too fast asleep, he still responds by wrapping his arm around Wille, because somehow, he still knows. As if his body is simply attuned to Wille, the way it responds to his every subtle shift.
But tonight Wille hasn’t startled awake because of a nightmare - in fact, he was having the most pleasant dream he's had in a while, of running up cobblestone streets lined with soft yellow and pink houses. The Mediterranean sun shining down on them, but not outshining Simon’s warm smile next to him.
There’s another flash, and then Wille hears the first roar of thunder, and his brain slowly starts to catch up with what’s happening.
Wille lets his head fall back down to the pillow, groaning. Great.
A thunderstorm. Exactly what he needs.
Heavy drops of rain start hammering against the window, as if now that Wille’s awake, the sky can unleash its full power. Or maybe he’s only aware of it now, now that he’s fully conscious.
Of course, Simon’s still fast asleep beside him, arm flung over Wille’s torso. How Simon manages to sleep through the roaring storm outside, Wille has no idea. It’s nights like this where Wille wishes he had Simon’s skill to sleep through almost anything.
With a heavy sigh, Wille gets up from his side on the bed, carefully removing Simon’s arm from his chest, and goes to the bathroom to get himself a glass of water.
Lightning lights up the room in short intervals, occasionally followed by thunder, sometimes by just silence – but it’s non-stop. The rain is loudest of all.
It’s not like he’s scared of thunderstorms – they’re a common occurrence in summer, and usually, he even likes them. He loves to watch lightning streak across the sky high above them, huddling up inside with Simon and being very glad that he’s not outside. He even loves the thunder, imagines Thor riding his chariot in the sky and smashing his hammer.
It reminds him of afternoons chasing Erik through the palace in a never-ending game of tag because they couldn’t play outside, of staying up way past his bedtime to finish just one more chapter (it was never just one more chapter).
But tonight, he wishes for nothing more but the storm to pass. He already has trouble enough falling asleep as it is, and the continuous flashes, heavy rain and rolling thunder won’t help with that.
Defeated, knowing that he probably won’t get much sleep tonight now, he lets himself fall back onto the mattress. Simon stirs beside him, and for a second Wille holds his breath, afraid that he’s woken his boyfriend up. But Simon simply turns to his side, murmuring something incomprehensible, and it looks like Wille’s in the clear.
Then there’s a thunderclap so loud that it shakes the windows, rattles their building even, and with a gasp, Simon jolts up.
“What was that?” It comes out in one singular, panicked breath.
“Just a thunderstorm, darling,” Wille says from where he’s sprawled out behind Simon. Simon’s eyes, unfocussed at first, soften when they find his. Wille reaches out to him, eases him back down so that Simon’s lying on his chest, huddled in the warmth between their bodies. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Did it wake you up too? Or did you have another nightmare?” Simon places a warm hand on his chest, just above where Wille’s heart beats for him.
Wille winds one of Simon’s curls around his finger, and hums. “No, it was just the storm. I actually had a good dream tonight, so it’s even ruder that it woke me up.”
He can already see Simon’s eyes getting heavy again, now that the initial shock of adrenaline has passed.
“Whatwasitabout?” Simon mumbles.
“We were on vacation. In Italy, I think. Maybe Spain – somewhere south. We’d just come back from the beach, and there was salt stuck in your curls, and I was thinking about how we’d go back to our rental,” Wille stops playing with Simon’s curls to run his hand along his back, “and shower, and I would wash the salt out of your curls. But then I figured, if there’s salt in your curls, there’s probably salt in other places as well, so maybe I should clean that up too.”
Simon laughs softly. “You are very thorough in your cleaning.”
Simon opens his eyes for a brief second, but the sleep in his eyes has gone, replaced by something else. Something hungry.
“Maybe we can make your dream come true.”
“What? You want to go to Italy? Right now?” It’s not like Wille doesn’t know what Simon’s talking about, but he likes to tease him, likes to play just a bit dumb.
Simon groans, half-heartedly. “Wille,” he says, drawing out his name. “’m talking about the other part.”
“Ooh.” Wille raises his eyebrows in faked understanding and giggles. “Well, I’m sure we can arrange that.”
Before Simon can say anything else, Wille scoops him up in his arms and carries him to the shower. It’s not like Wille was ever going to get much sleep tonight, and this certainly is way more fun.
The thunder is loud outside, but not as loud as Simon when he screams out Wille’s name, over and over again.
#shoutout to tuesday's thunder storm for this one!#really appreciated being woken up at 2 am#also i've decided to turn this into somewhat of an actual story but like. not actual story#just glimpses of their life set in the same verse#willemonth2024#young royals#yr fanfic#yr fic#yr fanfiction#young royals fanfiction#young royals fanfic#young royals fic#young royals archive#wilmon#wilmon fanfiction#prince wilhelm#wilhelm eriksson now?#simon eriksson#wille eriksson#wilmon fanfic#yr ficlet#yr drabble
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Tickles // Dad!thor x daughter!reader
summary: your father gets back at you after pranking him.
Warnings: thor being evil >:/
Age: 14
Area/place: asgard.
A/N: I've been obsessed w/ dad!thor recently, pls don't judge me lol. Also it's hard writing a tickle fic when you haven't been properly tickled in probably over 2 years, but i feel most comfortable writing them so...
🩰˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ♡🎧✧˚.🎀༘⋆+•°+💕*°•+
You had just gotten back from visiting the team on Midgard on your own. Your father was lying on his bed, bored, playing with his long blonde hair.
You had also bought a plastic version of his hammer to prank him with.
You walked in wearing an avengers t-shirt, holding the toy in your right hand. Trotting into the large bedroom with an innocent smile on your face.
He sat up quickly to greet you with a childish grin on his face, which immediately fell when he saw you with his "hammer" in your tight grasp.
His eyes flickered between your "hammer" and his own, which had been sitting atop his bedside.
You giggled before speaking "see, told you i was worthy" you smirked as he panted in confusion. You tossed the fake hammer into his lap. He smiled as he realized that it was plastic.
"I got you didnt i?" You asked him, grinning sheepishly to yourself. thor wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him and resting his head atop yours.
He wiggled his fingers on your side causing you to jump. You slapped his fingers away as he chuckled.
"You did. But, i will get my revenge" thor noted in a breathy tone. Your smirk fell as his expression transformed into a mischievous one.
Suddenly, you felt yourself being quickly pulled onto his lap with thors fingers digging into your sides. You screamed various protests to somehow stop your father.
Thor quickly bent down and blew the biggest raspberry he could just above your belly button. You screamed so loud you were sure the whole realm could hear you, and a few others.
"DAAHAHAHAHAHAHDD!! STOOHOAHAHAHPPP!! PLEEHEHEHHHHSSES!! AAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA" you spoke, clawing at your father.
"I thought you had outgrown this years ago!" Thor bellowed, he held you still easily, due to your size difference.
Before you know it, your dad was hovering over you and was sitting on your legs, which were kicking frantically to try to escape.
He blew another raspberry on your neck this time as he counted your ribs. You felt your eyes water as you screamed once again.
"Tell me, daughter, where does it tickle most?" Thor asked you, "here?" He added before blowing a quick raspberry on your neck. "Or here?" He asked, blowing a longer raspberry on your stomach, not even giving you time to process his words.
He stopped ticking for a moment so you could answer. "My tummy" you panted in between breaths.
"Good, now i know where to focus." Thor stated as you realized what a mistake you had made telling him this.
"NOO-AHHHHHAAAAAHAHAAHAHHAH!!! DAHADDHEDDDDYYYY PLEAHHEHHAHEHSSESS STOOOPPPP!" you begged as he showed no mercy.
He blew three more raspberrys before letting you go. With tear-stains on your cheeks, you punched him in the shoulder just as lady sif burst through the door.
"What happened?! I thought one of you was being killed! I was halfway across the palace when i heard some blood-curdling scream! D@mn it thor!" She cursed, slamming the door as she shook her head.
You and thor busted into laughter as she walked out.
🩰˚˖𓍢ִ໋ ♡🎧✧˚.🎀༘⋆+•°+💕*°•+
🩰Tags🎀
@animealways // @white-wolf-buckaroo // @tonystark-au // @zebralover // @yummyangy // @carellmcu // @mariasabanahabanabana //
#dad!thor odinson#Dad!thor odinson x daughter!reader#thor odinson x daughter reader#thor#thor odinson#thor the dark world#thor ragnarok#thor love and thunder#lady sif#thor fic#Ler!Thor#lee!reader#x reader#tickles#tickle fic#ticklish reader#tickletorture#avengers#marvel mcu
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