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wheeboo · 1 month

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sleeping beauty | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which you fall asleep on your boyfriend's lap. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship, just him <3 WARNINGS. terms of endearment WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested by @boorines: 2k!!! congratulations on the milestone rania <33 i have a teeny req for your event! seungkwan + #38 from list one! super super excited to read all your work 💗 - #38: "Well, hello, sleeping beauty. You fell asleep on me."

notes: mick !!! my fellow lovely amazing boosadan tysm for requesting i hope u enjoy this <33

join the 2k celebration!

You like to think that your boyfriend's voice is simply a gift from the heavens.

Not just his voice too, of course, but solely just... him. You don't think you'll ever understand the way how time seems to slow down when he speaks. It's like the world hits mute, the background noise fading away until all that's left is the low rumble in his chest when he laughs, or the way his voice dips ever so slightly when he whispers against your ear.

It's a superpower, perhaps𑁋you really consider it at this point. He's magical. Your boyfriend is woven of magic, with this ability to bottle up time with just a smile and a nonsensical ramble. It makes you wonder if maybe you should bottle him up and keep him close so the world can always feel like this: a little slower, a little more yours.

All you can remember is Seungkwan talking about something that you can't exactly recall. It was probably about something at work, or maybe it was about that new dumpling place he wanted to take you out to this weekend. Whatever it was, the details were blurred all around the edges, and you find yourself flickering in and out of a state of peaceful bliss as the warm, afternoon breeze settles around the two of you.

The feeling of his hand carding through your hair isn't helping at all, too.

Your head is laying on his lap, your legs sprawled out lazily on a picnic blanket in the middle of this small park you frequent at, the air carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and pine all around you. Rays of sunlight dapple through the leaves of the enormous tree looming above, painting patterns and shapes of warmth on your skin.

You can feel your eyelids getting heavier by the minutes that pass, and fighting the urge to fall asleep right then and there is becoming harder and harder. But you can't help it𑁋not when Seungkwan is practically feeding into the urge, with his voice that is somehow a natural lullaby and his fingers gently massaging your scalp.

"...and when I tell you he literally tripped on his shoelaces during practice! We all couldn't stop laughing! Oh my gosh, baby, you should've been there. He had to practice the dance shoeless since his laces were all tangled…”

You manage to crack an eye open to look at Seungkwan, seeing that his gaze is out towards the distant pond as he continues to ramble animatedly, strands of his hair getting caught in the breeze.

You love it when he talks; he always seems so happy when he does. And you could listen to him go on and on, especially about things that make his eyes crinkle at the corners like that and his nose scrunching to fight off a laugh.

There's a sleepy, incoherent mumble that leaves your lips. Your eyes flutter back to a close, the world slowly closing in around you, and the sound of Seungkwan's voice fading into a warm, comforting hum.

"Okay, but remember that pizza place down a few blocks from our place? I heard it also got revamped into this new boba café, so I would totally be down to go there right after we..."

The moment Seungkwan's eyes fall back down to you, he shuts his mouth right away, and it hardly takes a second for his chest to suddenly feel so full of adoration that threatens to spill over the rim of his heart. His lips purse together before melting into a soft smile at the sight of you looking so peaceful right under his nose.

"Gosh, do my stories bore you that much?" he asks jokingly, yet carefully to not wake you.

He continues to peer down at you, huffing out a quiet sigh of contentment. You just look so soft right now, with your mouth parted slightly and your chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath that leaves you. When a single strand of hair tickles upon your cheek, Seungkwan brushes it away lightly with his thumb.

He leans back on his hands, a subtle pout forming at his mouth.

"You're so pretty, you know that?" Seungkwan says, tilting his head to the sight to get a better look at you. "How in the world did I get so lucky?"

His fingers toy gently with the fabric of your shirt as he lets a few moments of silence roll through. The corners of your mouth seem to twitch at his touch, and he swears some sort of sleepy grin appears at your face. But then your lips drift back apart in a soft sigh.

Seungkwan lets out a sudden exhale he's been holding in.

"But then you always say something about how we were both lucky that we met each other," he continues on. "and while yeah, that may be true. I just... I can't help but think I'm the luckier one, because you're you, and if someone were to think they weren't lucky to have you in their life, then they're stupid."

His eyes continue to wander from you and out towards the sky, watching the sun beginning to set across the horizon.

"Do you... ever think about the future?" Seungkwan asks almost hesitantly, voice lowering a smidge at the vulnerability cracking through. "I know you hate thinking about it. But when you think of me... if you think of me being there with you, does it, um... make it feel less scary?"

He wants to mentally facepalm himself for wording it like that, or for asking it in general. Yet the question seemed to have been burning a hole through his tongue for a while now, and it's all deciding to tumble out.

Seungkwan leans down again, brushing another stray hair from your forehead. The remnants of the setting sun cast an orange glow on your features, making you look even more ethereal than usual.

"It's definitely not as scary when I think about it, because... you're in it." He chuckles to himself at how absolutely cheesy that sounded. "Could you imagine our house together? I know you've always wanted a bigger bed for all your stuffed animals and a bookshelf for your books. We could even paint the walls that colour you showed me on Pinterest the other day..."

The thought of one day having an entire house for just the two of you makes his cheeks burn with anticipation, like he's watching it all unfold in his mind. He knows he's imagining way farther ahead than ever before, but the future suddenly feels so easy and possible with you by his side.

Seungkwan steals another careful glance at you, as if he's waiting for an answer he knows he probably won't hear. When the silence starts to feel heavy, he sucks in another deep breath.

"I just hope that wherever you'll be in ten, twenty years from now... that you're happy," he says. "and that maybe, just maybe, you'll be happy with me, if you wanted to, of course."

As the uncertainty lingers in the air, the sound of gravel cracking snaps his attention away for a second. Seungkwan turns his head to catch the sight of a nearby family walking by, their laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves. A ghost of a smile touches his lips as he watches them, the warmth in his chest spreading throughout his body. Then he glances back down at you, and his smile hardly wavers.

When his hands drift from your hair, you stir slightly, eyelids fluttering open a fraction. The world slowly but surely comes back into focus, and you feel yourself stretch your legs out. Tilting your head slightly, you meet Seungkwan's gaze towards you.

"Well, hello, sleeping beauty," he remarks teasingly, poking a finger at your nose. "You fell asleep on me."

You sit up from his lap, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. "Did I? Sorry."

"It's okay," Seungkwan reassures, already reaching back for your hand. "You looked cute, anyway."

You let out a scoff at that, but the heat creeping up your neck is hard to ignore. "Whatever, did I miss anything important?"

Seungkwan hesitates for a second, then shakes his head.

"Nope, nothing much," he answers. "Just talking about work and oh! The new dumpling place. Yeah, we're going there this weekend, and then stop by a new little boba café too."

The way your eyes seem to literally light up has Seungkwan grinning like a goofball.

"Oh, you are going to regret telling me about that, Mr. Boo," You threaten playfully, wiggling a finger in his direction.

Seungkwan just throws his head back and laughs, before reaching over to grab your hand into his. A yawn escapes you.

"We should probably head home now," he says, giving your hand a soft squeeze before standing up.

You follow suit, helping him pack up the picnic blanket and other belongings that the two of you brought together. And on the way back to the car, you nudge him lightly on the arm with a finger.

"Are you sure I didn't miss anything important? I must have knocked out for a bit, you know..."

Seungkwan bites at his bottom lip sheepishly. "It was something stupid."

"Come on. Whatever you say isn't stupid," You coax lightly. "I love listening to you."

He perks up at that, lifting a brow. "You... do?"

"Of course I do."

"But you fell asleep𑁋"

"Okay, the position was too comfortable," You insist hastily. "and your voice is really nice to listen to. I'm wide awake now, I swear."

Seungkwan only pauses for a few moments, a bashful look at his face. He can feel the vulnerability seeping through again, despite knowing that it's completely okay to be vulnerable, especially with you. But he'd rather say it all when the two of you are in a more comfortable... environment.

"I'll tell you at home, okay?" He presses a small kiss to your cheek. "I promise."

And when he turns away from you, you gaze down at the ground, feeling the corners of your mouth tugging back upwards.

Oh, you can't wait to hear him say all that again.

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lowcalrecipeformysoul · 1 year

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Recipes below 300 kcal (Youtube edition)

Was lurking on youtube and thought why not make a list of low cal recipe that i found, and here it is!!

129 kcal ice cream

124 kcal creamy vegetable soup

190 kcal flourless chocolate brownies

265 kcal lasagna ( 1 / 2 )

175 kcal buttermilk chicken

157 kcal keto chicken dumpling

98 kcal everything bagel

189 kcal chicken soup

172 kcal warabi mochi (without topping and syrup)

low calorie bubble tea (two types of drinks, the pearl is 0 kcal)

136 kcal (per slice) cheesecake

107 kcal spring roll, 126 kcal carrot snack, 157 kcal chicken kelaguen

271 kcal mushroom soup

292 kcal vegan veggie burger

267 kcal vegetarian one pot spaghetti, 375 kcal taco quinoa, 238 kcal one pot pizza pasta

110 kcal sweet potato soup, 193 kcal minestrone soup, 201 kcal coconut chicken curry soup

126 kcal roasted cauliflower soup, 254 kcal sweet potato soup, 145 kcal beet soup

33 kcal pepperoni pizza bite

136 kcal cheesecake

36 kcal chicken meatball

261 kcal apple fritter

134 kcal mac and cheese (there’s three version of mac and cheese in the vid)

253 kcal honey garlic cauliflower

45 - 150 kcal pizza (6 varieties of pizza)

222 kcal air fryer cauliflower wings

You can always find substitutes for the ingredients to lower the calorie count.

If you made any of the recipe, feel free to share it with us ❤

Stay safe lovelies ❤✨

#low cal #low calorie recipe #low calorie #meal ideas #mealspo #inspo #my post #low cal meal

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hyukassubi · 10 months

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Txt when their s/o has chubby cheeks!!

A/n: AAA as a person with very cute chubby cheeks I just had this thought, so I had to write it down lol. Also this isn't proofread 🏃‍♀️💨

Genre: fluff<3

Warnings: none. (Tell me if there is any tho!!)

Summary: you got big ol' squishy chubby cheeks and the boys LOVE it 🥰✨

Yeonjun

Everytime you both do your facials, yeonjun would go behind you and wash your face for you, squishing your cheeks in every way possible infront of the bathroom mirror.

"Junnie, stop, I look like a dumpling!"

He doesn't stop. "My cute little dumpling." <33 He squeezes your face more.

He likes that name so much he calls you that pretty much everyday now

"Sleep well, dumpling."

You secretly find it cute but never tell him.

And do expect big fat kisses from him.

Especially after a big win, when Yeonjun's very proud of you or himself he just goes on over to you and places the fattest smooch on both your cheeks. (Yassss, we stan equality‼️🙌🙌)

Soobin

Soobin noticed how cute and puffy your cheeks looked, sorta like a rabbit.

And when the both of you started dating and he tried kissing you on the cheek, his world came to life.

Legit sparkles and rainbows in his eyes while he's trying so hard to keep a straight face.

From then on, he kept kissing your cheek. There was never a day he didn't kiss you on the cheek.

Not when he greets you with a kiss.

You'd be making breakfast and he greets you with a kiss. You'd come home from work and he walks up to you and kisses you.

It's second-hand nature at this point.

Sometimes he forgets whether or not he's kissed you yet and would ask you if he did.

"Y/n, did I kiss you just now?" 🧍😗🫶

"Yes, sweetie, yes you did." 🫶😊

🤨🤨 "I didn't? Darling I'm so sorry." He gets up from the dining table and walks over to you.

"But- baby you did-"

He kisses you anyway and you get all pink 💖💖

You're suprized how you kept track of his kisses up til this point.

Beomgyu

This man bites you.

He'd just walk over to you randomly then proceeds to suction cup your cheek with his lips

Legit you'd just be standing like 🧍 and then all the sudden you see this next to you: ✨👄✨

When he's in public he literally fights the urge to just nibble you.

He really likes the feel of your plushed cheeks on his lips, on his cheeks.

Yes he'd see you laying down and he'd lay with you, head on top of yours, cheek to cheek.

And you'd kinda just stay there, not moving, very much enjoying this 'cheek kiss'.

You'd play with his hair while you're at it and put on a show until the both of you sleep 🥰🥰 all cuddled up and drained from a long day, this is what the both of you need <33 (mostly what beomgyu needs, though)

He probably sleeps on your cheek better than any pillow (though you do tell him not to do that too much or for too long because health issues 🫶🫶)

Taehyun

Taehyun is more of a starer. You get me?

Like he won't necessarily knead your cheeks or stretch them out.

He kinda just stares.

Until you notice.

"Hi hyunnie!!" 🥰🥰

"Taehyun?" 🤨😦 "Taehyun are you alright?"

Man hasn't blinked in the last five minutes. "Hm? Yes sweetie of course I'm doing great." 🥰🥰

😭😭 you tell him not to stare for too long because sometimes things like this happen more than you expected or would like it to last.

So he pokes your cheeks.

Occasionally.

He leaves quick pecs if he's feeling a little bit lovey dovey that particular day but then quickly covers his mouth at your sheer softness like this 🤭🤭🤭

His lips still tingle after kissing your squishy cheeks <33

What he loves most is when you eat! Because you chew so cutely with your food kept in your cheeks making them even poofier and he just turns all pink and fluffy on the inside 😭😭

Literally imagine eating three times a day everyday with this man- this dude across the table smiling and blushing because of how adorable you are.

(but hey, you do kinda like it when he's totally focused on you hehe)

He couldn't help it!! You're too adorable 😭😭💞

Huening Kai

Like Yeonjun, Huening Kai likes to grab your face and play with your cheeks like playdough

Except he doesn't like anything getting in the way between his fingers and your cheeks.

Lotion, face wash, sunscreen, no to all of that

Mans lives for that skin to skin contact 👏👏🤩

Because of this, he kinda just rubs your face all the time.

Didn't matter what you were doing.

He could walk in a room and immediately cup your face

You would be eating lunch and your cheeks are EVEN CHUBBIER than normal and he'd poke it gently 😭😭

Here's the cutest part

You'd be sleeping peacefully right? And Huening Kai gets you all snuggled up and ready in bed

But before he sleeps with you, he snaps a picture of your angelic sleeping baby face 🥰💞💞

AND IN THE PHOTO HE'D LIGHTLY PINCH THE TOP CORNER OF YOUR CHEEK AAA 😭😭🤧🤧💞💞💞

Bonus: he'd send it to the Txt gc, and the other members would spam crying and heart emojis wishing they could touch your cheeks too 🫶🫶

KSMAJLAJA I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!!

Reblog and review if you like my work 🫶🫶 they are greatly appreciated!!

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eskariolis-con-salsa · 6 months

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CJ (My OC): -picks up lil Gnocchi and cradles them like a baby, petting their belly gently- Well ain't chu a sweet lil dumpling. 😊✨

lil dumpling, I love it XD, your oc is very cute <33.

I'm very slow replaying ;3;

#gnocchi #other ocs #Cj #pizza tower oc

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heartthrobin · 1 year

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paint my sunset peach (1)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 6.71k

warnings: reader is a little bit of a meanie, dirty sweaty eddie, hella pining, sunshine!eddie + grumpy!reader, swearing but otherwise pretty wholesome, limited use of y/n

an: i started writing this literally months ago and only finished it recently, super duper proud of it :))) this will be part one of a (probably) three part series. let me know if you want a tag in part 2 !!! i tried to tag all those who liked this post so thanks for the support - love you all <33

summary: the conveyer belt of mech-heads you dealt with on a weekly basis were nothing more than a side-show annoyance. but god, the auto-shop had never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

part two

Before the auto-shop, on the corner at the intersection of Lovett and Harwood, was a Chinese restaurant.

The Red Lotus.

On Friday nights as a kid, daddy would drive into town and return with a steaming white bag of fried rice and dumplings. Sometimes, when they had in stock, he'd bring a single mooncake to share between him and you.

It was family run, the Zhou's. Three sons and a daughter.

They closed down right after you graduated, tired of the middle of nowhere-ness. The tractors rumbling loudly through town at six o' clock every morning, the shaky cell reception and the incessant knock of evening frogs on the porch.

Tired of butt-fuck nowhere Tennessee.

It stood empty for two years. Sometimes you'd pass it in your truck and remember them, other times you wouldn't even look.

But now, now it stood as a brand new garage. Or at least the tiny town's excuse for "brand new".

Daddy's friend, Mister Carl Abernathy, owned it.

He was a short stocky man, bald all over and you'd never seen him without a cold bottle of cider and the remnants of it’s sweat staining down his creased button-up.

You knew that only because he was always around: lots of things on the farm needed fixing up.

Weeds crept up into the tires of the tractors, age beat at the truck you used to move in and out of town - crates of peaches bouncing jovially over each bump.

Every time they needed a looking at, Carl would send over the bonehead of the week.

The same white pull-up would brake loudly outside the farmhouse door, always somewhere around nine: just in time to disturb your breakfast, and one of his latest recruits would hop out.

They’d lean haughtily against the large wheel of the dying blue tractor.

"Well, looks like we've got a problem on our hands here, hey little missy?"

They weren’t even worth the effort it took to roll your eyes. No shit.

The farm didn't make nearly enough from the weekend markets in bigger nearby towns, or the pennies of the townsfolk to afford new vehicles. So, you stuck it out with each caveman Carl sent your way.

And you were fine with it.

Mostly fine with it.

Sure, some of them were vulgar: they'd whistle at you or comment on your ass when you passed them working. Others could only succeed at making the vehicle worse than when they'd started, but it was your job to sort them out.

Could you have gone off with your high school friends to college? Sure.

Maybe.

But that’d leave Daddy all alone in that big house. You pushed away the thought when it surfaced to bug you.

Your mother had disappeared long before you knew her, exhausted - like the Zhou's - of being nowhere.

Maybe of being no one. Perhaps of being a no one peach farmer with the grump that was your daddy and a toddler zooming at her feet.

Either way, it didn't matter.

She had left and you remained to do the job, and that job included dealing with Carl’s mechanics.

At least it hadn't mattered, not until some morning in late summer.

The sun watched from high over the green farmhouse. It glared down, peeking over the edge of the porch.

You were fixed on the bird pecking at the already deteriorating grey window pane above the sink, overlooking the rows of colourful fields.

"You're messing, Cherry."

Cherry. Daddy had been calling you that since as far back as you could remember him talking.

You glanced at him across the table, where the spread of bread, eggs and jam had been lain, before you noticed where a long stripe of strawberry jam had run down the front of your black tank top.

"Listen now, you're gonna be fine with the tractor today?"

His voice was stern - probably too stern for such an hour of the morning, but you hardly noticed - swiping at the jam with your finger and nodding.

"No problems, alright?"

Daddy usually worked the tractor, but he was going to some meeting two towns over. He hadn't mentioned what about, but you were sure it had to do with the crippling financial state of the farm.

You nodded.

It's how you found yourself alone out in the heat of the midday sun.

The tractor rumbled beneath you, joggling over every rock and mole hill.

Every couple meters, you'd stop: climb off and pick at the peaches before tossing them into the crate. When enough crates were full, you'd load them onto the truck and move again.

You'd been at it, burning over your arms and shoulders, for what couldn’t have been more than a few hours when the tractor gave a sickening jolt.

Gripping the wheel and watching in horror over the edge of your sunglasses, your eyes followed the thick cloud of grey smoke where it began seeping out at the edges of the hood and disappearing up into the sky.

"No, no, no ..." you drew up the handbrake and leapt out the side onto the soil. The blue metal scalded the tips of your fingers where you threw the bonnet open before swallowing down mouthfuls of hot smoke.

It took five minutes of coughing against the side of the vehicle, another five kicking at the left wheel and at least another ten swearing at the sky before you dug your phone out from between the seats and dialled the number to Carl's auto shop.

It rung three times before his gruff voice carried across the line, "Abernathy Auto Repairs speakin', hello?"

"Good morning Mr Abernathy," your fingers pressed into the sides of your temple, working fruitlessly against the headache forming there. "I'm calling from the farm down Jasmine road—"

"Oh hey there, darlin'. What can I do you for?"

A squirrel rustled somewhere down the row of bushes. "Well, I'm out in the field now and the tractor has ... uh, given up on me. The ‘63. Need one of your men to come give it a start, or a look-over or—"

"Not a problem, not a problem at all. Are you far out? Whereabouts are you?"

You cupped a hand to shield up over your eyes, glancing back from whence you'd came. The house was but a speck of green in the distance.

"About two or three miles north west of the house?"

You could practically hear him nodding, a steady gulp audible against the line.

"Don't you worry about a thing, little darlin', I'll have one of my boys out there within the hour. Just hang tight."

"Alright, thank you kindly sir—"

But the line was already dead.

You glared at the phone.

Huffing loudly, you pulled yourself back up onto the truck - allowing the soft shade to gently graze over your face as you sunk back into the seat.

The warm wind rippled over the tops of the rows of greenery and you watched quietly, the irritation simmering to a low boil in your chest.

There was a quiet tranquility in being so far out from the house, shielded from the scorch.

Your boot tapped rhythmically against the console. Warm breeze brushed over your face again and you sighed, tilting your hat lower over your forehead. The lull of the quiet field allowed your lashes to fan closed over your cheeks. Before you’d taken note of the bird coming to perch on the roof, you were already asleep.

It was the loud rumble of an engine and the throbbing pain in your neck that brought you back to the world of the conscious.

You woke with a jump. Heart thumping against your ribcage in instant confusion. Your hat flew off your head and over the edge of your seat from where it had been blocking the light over your eyes.

Bringing a hand to your neck you whined loudly, the angle you’d been perched at doing nothing for the long term preservation of your muscles there.

You turned anyways, noticing the white pick-up quickly nearing from the direction of the house.

Frowning, you glanced down at time against the console. Three fifty-eight.

"Shit!"

You stuck your head out from under the shade of the tractor top to notice how low the sun has sunk in the sky. It was almost reaching the head of the hill in the distance.

The mechanic shouldn't have taken longer than an hour to find you, and subsequently, wake you. You quickly diffused yourself of blame.

Daddy was going to kill you.

Clambering off the side of the tractor, your hands found your hips before the car pulled to a wailing halt barely a few centimetres off from your knees.

Dust swept up around the truck, obscuring the view of the man that stepped out of it.

"Woah. Almost hit you there, doll."

Warm wind cleared the air and the figure of a young man stood in your field.

The words sitting on your tongue begging to be spat out were sucked straight back down your throat.

For a moment you forgot what you had planned to say at all.

The man's eyebrow cocked at you under strands of dark, curly hair falling carelessly from the skew bun atop his head.

Behind you, a crow cried in the distance. Your senses quickly returned to you.

Your fists tightened at your sides. "Where on god's green earth have you been?"

He looked taken aback.

"Well, I had some trouble finding the house," he smiled sheepishly, motioning to the farmhouse over his shoulder, "and then I had to phone Carl cause he didn't really tell me where—"

"So you're new then? Carl sent a greenie to come fix my tractor?"

Anyone who'd spent more than three days in town knew the farm down Jasmine road. Knew your farm.

A heavily ringed hand came up to his jaw, rubbing there and eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stands straight up.

It was painfully unfair how handsome he was.

"New to town. Not new to fixing tractors." His voice was smooth, the curl of a grin peaking at you from the edge of his mouth.

Sucking in a deep breath - a feeble attempt at composure - you nodded once.

"Well, I've got a tractor and it's broken. And you're two hours late, so if you don't mind, I've got a job to do."

You turned violently on your heel, sure if you stood under his gaze any longer that you'd melt right against the soil.

The sound of the peaches tumbling out the crate onto the tractor split the air between you and him, and soon you were marching away from his figure - crate in hand - in pursuit of fruit further down the lane.

"I'm Eddie!"

You waved vaguely over your shoulder, electing not to bless him with an answer.

Carl was going to hear an earful from your father, you were sure of it. You plucked angrily at the fruits off the bush, tossing them a little too violently in with the rest.

It was quiet from the distance behind you, but you refused to turn to look.

Sure, you shouldn't be so surprised that one of Carl's idiots was nearly two hours late and got lost in a town that really only has two roads, but god, he'd never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

The walk was long, each stop causing the crate to become heavier, and you worked hard to put the image of the mechanic’s black shirt - that he'd obviously cut the sleeves off himself - and how it clung to his chest with sweat out of your mind.

You didn't stop until a voice called from behind. At first it was soft, but it grew louder within a minute: as was the sound of footfalls.

"Hey, miss!"

He was jogging towards you, pieces of hair falling recklessly out from the grips of his hair tie to frame his red face.

Eddie only stopped when barely a few feet separated you.

"All done." He grinned, huffing around his smile. "She just overheated a bit, needed some water and a a couple valves disconnected."

You couldn't tell whether it was harder to hold his gaze or work to keep yours off of his chest.

"Right. Good." You nodded, leaning to lift the crate at your feet. "Then I'll be getting back to it."

It was heavy, almost too heavy if you hadn't lifted boxes like those from sunrise to sunset for the last eighteen or so years.

But the mechanic was clearly unconvinced, he swooped in closer to you. "Let me get that—"

"I'm fine—"

"No really." By now he was way too close, close enough that you could smell the undertones of a shower gel or maybe a cologne.

His voice softened, "Please. To make up for my tardiness."

It was hard to tell whether it was the sun making you so dizzy or his proximity, but either way, it forced you to nod slowly. "Fine."

Eddie took the crate from your hands, you ignored the rush of heat to your stomach as he grunted against the weight.

"Strong thing aren't you, doll?"

You didn't respond, eyes fixed on the giant blue tractor a couple meters from where you stood.

Silence rung, only the footfalls filling the space. You'd almost made it all the way back to the tractor without conversation before the mechanic decided to open his mouth again.

"I don't think I caught your name earlier."

You met his eyes, regretting it almost immediately when your knees threatened to buckle, "That's because I never gave it."

Stepping just close enough to take the crate from his grip, but avoid the drift of his cologne again, your hands brushed closely against his.

They were cool against your sweaty ones.

He was grinning again.

You stepped back, balancing the peaches against your hip before tilting it over the box attached to the end of the tractor allowing the round pink pieces to clatter down into its depths.

"Right. Well, what's your name then doll?"

But you were already clambering back up the side of the tractor into the worn leather seat.

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy."

He was leaning against the side of the truck now, you avoided looking down at him, something told you that you'd find those eyes blinking right up into your soul again if you did.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

Hot red blush chased up the sides of your neck over your ears, you prayed it wasn't discernible under the pink sunburn.

The keys jingled loudly as you slid them into the ignition and turned them violently. The vehicle jerked to life.

"I think your job is done. Good afternoon sir."

Before he could say another word, your foot had sunk down on the accelerator and the tractor was rumbling back down between the bushes again.

In your peripheral vision you watched how the mechanic stumbled back against his pick-up, narrowly avoiding catching his foot under one of the hundred pound tires, and the sound of an echoing chuckle fading as you plodded away.

The drive back to the auto-garage was quick. At least quicker than the drive Eddie had taken to find the farm.

His hands tightened around the wheel, twisting over the leather as he pulled to a park in the open spot across the street.

A ring of brown soil stared up at him from where he'd pulled at the handbrake with dusty paws.

"Shit ..." he wiped his hands down the jean over his thighs.

Eddie was used to the oil and the reek of grease, as if that wasn't already enough, but not the itch of farm soil up his nostrils and behind his ears.

He twisted the metal ring around his finger, a small grin playing at his lips.

But the soil wasn't so bad, he reckons he'd swim through a pool of it it to get another chance to watch the hot-tempered farm girl's hips sway when she marched away from him, just as you'd done earlier that afternoon.

The smile didn't leave his face as he climbed out the car, locked it and crossed the street whistling.

Eddie was almost completely used to the whir of the drills echoing off the walls and barely registered the creak of the lever that was raising a car near the back of the shop.

Carl was leaning over the reception desk clinking the bottom of his cider bottle against the wood and puffing on the end of a cigarette.

He waved vaguely down at the open ledger when he noticed Eddie nearing, "See here, extra two hundred dollars on a cheap fucking knock off for that AMC Eagle. You believe that, Munson?"

"Hardly, boss."

Eddie was halfway back to where he'd abandoned the engine on a red convertible before weaving across town to find a farm when the boss' voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold it, hold it. Where’ve you been? Didn't I send you outta here three hours ago?" He swivelled on the bar stool against the counter to face him.

The greasy palm that had been picking it's way under car hoods all afternoon reached up to rub against the side of his neck. "I couldn't find that fucking farm, did three circles ‘round the post office before I saw the sign for Jasmine road."

Carl surveyed him with a crooked brow. "They didn't teach you to read maps down in Indiana, boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He was about to turn back on his way, when the picture of your face glimmered at him behind his eyes, "Listen boss, the girl there. The daughter you said, what's her name?"

By then, Carl had already turned back down to the accounts. "What's it to ya?"

Silence rung long enough that Carl peeked back up at Eddie over the rim of his glasses.

Eddie shrugged bashfully. "Pretty thing."

Carl threw his head back, laughing loudly - Eddie always thought his laugh sounded like a dog barking.

"I've seen that look." He shook his head, lifting to perch his glasses on his shining bald head. "Too many of you boys come back from that farm starry-eyed. No hope with that princess, she don't like you mech-heads. Nope, not one bit."

"Ah, come on, don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Carl let off another crumbly chuckle, "Bit your head off, didn't she?"

"Sure did." He beamed like the cat that caught the canary, "Love it when a lady talks to me sweet."

A sweaty hand shrugged him off.

"Get back to work, Munson."

But Eddie wavered. "Just a name, boss."

Carl stared at him for a couple moments, clearly bored. It took a long slug of the yellow cider and a hard sigh before he spoke again: "Y/n."

The grin crept back up his cheeks. He tested the name on his tongue, finding it to taste as sweet as he knew it would.

"Appreciate it."

"Get back to that convertible before I fire you."

Eddie the mechanic had been firmly put out of your mind following the ruckus out in the field.

Sure, his puppy dog face had returned to you later that night as you lay in bed, but that hardly counted.

You'd forgone mentioning his tardiness to Daddy, electing to take the mild scolding instead.

By the time the end of the week had arrived, you'd just about completely forgotten the floppy haired man that had once graced the farm.

That was until Daddy rose the topic of the auto-body shop again.

He handed you the wet plate, you took it carefully - starting to wipe it down. The water sloshed beneath his hands, scrubbing hard at the soapy pan.

Bullseye watched up at you from where she was curled up on the kitchen chair, purring loudly. Outside the sky was turning deep lilac and the crickets were clicking loudly.

"Tomorrow on your way back from Madeline's, I want you to stop by Carl's."

Madeline's was the local - and only - grocer. You dropped five cases there every Tuesday.

Your hand stilled against the plate, "For?"

"I want you to ask him to spare a man, a good one. Just a couple afternoons a week to do some work."

Your father handed the next plate over carefully.

Confusion tugged at your brow, "Work? What work?"

"You're too curious for your own good, y'know that?"

Bumping your shoulder against his, the pot lid almost slipping from his wet fingers, you laughed. "Don't be difficult, what for?"

The old man sighed.

Some nights, with the evening hue seeping in through the window against his face like it was just then, you were reminded of how old he really was.

"I want to fix up the Cobra."

In the barn around the back of the house, sitting untouched and unmoved for almost twenty years, lived a 1965 AC Cobra.

The steel lid slipped from your hands, clattering against the floor. Your father jumped.

"You're fixing the Cobra!" You grabbed him by the arm, eyes wide in delight. "Is it for me?"

He offered a half-hearted stern look at you, leaning to pick up the lid before straightening out.

"Don't get too excited, she's a real piece of work and we don't know if she can even still be revived."

You tugged at the edge of his shirt, "But ... it's for me, right?"

"Well, your twenty-first is coming up and I thought you're old enough now—"

Just about strangling him, your arms flew up over his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you—!"

He sighed over your shoulder, patting your back with a wet hand. “Alright, alright. Just speak to Carl.”

Your drop-off at Madeline's had never gone faster.

Town was busy, as busy as it got on a Tuesday morning, and Abernathy's was no different.

You pulled into a spot down the line of other nearly identical pick-ups to your own in front of the shop.

At the front desk, where you were sure he'd grown roots into the stool behind it, sat Carl Abernathy.

When he looked up from a piece he'd been tinkering with, surprise twisted at his features.

"G'morning darlin'," he set the piece down, puffing around a lit cigarette, "What can I do you for on this fine morning?"

"Good morning sir," you set your hat on the counter, leaning beside it. "My daddy sent me, he's asking if you could spare a man for some work 'round by ours. Couple nights a week."

The little man's eyes screwed at you.

"What, may I ask, will he be expected to do?"

By then you couldn't stifle the grin any longer.

"He's gonna be fixing the Cobra."

The response seemed to delight the man as much as it did yourself, because he laughed loudly and slammed a hand down against the wooden desk.

"Your old man finally found some sense, hey?" He jeered, "I'm mighty pleased to here that, little miss, I really am."

You smiled, "It's my birthday gift. Twenty-first coming up."

"Twenty-one, hey? Well, I've got just the boy. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

Carl leaned dangerously back on the stool, you fleetingly wondered how he didn't topple over, before yelling over his shoulder into the depths of the shop.

"Munson! Get your up-to-no-good-ass over here!"

Not to say that you'd completely forgotten him, but you were still more than a little taken aback when the tall framed mechanic from a few days before emerged from under the hood of a pick-up.

"Boss—?" His eyes found you. They lit up like main street over Christmas. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Morning, doll."

Grease covered every inch of his arms up to his elbows which held the scrunched up ends to the black long sleeve he was wearing. He was dirtier than last you saw him and it made your stomach swoop dangerously.

"Him?" It slipped out before you had time to catch it.

But Carl didn't comment on your rudeness, instead he slapped a heavy hand over Eddie's shoulder and shook it.

"For sixty's models, this is your boy for the Cobra." The older man beamed at him, like he was telling you his son was a heart surgeon. "Hands like a magician I tell you."

The comment sent a icy chill down the back of your spine, it wasn't helped when the mechanic snapped a wink at you from under his boss' hand.

"R-Right, well, you can come by as soon as you want to start working. A couple hours a day, my daddy will pay you."

With his hair clipped back, you could make a clearer assessment of his face as he nodded to you. He had thick lips and a strong-set nose.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, doll."

The cheekiness in his grin was plucking at a nerve behind your eyebrow. "Think you'll be able to find your way this time?"

"I think I'll be fine." His hands sunk into the depths of his jean pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Left at the butchery and right down the road to my heart."

You scoffed, turning back to Carl. "Thanks Mr Abernathy. I'll let my old man know."

Not even sparing Eddie another glance, you grabbed your hat off the counter and turned on your heel back to the car.

He watched your hair sway under the press of the brown hat and where your wide shoulders glistened in the light beneath the straps of your overalls.

Only when the sound of your engine had disappeared down the street, did he turn back to Carl who was digging the end of a screwdriver into a metal plate.

"You're really an old romantic aren't you, boss."

Carl grumbled, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Eddie shook his head, chuckling delightedly, "Psh, "sixty's models"! As if Jacob couldn't get that Cobra running in a couple days."

Pulling another cider noisily out from the cooler he kept at his feet, Carl guffawed. "I sure hope it's gonna take you more than a few days, lover boy, cause that little miss doesn't seem too fond 'a you I can tell you now."

But Eddie wasn't fazed, "Don't worry, she will be."

Sure as the sun rose in the sky, two o' clock rolled around the next afternoon and a noisy white pick-up pulled into park in front of the green farmhouse.

"Cherry! The mech's here!"

You'd grumbled, reluctantly pulling yourself out from where you'd been perched under the cool shade of the back porch repainting worn pots.

Eddie was standing lost in the driveway when you found him.

He was dirty, obviously just from the shop, and you offered something short of a warm welcome, but he seemed unfazed.

"Car's in the barn 'round the back of the house."

"Well good afternoon to you too, miss." You wondered if his smirk had been permanently stitched there.

The toolbox rattled with each step he took after your pacing figure.

As promised, the barn stood nearly as tall as the house in a faded orange hue.

It was dark inside and the door creaked loudly where you'd swung it open.

There she sat in all her glory. The 1965 AC Cobra, in a fitting cherry red.

Eddie whistled lowly over your shoulder behind you.

"A damn shame hiding this beaut up in this dusty barn." He passed you, running his hand over the bonnet that glimmered even in the low light.

We can agree on one thing at least, you thought.

"I've got to go finish up," you motioned over your shoulder, "but, uh, if you need anything I'll be around. Just shout."

You'd already caught the edge of the door, halfway out, when his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"And what is it exactly that I should I shout, doll? Seeing as you still haven't told me your name."

You surmised him, considering only momentarily letting your name spill off your lips.

Hm. Not today.

"Doll works just fine, greenie."

Finishing off the pots was easy, quick. They stood lined up against the bannister drying while you busied yourself in the vegetable patch behind the house: twisting carrots and beetroots out from the dark soil as the sun sunk slowly lower in the sky.

The time had hardly occurred to you when the back door swung open, your father sticking his one foot down the step.

Keys to the pick-up dangled in his hand.

"Cherry, I'm running to Madeline's for some wood glue and another bag of nails. Need anything?"

Swiping an itch on your forehead with the back of your hand, wiping a long black stripe there, you shook your head. "Nothing."

"Right," he nodded and the door was already halfway shut when he tossed it open again. "Oh, and go make that boy a bite to eat. Damn skinny thing's been in that hot barn for hours now."

You sagged your shoulders childishly, voice coming out as a whine. "Must I really?"

"Yes, you must really."

And he was gone.

The fridge was a ghost town, spare for the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetable that lived in the bottom drawer.

Following five minutes of pursing your lips and staring into its depths, you conjured up a lettuce, cucumber tomato and sweet-chilli sandwich. It didn't take long to convince yourself into making another to satiate your own complaining stomach.

You hummed as you worked, pouring cool lemonade into two glasses, packing the food back into the fridge and rinsing off the butter knife.

The tall clock chimed jovially from the hallway when you shuffled out the back, two plates and two glasses in hand.

Your hip nudged open at the barn door and a wave of sweltering heat rushed over your face and between every tendril of hair on your head.

Blinking foggily into the dim sauna that was the barn, you were met with the only slightly browned back of one Eddie Munson.

The man was hunched over, head lost in the depths of the car's stomach and when he straightened out you just about swallowed your tongue.

His long black mane was in a messy ponytail at the base of his neck and his shirt had been abandoned somewhere by the right tire. Sweat was sliding down the side of his face like an open faucet.

"Hey," he smiled when he met your eyes, voice groggy and tired. The sound made the plates wobble under your grip.

"Hi—" you cringed internally, it was the most pleasant greeting you'd offered him so far. Why had it come out so ... awkward?

You motioned down to the plates, as if his eyes hadn't already found them. "I made you a sandwich ... didn't know if you were hungry or—"

The wrench flew from his grip down into the box where he tossed it and Eddie sighed. "Starving."

You handed him the plate, watching how his blackened fingers stained the edge of the plate and the rim of the glass.

He sat carefully down against an empty crate that had been abandoned by the wall, resting the glass by his feet and wiping his hands down the length of his thighs.

"Hot as hell in here." The mechanic mumbled before diving into the sandwich.

Letting his head fall back against his shoulders, he moaned loudly.

"This is fucking delicious." He commented around the mouthful.

You worked hard to swat away the blush reaching at your cheeks by nodding quickly. That sound would probably ring in your head all night.

"I should go—"

"You're not gonna eat here? I don't mind ..." Eddie eyed the sandwich you'd made for yourself in your hand, gaze flickering between the plate and your face.

Your mouth curled around a response, but you were beat to the chase.

"I know you probably mind," he interjected quickly, "but if you w-want company, I mean, you could eat here ..."

Pursing your lips, you surveyed him: long gangly legs spilling in every direction and rings clinking against the glass.

Would it really kill you to sit five minutes with him?

"No need to turn red, greenie." You resigned, kicking over another crate near the grate of the car before leaning down to perch against it. "I don't mind."

It was quiet for the first couple minutes. You focused on your sandwich, feeling his gaze flicker up to you every few minutes.

He'd practically inhaled the first half of the sandwich, but you noticed he was eating the second half slowly.

"So," he swallowed down a gulp of lemonade. "What were you busy with now before I forced you into sitting here with me?"

You picked at a cucumber that had fallen loose from your sandwich, teasing at the outer skin with your teeth.

"Very important work." Your lip curled at the corners, it seemed he noticed. "Fate of the farm depended on it. Guess now it'll have to crash and burn ..."

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

His amused look matched yours.

"Pulling carrots out the patch."

He leaned back, eyes widening theatrically. "Sounds exhilarating."

"You have no idea."

You bit into your sandwich again, finding the space suddenly more comfortable.

"Tell me," he pulled off a piece of tomato hanging dangerously off the edge of the sandwich, "How does a car this beautiful find it's way onto a farm in the middle of nowhere?"

Your chest pinched at the question.

"Y'know, just ..." you motioned vaguely towards the roof, "Aliens."

He caught how your gaze flickered from his to a loose bolt near your foot.

Okay, sensitive spot.

The bread was soft between Eddie's fingers, he set it down.

"I thought I saw some funny lights in the sky last night."

It was becoming almost impossible to keep his eyes off you, even for a couple seconds at a time.

You only nodded at his response, refusing to lift your gaze from the floor.

It was making his stomach churn, desperate for a couple more minutes to enjoy the view of your face.

There was a smudge of brown soil against your forehead where your hair fell over it, making his hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and swipe at your sun-kissed face.

"Just you and the old man then?" He pressed, reaching for his glass again.

You shrugged, "Couple creatures of the earth too. And the peaches, of course. Always the peaches."

"Peaches are good."

"No boyfriend then?"

It slipped out of him before he had chance to catch it. He'd been dying to know since the second your figure had appeared to him beyond the cloud of dust out in the field.

You took your sweet time, examining him over the rim of your glass. He couldn't tell whether you intended to respond to him at all.

The weight of your gaze was making his head spin.

"'A course I have a boyfriend. Nights on a big farm like this get lonely without someone to warm the other side of the bed. Y'know?"

Eddie's heart sunk into his stomach.

The sandwich had suddenly lost it's appeal. He set the last couple bites by his feet. He nodded slowly.

"... Can imagine."

Blood was rushing past his ears loudly, he could feel it pooling around his cheeks: warming his face with embarrassment.

"He's actually around if you want to meet him?"

"Uh—" Eddie couldn't even formulate a half of a response before your head was thrown back over your right shoulder:

"Cowboy! Baby!"

Cowboy?

There was a thick confused silence where he wasn't entirely sure who or even if anyone would march through the door - he mostly hoped that you'd been lying and nobody was coming at all.

"Baby!" You called again.

Then he heard it.

The fall of footsteps. Someone was running towards the barn and getting quickly closer.

From out of the sunshine, bounding through the door, Eddie made out the shape of the largest dog he'd ever seen.

Four long gangly legs carried him across the small space, tongue swinging over the side of his jaw: he'd appeared so quickly that Eddie didn't have a moment to prepare before the hound leapt excitedly into his lap.

"Hey, boy—!"

He toppled back over the crate and the dog licked hungrily at the sauce around the edges of his mouth, he nudged Eddie's face with his giant snout before spotting the last few bites of the sandwich left abandoned and scooped it up in one long lick.

The distraction of the food offered Eddie the opportunity to sit straight up again, he could feel the hay tangling into the depths of his hair - but the thought dissolved when he picked up the sound you were making.

You were laughing.

The sound was making him drunk, he was sure of it.

It was made worse when he looked at you: head tilted to the side, leaning at the wall and calling the dog breathlessly between giggles.

Eddie could feel the tiny birds flying in circles over his head and his pupils turning to hearts.

"Cowboy, leave the man's food!"

But the sandwich was long gone and the dog had apparently lost interest in sniffing at the empty plate, returning to licking wet stripes up the side of Eddie's face.

"Sorry, he's just a pup." Your face had softened, giggles bubbling down to a sigh. "Hasn't grown into all his manners yet."

"A pup?" Eddie mumbled in disbelief, catching Cowboy behind his ears with a tickle.

Like a magic button, the dog collapsed into a puddle by his feet: panting loudly.

"Kinda looks like your boyfriend likes me more than you."

You leaned against your knees, head shaking. "I'm feeling a little betrayed that he hasn't even looked in my direction yet."

"It's my natural charm, what can I say. Attracts animals of all species."

Scoffing loudly, you shook your head. "Keep the traitor then. We'll see how long he lasts without me feeding him spoonfuls of peanut butter under the table."

Eddie briefly wondered how big of table existed in the kitchen beyond the window of the farmhouse to fit the monstrous animal at his feet.

"Aw, then who would keep you warm on cold farm nights ..." he flashed a toothy smile, "Winter is just around the corner after all."

"Well, in that case," you tilted your head back in false concentration, lifting your hand to count on your fingers: "There's Bullseye, the cat ... Rodeo, the other cat. A couple stray dogs sometimes walk in off the fields, maybe we could adopt a goat?"

Cowboy was watching you with his head in Eddie's lap, Eddie tilted his head innocently to the side. "No one else?"

"Nope ... none that come to mind."

You were smiling at him now, mischief curled into the edges of your mouth.

It was turning his insides to a molten pool of goo.

"Is that a smile I see?" He tried his luck. "Did I make you smile? Is a comet about to hit the state of Tennessee?"

You turned your head quickly, working to wipe the expression off your face, but not entirely succeeding.

Instead you stood up.

"Whatever, greenie." Leaning down to pick up your plate, Eddie was briefly exposed to the view down the front of your dungarees. He blushed again. "Don't you have work to do?"

Crossing the space quickly, you grabbed his plate from beneath one of Cowboy's pot-sized paws before clicking your tongue at the dog.

He clambered back onto his feet like a new-born deer, clearly still not entirely sure what to do with so much leg.

"I'll see you later then, doll?"

But you didn't turn back, disappearing into the light of the sun with Cowboy trotting at your heels.

"Maybe in your dreams tonight, pretty boy."

tags:

@jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au

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abarbaricyalp · 19 days

Note

hey <33 🍜 and/or 🤗 for the sambucky ask game please and thank you

🍜 Sick Day 🤗 Cuddling These were so cute together, I did both! Thanks for sending in a prompt!

"You look terrible," Bucky greeted as he set down two giant to-go containers of soup from Mrs. Bray down the street.

Sam was wrapped up in his mama's old quilt on the couch, staring straight ahead, ashen and sweaty and a few days past a shower. He ended his staring contest with the wall and all the swimming colors that weren't actually moving so that he could glare at Bucky instead. "I'd ask if you were a hallucination, but I assume you appear to gloat no matter where you're stationed."

Bucky rolled his eyes and handed Sam a bottle of Ginger Ale. "Drink this while I go get a wet rag. You should take off that blanket."

"I'm freezing," Sam insisted. He did take the soda at least. Waited until Bucky wasn't in front of him to open it and down half of it in one go. "Why are you here?" he called without turning to look at whatever Bucky was digging through in the kitchen.

"My name is still on the deed, Wilson," Bucky pointed out. Then he was kissing Sam's temple after appearing from nowhere. He used Sam's distraction to take his temperature by pressing the back of his hand to Sam's cheek. "You're burning up. You really need to take off the blanket."

"I'm freezing," Sam repeated. He wasn't sure how to be any clearer. His hands were so cold and he was shivering so badly that he didn't think he could let go of the blanket anyway.

Bucky ran the cool, wet rag in his hand over Sam's face and down his neck. Sam would not admit that it felt really nice. When Bucky left it wrapped around the back of his neck, he reached up to move it to his forehead again. Bucky was opening the windows and the fresh air was so vastly different than the stuffy air of the house, Sam almost got sick all over again.

Reluctantly, he shrugged the blanket off and let it pool against the crevice of the back of the couch. He wanted it within grabbing distance. "Aren't you supposed to be, like, in Germany or something?"

"New York," Bucky corrected. He sat beside Sam and felt like a damn furnace. Where his thigh pressed along Sam's was like an open flame. Sam put his hands there. He'd snicker at the way Bucky jolted towards him if he had the energy to. Bucky kept his hands to himself though and got the soup containers open. He'd gotten spoons at some point and set one aside, settling back against the couch with one spoon and one soup.

"It's not toast water is it?" Sam asked warily.

"How do you know about toast water?" Bucky asked in amusement. "Been reading up on how I used to live or something?"

"My grandma was old too. You're not the only geriatric around me."

Bucky rolled his eyes fondly. "No, it's not toast water. It's bone broth. You need to replenish your electrolytes and get some protein in you."

"I hate bone broth," Sam resisted like a child. "I'm not hungry. I just wanna go back to sleep."

"Mrs. Bray sent you dumplings too," Bucky tempted. "If you eat some of this, we'll split the dumplings. Otherwise, I'm just gonna eat them myself."

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked again. "Why are you talking to the neighbors?"

"You passed out on a plane," Bucky said. "Did you think no one was gonna tell me about it?"

Sam shrugged. He took the spoon because he could feed his own damn self, but he let Bucky keep holding the tub of soup. His wrists hurt just looking at it. "It's just a bug," he mumbled.

"You passed out," Bucky repeated, stressed each word like it was the end of the world.

"I might have ignored it for a while," Sam admitted. No use hiding it now that the effects were out in the world.

"Sam," Bucky groaned.

Sam took several quick spoonfuls of the soup to avoid answering. "They already think I'm not strong enough to do it," he admitted after a few seconds of just soupy noises. Talk about something to turn his stomach over. He kept his eyes on the side of the container instead of looking up at Bucky. "I couldn't just drop out of a fight or divert a speech or cancel an event because my stomach hurt."

And now everything hurt and everything was tired and he still couldn't make the wall stop zooming in and out of his depth perception.

"Sweetheart," Bucky sighed. He set aside the soup, which was half empty, Sam was surprised to find, and took the spoon as well before he scooped Sam into his arms and laid back against their couch.

Sam went with him because he wouldn't have much of a choice with Bucky's arms around him when he was at full health, much less like this. He was always the weakest around Bucky. Instead, he just turned his face against Bucky's neck and drew in a stuttering breath. He'd missed this, even if he wasn't going to say that out loud. He put his arms around Bucky's midsection, though he couldn't get his hands beneath Bucky's back to really hold him close. Keep him from slipping off into the sunset, onto a jet to a secret group and secret mission without a phone and no way for Sam to get ahold of him. No cameras. No media. No updates. No chance for Sam to see his face.

"It's your fault," he mumbled against Bucky's collarbone. Bucky hummed and it vibrated Sam's skull and his aching brain. "I was too stressed out about you leaving. Fucked up my immune system. It does that, y'know. Stress."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed to some part of Sam's babbling. "I know. But now you don't have an excuse, so just go to sleep and get to feeling better."

"Maybe I don't wanna sleep here. Gonna get you sick," Sam argued, even though there was no force in the world that would get him up now.

"You're not gonna get me sick," Bucky snorted softly. "We could swap spit and not get me sick."

"We're not swapping spit until you apologize," Sam warned. Mostly. Bucky's hands started to rub over all of the sore, tight spots on Sam's back, so he lost his voice halfway through the sentence.

"Sorry for stressing you out until you got sick. Now you know what it feels like," he couldn't help but jabbing.

Sam rolled his eyes and Bucky sighed at the feeling of Sam's eyelashes against his skin. "I meant for leaving."

"Wasn't exactly my choice," Bucky muttered. And the venom in his voice made Sam believe him well enough.

"They were holding your pardon over your head, I guess," Sam mumbled.

Bucky was quiet, which wasn't uncharacteristic except that it was just the two of them, which did make it uncharacteristic because the only time Bucky wasn't chattering his ear off was when he was staring at Sam all dopey eyed. Sam didn't figure there was a lot of dopey eyes currently.

"What?" he asked, lifting his head with all the strength that it took to lift a couple of busses over his head too. "It wasn't about the pardon? You left for some other reason? Did you do something else?"

"No," Bucky snapped. His fingers hadn't stopped massaging Sam's muscles, but he was just getting tenser beneath Bucky's touch. Bucky's eyes softened a little again. "It wasn't my pardon. It was yours."

Sam went lightheaded for the umpteenth time over the last several days, but this one was different. Far more painful. "What?"

"Sam, you gotta know no one can hurt me by holding a gun to my head," he mumbled. Somehow, his eyes hadn't darted away from Sam's face. Sam would've looked away by now. But Bucky's stare was as intense as it ever was. "But you? You're my soft, vulnerable spot. My ribs pried away to expose my heart. I can't protect you any way except to put myself between the danger and you. They point a gun at you and I'm gonna step in front of it."

There was a fire burning through Sam's chest and racing along his soul and all the places it stretched to his in body, dragging fury along with it. But exhaustion chased right after, singeing the flickering flames. "They were gonna arrest Captain America if you didn't join their team?" he asked.

"It sounds stupid when you say it. It's not just about the pardon, Sam. It's everything. They know if they hold their thumb over a button with your name, I'll do whatever they want. I've got... I've got to protect you."

The exhaustion collapsed over the fury like a wave. Sam sagged against Bucky's chest. "I didn't ask you do to that."

"You didn't ask me to love you either. It just comes naturally," Bucky murmured. His brought his hand up to the back of Sam's neck, massaging there gently. It just about took Sam out.

"I'm gonna burn them to the ground," Sam mumbled, drifting off, into a darkness shaped like Bucky's shoulder and spread of hair. "This isn't over. This conversation isn't..."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, far away. "I know, Sammy. There's dumplings for that part though."

Sam nodded. Well, he thought he did anyway. He was so close to falling asleep. It was just that his fingers were still so cold.

Then they weren't, folded against Bucky's palm, held up against his heartbeat coming through his ribs.

This is mine, he thought as the feeling of a kiss on his hair pushed him finally into sleep. I'm holding onto this forever. No one is taking it from me.

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #i answer things

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