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ozimagines · 1 month

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Hello there! I haven’t ever seen you write for this character, so I completely understand if you don’t wish to. I was wondering if you had any thoughts about Jeremiah Cloutier falling for someone? If possible, a masc/gender non-conforming person? As I said, totally okay if not! I hope you have a good weekend.

Absolutely! I don’t write him often, you’re right, but he was a fascinating character with a great portrayal by Luke Perry. And a Holy man with a masc/non-gender conforming reader gives the possibility for some interesting character studies.

(Also y’all are so polite in your asks!🥹 I’ll take them all! I love Oz character imagines and will always take the opportunity to try something new!)

Jeremiah Cloutier falling for a Masc/Gender Non-Conforming Reader would include…

He’s a man of God. He knows this about himself.

Since he was young, he knew that he had a higher calling. 👼

He stays friendly with all those in his parish, keeps close with his flock, as it were. They’re all pretty standard church goers, nothing unexpected. (All gender conforming)

So it wasn’t hard for his eyes to fall on you in the middle of a sermon one day.

It was odd. At first you were an affront to his sensibilities, and he wanted to pivot his sermon to talk about what God expects from men and what he expects of women… but his tongue stops before he can start.

He sees the way others regard you, like some sort of insult.

But he lets you stay.

Because just as you are unlike those in his congregation in appearances, you are also unlike them in your actions.

They largely come once a week and forget him for the other six days unless they have to win a political debate.

You’re focused. Intimidatingly so. But you’re not staring at him. You’re staring through him.

It takes him a minute to realize you’re inspecting the stained glass windows behind him. Looking at something he struggles to see even though he’s stared at that same window himself as he prays.

After the sermon, he shakes some hands, kisses some babies, all that’s expected of him.

But he pushes through people to make sure you don’t leave without him speaking to you.

It’s not hard to find you, you’re still sitting in the pew with your head down, lips moving but no sounds leaving.

He sits down next to you, and you immediately take notice.

“Reverend!”😳

He stops you instantly.

“Please, continue to pray. I’ll do the same.”

You sit in silence, both your heads down, both in deep concentration.

When everyone leaves, he turns to you.

“I’ve… well, you’ve never been to service before.”

You blush a little and stutter.

“I… wasn’t supposed to be here this time.”

You explain that you were sitting in the pew when the service started, and when people started to file in, you just stayed.😂

“What were you praying for, my child?”

“I… don’t know if I was.”

You explain you have a rocky relationship with the church. That you were told from a very young age what God expected from you… and you weren’t sure it was a contract you wanted.

He asks why you came into a church at all, still patient.

Cloutier is different from some of the other Christians in Oz; he’s pompous and self assured but he’s curious, with a mind that won’t let him leave an unturned stone.

“It’s that window.”

You point to the stained glass window with a sheepish look. It’s Jesus and Mary, surrounded by angels.

“You think that’s what they look like? The angels, I mean?”

He starts to go on this long spiel on how one interprets the Bible but you stop him.

“That’s not what I’m asking. Every time I see an angel in print, they have white wings… in stained glass, it’s rainbow, like a parrots. And when the light hits it right, they glow. I wonder… if the angels only have white wings, or are some of them rainbow?”🌈

He genuinely does not know how to answer that question, and he finds himself staring at that same stained glass window with a totally different view.

You apologize for crashing his sermon, but he assures you all are welcome in God’s house. ⛪️✝️

You thank him but have heard that before.

Next week, he searches the crowd for your face but you aren’t there.

You aren’t there for two more sermons.

When he finally sees you, it’s on a Wednesday night. He’s alone in the church after a mid-week sermon, when he hears the church doors open. The main doors are always open to allow people to pray.

He leaves his office and sees you sitting in the same pew, staring at the stained glass window. He cannot stop his own smile.

You apologize again, and ask if you’re disturbing him.

He insists you’re not and that he’s just working on the Sunday service.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked, about the rainbow angels.”

He explains that the Bible is moral law written in poetic form, but that it’s all true. You smile as he explains in his vanilla Christian style; nothing you haven’t heard before, again.

You’re quiet while he talks, and as he does, he looks directly into your eyes. You have wonderfully bright and vivacious eyes.

He starts to broach the obvious subject.

“There are certain… lifestyles… that are against God’s plan-“

You stop him. You tell him you’ve heard that before too. That God’s love is conditional in every sense of the word.

When you weren’t sure who you were, you hated yourself and everyone still loved you. Now that you know who you are, you love yourself and everyone hates you.

“There’s no room for rainbow angels in God’s plan.”😭

He doesn’t really have an answer for that. He’d delivered sermons against non-traditional lifestyles (largely LGBTQIA+ 🏳️‍🌈 🏳️‍⚧️) so how could he tell you he thought any different?

But he’d never seen this side before. You were hurting but not because you were at war with yourself, but because everyone seemed at war with you.

He tells you that while he was firm in his position on God, that his door is always open to you. That he’d be there to guide you.

He prays that night. He prays that you find your way; that you follow God’s plan and become a churchgoer.

As he does this his heart aches. All he can picture is your words and your searching eyes.

“There’s no room for rainbow angels in God’s plan.”

You come over next Wednesday after service. He’s got his head in the Bible again, lovingly searching over its words.

You ask him what the draw is. Why he loves harder than most.

“It’s His love. It’s boundless and everlasting.”

You wonder how he can think that when half his sermons are just lists of exceptions.

He appreciates your candor and asks your relationship with God.

“Estranged. For a long time, I wanted his love more than anything. When it was clear that it didn’t belong to me as I am, I wanted nothing to do with it… and now…”

“And now…?” He continues, hand reaching out to yours to comfort you.

“Now I know something. Either God is all powerful and not all knowing or he’s all knowing and not all powerful, and if he is that… then he’s just like us. And he deserves a break too. I think God made us like a science experiment, but then we got out of hand. And now he can only watch.”

He tells you the best way to solidify your relationship with God is to follow his plan. That he is all knowing and all powerful. That his love is worth it.

You shake your head, heatedly, insisting that any God without imperfection is a tyrant expecting obedience on threat of abandonment and eternal suffering. That he couldn’t possibly understand what it is to exist in the modern world.

You two talk for hours, hardly seeing eye to eye, but with the sweet canter of his voice, you know his words never come from a place of anger.

You thank him for spending this time with you. For listening, even if he didn’t agree.

He tells you again that you’re welcome any time, and that he’s made a lifetime commitment to being God’s messenger, and if he can convey any of that to you, then he’s happy.

He tells you he’s glad, and squeezes your hand… for a little too long. You realize this and so does he.

He can’t get you out of his head the next few days. So few people in his congregation met with him after hours just to talk biblical philosophy.

You cared more than most.

He seeks council on his feelings from the last person who’d expect to see him

Father Mukada was shocked as Reverend Cloutier entered his office. 🤯

They greet each other like old friends and then get straight to business.

“There’s this… person. He… she… this person is not a… traditional member of either of our flocks. But… they have questions…”

He explains the rainbow angels theory, and Mukada listens with the open heart he’s always had. Cloutier says he wants you as a part of his congregation. Mukada asks the very reasonable question… why?

Because you try. Because you’re searching for answers he wants to give you. Because you’re hurting, and that’s exactly why he became a Reverend.

“Because he’s hurting. I’ve… always assumed the homosexuals and… well… others… were at war within themselves. He seems at peace within and at war against his own will. I know in my heart he deserves peace, but I was taught the oath he’s on is promised none. Father Mukada, how do you guide someone away from their own peace?”🕊️

Mukada thinks for a second.

“We often, as Holy men, have to balance our self assuredness lest it become self righteousness.” -Mukada, MD.

“I’ll invite the child into my flock. Offer to teach him.”

“Teach but don’t judge.”

*sweats in Christian* -Cloutier, probably

You meet with him after service on Wednesday.

“What did you think of the sermon?”🥰

“A little dry.” -teasing him😛

He invited you into his quarters and asks about your life. What lead you to his church?

You admit you grew up around religion. You don’t specify whether or not you were or weren’t or your family. You’re guarded.

He realizes it’s because you have to be.

You mention a study abroad trip to the Vatican. You mentioned the duomi and the stained glass and the murals.

“The glass behind the Priest started to glow as the sun was setting. And the white doves so carefully crafted just shined and the gold on the organ… it was blinding.”

“The light of God.” -he smiles

You smile sadly back.

“They asked me to leave.”

His smile drops off his face. His face flushed as he knows he had banned others in your position. He never felt like more of an ass in his life.

“All I could think about were the angels on the side wall. Rainbow. Not like the ones painted on the wall. They glowed, and casted colored light in all directions.”

He asks you why you gravitate towards the angels who are… “different”

You chuckle. You know what he’s asking.

“All you need to know is my pronouns are he/they, and I don’t often fit into one category or the other. Sometimes I’m both. Sometimes I’m neither. Normally masculine leaning though.”

Your face lights up as you say this. He notices that immediately. Your eyes just… glowed. Sparkling like the window you mentioned.

“Were you born a-“

“All you need to know,” you restate clearly, but not unkindly, “is my pronouns are he/they, my name is Y/N, and I’ve never felt more like myself than I do right now.”☺️

He takes the hint and for the second time that day, feels like an ass😅

“God gives his toughest battles-“

“-to his strongest soldiers.” You finish with a sly grin. “Is that not what you were going to say?”

He grins back. He knows you’re just teasing, but he feels bad using his C-material on an A+ person like you. So he leveled with you.

“My whole belief system says you’re wrong. Everything. It says if you don’t suffer the wrath of God in this life, then you will in the other.” He backpedals, feeling sick having to say this to your face. “I’m sorry, that’s just what it is. I am only a messenger of God.” 🙃

You smile at him a little sadly. You had to know this is what he thought. Or what he had been repeating his whole life.

“When in your life did you feel most like yourself?” -you ask, with a burst of confidence.

“When I was studying.” He found himself saying. “When I was in school to become a reverend. I have a degree in Christian studies. And I read the words of God… it read like poetry.”

“Like the Odyssey, or the Iliad…” you muse to yourself, and he silently pardons your blaspheme. “I don’t mean that pejoratively. Those are epic tales of morality and humility and human weakness and the divine. It’s gorgeous. Always has been.”

“You’ve read the Bible…?”🥹🥹🥹

“Cover to cover. Made notes in the margined of mine.”

“I do that too!” He exclaims, popping an excellent, radiant smile. You can’t help but stare a second. He opens the pages of his to show you like an excited young boy.

You talk biblical for hours, into the wee morning.

“You are unlike any person I’ve ever met.” He muses over you, and you realize he’s stroking your hand.

He realizes too and stops, wishing you a good day and walking you out to your car. The sun is coming up over buildings in the distance. 🌇

He cancels your next appointment. He needs time to think.

He goes to his confidant in everything; God. He sits in his pew, just thinking and praying. He asks for an answer. Why does he care for you so when you are supposed to be something he rages against? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? Why can’t he get those rainbow angels out of his mind?

He sits down with a pad and paper, and with one more look towards the heavens above, he lets God guide his hand and smiles as he writes, for the first time in a long time, he’s enjoying this sermon.

Sunday service! You were specifically invited this time by Jeremiah. He gets to the pulpit, and opens his notes, casting a smiling, knowing glance at you.

“Miracles. Ask an ye shall receive. We’re all praying and searching. Miracles are what we call it when God answers a prayer. But do we love all miracles? Or just those who come to us in the form in which we intended?”

The crowd shifts a little, but you’re not focusing on him. The sun is coming up behind him, and the Reverend started to shine. His eyes bounced around the room, not wildly though, each eye contact was meaningful and said something personal. He brushed his shaggy hair out of his face in his passion.

You were in awe of this man.

“God’s job isn’t to give us what we want, it’s to give us what we need. But when it’s an answer other than the one we wanted, we have a tendency to reject God’s hand.”

He turns behind him and gestures largely for the audience.

“For in the purity of the white angel wings, we lose the light of God, who does not appear in just one color, just one sound, just one sensation. When the Lord Almighty sends you a rainbow angel,”

His eyes flit to you, and you see a smile grace his face.

“After a period of rain and turmoil, you accept it, knowing God has sent you what you need.”

His entire congregation erupts, all thanking him and praising him and still side-eying you.

You wait for the congregation to leave him alone by sitting in the pew and waiting for him.

He doesn’t wait. He pushes past his regulars to you. It starts to piss him off as they all tell him they agree with the sermon, and still found enough hate in their hearts to judge you.

“Y/N!”

You hear some whispers including your d/n, and Jeremiah flushes. He pushes back his hair again, clenching his Bible, and saying,

“Y/N, will be jointing our congregation… if they so choose. They’re… about the best person I’ve met in a long time. Sometimes, I lose myself in the fire and brimstone, and forget the beauty our faith has to offer. Y/N here has helped me get in touch with that beauty.”

His flock is… confused. But as most of them considered questioning their Holy man a blaspheme, they went along with it and you were welcomed, some genuinely moved by his speech and some just forcing a smile.

You’re not really focused on any of them. You and Jeremiah have been staring at each other the whole day. You stay behind to talk to them.

“So… you still trying to save me?” -you ask, teasingly. He smiles.

“Actually, I was hoping you could save me.” 🥹

He takes your hand and leads you to the front with him. He kneels you down before the stained glass window. He kneels as well, right next to you, bowing his head.

You think he’s about to ask God go his blessing or his forgiveness… all he says is a humble “thank you.”

You take things slow. You have to.

But he enjoys talking the Bible with you, as well as other poetic/moral pieces.

He takes you to his favorite diner where he writes some of his sermons. That there was a waitress there who was sixty two, who had served him since he was young who he loved.

You learn about his preferences; he’s a simple man, but appreciates quality.

He likes hot chocolate, and though he doesn’t say this, you know mini marshmallows are his favorite part.

His favorite flowers are Queen Anne’s Lace, and he often gets them for you because he thinks they look lovely in your hair or on your lapel.

Takes him a minute to get the hang of dating someone masculine. He’s attracted to you to be sure but he’s a baby gay, so you have to be gentle😅

Likes watching old movies with you. Like Road To movies with Bobe Hope and Bing Crosby. Sings softly to you, and not very well 🤣

He actually likes baking a lot, and works with you to make cupcakes and cookies for the church bake sale. He likes light blue and decorated the cupcakes accordingly.

You take him to Karaoke once; he hates it immediately but doesn’t act all dicky and pathetic about it. Just lets you enjoy your time. 🎤

When he kisses you, it takes you both by surprise even though he asks.

“I just want to try something. Here.”

Leans forward and kisses you gently on the lips. You lean in a little bit try not to scare him off. It’s nice; a calming experience.

He holds your hand often, and lets you hold onto his arm at church functions.

He smiles at you often; it’s like he can’t help himself.

He’s not Catholic, so there’s not really a rule for celibacy… but it takes him a looong time to get there.

When he is there it’s a loving experience, joyful and natural; just two people enjoying the other’s company. He caresses and holds you afterwards, kissing your neck and cheek and ear.

Says I love you in the most elaborate way possible; you just laugh.

“God tells us we must love one another. That we must be there for others at every juncture, and when you commit yourself to one person, you are to love and honor them as you would love and honor him-”

“I love you too, Jeremiah.”❤️

You two build a life together, and though it’s not to say no one tries to interfere with this “non-traditional” couple, but you two are just too happy and at peace to care.

You found your person. Just someone to go through life with. Someone to stand in line with at the grocery store, or read a book with after dinner.

You and Jeremiah both quote Buddha (though Jeremiah calls him a prophet sometimes): Peace comes from within. Do not seek without.

Bonus: Jeremiah chews gum feverishly when he’s writing his sermons. Helps him think. You always leave a gum packet on the desk next to him. Sometimes you find fun flavors from around the world. He quite likes the dragonfruit one, but will pass on the licorice one in the future 😂

#hbo oz #oz meme #Jeremiah Cloutier #wow this was a long one #just wanted to get him there naturally instead of him being out of character #he’s firm but his relationship with Mukada makes me think he’s trying to be better than he is #I have a complicated relationship with the church as I am gay/gender non conforming and I grew up in Texas and Alabama #but I have some wonderful Christian friends who take God’s love seriously #and they believe it’s not their place to judge #but rather just to be there #also their thoughts on the Vatican are my thoughts too #it’s a gorgeous place where I wasn’t welcome #but I’d like to be. just for the art itself #rainbow angels

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andiilikestoreadff · 11 months

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Just when I think "how many hyperfixations can I have at a time, truly?!"

John Murphy appears 😳 and I am swept away to obsess over him again.

Update: Merlin has entered the chat not but a day later... 😑

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scuopsie · 2 years

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C: (i think?)

#whoever dressed kihyun up in this GORGEOUS SHIRT I WILL SUCK UR… WHATEVER BODY PART U PREFER. U JUST NAME IT #I AM LOSLIMH MY GODDAMN MIND #HES SO FUCKIFN HOT LOOK AY HIMMMM #THAT SHIRT IS PERFECT FOR HIS BODY #LOOK AT HIS NIPPIE PEEKING THRU😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#also op’s meme….. M O O D #I SAVED TJAT #monsta x #kihyun

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lokislittlesigyn · 1 year

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Today is an absolutely Gorgeous day, just nice and warm and pleasant and goodness I want everyone to know that sometimes the world is really just!!! Lovely!!!!

#and also that I want to spend this day with loki!!!#i will probably imagine him with me!#it’s such a gorgeous day #we ought to spend it together #that’ll make it even better #(if he wants to of course)#loki #<3 #loki my beloved #personal #woah im a person??? wild #rdj meme #‘she is overcome with zest for life’

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eddiernunson · 3 months

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Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

taglist for Waiting Room Problems: @skrzydlak @delicatechaos @ali-r3n @suckerz @cam-peggio @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @emxxblog @lilrubles @dandelionnfluff @babygirl229 @let-love-bleeds-red @kurdtbean

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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navybrat817 · 2 months

Text

Sergeant Snuggles

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky wants you to get some much needed rest. Word Count: Over 1.6k Warnings: Fluff, swearing, humor, reader is tired, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and the best boyfriend, okay?). A/N: I'm tired. I want Bucky to fix my schedule. Again! ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You should’ve taken the afternoon off. You knew that. There was no reason for you to remain in the building beyond your earlier debriefing. The mission you completed was successful, but you hardly slept over the last few days because of it. Describing yourself as tired was an understatement.

But you had a tendency to stretch yourself thin at times and were stubborn, a trait Bucky both loved and fought you on.

The beautiful brunette you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend leaned over in his chair as you stifled a yawn. “That’s the fifth time you’ve done that in the last two minutes,” he whispered low enough to not draw attention.

“Glad you’re keeping count,” you whispered back, feeling his steel eyes linger on you as before he turned his focus back to Steve. At least he didn’t say he told you so after you turned down his suggestion this morning to call in.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, the stubble on his strong jawline catching your attention. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. Hardly slept either. Still looked gorgeous.

How was that fair?

“Just take a break,” he urged, tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear. “It’ll help.”

“No, I’m fine,” you argued, picking up your drink and downing the rest of it, as if it would give you a boost. “We have a busy day. I don’t have time to use one of the pods.”

S.H.I.E.L.D. had recently built a lounge area for agents to rest and recoup during the day and between missions. Some of the pods were large enough for two people to rest comfortably together. Why not cuddle with your soldier for a short time? As nice as it sounded, you had to get through a few more hours of work.

“I love you, but you’re about two seconds away from putting your head on the table,” Bucky whispered, your heart skipping a beat. It did that whenever he professed his love for you. But you were also feeling a bit grouchy, even though he was only trying to help

“And I love you, but I’m about two seconds away from flipping this table,” you hissed before Steve cleared his throat. “Sorry,” you added sheepishly. It wasn’t his fault the mission cost you precious sleep.

The blonde’s brow furrowed. Like Bucky, he knew you pushed yourself too hard some days. You had to though. You weren't a super soldier like they were. “It’s okay,” he said before he continued.

Exhaustion veiled your normally bright and attentive gaze. The Captain had a commanding presence, yet your eyelids drooped as he kept talking. You weren’t sure if you were able to fall asleep sitting up and you didn’t want to find out. With a shake of your head, you had to try and fight the waves of drowsiness that crashed in your mind and washed over your body.

It was a losing battle. You used to laugh at memes that talked about meetings that could’ve been done in an email, but it didn’t seem so humorous now that you were living it. Why didn't you just stay home?

You jolted when your boyfriend suddenly placed his hand on your thigh and you wished you could say you blamed it on his touch. “What? What happened?” You asked. Did you fall asleep or just zone out?

“The meeting’s over,” he replied, nodding to the now empty room. You hadn’t seen anyone walk out. That wasn’t good.

“Shit.” You rubbed your temple, an ache building in your head. You’d have to apologize to Steve later because there was no way you retained anything he stated. “What time is it?”

Bucky checked his watch with a slight frown. “It’s 10:55.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.

“Yeah.” Bucky’s lip twitched in a smile when you realized you said that out loud. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.”

You huffed, your head cloudy again before you slumped in your chair. There was no way you’d make it through the day, as much as you wanted to try. You were useless in this condition. “Okay. I may need a nap,” you admitted.

He smiled softly as he pushed his chair back and held out his hand. “I had a feeling. That’s why I booked us one of the pods before we got here,” he said. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. He knew you better than you knew yourself. “Let's go.”

You pouted, but took his outstretched hand. “Are you sure I can't just try and suck it up?” You asked, covering your mouth with your other hand when you yawned yet again. “There’s still work to do.”

“And you're not going to finish it right this second,” he stated firmly, the drop in his voice making your throat go dry. He meant business when he used that tone. “You're going to let everyone else handle it, and they can handle it, and you are going to get some rest.”

You loved this man for putting up with and caring for you. “Yes, Sergeant, but I still don't want a nap,” you grumbled, wondering just how whiny you sounded.

He chuckled, the sound making you giggle. It was infectious. “Just twenty minutes. It’s all I'm asking for to start. You worked hard and deserve a nap,” he said, sneaking a soft kiss in when you pouted again. “If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me? Please?”

Something vulnerable flashed in his eyes before he blinked it away. Nightmares still plagued him and you discovered that he rested easier with you beside him. Your presence didn’t always chase the horrors away, but it helped. Maybe he needed this nap just as much as you did.

What kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

“Okay, Bucko. For you,” you smiled, leaning into his side as he guided you down the hall. You’d do anything for him. “You know, my caffeine let me down,” you added.

“I know, baby.”

“It’s a betrayal. It was supposed to stimulate me,” you mumbled.

“I know, baby,” he said again, going along with your tired rambling. “But we both know I stimulate better than that ever could.”

“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. He was very good at that. “And this is a good excuse for us to cuddle.”

“As long as you get some sleep, you can have all the cuddles you want,” he promised.

A tired smile touched your lips. “I should call you Sergeant Snuggles.”

It was at that moment that Sam walked by, the smirk on his face telling you that he at least caught the nickname you just came up with. Your gaze flickered to Bucky’s profile, catching the clench in his jaw as he stared at his colleague and friend. It was a sexy look, but now wasn’t the time to think about that. And Sam, the good man he was, didn't say a word. He nodded and went on his way.

Which likely meant he pocketed the nickname to bring up at a later time.

“Sorry,” you whispered, hoping you hadn’t embarrassed him.

Fondness took over Bucky's blue eyes when he swung his gaze back toward you. “Don't be sorry. You can call me whatever you want,” he assured you, taking you into the longue.

The low light created a peaceful atmosphere and you found yourself longing for relaxation as Bucky brought you to the pod furthest in the corner. He helped you in before he climbed in beside you, his massive frame making you feel safe and warm as he held you against him. His fingers moved along your back in a slow and soothing pattern and your breathing began to match his after a minute. It made it easy for your eyes to slip shut.

You still couldn’t believe that you had someone in your life like Bucky. The man did everything in his power to put your needs first and make sure he took care of you. Not because he didn’t think you were strong or capable enough to do so yourself, but because he recognized that you didn’t have to do everything alone. That was why he was your partner.

In work, in love, and in life.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you sighed, wishing you were awake enough to say how much you appreciated him. “Sorry for whining and bitching and being stubborn.”

“You don’t need to thank me and you didn’t whine or bitch. I’ll give you stubborn though,” he said, casually tossing a leg over you before you could move away. If you asked it of him, he’d lay on top of you like a blanket. “Just get some sleep and don’t push yourself today, please. I’ll feel a lot better if you relax.”

You’d feel a lot better, too. “One more question and I will.”

He hummed as he waited for you to speak.

“What's the policy on sex in the pods?” You asked, resting a hand on his chest and feeling his heart start to race. “For future us, for the record. I love you, but we’re not trying somnophilia here today.”

He exhaled a laugh against your forehead before he kissed it, warmth spreading like a balm through your head. “I love you, too,” he whispered. Dragging his lips down to yours. “And I’m sure we can find a way to make it work, but not until you rest, okay? Need you at one hundred percent for that.”

“Yes, Sergeant Snuggles,” you replied, feeling him hold you a little tighter before you finally got some much needed sleep.

I hope this reads well. 🤣 I'm le tired. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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