summary : Training in the gym, everything was going okay. Until Steve managed to knock Bucky to the floor, causing Bucky to have a flashback. His mind takes him back to what they did to him in Hydra. Slowly, reader manages to bring Bucky back to the present again, away from the painful memories that still affect Bucky.
pairings : Bucky Barnes x Reader
warnings : PTSD flashback, discussion of torture, (if I missed anything let me know!)
word count : 808
AO3 (x)
a/n : Day twenty-eight of Comfortember is here! The prompt was ‘flashbacks’.
You were training at the gym. Natasha was guiding you through the steps to disarm someone while they have you in a choke hold. You could see across the room, on the mat, Steve and Bucky were sparring. Bucky seemed off, Steve was landing more of his hits than usual. You kept an eye on their session while focusing on what Nat was telling you to do. When Steve landed a harsher blow, Bucky stumbled. While he was regaining his footing Steve managed to swipe Bucky’s feet out from beneath him. The instant Bucky hit the map, you were walking over to them. It wasn’t the fact that Bucky fell, but the way he landed. It was like he wasn’t here in the present.
As you stepped onto the mat, Steve held his hand out to Bucky to help him up. Except Bucky scrambled away from the offered hand. He was trying to keep as much distance between himself and Steve as possible. Steve’s brows furrowed and he took a half step closer to Bucky. At the movement, Bucky curled in on himself like he was trying to protect his vital organs.
“I’m sorry,” Bucky’s shaking voice whimpered out. “Please, I did my best. I’ll do better next time.”
Steve squatted, not moving any closer to Bucky’s curled up form. “Bucky.”
“I can do better, let me prove it.”
You walked behind Steve, making sure to stay in Bucky’s line of sight. You slowly walked closer to him, paying attention to Bucky’s form. As you got closer Bucky stayed still, not trying to distance himself. Holding your hands up with your palms facing Bucky, you knelt on the mat by his head before sitting fully and crossing your legs.
“Bucky,” you lowly said, keeping your voice soft. “Can you hear me baby?”
Bucky turned his face toward you, but didn’t respond. His eyes were unfocused, but moved like he was watching something far away.
You lightly set your hand next to his, “I need you to take a deep breath. You’re okay, love, you’re safe. You’re in the gym. It’s just me, you, Steve, and Nat in here. We’re at the compound in upstate New York.”
“New York…” Bucky slurred the word.
“Yeah baby. We’re in New York. You were sparring with Steve, remember?”
“Steve?”
You motioned for Steve to come closer, “He’s right here. He managed to knock you off your feet, that’s all. Everything’s okay.”
Bucky uncurled himself slightly and placed his hand on top of yours.
“Hey pal,” Steve gave a small wave.
You lifted your other hand to cup Bucky's check. He pulled away slightly before fully leaning into your touch. You gave him a tight smile, trying to keep yourself from falling apart. You hated how much Bucky's own mind tormented him. It was bad enough he witnessed the ghosts of his past when he was asleep, but now you wondered how often they haunted him while awake.
Bucky took a deep breath and wet his lips, "When am I?”
"It's the twenty-first century.” Steve spoke up. "And you've been free for a few years now.”
You stroked Bucky's check with your thumb. His stubble scratched nicely under your touch. "Can you tell us where you were just now?”
Bucky shivered despite the sweat clinging to him. "I was in the training cage. Back in some Hydra base. They used to have their best agents fight me. I was meant to fight them to the death, and they were told to beat me until I passed out. When I'd lose, I'd wake up strapped to a metal chair. That'd shock me. Except it was different.”
"Baby,” your voice trailed off, your heart aching for him.
“They weren't wiping me to start over. They were punishing me. They only stopped when I passed out from seizing. That's how they discovered it takes my body longer to heal my mind than it did the rest of me.”
You wrapped your arms around him. You didn't care that the two of you were laying on a sweaty mat. You didn't care that Nat and Steve could see you clearly clinging onto Bucky. All that mattered was having Bucky close to you. You clung to him, trying to protect him from monsters that were no longer around. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, pressing you as close to him as possible.
"You're safe,” you couldn't tell which one of you your words were meant to comfort.
Bucky nodded against you. The two of you stayed there, present in the moment. You heard the door to the gym close, informing you of Nat and Steve leaving.
“I'm so sorry you had to go through that,” you spoke into his neck.
Bucky squeezed you tighter, "If it means I got you, then it was worth it. Every single time.”
Author's Note : Reblogs are appreciated, likes are welcome, and if you want to read more of my fics then maybe follow.
warning: reader has a little sibling (mentioned), reader and katsuki are married, katsuki towers over the reader, reader is referred to as wife
notes: i hate this one ughh, it’s cute though 🥹🥹but it’s also so short 😭
word count: 581
before you katsuki hated traditions. he refused to partake in them with his family. Mitsuki wants to go to a pumpkin patch? you best believe he would rather stay home and do chores than do such corny and cheesy things.
now, when the two of you started dating, he didn't think this would be any different. he’ll let you do your own thing while he does his… but how could he say no to you? you were so cute, so reluctantly… he agreed.
he agreed to do matching costumes with you for Halloween and hell, he even went trick-or-treating with your little sibling. He agreed to go to the pumpkin patch with you, his lover. he went apple picking, carved jack-o-lanterns, and went to the corn maze with his group of friends for the first time.
it wasn’t just fall traditions too, he started celebrating Valentine's Day, started having movie nights with you, and went to the music festival with you. any tradition you wanted to create with him he would be more than happy to have with you.
eventually, he felt the need to create his own unnamed tradition. something that didn't come from you and solely from him. which is how he began to make any excuse to give you his sweater when the weather cooled..
he's made sure to do this since your second year dating even to now when you're three years married.
“oi,” he starts, sauntering over to you. the sweater he wore barely concealing his muscles. “’yer not appropriately dressed for this weather.”
you look up from the pumpkins you were currently inspecting and raised an eyebrow at him. you have noticed how during October and November he always tries to give you his sweater. not that you’d ever complain about that. you get to show the world that you’re wearing your husband’s sweater, it smells like him and you get to watch his muscles flex as he undresses. it seems like a win all around.
“how am i not appropriately dressed, katsuki?” you asked chuckling softly, standing up to “meet his height”, but your darn husband towered over you. practically craning your neck to look up at him.
“you have no sweater,” he said rather smugly, crossing his arms with a smirk, “you can catch a cold.”
“i think ill be alright, babe. i have long sleeves and it’s not that—“
“the weather is cooling. you don’t know if the weather can drop,” he argued, uncrossing his arms as he began to take off his sweater. careful to not flip it inside out before handing— no, forcing it into your hands. “i don’t want my beloved wife to get sick.”
you gave katsuki a look, raising your brow at him. “and what if my husband got sick instead, hm? what is japan going to do without their best hero?” you asked, heeding his request however and putting on his sweater.
his sweater completely enveloped you, his musky scent immediately enveloping your senses. it was nice, he smelled faintly like caramel, burnt caramel, but caramel nonetheless.
“they’ll have to survive; my wife is more important.” he replied smugly, crossing his arms.
“you’re so lame, katsuki. i don’t think your sidekick will like that” you laughed,
“he can survive a week.”
rolling your eyes, you turned your attention to one of the pumpkins in front of you, “what do you think about this pumpkin?”
“it’s too small, i want our pumpkin to be terryfing this year.”
AHHHH FIRST FIC OF COMFORTEMBER YEAHHHH >:D
comfortember day one: safe
aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader
after having a rough night out, you call aaron and he rushes to find you immediately. he fixes you up and the two of you finally admit how you feel about each other.
word count: 1.5k
warnings/content: mentions of fighting and alcohol but mostly fluff.
comfortember masterlist here!
also on ao3 <3
you make me feel safe
Aaron wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing beside him. It gets to the fourth or fifth ring by the time he grabs it and anxiety bubbles low in his gut when he realises it’s you calling at almost three in the morning. Answering the phone, he immediately asks, “Is everything alright?”
“No.”
He’s up and out of bed instantly, throwing on the first shirt he finds and the closest shoes to the bed. “Tell me where you are.”
“I’m at, uh, I don’t, I’m… somewhere. My mind is all over the place.”
Aaron’s heart hammers widely in his chest. “Somewhere? Can you look around for me and see if you recognise something? Anything?”
“Okay,” you reply, voice shaky. After a few moments, you clear your throat. “I’m outside the bar we all went to a few weeks ago.”
“The Tipsy Ship? The one closest to work?”
“Y-yeah, yeah.”
Aaron grabs his keys and runs out of his house, not even thinking about locking the door as he runs toward his car. Jack is sleeping over at JJ's; the house will be fine unattended for now. “I’m on my way. Are you hurt?”
“I think so.”
“You think–” Aaron stops to take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before shoving his phone into its holder and slamming his car door shut. “Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”
“Can you stay on the line with me?”
“Of course.”
***
When Aaron reaches the bar, his heart breaks at the sight of you standing alone outside. He tenses up once he notices that, not only are you alone, but dry blood covers your face, there’s a large bruise forming on your cheek, and the knuckles of your dominant hand are cracked and bloody. “God,” he mutters, running straight for you and grabbing you by the shoulders. He can smell an overpowering scent of alcohol on you and he winces. “What happened? Where’s the bastard that did this to you?”
You point toward an ambulance down the road. “The coward freaked out when I punched him back and thought he needed medical attention. Most they’re gonna diagnose him with is Dumbassery and Stupid Prick Disease.” You look back at Aaron and weakly smile. “And maybe a concussion.”
Aaron can’t help it, he laughs. “At least you haven't lost your sense of humour. But let's get you home and cleaned up, alright?”
“Can I go to yours? I don’t really wanna be alone right now.”
He smiles. “Of course you can.”
***
Aaron holds a wet cloth to your face, reaching out to grab your chin between his fingers gently when you flinch away. “Sorry, sorry.”
“It’s cold, is all.”
“Sorry,” he repeats, gently dabbing away the dried blood under your nose and the corner of your lips. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“I got into a fight.”
“I can see that.”
You shrug, stumbling on your feet at the movement. Aaron gently grabs you by your elbow and shuffles you toward the kitchen counter so that you’re leaning against it for support. Once you’re stable, he begins to dab the other side of the cloth over your knuckles. “It was stupid, really.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“I know,” you sigh. It’s quiet for a few moments as you watch Aaron continue to clean up the blood. “He… the guy who punched me… I was on a date with him.” Aaron tenses. “And he kept buying me drinks and told me I had to drink them. I did because, well, free drinks, y’know?” You sigh and shake your head again, letting out a groan when it results in pain. “So stupid of me.”
“Hey, none of that. You’re not stupid.”
“Whatever you say. Anyway, I think he was trying to make sure I was drunk enough so that he could take me home without much complaint. I don’t know. I refused because I really wasn’t in the, uh, mood, and the night was a bust anyway, and he started… tryna touch me, grab me and all that, his hands were everywhere and I didn’t want them to be and…” You stop to take a few deep breaths, feeling sick at the thought of what could have happened. Aaron feels anger rip through his veins. “Anyway, he ended up punching me and I guess he wasn’t expecting me to punch back.”
Aaron grits his teeth. "Twice as hard, yeah?"
"Twice as hard," you grin.
“Good. That’s what I expect to hear.”
You tilt your head at him, trying to read his expression. “You’re not mad at me?”
Confused, his eyes meet yours. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“I don’t know,” you shrug, watching as his large hand moves over yours, his thumb gently sweeping over your skin. “I woke you up.”
“You woke– You– That’s what you’re worried about?” He gives you a fond look. “Yes, you woke me up. But I’m glad you did. Thank you for calling me. And for trusting me to help you.”
“I don’t think I trust anyone more than I trust you.”
Aaron’s hand stills as the words sink in. When he looks up at you, he notices that you’re staring at him with so much love that his breath catches in his throat. He hasn’t been looked at like that in… he can’t even remember. But when he thinks about it, eyes never leaving yours as you blink innocently at him, not understanding his revelation at that moment, he realises it’s the way you’ve always looked at him. With complete and utter adoration.
As if he hung the moon and the stars.
“Oh,” is all he can get out.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Oh.”
Your face falls and he feels guilt grow deep in his gut. “You don’t trust me back?”
“What? I never said that.” He steps closer, moving a hand to your shoulder and looking into your eyes. “Of course I trust you. More than most people. More than anyone else, really.”
“Really?”
His eyes search yours and he nods firmly, squeezing your shoulder. “Really.”
You look all over his face before looking down at his lips, licking your own as your mouth immediately goes dry. “I didn't want… I… I didn't go home with that guy because of, uh, well, you. I couldn’t stop thinking of you... when I was with him.”
Aaron hums as his gaze drops to your lips. “That’s why I don’t go on dates.”
“Hm?”
“Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.” He inches closer, moving a warm hand up to cup your cheek. “Can I kiss y–"
“Yea–"
And your lips are pressed together before either of you can finish. The kiss is soft, sweet, gentle, and full of so much raw emotion that it’s almost suffocating (in the best way). Aaron moves his lips against yours desperately, holding your face in his large calloused hands as if you might break at any moment, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. The moment your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, though, he pulls back with a heavy sigh. “Shit, you’re drunk. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’m totally taking advantage of you and–”
“Aaron.”
“I should know better and–”
“Aaron!”
“You should feel safe here–”
You press your lips against his again, effectively shutting him up. It’s a much shorter kiss this time, but not any less enjoyable. “I do feel safe, Aaron. Here, with you.”
“You do?”
“Of course. You make me feel safe; you always have.”
He visibly relaxes and pulls you into a hug. “So have you.” He sighs against you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “I like being with you.”
“I like being with you too, Aaron.”
He smiles against you and holds you for a moment more before pulling back, hands still wrapped around you. His heart breaks at the sight of the dark bruise forming on your face and he leans forward to press a tender kiss against the skin, careful not to hurt you in any way. “I wonder how long we’ve liked each other.”
“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, I think.”
Aaron’s breath hitches at the admission. “You’re in love with me?”
You tilt your head at him, fighting back a smile. “Did I not make that obvious enough?”
“I… didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
“Well, get them up, Hotchner, because I’m in love with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Aaron’s face softens and he presses a kiss to your cheek, sighing in relief. “I’m in love with you, too.” He runs his hands lovingly over your back. “Now let’s get you changed into some comfortable clothes and into bed, yeah? It seems like we have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”
“Can I sleep in your bed with you?”
He presses another kiss to your cheek. “There’s no other place I’d rather you be, sweetheart.”
tag list: @criminalskies @ssahotchnerr @hotchs-big-hands @citrusiove @sillyhotchsgirl
It's that time of the year again...COMFORTEMBER 2023
Hello and welcome to our fourth year of Comfortember!!! 🍂
First and foremost, I want to give a huge thank you to @highly--distractible for hosting this last year, thank you so so much, I appreciate it more than you know. The break was much needed 💜💜💜
Thank you for your patience on this, I know it's a little late. Here are the prompts for 2023:
For anyone who is seeing this for the first time (first of all, welcome!), Comfortember takes place for the month of November and each day has a comfort-themed prompt for any art medium like writing or fan art. Comfort can mean anything you want it to, from a fun slice-of-life story to the aftermath of an action-packed scene, anything that warms your heart while sipping hot cocoa.
The alternate prompts are there as replacements for if you don't want to do a particular prompt but still want to complete a prompt for the day.
This challenge is open to anyone in any fandom, and the link to this year's collection on AO3 is here!
Please send asks for any questions, I will be online more so you'll get your answers more quickly (well, relatively speaking, I can't answer while I'm at work 😅). Here is a link to the FAQ for reference.
The link to the Comfortember Discord server is here, and please use the #comfortember tag when you post on Tumblr so all posts can be found under a single tag.
I hope you all enjoy these prompts and don't feel pressured about a deadline!! The most important part is having fun, you can complete this when it is best for you 💜 Thank you for participating!!!
*The prompts are written out for easy readability and access under the cut.*
Buck sighed wistfully. “I can’t sleep without Tommy beside me.”
Eddie paused, blinked a few times, groaned, and flopped back onto his face. “You’re such a sap,” he said, voice muffled by the pillow.
“Well I’m sorry that I miss my husband, Eddie!”
“You make it sound like he’s dead, Buck. Just go call him.”
A continuation of yesterday's comfortember prompt. Told from the other side of the glass.
TW/CW: captivity whump, slave whump, minor whump (but only because Khaled is sixteen, nothing bad happens to him), carewhumper, conditioning (briefly mentioned)
There’s nothing quite like the quiet calm of the season’s first snowfall. The snowflakes drifting daintily to the frozen ground were accompanied by the roar of the penthouse’s furnace, the ambient music on Thomas’ Bluetooth speakers, and the incessant banging on the sliding door to the rooftop balcony.
Thomas tore his eyes away from the emails he was replying to on his tablet. He looked up at the teenager outside desperately begging to be let in. No less than half an hour ago, the sixteen-year-old stood enraptured by window, saying he’d only ever seen snow on TV before, and then wondering aloud if it felt as soft as it looked. And Thomas, like the gracious master he was, decided to unlock the boy’s ankle cuffs and let him out in his first snow for a bit. It seemed the ungrateful little bastard was already sick of it, as he banged on the door with his reddening hands and shivered in his hoodie and sweatpants.
“Master, please! Let me in, I’m cold!” Khaled’s voice was muffled by the thick glass, which was steadily fogging up with every word.
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s what happens when you go out in only a hoodie, sweatpants, and sneakers!” he yelled back. He conveniently ignored the fact that the hoodie and sweatpants were the warmest clothes the boy even had, and he didn’t buy him any boots. “Come on, just weather it out for ten more minutes?” he offered, already turning back to his emails.
“You said that fifteen minutes ago!” Khaled protested. He jammed a finger into the glass door. “I can see the clock on the stove from here!”
Damn, that kid has good eyesight! Thomas took one more look at his emails and groaned, switching off the tablet and rising reluctantly from the warm spot he made on the couch. “Alright, alright, alright already! I’m coming!” he called. He flicked the switch and slid the door open, letting in a frigid gust of air and the fastest teenager he’d ever seen, as Khaled ducked hastily into the warmth.
“F-f-f-f-fuck snow… ‘s too c-cold…” Khaled murmured as he struggled to take off his sodden shoes.
Thomas closed the door and knelt next to Khaled to help him take his shoes off. “You’re soaked through, boy, and freezing, too!” he commented. His warm, broad hands brushed against Khaled’s smaller, colder ones. As he straightened back up from where he knelt, Khaled’s wide brown eyes followed him, with melted snowflakes in his lashes glittering like gems in the living room lights. His face glowed red from the cold, and he clenched his jaw to prevent his teeth from chattering. Even if Thomas didn’t go out in the cold himself, looking at his pathetic boy was almost enough to make him shiver.
“Would you like something to warm you up?” he asked.
Khaled nodded immediately. Thomas placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him towards the couch. “Snuggle up with the electric blanket next to the couch –remember, next to the couch,” he emphasized. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
He clapped the boy on the shoulder and made his way towards the kitchen. He opened the fridge, then the cupboards above and to the right of the stove, then the drawers below the island countertop, and before long, he was heating a saucepan of milk and decanting powdered hot chocolate mix into two mugs. Once the milk came to a simmer, the man took it off the heat, poured and mixed it carefully with the powder in the mugs, and topped each mug of dark, steamy liquid with mini-marshmallows.
Thomas came back to the living room, mugs of hot chocolate in each hand, and smiled affectionately at the pile of blankets curled at the foot of the couch. Next to the couch, just like he’d said. “Good boy,” he praised.
There was hardly anything of Khaled’s peeking out from underneath that blanket cocoon; the only way he knew the boy was under there, besides the vaguely human shape, were the pair of sock-clad feet poking out near the bottom. “I’m gonna pass you something hot, alright? Be careful.” He extended the mug towards the blanket nest, and a lighthearted feeling fluttered in his chest when a hand darted out to grab it and slowly absorb it back in. “I’m sitting back down.” He carefully treaded around Khaled until he could settle back into his previous spot on the couch. Outside, the snow still silently fell. Thomas took a sip out of his hot chocolate, then picked up his tablet again, balancing it on one knee as he opened the email app again.
A warm, fabric-swaddled weight pressed itself against his shins. “Thank you, Master,” Khaled said from beneath the blankets.
He chuckled. “You’re welcome, Khaled.”
Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz
@bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees
@defire @phoenixpromptsandstuff @scumashling
I thought it would be a good idea to get back into writing, and Comfortember used to be one of my favourite events, but since 1/I haven't been able to find anything about any event on Tumblr this year (let me know if I'm wrong!) and 2/Writing one prompt a day is challenging, I thought writing during the weekends would be more manageable. There are 9 weekend days in November, so here are are 9 prompts + 2 alternative ones.
1. Sleepyhead
2. Just Say Yes
3. Do You Remember?
4. Still
5. Wait for Me
6. Baby It's Cold Outside
7. See You Soon
8. Whenever, Wherever
9. Home(wards)
Alt.
It's Oh So Quiet
Coffee (& TV)
Feeling inspired and want to join in? Feel free and share and reblog! I'll be keeping an eye on the comfortember2024 tag. The prompts can work for fanfic, drabbles, art, gifsets... You want to do them in a different order? On different days? No problem. This is just an opportunity to have fun, all fandoms welcomed.
Cheers!
Update! The collection has been created here on ao3. Feel free to post your fics/drabbles there! :)
A/N: My sporadic contribution to Comfortember. It’s short but Johnny Cage bbs come get y’all juice. It’s my birth month and I’m closing in on the end of my semester so I can’t promise anything but please enjoy!!
Pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader
Warnings: none, fluff :)
Notes. Johnny left them everywhere. Don’t get him wrong. He definitely preferred the convenience of using his phone to send you little memos. It was instant and Johnny could really accommodate his own attention span by using his phone but when he found out on accident how much you loved them, he made a point of it.
You both still remembered the first of its kind.
A pink sticky note on the back of your script that said “And it was all a dream!” with the most hastily-drawn smiley face ever.
You laughed when you saw it. It was a miracle that it hadn’t become a casualty to the rough handling of your scripts before you discovered it.
He had to have done it when you were putting your post-its in your script, marking it up the night before. You hadn’t thought much of the clumsy kiss he gave you when he checked in as the sun went down. Then again you hadn’t been paying that close attention to him or anything else for that matter. A glass of water. A “How’s it going, baby?” A stumble and a peck. And his leg and hand knocking right into the back of the thick stack of 8.5 by 11 copy paper in your grasp as he had moved to sit next to you.
The bump into the script in your hand had been completely intentional, you realized with delight at the table read. It made your Instagram story in seconds accompanied by the words ‘original illustration by @johnny.cage’ and some pink hearts in the top right corner.
That had sealed it.
The next one you found was in your purse. Well, not your purse exactly. It was in the compact in your purse. Blue. “Hey, good-lookin.’” A winky face. It had fluttered out as you were landing out of the country for a shoot. You still had your neck pillow on. You sent Johnny one of the ugliest selfies you had ever taken with it. Against your protests, it became his lock screen photo.
Then they truly popped up everywhere. Your boyfriend was relentless.
A set of expensive rings you’d stared at a little too long on Rodeo. Purple sticky note. “For my precious.” A noble but indecent-looking stick figure attempt at Gollum was near it, partially scribbled out.
Surprise coffee in your trailer. Yellow note. Sunshine with sunglasses.
New boots, courtesy of Johnny. Pink. “Step on me in these.”
Sleeping in while he had left at the crack of dawn. Pink. “Busy all day. Sushi at our regular spot for dinner.” Heart.
Almost all of them made your Instagram story. The dick that looked like it had been drawn by a middle school boy on a blue sticky note slapped to the bathroom mirror, for example, hadn’t made the cut. The ones that did though… Johnny reposted each within 5 minutes, no matter what time it was.
Like the orange sticky note you woke up to under your glasses that said ‘Jinkies!’ You had gone to bed and left them on your nightstand at 4 am. Johnny had stayed up with you. He had left at 6 am for the day. It made you worry about his sleep schedule.
It didn’t matter that you couldn’t keep up with his god-like speed in making unique sticky notes. You posted them. And you kept and remembered all of them. All of them. Yes, even the blue doodle dick.
Again, Johnny definitely preferred sending you texts and voice memos as soon as he felt like you were forgetting how hot you were, which was usually several times a day. It should also be noted that the sticky notes never detracted from the amount of attention he was already giving you. Johnny was a beast at reminding you how much he loved you.
As he had said it once: “There’s no threshold, baby. I’ll die telling you how sexy your walker is; the last sticky note I ever leave you will tell you the same thing.”
He slapped one on your ass after he had said that. Yellow. “Johnny Cage wuz here.”
