#I've been meaning to make this gif set since I first watches Step Nine

[mattoidmeerkat]

Dennis Jenkins and Bobby Nash carrying it with them for the rest of their lives

+ mementos of the lives they've built while carrying it

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

We Met Within This Screen (final chapter, pt. 2, the end.)

part one here

A/N: Thank you guys for all of your wonderful comments and the love sent my way for this fanfic. I've had a great time writing it despite its rocky moments. I really hope this ending does it justice; I've never gotten to write a proper conclusion to anything like this before. It's the first time I've ever completed a multi-chapter work such as this, so I'm happy. 🍾🥂 Here's to finishing what you start, and enjoy. :)

Just shy of a half-hour later, he was finished telling the story. She had sat the both of them down on the couch, one on each end, and he explained in great detail everything leading up to current-day. Tales of the ooze, Mutagen, as he'd told her; the rat named Splinter, a man formerly known as Hamato Yoshi, who had fathered and trained them; and lastly, their mission. Be of service, protect the city; have a good heart. And Donnie most certainly had a good heart. He was not the outlandish figure she'd first saw and recognized him as. He was the guy she had come to know as Bo, Donatello, who was the same person she'd talked to this whole time. At some points of the retelling, he got excited to share some of their adventures. This came after their humble beginnings of struggling in the sewers. Donnie was happy to share after so long of dodging saying anything about his life. 

She nodded along to this talking. "...and that's how we're here," he said finally, putting his hands on his legs. "Since we're here, any questions?" 

She replied with a no, looking over at the TV that had remained on the entire time. Donnie stayed seated as she got up and got the remote, also glancing at the clock on the wall, which read 10:45 PM. She switched the TV off. Looks like it's time to go, he thought. He rose from the couch and fixed the pillow he'd displaced. 

"Donnie, this has been...strange," and for a split second, his face fell, "but not bad! Though, it is getting late." 

 "Oh, no—yeah, no, I understand," he sputtered bashfully, activating the staff which collapsed back into its smaller form. He tucked it away somewhere on him. 

For a moment, he simply stood there as if wanting to say something, but the words never found him. "So it's goodbye?" he asked quietly. The way he said it made it seem like he thought it was forever. But it was on until they figured out how to pick up where they left off after that night. Undoubtedly, things would be different going forward. He didn't know if that would be good or bad. 

"Only until next time," she told him, a small smile present. He visibly relaxed. "You're still my friend, Donatello."

He smiled. "I knew that. Totally."

Showing himself out, he stepped onto the balcony, looking back one last time before he bounded away. He held up his hand and gave a small wave. 

But she hadn't said bye yet, so he stuck around for a moment longer, though it was met with an awkward silence. He was beginning to go over the railing when she ran over to the door, stopping him. "Wait," she said, and he crawled back over the railing with a confused but curious expression. "I actually do have a question. Just one, before you go." 

"Sure," he said, inviting her to go on. She had to look up to see his face being so close. 

Tenderly, she asked, "Why'd you not tell me, after all that time? Would you have ever chosen to do this if it hadn't been for an accident?" 

Donnie couldn't give her an answer on that.

He sighed, slightly shaking his head. "I couldn't, [y/n]. We've been through this." 

"I only wanted you to trust me, Donnie," she responded. And that was, really, how she'd felt. Throughout their entire friendship, it had felt one-sided in that regard. Trusting but not trusted, but she hadn't any idea of what was truly going on, at the time. 

Donnie pondered her question: If there hadn't been some kind of divine intervention, would he have ever had the chance to have something more with her than words on a screen? 

He swallowed as she took a small step closer. 

"I just wanted you to care about me." His volume was barely above a whisper. He clenched his jaw briefly, as if he was concerned over his own words. His golden-brown eyes wandered from your eyes on downward. 

"I did—I do care about you, what makes you say that?" she questioned, puzzled. 

He vaguely gestured at his body, "Wouldn't this be a little hard grasp over text? Isn't it hard to accept even now?"

Though she didn't answer, he had a feeling that he was correct about one of those things—she did have to wrap her head around everything. Tentatively, both watched as her fingers brushed against his own. His hand moved along with hers, seeing and feeling the delicateness. Until they laced together as well as they could, her heart steady while his was beginning to race. His hand even trembled ever so slightly. He would have wanted to stay like that forever, had it not been for the fact that he was uncertain where they now stood. Where he stood in your eyes. What did this mean? 

Putting her other hand on his shoulder, she tried to conjure a smile. But it flickered out as she murmured, leaning into him, "Does this answer your question?" She had to stand on the tips of her toes, while his hand tightened in hers involuntarily, almost too shocked to bend down for what was coming. The one thing he hadn't accounted for in their meeting, not once—and it was happening. 

He seemed like he was going to stammer something, but her lips closed the gap and planted softly on his. 

There is no way.

There is no way this is happening—but I'm seeing it with my own eyes! 

Donnie lost all control the moment her lips pressed against his. His hand squeezed hers, shaking as his heart pounded in his chest. I'm shaking. Why am I shaking? 

His eyes which had been wide were now fluttering closed. For the better half of the kiss, every other thought beside the ones of her was ejected. He couldn't have pulled away, even if he'd wanted. He was hers completely. That was irrevocable.

It was only until she decided it was time to step back did they part, him looking at her entrancing face once more, and her swallowing heavily. That kiss had been something she'd dreamed of before. Never Knowing it would be held on the smooth, moist lips of a humanoid turtle, rather than those or a human man. In fact, she had to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming. Her hand slid down his shoulder and onto his chestplate. It was rough, almost possessing a grain under her fingertips. Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand. He thought he felt a tingle from the trail her fingers left. 

Donnie was on Cloud Nine for a solid minute before coming back to his senses. "That...I…" he struggled to find the words. For a brain that worked so fast, he felt utterly slow, then. 

She cracked a smile, face contorted into one of hope and a hint of embarrassment. "Is it too late to say that I've waited to do that for a while now?" she laughed. 

"N-no," he said, still trying to organize his thoughts. "No, it isn't."

"Okay, good," she replied with a relieved exhale. 

Her hand went from his chest to his arm, feeling the taut muscle as it traveled down. His hand enveloped hers while the other lifted, going to touch her cheek. "Does this mean…?" he trailed off. 

"It means I really, really like you, Donnie. I have since we played that game." 

He gently brushed her cheek with his thumb, "I really like you, too," he mimicked, voice soft. 

Maybe even that was an understatement. 

"I think I…" 

A noise nearby alerted him, and on instinct, he set her behind himself on defense. Don't be an attack now, of all times, he thought, listening closely. He told her to be quiet and to not say anything, using his forearm to gently push her back into the apartment. He pulled out his staff. 

"Sup dude and dudette!" an all too familiar voice beamed, the orange-banded turtle appearing hanging upside down from the balcony above. [Y/N] shrieked, and Donnie nearly bashed his brother in the head, sucking in a sharp breath as he accidentally backpedaled into her. Mikey waved and flashed a grin. "Don't worry, we didn't see anything...except for you two kissing, that was really unexpected!" He flipped down onto the balcony, and Donnie grumbled something, going in for a zap to his brother's plastron. Mikey dodged it, this time. Donnie tried again; unsuccessful. "Oop—saw that one coming," Mikey laughed, jovial. 

Donnie groaned, half-embarrassed and half-annoyed, "Mikey, what are you doing here?" 

Waltzing into her apartment, Mikey crossed his arms with a wink sent the human's way. "Michelangelo, wingman to the big special D right here," he introduced himself brightly, "but you can call me Mikey." 

Donnie slapped his hand to his flushed face, hoping that he was the only one who noticed Mikey's less-than-classy wording. 

"So you're all named after Renaissance painters?" asked [y/n], lifting a brow. 

Exhaling, Donnie stepped between them, "[Y/N], this is Mikey, my brother. The one that—" 

"Got you together!"

"—that got us into this predicament," he'd almost said, but he realized as Mikey said that, he owed their meeting all to him. It had all started with that talk they had had late that day, after patrol, and ended on her balcony, Donnie getting to experience a kiss for the first time. With someone he'd never imagined he would have ever been able to touch, let alone share something like that with. Yes, as much of a hassle everything up until that point had been, it was all thanks to Mikey. 

Donnie grinned, turning to his brother and draping his arm over the back of his shoulders. "Yeah, you did," he agreed. Mikey smiled as he looked down at him with fondness. He wrapped an arm around Donnie's shell in return. 

"You know it, brah. Oh, and I take cash or pi—" 

"Don't push it, younger bro." Donnie rolled his eyes. 

Waiiiiit a minute. 

Mumbling for [y/n] to hold that thought, Donnie, suspicious, crept over toward the balcony. "We"?

Mikey tried to make chatter with her while he did so, mentioning how he liked what she'd done with the place. 

He checked if the coast was clear first before leaning onto the railing on his shell, squinting his eyes. And he was not surprised at all to see Raph and Leo looking down at him from over the edge of the roof. Leo had his recognizable expression of: "You'd better wrap it up." Donnie drooped his shoulders and ducked back inside. Couldn't last forever, he thought. Despite whatever was waiting for him on the roof or at home, he could still smile on the day he'd had. He would be thinking about that kiss for weeks. 

"I guess it's bye for real this time," he told [y/n], sad to go what felt like so soon, but really was content. The night could not have gone better. "I have to, you know, go get flamed by my oldest brother. Probably."

"We'll be in touch, Donnie," she replied. "Um...text me when you get home? Just so I know you got there alright." 

Smiling, Donnie nodded. 

Mikey budded in, "Hey, don't forget about me here." 

Chuckling, Donnie headed for the door, taking Mikey but the upper arm along with him. They stopped one last time to waved to her before making their exit. 

Leo and Raph met the pair at the top. Raph was the first to speak, asking skeptically, "And yer sure this girl is alright?"

"Positive," Donnie answered with confidence. 

After a moment of trying to come up with some kind of remark, Raph let out a huff. "You got the nerve, I'll tell you that." He held out his fist ready for a bump, and when Donnie didn't immediately reciprocate, grumbled "Well? Don't leave me hangin', Don." Realizing what he wanted, Donnie went right in for the fist bump. 

Pulling away, Donnie asked, "So you're not mad?" He gave some space between himself and the incoming Leo. 

Raph scoffed lightly and shrugged. "I may not trust her, but I trust you," he responded, gruff as usual. "Just don't expect me to be all friendly and whatnot—I ain't doin' it." 

"You don't have to do anything, Raph." 

And then Donnie was face-to-face with Leo, who's intensely blue eyes were trained on him for a few seconds too long. Donnie wondered what he was thinking until he sighed, and then spoke. 

"I'm sorry." 

Behind Leo, Mikey was in awe.

"That's a new one," Raph chuffed. He left the circle to watch from the edge of the building. Mikey stuck around, but only far enough to be in ear shot. If something coming from Leo started off with a sincere "I'm sorry", he wouldn't miss it.

"Yes, you heard. I'm sorry," Leo admitted, bringing his eyes up from the ground. "I shouldn't have pressured you, Donnie. I know that you can handle yourself. I was just trying to protect you and our family," he explained, pausing to glance over at the other two brothers, "but…yeah. I'm sorry for pushing you, Don. I was kind of a jerk back there."

Deciding he didn't have any words good enough to say what he wanted to, Donnie simply pulled Leo in for half-hug, rocking him with him. Leo wore his lopsided smile as he gave Donnie's shell a slap. 

"That...was…" 

They stepped away from each other, staring at Mikey quizzically. 

"...beautiful, bros," he finished in a whisper. 

They stayed for a minute just watching the city go by, the clock ticking by later into the night. Donnie finally thought to ask Leo how Splinter was, because he definitely knew what was going down. He was a smart old man—and beside, Donnie had made no effort to pretend that wasn't what he was doing when he'd initially left. If Splinter knew, Splinter knew. He was still mildly afraid of Leo's response. 

"You want the truth?" Leo questioned, his expression briefly changing to one of a cringe. 

"I mean, I'd like to know what I'm in for," Donnie replied in an obvious manner. 

"He was angry, at first. Didn't know you left until he was done with his talk with Mikey. Also surprised that you actually went through with it. But, after that...he seemed like he understood, in a way, I guess. I didn't ask questions. You'll have to confront him about it yourself, because he just sent me and Raph out to get you." 

Donnie kept his eyes on the sidewalk below them, and the occasional person walking it. "And Mikey?" he asked, quizzical. 

"He insisted," Leo groaned. 

"You know I can't pass up an opportunity to see D get his first kiss!" 

"Oh, shut up, you had no idea that was gonna happen. You just wanted to go because me 'n Leo were goin'," Raph argued, flicking his head. "Weren't you supposed to stay in by Splinter's orders?" 

Mikey crossed his arms and turned away, "I don't have to take this abuse." He was, indeed, meant to stay behind. But the boy couldn't help himself. 

Once the banter died down, they were left contemplating whether they wanted to stay out a little longer, or if it was time to turn in. It had already been a long night, but in honesty, Donnie wasn't ready to go quite yet. He still felt as though he had so much to say to [y/n], but he supposed that time had already passed. At least until next time, if or when that was. Raph took a break from his lookout and sat next to Donnie with a grunt. He wasn't good with mush or sensitive things, but he felt compelled to ask "What're you gonna do now?" 

Donnie hummed in question.

"Well, she knows. And by the looks of things—erm—the look of one particular thing, you two are still goin' steady."

Ugh, they saw it. Donnie moaned, a cold flush coming over his face. I can't have anything private in this family.

Raph pushed him on his shoulder. "Ya shouldn't mack on someone by the doorway if ya don't wanna be seen," he jested.

"I don't know what's next, Raph," Donnie confessed. "We didn't exactly...make anything official after that."

Once they were back on the move towards home, they all dropped into the nearest manhole, but Donnie remained where he was, saying he would catch up to them. He was the fastest of the four, after all.

"I hope you're still awake," he mumbled to himself as he reached for his phone. They were close to home, anyway. And it was quiet. He typed:

"I'm almost home, [y/n]. All safe."

A couple of minutes later, she responded.

"Okay, that's good

Your brother is quite the character, by the way"

"He is who he is, lol"

"He seems nice though."

Walking down along the sewers, he took his time. What was a little longer after the night he'd had?

"Donnie, what were you going to say when Michelangelo interrupted us?"

He stopped in his tracks and thought, having nearly forgotten that he was going to actually say it. He didn't just like her—for the first time, he was sure he loved her.

"That I think I love you, [y/n]."

He regretted not saying it when he was with her, but he just couldn't wait.

There was a worrisome pause on her end in which he imagined she was staring at her screen thinking about how strong that came off, that it was uncalled for, that he was going too fast—

"I said I liked you

But that was not quite the truth

I love you, Donnie."

Golden-brown eyes sparkling, he let out a laugh, unable to contain his happiness, and the rest of the brothers smiled to themselves hearing the whoop of joy and excitement echo in the tunnel.

His adventure in love and friendship had started within a screen, but he was bound to it no longer. This was the opening of a new chapter in his life.

Tag list: @kokokatsworld @criminaly-supernatural @dianounais @spaceman-main @sheepdarkhours @raphaelsrightarm

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ KEEP IT ❜

with Happy Lowman.

Word count: about 1.5k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author.

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

“Listen, darling… I'm sorry, but Happy doesn't want to see anyone right now. Not even you. He fell from his bike and his ego is hurt more than his leg”.

It's been three days since that conversation with Jax, stopping you at the Teller-Morrow workshop. The prospect told you about his accident. His first accident. And you would like to be with him, to take care of him, but not being his Old Lady you can't enforce your presence in the club. You aren't even sure if you have a relationship, or if it's only sex and some kind of dates on specific occasions. But, on the other hand, when they have a party you're always on his lap, or when he comes back for a trip you're his first stop.

At nine pm, you turn the welcome sign for the closed one. Turning off most of the lights of your bookstore, you play some soft music while counting the benefits, but some knocks on the glass of the main door thwart your task. Happy is there, looking as serious as always. Trying to not show emotion or worrying, you unlock the door to let him come.

“Got a minute?”

You nod, before walking back to the desk being followed by the man.

“Wanted to know how you are”.

“Tired. I had a… busy day”. You reply, grabbing a bunch of cash to count them.

He doesn't say anything else, just staring at you in holy silence. Taking note of the money, you raise your eyes towards his.

“You okay?”

He nods. You're aware of how silent he is, but now it's desperating you. You want to talk about the accident, about what happened, about why he fell down from his motorcycle, but doesn't look like he wants to talk. Biting your bottom lip, you continue with the recount of coins.

“Want a ride back home?”

You know that he's trying to compensate you for his disappearance, but it's not enough. You want to ask him about your relationship, the problem resides in that you don't know how to ask about it. Closing and locking the cash box, you keep your laptop inside your bag, before wearing your leather jacket.

“I can walk, don't wo—”.

“I want to take you home”. Happy insists without letting you finish.

Sighing, you pucker your lips. Maintain eye contacts, you can read in his orbs that no matter how much you try to deny his invitation. He's decided to take you home. Hanging your bag on both shoulders and taking your phone and the keys, you turn off the rest of the lights before setting the alarm. Wearing the helmet on your head, you sit behind him. But this time, you don't cling your arms to his waist as you used to. You don't need it, actually, but the fact is that you don't want to touch him right now. If you do it, you're going to forgive him for anything he has done, and he doesn't deserve it. You understand that he is not okay, but you are tired of being pushed away whenever he wants, to push you back again whenever he needs someone to sleep with.

The bike stops in front of your house, jumping off from it to take off the helmet and offer it to him. It doesn't seem like Happy is going to stay, so you're just standing close to him waiting for anything. He is just staring at you in silence, expecting for some works coming from your mouth. Thanks for the ride. I've missed you. I want you to stay. Can you ask for a day off? Turning around and feeling an uncomfortable and bitter tingly inside your chest, you guide your steps to your porch, praying for him calling your name. Asking you to stop. Anything. But the only thing you hear putting the key inside the lock, is the engine roaring again, leaving when you close the front door.

You can't help but throw the bag to the table and your body to the sofa. Breaking into a loud cry, you hit once and again a cushion with your hands closed in two fists. The doorbell rings, just one time. Getting up to attend it, you clean your tears with the back of your fingers, hardly sniffing. Happy is there, about to say something when you punch him on the face. Your knuckles crack, uttering a howl of pain, and shaking your hand after it. Maybe your sorrow is harder than his, but you don't care. You're about to hit him again when he grabs your wrists, pushing you into his chest.

“I'm sorry, love”. He whispers into your ear.

That's enough for you to stop stirring under his grip, letting him surround your waist with both arms. Happy is not a man who apologizes, unless he has killed the wrong person. Coming into your house, he doesn't release his grip, closing the door with a gentle kick. You're trying to not cry again, with your cheek pressed against his chest.

“Didn't mean to worry you”.

“But you did, not knowing a shit about you for almost four days”.

Pulling yourself away and taking off your jacket.

“Nothing happened”.

“You had an accident. And everything that Jax told me was that your leg was hurt. Nothing else. I didn't even know if it was true or… what. Because you didn't let me see you”.

“I needed to rest”.

You don't know how to take these words. You two have different ways of doing things, but that doesn't mean that you can't take care of him without being too intense.

“I'm sorry”. He says again.

“I need to know what you want, Happy”. You finally say, without caring if he gets nervous or not. “What we are, what you are waiting for from me. Because I'm… confused. And I promised to not catch feelings, but I did”.

He doesn't make a single move after that confession, and that hurts more than a knife on your chest.

“If you're not gonna say anything… please, leave, 'cause I feel fucking humiliated right now”. You're sobbing with your lips trembling and your eyes reddened.

“I do”. For a moment, you frown confused. “I do love you”.

Seems enough for him, but not for you, even if you're conscious of how much it has cost it for him.

“You are my girl”. He adds. “I thought you knew it”.

“No, I didn't. We just… are together sometimes… And when we're not fucking, we're in a party. Maybe three or four times we have stayed at your house to watch a movie. But that it's all”.

“What else do you want?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you think about the hundreds of answers that question has. Sarcastic ones, mostly. But then, you pay attention to the way he's talking to you with his eyes, in silence. He really wants to know.

“Spend more time together… Maybe… if you can, don't push me away when you need someone to take care of you. Even if you think you don't need it”.

Relaxing your posture, you take some steps closer towards him, cupping his cheek onto your palms. Leaning a little you kiss his lips. A gentle and lovely touch that gives him nice shivers around his chest. He nods one time.

“Can I stay tonight with you?” That whisper, hiding a painful beg, squeezes your heart.

“I want you to stay. I've missed you too much, Happy”.

A fleeting smile appears on the corner of his lips, right before kissing yours again. But his hands don't touch you, feeling some moves between your bodies. Pulling himself away some inches, the man offers you one of his golden rings. His favorite one, with a halcon etched on it.

“Keep it”.

You can't help but pout at Happy, putting it in your left forefinger. It fits perfectly. It looks perfect. And the smile it brings to your face makes Happy feel lucky for having you by his side, no matter what. Placing one of his hands on the back of your head, he pushes you a little closer to press his lips on your forehead. For a few long seconds. He's not a man of words, not even of gestures; you had to look at him for a lot of hours to learn to read his eyes. He's so expressive with them. And when he noticed that you could know what he was thinking about by just looking at his orbs, he felt blessed. But Happy is also learning to be more affectionate with you in the intimacy of your houses, or whenever you two are alone in the clubhouse. Your patience is his more appreciated-gift from you.

“I like how it sounds”. He mumbles, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. “That you love me”.

“I love you, Happy”. You repeat, making him smile again against your lips, almost brushing them with the soft move.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

You Have Me (Pt. 03 of 10)

Pairing: John Wick X D'Antonio!Reader

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: You, a D'Antonio, were raised completely oblivious to everything that had to do with the High Table. When your father dies, you find out that the world isn't how you thought it was. In Gianna's party, unknown men try to kill you, but someone steps in and saves your life. John Wick. The man takes you to the Continental, the only place you'll be safe. You're completely lost, no idea what to do to survive in the new, cruel world you were thrown into. But a letter from your late father tells you to find a man, who is the only one who could keep you save and carry a plan to release you from the High Table. The man is the Baba Yaga, John Wick, the same who saved your life.

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{John Wick Masterlist}

×

In the last nine days, John has been in and out of the hotel, meeting some people, trying to get in touch with others. Yesterday night he finally had a break, since now he has to wait for one of your father's affiliates to fly here. So this morning, you shower and dress up as if you're going to the gym. Leggings and a tank top. But you're forced to put on a coat to leave the bedroom because it's a bit cold. John is in the kitchen, having breakfast.

“I thought you were still sleeping,” You tell him, grabbing an apple.

“I just woke up.” He takes a look at you. “Going to work out?”

“No. But now that you apparently had a break, I still want to learn how to throw a punch.” Taking a bite, you sit before him on the table. “But if you gave up the idea, I'll hit the gym. I just found out this hotel has one.”

“It does.” John puts his coffee down, getting up. “But I meant what I said. C'mon.” He goes to the living room and you follow. John pushes the coffee table and the couches away, leaving a big space in the middle. Crossing your arms, you watch from the kitchen door frame.

“I'm impressed you're really doing this. I was waiting for you to just-”

“I'm only doing this because we need to be prepared for any kind of situation.” He gestures for you to approach and that's what you do. “I'll only teach you enough to get you some time to run and-”

“To run and find you.” You point out to him, a playful smile on your lips as you pace around the living room. “But c'mon. I don't know about you, but I want this to be a good time. It helps to distract me from what it really means.”

“It sounds like you're bored.”

“To death. I barely see you anymore, it's like I'm completely alone here.” You gesture to the apartment in general.

“Sorry, I've been meeting up-”

“I know.” The tone of his voice gets all professional again, a lot darker. He has a wound on his lower lip, which he probably got because of you and you father's plans. “That's why I'm trying to take this lightly. To take away the meaning behind it. Now let's go. How can a little girl like me take down a man like you?”

“As a start, you go for the most fragile spots. Throat, eyes, nose.”

“Fragile?” With both hands on your hips, you decide to scare him a little bit. So you move to kick him in the crotch, with the intention of stopping halfway. But John kicks your leg to the side, grabs your knee and pulls it up, moving to throw you hard on the ground. But instead of hitting the floor, you're more like lied down gently. But all the sudden motion is enough to make you lose your breath. “You proved a point. No joking around with you.” You burst out as he let's go of your leg and reaches out his hand.

“Just showing you what could've happened.” John pulls you up too hard when you take his hand, causing you to almost hit his chest. “They'd let your head hit the floor, what would leave you disoriented for a few seconds at least.”

“Got it,” You mumble, stepping back.

“Let's practice how to set free from someones grip.” He paces around you, holding you from behind with both his arms, in a way you can't move yours. “Keep in mind they will be squeezing you, so you'll be in pain.” But when he lifts you up, you suddenly burst into a laugh, which makes John put you back down immediately. “What is it?”

“Sorry. I'm ticklish.” You say, still catching your breath. You're about to apologize again, but when he loses his grip and you turn around, you see a smile. It's the same you saw a while ago as if for a moment he forgot everything that's going on. It makes him even more handsome, easygoing... He seems happy, or at least as if he could be. You promised you'd try to make him laugh, that you'd try to make him feel better, even though it may only be for a few seconds. And suddenly you notice how close you are. John slowly lets go of you, but something just won't let me step away. “But it would scare them away, right? If I suddenly started laughing.”

“They'd think you're insane, but it wouldn't stop them.” It all comes back, the smile disappears and his whole face changes.

“I know...” Running a hand through your hair, you wonder what you should do next. So you try to punch him again, and just as he did the first time, John grabs your wrist before you can hit him. “One day I'll surprise you, John Wick.” As you're done speaking, you try to punch him with the other hand, but the same thing happens and now he's holding both your hands. “Shit.”

“You'll have to be a lot better than this.”

You could kiss him. You bet that would be a surprise. John is standing so close, you'd only need to tiptoe. “I will, believe me.” You're not sure if you'd do it, but a knock on the door makes him to let go of you.

You watch as he goes to answer it, coming back from your daydream, telling yourself not to go there again. You're about to sit down to wait for him to return when you see through the corner of your eyes John being pushed violently. As he falls, a man comes in, a gun immediately pointed at you. You run and he shoots. On your way to the kitchen, you see as John gets up, colliding with the man, and somehow taking the gun from his hand. You stop by the door frame, unable to move. Your eyes follow John's every move, and as he overcomes the man, you manage to calm down. Soon enough the man is a bleeding mess on the floor. John checks him before coming towards you.

“Are you alright?” His eyes quickly scan through you, but you're more worried about the wound on his forehead.

“You're hurt.” Pushing his hair away, you check the small cut, your hands cupping his face. For a moment you don't care if that man came in here to kill you, you're way too worried about John being hurt. This feeling surprises you, but you choose not to think about it. “Come, let me clean it.”

“No. I'm used to it. We need to call Winston.”

“Well, I'm not used to it.” As he goes for the telephone, you get the first aid kit. John rudely asks someone to get in contact with the man called Winston, demanding him to come here immediately. When he hangs up, you stand before him, holding the kit. “Are you going to sit down and let me clean your cut or will I have to force you?”

With a quick, small smile, John moves to the couch, and you sit down beside him. He stands still as you clean the wound, relieved to see it's indeed small. “I was going to be a veterinarian, you know?” You tell him once you're done because he seems curious about how you know yiui way around the kit. “Well, I was supposed to graduate this summer, but since I had to leave the country... It might take a while longer.”

“Really?” You feel his eyes on you as you put everything back in the box.

“Yes. Despite my father's fortune, I always wanted to have my own life. My own money. I even agreed to give up my part of his heritage.”

“What?”

“It's crazy, I know. Some years ago Santino and Gianna were fighting over it and when they started to include me, I decided I didn't want it.” Remembering this episode was already bad, now it's way worse, with both your father and sister dead. And Santino hunting you down. “They were quick to set up the documents I had to sign. But after that, father opened a bank account for me and started transferring some money ever month.”

“He wanted you to be safe.”

“Yeah.” You forget the bleeding man on the floor, eyes locked on John's. “Thanks again, John. You saved me.”

“It's my job.”

“No, it isn't.” You friendly touch his arm, your hand lingering for too long. “I-” The door is opened and you move faster than John, suddenly ready to run. But the man who comes in doesn't seem like he came to kill you. He takes a deep breath when he sees the man on the floor.

“This is Winston. The owner.” Both of you observe as Winston checks to see if the man is alive. “I didn't break the rules.”

“Good for you.” He says, shaking John's hand before coming to stand before you. “Miss D'Antonio. My deepest apologies for not coming to greet you earlier, but John and I are working day and night to carry out your father's wishes.”

“Call me (Y/N).” You don't like the tone people force when they call you by the last name. “I'm more than just a surname.”

“Absolutely. I see that you indeed became everything your late father wanted you to. A beautiful, intelligent woman. An example of purity, judging by where you came from.” He claps his hands twice, and two men come in, taking the knocked out one away. “He will be taken to the alley and will be made an example of.”

“Good.” John nods, and Winston stares at both of you for a while. To John and then back at you. “Something wrong?”

“I have two pieces of advice. One for you.” He gestures at you. “And on for you.” Winston turns to John. “One is good, the other no so much.”

You don't like his tone, so you move closer to John, hiding a little behind his shoulder. “Enough mystery, Winston. What is it?”

“Dear (Y/N).” Winston takes your hand and pulls you away from John. You exchange a glance with him, and he nods, as if telling you it's ok. It's annoying how people feel like they're somehow intimate with you thanks to the surname you care. You don't like it. “Be careful with your feelings for John Wick, do not let them grow and become... Something more. He represents everything your father fought so hard to keep you away from. He's the very opposite of who you are, who you want to be. You might be the only good, righteous thing that came out of this cruel world I live in. Don't let him corrupt the purity, the gentleness that resides in you.” Before you can answer, he let's go of your hands and turns to face John. “And you, Mr. Wick, please, fall in love with her. You could use a light in your life, something to rescue you from the depths where you've seen to have fallen again. Someone so kind and generous would certainly heal the wounds you carry.” With a smile, Winston walks away, not giving you time to come up with an answer.

You just don't get it. Who hell does he think he is? What does he think he knows? “Tell me something, Winston.” He stops at the mention of his name. His words about John are burning ony your mind, and you can't keep your mouth shut. “If you were walking on these streets and saw half a dozen men surrounding a stranger, guns at their head, what would you do?”

He seems a little confused. “I would keep walking. As should you.”

“That's the difference between you and John.” You step forward, arms crossed. “He isn't here because I'm paying him. He saved my life at Gianna's party, asking for nothing in return. So you don't have the right to talk about him that way. If I'm good and righteous despite the place where I came from, so is John.” Winston opens his mouth to say something, but you raise a hand. “Thank you for your advice. And thank you for working on my father's plan to help me. But don't talk about things you don't understand. Or about people you don't truly know.”

“You are spectacular.” He says with another smile. “I will send the cleaning crew in. And please, John, take the lady to dinner. Our restaurant is at your disposition.” That said, he leaves, and seconds later the cleaning crew comes.

It makes you sick to see as they clean the blood, so you go to your bedroom. Opening all the curtains to let the light come in, you sit on the bed, staring at the buildings before you. What Winston said... Where did that come from? You have to be careful with your feelings for John? While has to fall in love with you? How stupid. Winston thinks he has everything figured out, but he couldn't be more wrong. If he's as smart as he thinks he is, he should know that what's more likely to happen is the other way around. John would never look at you like that... But you? You were already thinking about kissing him even before Winston showed up.

“Don't be stupid,” You tell yourself, getting up and walking over the window. It's beautiful here, even though the gray clouds give the city a monochromatic look.

“You're not stupid.” John's voice startles you. You didn't notice you left the door open. “What are you thinking about?”

“That Winston is a jerk. But I bet you already know that.”

“He's just good at reading people.” He comes to stand beside you, eyes on the city. But yours are on him. Tracing and memorizing his features. When he moves to look at you, yoy turn away quickly, staring at the city again.

“I don't think so.”

“We should have dinner at the hotel's restaurant though. At least until it's safe enough for you to start going out.”

“People will stare at me. They always do, as if they know me just because they knew my father.”

“You can't blame them for looking at you.” His voice is lower, deeper.

“Blame it on my dead father, dead sister, and murderous brother.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“What could you possibly mean?” You finally allow yourself look at him again, meeting his eyes. “You have such nice eyes.”

“You already said that.” A smile makes its way to his lips. Beautiful, soft lips.

“Well, you have a nice everything, actually.” Shrugging your shoulders, you put a lock of hair behind your ear, just as an excuse to look away.

“You're pretty too. More than that. People would look at you even if you weren't (Y/N) D'Antonio.”

You're blushing. You're sure you're blushing. Stepping back with a giggle, you cross your arms. “I'll put on something elegant then. And since all my expenses are paid, you can order anything you want.”

“Sounds good to me.”

[txthearteu]

extra long tag game (aka a tmi that no one particularly cares for)

tagged by @soobindipity​ 🥰 thank you bb 😌❤️

tagging @btxtreads​​ @choisoobinie​​ @unlocktxt​​ @bffsoobin (this one is long so feel free not to do it ahahahaksksksks)

note: i found the breakers somewhere here in tumblr but i forgot who the owner is, so full credits to whoever owns these breakers

ONE

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

of course it’s their debut song Crown. I have to admit, I listened to them not because i discovered them but because of the whole “bighit is releasing another boy group” fiasco. people thought the hype would die down, i did too, but to this day the boys never failed me. they consistently made me happy with the content they gave out for everyone to enjoy. also adding, i think i’m attracted to them more (compared to their seniors) since they’re around my age– something in which i feel like i can relate to (in terms of the content they put out, or the jokes, etc)

TWO

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

what’s your unrealistic goal for life?

becoming a music artist (pop star) 😔

if you had known that we would be in a global pandemic, what’s one thing that you would’ve done before things shut down (if they have for you)?

travel to Japan and explore the place 😩

what’s an unconventional thing that you carry around with you when you go out?

chopsticks hahahahaha because i usually eat using the spoon and fork when i eat out 

favourite type of plushies and why?

anything twotuckgom related! they’re so soft and convenient because of the size. i also kinda wanna buy the bolsters 👀

favourite song right now?

i don’t have any but if you ask what i’ve been jamming to i’d say its city girls by chris brown

something that you’ve always wanted to learn?

producing music, japanese, korean, hacking 

tell a funny story about yourself (or just something that you’ve witnessed)

so in the city where i live, there are places in which the canals don’t have any stoppers. i saw this kid walking with his family alongside these canals and he was just vibing with the song he was singing to. he was so into the song he was singing that he missed a step and he kinda slipped and fell in to the canal (don’t worry though there weren’t any serious injuries) and i swear it was a funny sight 

headphones or speakers? why?

headphones! when the opportunity is present then i’d listen to my music with no outside noise

craving any food right now? what are you craving?

corndogs 👀

which music streaming platform do you prefer? why?

spotify since i’m on spotify family 

😌✌️

questions from eri to me:

what’s the best trip/vacation you’ve ever had?

the vacation i had in Japan last year! 10 days never felt so short in my life and i was planning to go back earlier this year but you know...’rona....

do you have any random fears/phobias? if yes, what are they?

i’m the toughest gal everyone knows but i get really creeped out by butterflies or bugs. i also get scared with inanimate objects that look like a human being when it’s laying still in the dark, i’m scared of mirrors as well HAHA.

weirdest food you’ve ever eaten?

worms

do you have any hidden talents? what can you do?

i can curl my tongue into what seems to resemble a three-leafed clover. i can also mimic voices well and, from what my friends said, i could actually dance well and im super fast in picking up choreography hahaha (ok but it’s what they said okay)

what is an activity you’d like to try out someday?

biking/hiking/camping :> 

when did you get your first phone and what type of phone was it?

i think it was back in 4th grade and it was the famous nokia 3310 

what is a movie you never get tired of watching?

flipped!

biggest pet peeve?

 i absolutely get annoyed when someone tries to rush me and by the time i’m ready, they haven’t readied themselves

earliest childhood memory?

i put sand in this ice-cream-cone-looking rock, and i ate the sand thinking it tasted like ice cream

as a child, what did you want to be? what about now?

a music artist (pop star), until now that’s still my dream but unfortunately, i had to be “practical” 

✌️😌

questions from me to you:

android or apple? why?

words of affirmation or physical affection? why?

bean bag or rocking chair? why?

do you view a half-filled glass as half-full or half-empty or an in-between? why? (go as deep as you can)

if someone were to grant your wish right now, what would it be and why?

if someone were to give you anything you want right now, what would it be and why? (something that can be held)

favorite season and why

what made you enter tumblr?

are you happy with where you are in life right now? why or why not?

to see the boys in real life but for it to happen only once in your lifetime, or to meet the boys via online fan meeting as many times as you can in your lifetime? why?

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people

.

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

FOUR

PERSONAL

name: -

nickname: cj

birthday: oct 12

zodiac: libra

nationality: filipino

languages: english, filipino (and my dialect), lil teeny bit or korean and japanese kskskskksks

gender: female

sexuality: straight

height: 5'1 and a half (spare me the half pls im trying to act tall)

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: --

meaning behind my url: to put it simply, i love txt

blog established: start of quarantine

followers: 43 lovely followers! 

FAVORITES

favourite animals: do you know cat and dog?

favourite books: anarchy by styleslegend (swear i've been hyping it since my 1d days) ; the tale of heidi by johanna spyri

favourite colour: yellow/brown/black (can’t choose)

favourite fictional characters: hulk, hinata shoyo, tomoe (from kamisama kiss)

favourite flower: i don’t have any ahahahhaha

favourite scent: mens perfume/deoderant

favourite season: spring

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: 6-9

cats or dogs: (i love them both but i really love dogs but i just wanna hug them both because i love both cats and dogs)

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffee is my go to energizer, for some chill time i’d go for hot choco

current time: 22:34

dream trip: japan(again)/australia/europe 😩

dream job: music artist 😔

hobbies: playing instruments [violin piano ukelele sometimes guitar and drums], listening to music, writing songs, beatboxing

hogwarts house: slytherin 

last movie watched: oh dear god i cant remember HAHA

last song listened to: bbibbi by iu

no. of blankets you sleep with: 1

random fact(s): if given the chance again, i’d combine mint choco and bubblegum ice cream; when i’m bored i try to re-read all my past lessons AHAHAHAHAHA; currently in a 5-year relationship akshsskskssjsjduskgkad

FIVE

10 things I can’t stop listening to

city girls - chris brown, young thug

angel or devil - tomorrow by together

paradise - bts

zombie - day6

see you again - tyler the creator, kali uchis

dally - hyolyn, gray

love - kendrick lamar, zacari

redemption (with babes wodumo) - kendrick lamar, zacari

pyramids - frank ocean

all in - monsta x

[wonderlandmind4]

Delicate Stages Chp 13

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x OFC Ana Rios

Summary: Bucky Barnes agrees to participate in Deprogramming Sessions. What he gets is not anything like he expected.

Warnings: Language. Mentions of past violence and brainwashing. Self loathing/doubt. Mentions of nightmares. 

Words: 3,017. @justreadingfics @nerdyandproud9 @buffy-morgendorffer-01

“They have stolen the heart from inside you                                                        But this does not define you”

***

A light drizzle of rain makes the florescent lights in the lab appear brighter. Ana watches what she can see of the droplets racing down the outside windows. She usually loves watching it, something always soothing with the sound. She never really associated this type of weather as gloomy, though today begs to differ. She can't shake the buzz of energy that prickles along her skin .

It doesn't feel off, necessarily, just dubious. It's not the first time Ana thought of that word, of it's meaning. Nor is it the first time she has felt it around the compound; uncomfortable thickness caressing her skin. Sometimes she hates her ability of being an Energy Alchemist and Empathetic Healer. Sometimes she can't place what type of energy emits from the air around her. Recently, it has been happening for the past two months.

Ana longed to stay in bed today, cozy and warm beneath her duvet. The rain always lulls her back into a deep sleep, but she forced herself to get up, got dressed, and went to the lab. She arrived before Bucky did, as she usually does, opting to leave him to whatever his morning routine is. She made a different drink for the morning, mixing her coffee and hot chocolate together. When Bucky strolled in, looking weary, she handed him the mug.

He hasn't said much since then. Just occasionally taking small sips from his cup, not even commenting on the coffee-cocoa mix. Ana folded her left leg under her thighs, stretching her right leg out, propping her heel next to Bucky's leg. The weather makes her knee ache, rubbing the joint to soothe it, internally cursing having a bad knee at the age of twenty-nine. She refocuses on the stoic man in front of her.

Bucky is unusually quiet. Sensing the heavy energy coming from him, Ana worriedly gnaws on her bottom lip. Even on his first day he wasn't this silent. He usually greets her, teases her about the coffee, or makes a smartass comment. Over the two months Ana has gotten to know Bucky, he is rather sarcastic and witty when he wants to be. She figures it's him rediscovering who he is, and slowly coming out of his shell. At least around her, and a few select people.

Right then, Max passes by, shoving his fingers through Ana's hair. He continues walking, trailing his arm behind him, letting her long hair flow through his fingers until he's too far away. It's a friendly show of affection, Max at times is able to spot when the energy of the day overstimulates her. She rolls her eyes though he can’t see, but when her eyes land back on Bucky, his own quickly advert from hers.

There's a firm set to his mouth, the corners of his lips tilted down. His eyebrows are pinched together in a frown. Ana notices his jaw clenching, probably grinding his teeth together. Bucky doesn't appear angry, just conflicted. A light mechanical whirling noise breaks the silence, her eyes falling to his left arm. His hand is clenched in a fist, turning his forearm back and forth, the metal slates shifting. Opening his hand, he finds something to pick at on his jean and pulls. A thread comes loose. He stares at it for a moment, then flicks it aside carelessly.

There is it. Ana pinpoints the feeling now, laced within his eyes, nearly drowning in the storm of his irises. Self doubt. She’s noticed it plenty of times before; this morning feels different. She doesn't want to push Bucky unless he is ready to talk, and normally she wouldn't do so. Today, it looks like he might need it. She knows Bucky is anything but fragile and doesn't want to be treated like so.

Ana nudges her boot against his right thigh. "I don't want to ruin your street cred," She begins, "brooding and all, but your energy is so thick it's making my coffee taste bad."

It barely pulls a reaction out of him. Bucky inhales slowly, and exhales the same pace. His eyes shift over to her, the slightest hint of amusement gleaming in them.

"Your coffee never tastes bad." He states. His voice is soft, yet rough around the edges from whatever he was lost in thought about.

She skips straight to it. "Did you have nightmares?"

Bucky inclines his head, placing his mug on the desk. "Realistic ones. Almost like I was reliving memories."

Frowning, Ana asks, "Why don't you come get me when that happens, Bucky? It's what I'm here for."

That familiar self-deprecating smile is back. Ana despises it. It makes her stomach clench with anger because Bucky shouldn't be hating on himself.

"Don't want to burden you." He mumbles.

Ana slips her foot off the desk, letting the heel fall heavily to the floor with a clack. Bucky raises an eyebrow in question. She sets her mug on the surface of her desk, sits up and crosses her arms, because no. She makes direct eye contact with Bucky, and to his credit, he doesn't cave.

"Fuck that." Ana states firmly, voice hardening.

Bucky blinks.

"Seriously. That is bullshit and you know it. You are not a burden to me. Neither is talking about your nightmares, or anything you want to talk about. Let's get this straight, Barnes. Do not think you are a burden to me ever again, got it? Because it won't be pretty and I don't take lightly my friends thinking that about themselves."

A beat passes. Then, "You are feisty."

Ana glares at him. Bucky sighs, shoving his hand roughly through his hair. He moves his fingers to scratch at the scruff along his jaw. Finally, he drops his arm only to twist both of his hands together.

"They're horrible, Ana." He confesses quietly.

"I just don't want them to consume you." She tells him gently. "That's taking a step back."

Bucky lowers his eyes to his hands, as if he can't physically look at her while he talks. "I had several of them, all night. I woke up, did the grounding exercise you told me, but each time I went back to sleep," He shakes his head. "It was like I had fallen into their grasp again. I have done horrific things, Ana. Things I never want you to find out about because I know you'll run away screaming and never look back. Realize you have been working with a monster, something that only lives in nightmares."

Ana tries to keep her heart from breaking at his words. "Apparently you don't know me well enough. Shame, I thought we were getting along swimmingly." She quips. "I'm not running. Bad for my knee."

A humorless chuckle escapes Bucky's mouth.

"I am not running, Bucky." Ana reiterates.

"Maybe."

She unfolds her arms. "You know you can talk to me."

Seeming to brace himself with a deep breath, Bucky continues. "It was like the nightmares played back a movie. Nothing but scenes of me...hurting people. Killing, destroying lives. Without even blinking. Without even stopping to wash these goddamn hands of their blood." He holds his hands out, staring down at them with disgust. "The weapons I've held. The grenades I've thrown. The triggers I've pulled. The necks I-"

His voice breaks, and he stops speaking for a moment. Ana remains silent as him gathers himself. She doesn't miss the way his eyes glisten, rimmed red at the bottom. Or how he swallows audibly. She wishes she had the power to just stop his nightmares all together. Bucky takes a few deep breaths again, dropping his hands to his thighs.

“Steve believes I didn’t do any of it. He keeps telling me that." Bucky continues quietly. "That it wasn’t me." A shadow comes over his face. "I think some small piece of me was awake, watching. As if I was trapped in my own body. I’d struggle to break free, but no matter how hard I tried, I lost. What does it matter if I was forced to do something, when it was still me? It's my fault. All of it."

He looks so broken. Ana can't begin to fathom what his brain is attempting to process, it makes her heart ache painfully in her chest. She yearns so bad to just reach out and hug him. To comfort him in a way she hasn’t yet. She doesn’t know that sort of intimate touch would be accepted. 

“Alright." Ana begins. Hoping her approach will help Bucky view it differently. "Let’s try reversing the situation then. In this case, you’re me and I’m you."

Bucky is visibly skeptical.

"You, James Barnes, grow up, find yourself in the middle of SHIELD, helping agents, guards, the Avengers and anyone else. I grow up, find myself in a World War I was drafted to fight in, but still wanted to serve and fight for my country. Suddenly, I wake up and I’m captured, tortured, brainwashed and made to be a weapon for the enemy for their convenience."

Bucky inhales sharply. Ana notes how his hands curl into fists, notes the minuscule waiver in the air around him. She continues.

"They’ve built me to control me, control my mind. Made to do their dirty work. I’m only to comply to my orders. To kill, capture, destroy. The moment I start to wake up is the moment they start again. They fill me with false information, sending me out like a beast for the hunt.” Ana pauses for a moment, leaning forward. “Tell me, is it my fault that I did those things beyond my control, that I wasn’t consciously acting out orders?”

He remains silent for several long moments. Finally, slowly, Bucky shakes his head.

“Alright." Ana put conviction in her voice. "I’m telling you the same thing. Everything that happened, everything Hydra made you do, was not your fault, Bucky. They had complete control of your mind and actions.”

Bucky breaks eyes contact, his lower lip quivers just slightly. Ana feels the guilt radiating off him, settles on her own skin. "Then how come I remember some of them? At least, I think that’s what it is. Some nightmares are of missions I don’t remember. Isn’t that my subconscious reminding me that I did do it? So, in a way, I do remember. I remember all of them.”

Considering this, she asks, “Are you saying, because you remember in your dreams that if you did have a choice, if they didn’t control you, you would have still done it? Go out and destroy people’s lives, as you say? Because I'm having a really hard time believing that.”

He doesn't respond. His throat bobs, his jaw clenches, and his eyebrows twitch down. Bucky doesn't speak.

“Listen to me, okay?" Ana urges softly. "There are horrible, soulless people out there, who don’t even blink at the acts they do, because they want to do it. They make their monstrous choices out of their own freewill, and that. That, is the difference between them and you. You had no choice, Bucky. You had the very thing all humans are given from God himself stolen from you. Free will."

Bucky's stormy gray-blue eyes snap to hers.

"Hydra stole your free will. They took it, and destroyed it with their machines and experiments. Filled your head with false information and claims. Consciously, whatever they made you do, was not you.  Again, would you have freely and willingly carried out every mission they gave you?"

They stare at each other. The deep set frown on his face makes Ana's hands twitch to comfort him. She keeps them steady on her knees though, carefully analyzing any minuscule expression on his stoic face. Ana keeps her own open, calm, but determined for him understand, if even for a moment.

Resignation flashes through his expression. "No."

He doesn't take his eyes off her, staring intensely at her, almost like he’s in awe. His eyes shift back and forth, like he's trying to uncover something hidden within her own. She doesn't know what he ends up finding, just knows that something changes in his.

“You are very adamant about this.” Bucky intones.

“Of course I am.”

He sighs, long and tired. “You may be right. You probably are right. I still feel this crushing guilt and regret inside me though.”

Ana takes a moment to consider that too. "I think, because you have those feelings, is what makes you, you. I think you have been fighting back for decades. It didn't take them a day to break your spirit. According to the file Sharon gave me, it took them nearly twenty years to do so."

"What!?" Bucky sounds aghast. "Twenty years?"  He pauses like he suddenly remembered something. Realization dawns on is face. "I wrote that down. I've been trying to piece together a timeline and...that makes sense. I wrote that down."

Ana smiles, despite the air around them. She gives in to the urge of her hands, places them gently on his. She provides just enough pressure to convey comfort, but also to let him understand how vehemently she believes this next part.

"That is you, Bucky. You have been fighting them tooth and nail for years, and you are still fighting it. I haven't known you for very long, but the first thing I saw in you was the fight in your eyes. This right here," Ana takes her hand way to gesture between them, "is the strength on your own free will. This is what you are fighting for. Yourself."

“You said you feel guilt and regret and that’s fine." She tells him carefully. "We don’t have to tackle everything at once. I just hope one day soon, that you’ll stop blaming yourself. You were a victim. You never asked for that. I don't care how long it takes me to convince you otherwise, but I will tell you every single day if I have to, that it wasn't your fault.

“I don't know if you believe what I'm saying now, or even if you'll believe it soon, but I'll tell you this one time. I believe it. Because I refuse to see you as the person, sitting in front of me now, going out there and shoving a knife in someone's head because you felt like it."

Ana takes breath to calm herself. She has a knack of being overly passionate. "If you don't believe it yourself, then allow me to believe it for you."

They haven't broken eye contact this entire time. Ana sees something shift between the blue fibers of his irises. He blinks slowly, and like an afterthought, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. His frown has slowly morphed from deep contemplation to light perplexity.

"How-" Bucky begins slowly, voice low as if he's unsure to utter his words, "what makes you believe in me so much?"

"You are a good person, Bucky." Ana tells him with conviction. "That's something you need to start believing in as well."

Bucky squeezes her hands, and it’s only then does Ana remember she’s still holding them. Something tingles along her skin, settles into her bones. Feels just as intense as the way Bucky is staring at her. The energy surrounding her is electric, no longer muddled and heavy with Bucky's guilt, his doubt. At the moment, Ana can't tell if she is actually changing it around, or if this new energy is emitting from Bucky himself. Either way, it feels much warmer than before.

After what seems like the longest time, but probably just a few minutes, Bucky slowly brings her right hand to his chest. Beneath her palm is the steady rhythm of his heart, beating just a smidge above abnormal. Briefly, she wonders how fast it was beating earlier, if Bucky's self loathing and anxiety were making it go into overdrive. It's never fun to wake from night terrors; or to believe everything is his fault.

"I try to remember what you told me the first time, Ana." Bucky speaks, voice just a whisper now. "To feel around me. It's hard. It's difficult to pull myself out of the confines of my own mind. But you, Annie, you are the one who helps me be able to do it. You're helping me."

Ana tries to calculate her breathing as Bucky's eyes fall shut. He continues, "I feel it right now. Your energy."

"My-my energy?" Ana stammers confused, because that's new.

"I'm not stealing you thunder, sweetheart." He quips, the tiniest smile breaking across his lips. "I can just feel the air change around me." Bucky slowly opens his eyes, and the slate of them pins Ana to the spot. "That was you this entire time."

Slowly, with a muddled brain, Ana nods. They are so intensely focused on each other, just several inches apart, that when a booming crack of thunder echoes outside, they both jump. Ana's hands go flying to her chest, startled out of her skin. Bucky looks like he just woke from a trance of some sort, blinking rapidly several times. The thunder breaks the mood. Making eye contact again causes them to laugh sheepishly. Bucky grabs his mug, taking a long sip.

"You mixed hot cocoa and coffee together?" He asks after lowering the cup, licking droplets off his upper lip.

Ana ignores the strange twist in her stomach. They were just startled out of a deep, profound conversation. "Finally! Here I thought my skills went unnoticed."

"What if you put nutella in it instead?"

"This," Ana sniffs, patting his knee. Is why we are officially friends."

"We weren't before?" Bucky pouts pitifully. "I'm hurt."

Ana rolls her eyes, pulling the bottom drawer of her desk open, taking out a white paper bag. "Scone?"

"You had those the whole time?" He deadpans.

She opens the bag and peers inside. "Chocolate chip, blueberry lemon or orange?"

"Chocolate chip, please."

"Dammit." She grumbles, giving him the scone.

Bucky breaks it in half, giving her the bigger piece. After that, the rest of the day is lighter, and the heavy energy dissipates. Bucky pats her shoulder in an appreciative gesture, Ana offering him a smile in return.

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