#and when it left that evening it went south

[captain-kit-adventuress]

op, i am not calling you out. you're not wrong. but everyone needs to know:

this did not start in 2000.

this started (in earnest) in 1968 when richard nixon won the presidential election. it really kicked off when watergate, one of the largest proven criminal breaches of any president up until that time, went down and basically nothing happened to him. sure, he didn't get to be the president anymore, but 1) it looked like he chose to leave, but it was only to avoid impeachment and expulsion because there was absolutely no way he had the votes in the house or the senate to avoid forcible removal; 2) his own original vice president, spiro agnew, was convicted on prior charges from his home state of maryland of bribery and other corruption-type offenses and was replaced by gerald ford, who later pardoned nixon (though agnew certainly would have too); 3) between all of the evidence collected in the investigation into watergate and spiro agnew's own troubles, it was revealed that nixon ran a hugely corrupt administration beginning with himself and ending...somewhere much farther down the line.

and as for the president being above the law? an idea seeded by nixon himself in the famous interview he did with david frost, in defence of his own actions during his time in office. all the supreme court really did was pick up what he laid down.

now, a lot of nixon's policies themselves were successful, and they weren't necessarily bad for the country, but that was only because democrats controlled both chambers of congress and nixon had been in politics a long time, he was no idiot and he knew he had to give dems at least some of what they wanted to avoid having no accomplishments in office, and gridlocking the government, which would have been hugely upsetting at that time to the status quo and might have led to the american people discovering his corruption even earlier. and all of this, from the time that nixon took the oath of office until the day he left on august 9, 1972, was three years. that's it. he destroyed much of presidential precedent for corruption in just three years. trump 1.0 is probably still quicker than that, but not by like, a ton. there's a lot more i could say about nixon, especially like how he ran as a peacemaker and his 'law and order' campaign that is credited with winning him the white house, but this is far too long already.

that all set the stage for one of the worst administrations to ever happen to this nation, ronald fucking reagan, and we still are only scratching the surface of undoing what he and his unelected cronies all did--and it's important to note that the alzheimer's affected him far earlier than the nation ever suspected or was told about, so basically we did not know who was actually running the country for nearly 8 years--bush 41 basically maintained the status quo reagan left.

and then we get to bush 43. as i very clearly stated at the beginning, op, you're not at all wrong to suggest his administration did a lot of work to pave the way to trump, especially in policy. that is the truth, but it is the recent truth. without nixon and reagan, bush 43 can't happen in the way that it does.

i think you're also remiss not to point out how much control of this congress had, as well, because they are in the legislative branch and therefore in control of the laws like the PATRIOT act and all that. but it was nixon who devolved a lot of federal power in the '70s to the states, and without that move, state legislatures wouldn't have begun their big push to turn a lot of liberalising states rightward.

republicans have been laying the groundwork in one way or another for over sixty years now. i don't think a lot of people understand how very much the kennedy boys (especially bobby) scared the shit out of the gop, especially because the south was still pretty solidly blue at that point. they saw how quickly the country was liberalising, they saw Blacks and other people of colour just starting to gain footholds, and they could not have it because it threatened the entrenched power structures they all headed up, so instead of just going along with it and adapting like sane human beings, they totally turned away from democracy and toward fascism.

and don't ever forget how much money plays a role in this too, that they were funded by very rich people who did not like democratic fiscal policy or tax policies because it would take away tiny amounts of their vast wealth and help poor people and by god, we couldn't have that. the very last thing they wanted was a return to eisenhower-era levels of taxation, especially on passive income.

i am pointing out all of this, though, to show that much of what is politics today got rolling long before many of us were born, and it behooves us as citizens to learn our history to become better at preventing it repeating in the future. and i also want to remind everyone that it was failures of not just politicians, but well-placed citizens who resided on both sides of the ideological divide, who failed the american people by being totally shitty and enabling politicians to get away with a lot of their shenanigans.

the george w bush administration laid so much of the groundwork for the way trump's white house is currently operating. none of this would have been possible without a bunch of agencies and "national security" (aka enabling) acts that concentrate more power in the executive branch, all created by 41 himself. DHS and ICE, bolstered by the Patriot Act, were invented in 2003 to do exactly what they're doing now-- disappearing immigrants and bypassing due process under vague, loose definitions of the word "terrorism".

[romanteacism]

A Butterfly and a Dragon's Flight Chapter Twelve

Chapter Summary: Even if a butterfly does not call, her dragon would always come for her. Word Count: 4,201 Warnings: Elinora and Aemond Missing Each Other, Daeron and Aemond brotherly ¿bonding?, NOT PROOFREAD

Prince Aemond lay restless on his feathered bed. It had been a week since Elinora left, yet not once did she leave Aemond’s mind. She was haunting him. The most angelic and beautiful ghost that one could pray to be drifting through his thoughts like a hymn half-remembered, leaving traces of the light in Aemond’s dark soul. The prince turned to his window, the first flicker of sunlight seeping through the heavy clouds of the night. He sighed and sat up, moving to wear his eye patch, marching towards the stable, and taking a horse to deliver him to his dragon. 

As Aemond arrived at the vast field where he left his dragon, he could not help but notice that a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered above the resting head of his mount. Aemond dug his nails into his palm as even in his greatest attempt to forget the girl, there was always a sign that would bring back the thought of her. Aemond watched as his dragon stirred awake at his presence, and he stood by the side, half expecting that his Vhagar would blow out the fire to be rid of the butterflies that flew over her head, as that was what his dragon would do to birds that flew near and pestered her. But Vhagar only whined and let the butterflies be, disregarding her usual trashing movements as she was cautious not to harm the pretty fluttering insects. 

Aemond shook his head in disapproval as even his dragon was being beautifully tormented by butterflies. The prince hastily mounted his dragon and flew to the skies in hopes of clearing his mind. He watched as the sun broke through the horizon and bathed him with a warm glow, but it was still not enough to penetrate through his dark coldness. He cut through clouds and flew in circles mindlessly, letting his dragon take the reigns. Only when his legs began to numb did he decide to break free from his reverie and realize that he had flown away from the crownlands, the land underneath him unfamiliar and mostly fields. As he saw a stream breaking into two, he realized that he was heading west into the reach. 

He turned his gaze upon his dragon, realizing that his mount had felt his longing to see Elinora, and decided for him to finally see her. He flew for unending hours, he and his dragon ignoring their tiredness as they flew closer and closer to Highgarden. What was meant to be an early morning ride blended into the sunset? He was nearing Highgarden, the castle’s multiple walls, and grandeur in his eyesight. However, before his dragon could attempt to land on a nearby field, he stirred his mount and directed it onwards and south to Old Town. He knew he would not be received well if he directly went to Elinora— even imagined that her brother might call for their guards to keep him away. So, he had no choice but to go to his brother. 

He landed his dragon just outside Old Town, near a nest where he presumed Tessarion resided. The sun had set, and Aemond had ignored his hunger and thirst as he quickly found a horse, buying it from a farmer traveling with his harvest for the season who could not deny his request as he displayed his silver locks, the sign of royalty. 

Aemond quickly rode to Hightower, arriving just in time for supper. He was not hindered as he threaded the halls of his mother’s house and climbed endless stairs of the high tower to the second highest point, where Daeron had shared where his chambers were situated. He had only reached the landing when he heard steps ascending.

The prince quickly regained his composure as he saw his brother, who distractedly climbed the stairs as he read a scroll, a pleased look on his face. Aemond, riddled with anticipation, could not hinder his words. “I want her back,” was all he could utter. He watched in anticipation and fatigue as the small smile on his brother’s face disappeared and turned into disbelief. Daeron’s purple eyes flickered from the scroll to him, lips agape and confounded eyes morphing into anger. 

“…What are you doing here?” Daeron breathed out. Eyes once again glanced at the scroll that had just been sent regarding Elinora’s slow recovery, but now, the reason for her somber demeanor followed them to the Reach. “I—“ Aemond tried to speak, but as they heard footsteps approaching, Daeron quickly ushered him to his chambers. “You need to leave— rest for the night, fine. But you must leave at first light.” The youngest prince then said as Aemond sat on the nearest seat he could find, his aching limbs now given respite. “No,” Aemond answered, unable to display his effortless power and darkness as he was left exhausted from his travels. 

“I came for Elinora.” He stated the obvious. In all the years Daeron had resided in Old Town, not once had his brother come for him. He did not hold it against Aemond. Why would he even journey so far for his brother, who was practically a stranger except for the fading memory of childhood and the sparse letters they exchanged? Aemond had his own life in the capital, and Daeron happily had his own life in the Reach. 

However, now, as Aemond had come. He poses the risk of disturbing it. Daeron liked to keep his worlds separate. The Reach was his home, whilst the capitol was where his family resided. Two wholly different worlds that he did not like colliding. It inevitably did as the Tyrells had ventured to the capitol for business, and all of them were aware of how it all ended. Now that all of them had returned to where they belonged, it was Aemond then who ventured out of his place, and Daeron feared that all the unpleasantness that had occurred would happen once more. 

“No. You will not come near her— not again.” Daeron gritted out as he went to a table in his chambers that had wine in a pitcher and poured a cup for his brother. Aemond watched as his brother handed him a cup of wine, his kind actions fighting against his cold stare and tone. “I must see her— apologize and—“ 

“Then send her a letter.” Daeron snapped. “Leave it be, Aemond. What’s done is done. Let us all just forget this. Go back to King’s Landing, and she shall stay here. It is for the best that your paths shall never cross again.” Daeron took a big gulp of wine as he hoped that his brother would not exercise his stubbornness and insist on seeing Elinora. 

The One-Eyed Prince grew cold at his brother’s words. Daeron’s mind was made. He knew how he was viewed, and it was most unfavorable. The prince was back into a wall— on the brink of losing, and he only had one card at his disposal. A card that he held close to his chest and did not wish for anyone to see before Elinora could. “I… I think I love her, Daeron.” He said lowly; the room was enveloped in quick silence before the distinct sound of his brother choking on wine echoed through it. 

Aemond’s gaze snapped up, and he watched as his brother had a coughing fit. He waited silently as Daeron reached for a napkin and dabbed his lips, his violet eyes wide and face red. “What?!” He spat. “Don’t make me repeat it,” Aemond sighed. 

The youngest prince looked intently upon his brother, trying to see if he lied, but he did not know what Aemond’s tell was. “Enough, Aemond! You have told lie after lie, and you expect me to believe that you love her?!” Daeron practically yelled voice strained as he did not wish for anyone to realize that the second-born prince was here but still wished to show the urgency of the situation. 

“I am not lying. Do you honestly think I would have gone all through these lengths— lie to her— deceive her— feed those damned ducks—fly endless hours from King’s Landing to here just because I lust over her as all of you assume? If I had only wished to bed her, I could have done so! But I didn’t, I…” Aemond trailed with a large exhale, not wanting to utter the words again as the person who it was meant for had not even heard it. “I need to see her, Daeron.” 

Daeron was at a loss for words. His mind was trying hard to comprehend the words his brother had uttered, recalling their days in King’s Landing. Scenes where he would see Aemond observed eye Elinora. How Aemond would trail her through the keep— always there to save her from the presence of Aegon or the attentions of other lords. How he would wait for her by the pond to feed the ducks or how he had heard tell that it was Aemond who had protected and avenged Elinora from the court women who had tormented her. Actions so uncharacteristic for his brother and far too kind to be a ploy to get her to his bed. 

As Daeron had come to such realizations, he felt his knees weaken, and he took a seat across his brother, staring intently at Aemond’s tired and almost pleading face. “You… love her,” He muttered, and Aemond gave a small nod, doing the final contents of his cup. “But after the dinner, you sa—“ 

“I was not ready to admit it, not even to myself. When she first arrived, I tried hard to hate her—thought of her as deceitful and fictitious. But I was wrong. I have never met anyone as genuine— as kind as… as pure as her.” Daeron stared oddly at his brother. In disbelief as such words left his lips. “I want her back, Daeron. I… I need her back.” 

“Why?” Daeron asked. “Why?” Aemond repeated incredulously. He would think all that he had said before was explanation enough. Aemond took in a deep breath, another set of words that did not come naturally for him being forced out of his lips as he needed to convince his brother to let him see Elinora once more. “Because she makes me a better man. She… makes me more tolerable— you said it yourself. She compliments me perfectly. She was made for me.” Aemond’s voice was barely above a whisper. His innermost thoughts were forced to be expelled, and if another had uttered the words he said, he was certain he would roll his eye at the man and scoff at their words. It was getting too sentimental—but that’s what is needed. Because when had love ever been dispassionate? 

She is good for you, I must admit. But are you good for her? Daeron wanted to utter those words. But his mind made him think of how Elinora had become after meeting his brother. He had known the girl for years, but not once had he seen the different sides of her until she met Aemond. Elinora was brought up strictly and was constrained for years. She was taught all the manners a lady must hold, and she expressed them perfectly. She always had a pleasing smile on her lips and a timid tone on her tongue— but that was it. She was made just to be happy— she was made to be perfect and obliging. That was until she met Aemond. 

Finally, Daeron witnessed her full range of emotions, how she had grown annoyed, angered, and melancholic. Negative emotions, yes— but she needed it. Because how could they expect her to simply display only happiness? For years, they had made Elinora to be doll, but Aemond had made her human. It took meeting Aemond for Elinora to finally rebel, to express, to live. The youngest prince felt a chill run down his spine at such realizations. 

“And you were made for her,” Daeron conceded, finally believing his brother. Aemond, through his tiredness, felt the urge to smile at his brother’s words. “Fine. I shall help you.” Daeron sighed, watching oddly as a small, grateful smile came to his brother’s lips. “But do not think you are forgiven— you still had caused… this,” Daeron added, and Aemond let out a breath and gave a nod. “Rest, brother. We shall think of what to do after you rest.” 

Elinora sat in their home’s courtyard with a book in her hand, a flower crown atop her head, and children seated before her feet as she read them a story. Ever since she was eleven, she was tasked to read stories and entertain babes in the afternoon before they rested. They thought her somber voice and docile manners would lull the babes and tots to sleep, and they did. “And the knight and his princess lived happily ever after… the end,” Elinora said softly, a small smile on her lips as babes and tots hung closely to her words, innocent eyes droopy and little lips turning into an ‘o’ as sleep began to overcome them. 

“Again, again!” A tot requested, fighting against her drowsiness as she tried to implore Elinora with her wide eyes. “Perhaps tomorrow, sweetling… but now, you all must rest.” Elinora smiled and watched as, one by one, they were taken in the arms of their nannies so they could rest for the afternoon. Elinora stayed in her seat, waiting for the other babes to be taken to bed, and eventually, she was only waiting for one to be fetched. It was the son of one of her father’s advisers. The boy was barely two, and she sighed as she saw no sign of his nanny. She picked up the tot in her arms. It was quick to settle in her hold. 

It always perplexed her why babes were so quick to grow comfortable with her. She had watched endless amounts of times how Edward and Daeron were handed a baby and how quickly they would wail in their arms. Elinora smiled as the babe rested his little head on her chest, pudgy arms clinging to her. “Now, let’s find your nanny, shall we?” She murmured and stood, the boy in her arms smelling of talc and milk, and she could not help but breathe in his scent. 

Elinora wandered through the homes of her home in search of the one responsible for the little boy. She took slow, leisurely steps. Enjoying and savoring the way the babe’s warmth felt and how good he smelled. She could already feel the tot drifting to sleep in her arms, Elinora simply hummed a lullaby that her father had sung to her and Edward when they were the same age as the boy in her arms. Elinora gently rested one of her hands on the little boy’s back as she soothingly patted it, effectively lulling the babe to sleep. 

The girl passed countless lords, ladies, maids, and squires— all of them taking a double take at the girl who held a babe in her arms, the scene warming their insides. Elinora did not utter a word; she only continued with her search as to who was responsible for the boy. When she reached the second landing of her home, she passed a lord who seemed taken aback when she walked past him. “My lady?” He called softly, and Elinora halted in her tracks, carefully moving to not wake the boy. 

“Wh—“ The lord began to speak, but Elinora, in a rare occurrence, interrupted another. “Is he yours?” She whispered softly, and the lord before him could only nod. “He’s my brother,” He whispered as well, mimicking the girl’s soft voice. Elinora smiled and gave a nod, the lord motioning to take the babe in her arms, but it stirred, and Elinora quickly halted as she did not wish to wake him. 

“Mayhaps we should take him to the nursery,” Elinora suggested with a small smile, flattered by the babe in her arms as it did not wish to let her go. The lord, whose name she was still learning, nodded, guiding her through the halls. “I— how did my brother come to be in your care, my lady?”

“I was reading to the babes earlier, and he was left behind, so I tried to find the one responsible for him.” The lord nodded, guiding Elinora to turn to another hall. “Apologies, but could you remind me of your name, my lord?” She asked, feeling an embarrassed blush creep up her cheeks as she had forgotten her manners and customs. “Lord Redwyne, my lady. Lord Tristan Redwyne,” The lord introduced. “And no apologies are needed… if anything, I should be the one to apologize as you had gone to the trouble of finding my brother’s nanny,” 

Elinora smiled and softly shook her head. “It is no trouble at all, my lord.” She uttered, feeling a bit saddened as they had reached the nursery and the lord opened the door for her to enter. “Please, just call me Tristan,” The lord smiled as Elinora gently dipped down and placed the sleeping babe in her arms into the crib, the girl quickly missing the warmth of the babe. Elinora smiled kindly as she glanced at the lord but quickly returned her attention to the babe, who slept peacefully for the afternoon. 

“Well, I should go, I do not wish to intrude,” Elinora said and glanced towards the door, ready to leave. But as the lord took hold of her arm, she was slightly startled, her wide eyes making lord Tristan quickly remove his touch. “I… I apologize, my lady,” He said in remorse, his actions to forward. Elinora gave a reassuring smile but still kept her distance. “You need not leave, my lady,” Lord Tristan said sheepishly. “If you wish to stay, I would most certainly be happy to accompany you,” 

“Oh,” Elinora twiddled with her hair in uncertainty, “Thank you for your company, my lord, but I am afraid my brother is expecting me.” She reasoned, knowing Edward was waiting for her in the chapel to accompany her for her daily prayers. “Oh, of course… but if you would, I could escort you, my lady. It’s the least I could do after you tended to my little brother so diligently.” The lord kindly offered his arm, and Elinora could not refuse. 

As lord Tristan escorted Elinora to the chapel, they garnered curious glances, and in truth, it made Elinora quite unsettled. Though she did not know much of the lord, he seemed nice and genteel, but for now, Elinora had no wish to acquaint herself with others she did not know.

“Sister?” Elinora heard Edward call as they neared the chapel, her brother only now arriving. There was a curious look on Edward’s face as his sister was accompanied by lord Tristan Redwyne. “My lord,” Lord Tristan gave a polite nod of recognition. “Lord Tristan offered to escort me to the chapel,” Elinora explained, already dreading the questions her brother may ask her the moment the lord left. 

“Lady Elinora was kind enough to look after my little brother and lull him to sleep as his nanny was not there after the children’s afternoon story ended.” Lord Tristan further explained, and the furrow between Edward’s brow lessened. “Well, thank you, my lord… but if you would, my sister and I must tend to our prayers.” Elinora gave a meek smile and exchanged the lord’s arm for her brother’s as the two of them ventured to the silent room. 

“I did not want him to escort me— I had no choice,” Elinora quickly whispered as she felt her brother might scold her once more as she was in the presence of the opposite gender. “I did not say anything, sister,” Edward replied quietly as Elinora went to her knees and knelt on their usual pew. “But I know what you’re thinking,” She muttered, folding her hands as she settled on her place and began to pray. “Became clairvoyant now, have we?” Edward mussed as his sister shut her eyes and bowed her head. 

Elinora did not reply, but Edward was rather curious about the scene he had encountered. He did not know much of Lord Tristan Redwyne other than he was the son of one of their father’s loyal advisers and came from a rather dependable family. He did recall how the lord would steal glances at his sister during balls and events, but not once had he actually approached her or vied for her attention. And from the explanation he was told earlier how they were acquainted just because of fate, it made Edward rather pleased. 

He, however, did not say his thoughts to his sister. Though Elinora was misled about who her betrothed was, she was still to learn that her actual betrothal was null and void. It would be odd of him to encourage her to acquaint herself with other lords when, in her mind, her hand was already meant for someone else. 

Edward let out a breath and glanced at his sister, pious and devout, as she prayed hard before the minimized statues of the seven before them. The young lord closed his eyes and as well began to pray that the matter of courtships, betrothals, and romance would no longer place a burden on his sister. 

“Take me with you,” Aemond insisted as he learned his brother was to journey to Highgarden to visit the children of House Tyrell. Aemond had spent the past half hour arguing his case so his brother would bring him along. 

“It’s been three days, Daeron. You cannot just hide me here like a fugitive,” Aemond sighed. He was stuck in his brother’s chambers, losing his mind as Daeron was insistent on him not leaving the room and letting others know that he was in Old Town. “You are a fugitive— uncle cannot know you are here. You are practically enemy number one, brother.” Daeron sighed as Aemond obnoxiously bounced a ball against the wall, bored out of his wits as all he wanted to do was ride to Highgarden and see Elinora. “Enemy number one? I am a prince of the realm.” 

“Just be patient,” Daeron moved around his chamber and opened the window, the air heavy as Aemond had stewed in the room for days. “Why not just pretend that I am to come? A visit from your favored brother,” Aemond suggested, and Daeron rolled his eyes. “You are hardly my favorite brother, Aemond.” The One-Eyed Prince raised his brow. “You mean to tell me that you prefer Aegon to me?” Daeron let out a breath of a laugh and shook his head. “Besides, if we are to tell that you are here, word would reach Highgarden, and I am certain Edward would lock the whole of the castle, making it further impossible for me to sneak you in.”

Aemond raised his brow at his brother’s words. “You are to sneak me in?” He questioned. Slightly offended that he, a prince of the realm, was to be treated as an outlaw. “How else are you to see Elinora?” Daeron asked, “In any other way! I am not sneaking my way to her home— let her know that I am here. Let her know that I came for her.” 

Daeron let out a breath as his mind ran with thoughts on how to find a way for Aemond to see Elinora. “You ask for too much, Aemond. The wound inflicted had only now started to scab… I just heard word from Edward that Elinora is no longer hiding away in her chambers but has instead returned to her normal customs.” Daeron sighed, “For… for her to see you again— it might reverse all of her progress.” 

“I do not know if you wish to hear this… but she was truly left heartbroken— she did love you, brother,” Daeron stated, and Aemond felt his forever-still heartthrob at the words uttered. She loved him. Someone loved him. 

“There is a ball to happen in three days' time,” Daeron uttered after a short moment of silence between them. “Perhaps… perhaps you could come. Unannounced.” Aemond’s blonde brows furrowed at his brother’s words. “You wish to send a message to Elinora that you came for her? Then come to the ball. It would be a surprise, yes… but it would be clear to Elinora why you would venture all the way from King’s Landing to here.”

“And her brother cannot so obviously show his disdain… especially not in front of all those in attendance,” Aemond added, already taking to Daeron’s plan. The youngest prince gave a nod, taking a double glance as a ghost of a smile wanted to spread on his brother’s lips. It was still quite odd to see Aemond smile without malice, but he supposed he better get used to it as Elinora was the only one who could pry a smile from Aemond. 

“I shall make my presence known in the ball… I shall let Elinora know I had come for her.” 

Tag List: @sapphirevhagar @dahlias-and-marigolds @shygardengalaxy-blog @m-riaa @summerposie @emerald-jade1 @darylandbethfanforever9 @sunmoon-01 @foxyprincessworld

[fidgetspringer]

This is going to interest exactly no one except myself, but still.

We've all seen the chaos that is the Flight Radar right?

That's a lot of planes.

But are you ready for the insanity that is the Ship Radar?

Because it's nuts.

(Red are tankers, green are cargo.)

And if you watch for long enough you'll start to realise some vessels do some weird things. Like this tiny tug boat that has been doing exactly this for going on three days straight.

You good??

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 6 - Secret

The jealousy that began to bubble up, though likely pointless to hide from her of all people, Arsay desperately tried to keep a secret from her dear friend Krile.

[starboymp3]

i think so much abt the fact that celeborn was one of the last elves who left middle-earth... like we don't even know when it was that he left

and i also think that it was probably him who lived on middle-earth for the longest period of time (out of the elves). i mean yeah galadriel was probably older than him for example and maybe even círdan too, but none of them lived longer on this side of the sea than him. celeborn was already living in doriath in starlit beleriand when the noldor lived still in valinor, and he also stayed longer after the war of the ring, after galadriel and círdan and elrond left. like, idk. how much you have to love a place to stay there even after the most of your kind and the love of your life all left... etc

[iamtheoneandonlyever]

Guys

The yearning for my old friends is coming back full force

This is why i should not be left alone, I WANT MY FRIENDS BACK

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

This was known at the time. Also known at the time: Osama bin Laden and al-Qaeda (a terrorist organization NOT a government) were responsible for the attacks.

Osama bin Laden (born and raised in Saudia Arabia) was the son of a billionaire who used his inherited wealth to found the terrorist group al-Qaeda

None of al-Qaeda's founders were Iraqi.

Saddam Hussein/the Iraqi government had few if any connections to Osama bin Laden/al-Qaeda

They were completely separate individuals/organizations.

Iraq was not involved in the Sept 11 attacks.

Iraq was not involved in the Sept 11 attacks.

Of the 19 hijackers who carried out the Sept 11 attacks:

15 were from Saudi Arabia (a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)

2 were from the United Arab Emirates (also a powerful/oil-rich country the U.S. works hard to maintain diplomatic relations with)

1 was from Egypt, 1 from Lebanon.

None of the hijackers were from Iraq.

None of the Sept 11 hijackers were Iraqi.

None of the 9/11 hijackers were from Iraq.

[stardustquills]

thinking about sylus making you be on top, despite your protests. currently giggling and kicking my feet like a schoolgirl with a crush. 18+ mdni.

cw; smut, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (f recieving), switch!sylus, pet names (kitten, sweetie), praise kink, sylus being annoying

wc; 1.5k

-

“come on, sweetie,” sylus teased, half-lidded eyes and a smirk cast your way. his hand lazily pumped his hard cock, head thrown back on the pillows behind him. “you’ll be fine-”

“sylus.” you cut him off with a whine. you hid your flushed face in your hands. he thought that was pointless. you’re naked in his bed. “i’ve never been on top before. i don’t wanna. why can’t you-“

“i’m always on top.” now it was his turn to cut you off. he didn’t mind always being on top - he was just being a prick because you were the one who initiated. sylus grabbed one of your wrists, pulling you closer to him. “you’ll be okay. i’ll help you through it.”

you let him pull you towards him, apprehensive and hesitant. he guided one of your hands down to his cock, his hand encasing yours as he helped you pump. sylus’ eyes closed as your hand moved under his. you watched his adam’s apple as he swallowed, a soft moan escaping his parted lips.

you didn’t even notice when his eyes opened again, garnet iris’ flickering all over your body. your own eyes were fixated on his pretty pink lips, still parted as he let out a melody of sighs. your gaze slipped down to his neck, where you could see the marks you’d left a few days prior, then down to his chest, hard muscles tensing as you stroked him, a light sheen of sweat on his abs.

finally, your eyes went further south, landing on the veiny cock in your hand. pearls of precum leaked from the angry tip and you could feel your own pool of arousal building. you couldn’t take your eyes off of it even if you tried. it was just too pretty - just like every other part of sylus.

his laughter snapped you out of your trance. “see something you want, kitten?”

“perhaps…”

“get on top, then.”

another whine left your throat. you shot him a pointed look, but he could see through it, see the hunger that laid just past that layer of annoyance. he could always see through you, no matter what irritated glance you sent at him.

maybe he’ll let it go if you give him a treat? so you leant down, licking your lips. you only managed to kiss the tip before his free hand dug itself into your hair, yanking your head up away with from his cock.

“ah ah,” he chided, raising an eyebrow. “being nice won’t get you out of this, sweetie.”

“sylus-“ you pleaded with a pout.

“it’s either you on top or nothing.” his eyes stared into yours, his tone leaving no room for your pathetic arguments. “what’s it going to be?”

when you didn’t say anything, only glaring at him, he knew what the answer was. but still, he decided he needed to hear your words be.

“well?” his rich voice purred. he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your face towards his. “i need words, kitten.”

a beat of silence, then, “fine.”

“fine, what?”

“…i’ll be on top.”

sylus smirked, letting go of your chin and lightly tapping your cheek a few times. “good girl.”

you found yourself on top of him, letting yourself leisurely sink down onto his dick. sylus was still being a jackass - he didn’t help you at all! just kept his hands resting on your thighs, watching with hungry eyes as he disappeared into you. your hands were splayed on your chest, bottom lip tucked under your teeth as you ever so slowly sat on him. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once your hips connected with his, a sigh of relief escaping you.

you felt awkward being on top. you didn’t know how to move, didn’t know how to do anything as you just stared at the spot where you and sylus connected. you like that for a moment too long, causing sylus to speak up.

“you gonna move?”

“i-“ you cleared your throat when you heard how meek you sounded. “i don’t know how,”

“just roll your hips,” sylus whispered, surprisingly gentle and soft compared to the last time he spoke. his eyes landed on your face, taking in the blush on your cheeks that began to grow. “like you do when you sit on my face.”

“sylus-!”

“what?” he laughed, fingers tapping your thighs. “maybe if you’re good, i’ll reward you.”

“you’re mean.”

“should i take away the offer?”

“no!” you responded almost too quickly, shaking your head and earning a chuckle from the man underneath you. you loved sitting on sylus’ face, but he cherished it more than you did.

he was a giver, after all.

you rolled your hips like he said, shakily exhaling as he reached a new depth in you. you weren’t used to the deep penetration from the get go - he’d always ease you into it, starting with slow, shallow thrusts before they blurred into hard and fast ones.

but still, it felt so wonderful. continuing to rock your hips against his, a pretty string of moans and sighs of sylus’ name left you. you took what you wanted, eyes closing as you threw your head back, and sylus watched proudly as you finally were on top of him, doing all of the work.

you started gaining confidence as you heard his own sounds of pleasure, soft murmurs of “there you go, kitten,” and “atta girl, you got it,” as his own eyes closed. you decided to start bouncing in his cock, a darling whine as you felt him ram into your cervix violently.

only a handful of bounces later and your thighs started burning, so you went back to rolling your hips against him. sylus noticed, of course, another demeaning snicker leaving him as his eyes opened.

he reached towards your face, brushing the strands of hair away from your face while your hips worked against his. “does it burn?” velvety and caring voice making your eyes snap to his. his hands moved up your thighs, settling nicely on the curve of your hips. “do you want some help, kitten?”

he already knew the answer before you nodded. his hands helped you up and down, his own hips bucking up to meet yours. tits bouncing in front of his face, your fucked out expression, and you on top of him - sylus thinks he’s at the pearly gates of heaven.

if he died, this is what he’d see in the afterlife. his perfect, sexy girlfriend riding his cock, absolutely losing herself. he thinks he’s enjoying this more than you are!

“s-sylus, h-ahh!” you lifted your head to look at him, hands still splayed on his chest. his dick absolutely ruined you, even more so with this new angle. brushing against that spongy spot, you let out a loud noise. “fffuck!”

“mm-yeah, you like being on top, don’t you?” he groaned when your nails dug into his chest, leaving crescent-shaped indents. “you’re doing so well, too.”

his hands wrap around your waist, pinning you against him as he starts slamming his thick cock into you, unable to hold back any longer. and just like all the times before, you took it like the amazing girlfriend you were. “hah, squeezing my cock so good,” he moaned into your ears.

his moans were much more musical than when he was actually singing.

only a handful of thrusts later and you’re coming undone quicker than you ever have - sylus has strong suspicions it’s because you’re on top, riding him like you fucking own him. he follows soon after, releasing his own pleasure into you. the sound of skin slapping skin slowly subdues as his tempo came to a halt, his face falling forward onto you chest.

he stayed like that for a few moments. just catching his breath as he buried his face into your tits.

sylus is a man of his word. so obviously, he kept his word - slipping himself out of you with a whine from you. he shifted so he laid on his back, his hands on your thighs encouraging to move up his body.

“wanna eat this pretty pussy,” he practically purred, eyes trained on your cunt. he grinned happily as you complied, thighs on either side of his head as you lowered yourself down onto him.

out of habit, one hand seized a fistful of his hair as the other held onto the headboard, steadying yourself as he ate you out like a man starved. a long lick, from your gaping hole to you clit, before he moved back to your slippery slit, greedily lapping up your combined fluids. he deliberately shook his head against you, making sure his nose rubbed against your puffy clit.

it was a nasty sight - your boyfriend’s mouth working wonders on you as his laughs were muffled by your cunt. he drank up your combined come as his hands wrapped around your thighs, immobilizing you against him.

with hearts floating in his red eyes, he looked up at you so lovingly, watching your every expression and reaction to his ministrations. sylus thinks he could stay like this for hours; eating out his girl after coming in her might be his favourite pastime. but fuck he can’t get the way you looked on top of him out of his head. next time, he thinks he’ll make you tie him up so you’d really have to do all of the work.

he’ll make you be in top more often from now on!

-

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated:)

[fursasaida]

This article is from 2022, but it came up in the context of Palestine:

Here are some striking passages, relevant to all colonial aftermaths but certainly also to the forms we see Zionist reaction taking at the moment:

Over the decade I lived in South Africa, I became fascinated by this white minority [i.e. the whole white population post-apartheid as a minority in the country], particularly its members who considered themselves progressive. They reminded me of my liberal peers in America, who had an apparently self-assured enthusiasm about the coming of a so-called majority-minority nation. As with white South Africans who had celebrated the end of apartheid, their enthusiasm often belied, just beneath the surface, a striking degree of fear, bewilderment, disillusionment, and dread.

[...]

Yet these progressives’ response to the end of apartheid was ambivalent. Contemplating South Africa after apartheid, an Economist correspondent observed that “the lives of many whites exude sadness.” The phenomenon perplexed him. In so many ways, white life remained more or less untouched, or had even improved. Despite apartheid’s horrors—and the regime’s violence against those who worked to dismantle it—the ANC encouraged an attitude of forgiveness. It left statues of Afrikaner heroes standing and helped institute the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which granted amnesty to some perpetrators of apartheid-era political crimes.

But as time wore on, even wealthy white South Africans began to radiate a degree of fear and frustration that did not match any simple economic analysis of their situation. A startling number of formerly anti-apartheid white people began to voice bitter criticisms of post-apartheid society. An Afrikaner poet who did prison time under apartheid for aiding the Black-liberation cause wrote an essay denouncing the new Black-led country as “a sewer of betrayed expectations and thievery, fear and unbridled greed.”

What accounted for this disillusionment? Many white South Africans told me that Black forgiveness felt like a slap on the face. By not acting toward you as you acted toward us, we’re showing you up, white South Africans seemed to hear. You’ll owe us a debt of gratitude forever.

The article goes on to discuss:

"Mau Mau anxiety," or the fear among whites of violent repercussions, and how this shows up in reported vs confirmed crime stats - possibly to the point of false memories of home invasion

A sense of irrelevance and alienation among this white population, leading to another anxiety: "do we still belong here?"

The sublimation of this anxiety into self-identification as a marginalized minority group, featuring such incredible statements as "I wanted to fight for Afrikaners, but I came to think of myself as a ‘liberal internationalist,’ not a white racist...I found such inspiration from the struggles of the Catalonians and the Basques. Even Tibet" and "[Martin Luther] King [Jr.] also fought for a people without much political representation … That’s why I consider him one of my most important forebears and heroes,” from a self-declared liberal environmentalist who also thinks Afrikaaners should take back government control because they are "naturally good" at governance

Some discussion of the dynamics underlying these reactions, particularly the fact that "admitting past sins seem[ed] to become harder even as they receded into history," and US parallels

And finally, in closing:

The Afrikaner journalist Rian Malan, who opposed apartheid, has written that, by most measures, its aftermath went better than almost any white person could have imagined. But, as with most white progressives, his experience of post-1994 South Africa has been complicated. [...]

He just couldn’t forgive Black people for forgiving him. Paradoxically, being left undisturbed served as an ever-present reminder of his guilt, of how wrongly he had treated his maid and other Black people under apartheid. “The Bible was right about a thing or two,” he wrote. “It is infinitely worse to receive than to give, especially if … the gift is mercy.”

[marmotsomsierost]

Inuit and speculation of hidden community aside, there were absolutely saami in norway outside of finnmark. This map is by Hans Ragnar Mathisen who used a ton of historical documents and resources to create this map of sápmi/sameland.

Been thinking bout how if a fandom is obscure on here, then people in that fandom tend not to post ab it bc "no one else would get it". Like, obscurity breeds obscurity ig, so there are prolly more fans of stuff out there than we can know. Actually new idea for this post: every time you see this post, make a quick post ab your least known fandom/interest

[hoonieyun]

loving you is forever ⋆˚ʚɞ

pairing: lee heeseung x reader 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ♡

synopsis: after a one night stand leaves you with a lasting memory of the boy you left behind in the name of your daughter, heejin. you finally decide that it was time to move back home to south korea after living abroad for the last 5 years. reuniting with your old friends was everything you could've wished for as they welcomed you and your daughter; but you don't think you could ever prepare yourself to face the father of your child.

warnings: profanity, kissing, suggestive, mentions of hooking up/one night stands, drinking, characters are in their late 20s, absent father!heeseung (but its not his fault) implying that they didn't use a condom (wrap it up!!), overall 18+

genre: single mom!reader x heeseung, old friends to lovers, kind of exes to lovers, one night stand, angst, romance, drama, hurt/comfort, slow burn-ish

wc: 16558 (idk what happened i swear i blanked out writing this)

hoonieyun notes: she's finally here djfkd it took so long to finish this because i didn't want to rush it and feel like i just had to get it done to get it done. i really hope you all enjoyed this piece of work, i loved writing it and i just want to say: happy valentine's day!! you are all so deserving to be loved and surrounded by those who love you <3

the days of being in seoul, south korea felt just like yesterday when you were a college student awake at 3am eating a hot bowl of ramen after a long night of studying. ramen was your favorite thing back then but as you’ve gotten older, the days of being a broke college student turned into meticulous routine based days where all your focus went to raising your daughter, heejin. 

ramen was your favorite, past tense. 

you cut the habit of eating ramen so often because you needed to choose healthier options for yourself, setting an example for your daughter that although convenient and inexpensive, eating instant ramen so often wasn’t the healthiest for you. 

even though you were her mom, your daughter taught you a lot and you were constantly learning as you grew together. she taught you new habits that made living better like learning to take it easy and lounging around the house with your favorite snacks while watching your favorite show was the best way to clear your head and relax. 

you also learned that your previous lifestyle of putting others over yourself was something that would stay with you as you’d do anything for your daughter even if it meant that you sacrifice things that are meant for you if it means that your daughter would have what she wanted. 

the air when stepping outside of the airport is crisp, the snow has melted into a thin layer of water coating the ground and it’s slightly cold but nothing a puffer coat couldn’t fix. you looked over to your daughter who was fiddling with the zipper on her own puffer coat, “bambi, you have to keep your jacket on or you’ll get sick.” you softly tell your daughter as you crouch down to her level, zipping her coat back up and adjusting the hood of her hoodie that she had layered under. she pouts to herself but ultimately knows better than to argue because she knows mom is right and because she hates being sick. 

when heejin was 4 years old, she had gotten a cold for the first time and although she enjoyed being at home cuddled up under a fuzzy blanket with her favorite plush toy; she hated having a runny nose and being forced to take the yucky medicine, her words not yours– although you agree. 

your phone rings and karina’s contact photo lights up on the screen, “hi, yn! i’m here, what pick-up area are you at?” she asks on the other end of the phone, slightly louder than usual so you assume she’s yelling into her car’s built in phone call feature to avoid having to drive with her phone in her hand. you tell her that you’re at arrivals 12 and soon enough you can see karina driving up to you and heejin in her silver suv. karina is your best friend, sister even, you have known each other since you were little, even though she was only a few months older than you she was often that older sister you never had, guiding you through new experiences together and you just wished that when you grew up together, you realized sooner that she was also navigating those new experiences alongside you. 

“yn!! it’s been so long!!!” karina cheers as she steps out of her car, rounding the vehicle to give you a warm hug, rocking the two of you side to side as you wrap your own arms around her. “been too long.” she says, emphasizing the words like you were away for a long time. in a lot of ways you were. 5 years is a lot of time away from someone but to you those 5 years went by so much faster.

“is this heejin?” she asks, crouching down to your daughter so she can greet the child. “hi heejin, im aunt karina but you can call me rina, ok?” she says, softly shaking heejin’s small hand with two fingers. “hi auntie rina!” heejin says happily, throwing her hands into the air with a smile. 

your daughter was probably the most cheerful and joyful child you’ve ever met. she never threw fits, rarely cried after the age of 2, and was very social with strangers. flashing her cute smile that would instantly melt stranger’s hearts garnering you a, “such a cute baby!” every time they’d see her. 

karina stands back up straight and helps you pack your luggage into her trunk, “is this all you brought?” she asks and you explain that you didn’t want to pack too many things because moving with a lot of belongings would make it difficult. you had only flown with 4 suitcases and had 2 boxes shipped over from your old home. opting to only take what truly was important and other material things could simply just be repurchased. 

you and karina share another hug before strapping your daughter into her carseat and taking a seat into the passenger side of the car. you and karina catch up like no time has passed, acting like you two were only separated for a few days when in reality it was 5 years. of course the two of you spoke on the phone every now and then while you were abroad but the time difference interfered. 

“how was seattle? do you miss it already?” she asks and you have to think about the question. do you miss seattle? or were you happy to be back. 

“i'm not sure to be honest. i don’t think ive been away long enough to miss it yet.” you simply say and she nods, “well i know you must’ve seoul. i know we missed you.” she says, glancing over to you 

you smile at her remark and tell her that you’ve missed korea and her a lot. those 5 years in seattle went by fast because of your daughter but being away from all of your friends and even your parents was tough. you stayed with your aunt and uncle who lived in seattle who so kindly opened their home for you and 2 years after giving birth to heejin, you had enough saved up to get the two of you a small but perfect 1 bedroom apartment. it was enough for the two of you but to your daughter it was like she was living in a castle; and that’s all that mattered– knowing your daughter was happy. 

“you ok?” karina asks and you’re brought back to reality. “yeah, just reminiscing i guess.” you respond and karina chuckles. 

“don’t tell me you’re already thinking about going back? you can’t leave just yet, i’m not letting you go.” karina retorts and the two of you burst out into laughter. you reassure her that you weren’t going to leave korea any time soon and that you’d have ample amount of time together to catch up and make so many more memories. 

“plus, i’ve got 5 years to catch up with my favorite niece. right, heejin?” she asks, looking over to your daughter in the rearview mirror. “yes aunty rina!” heejin says cheerfully. you laugh at them both and give karina a funny look, “she’s your only niece dude.” you say and karina shrugs, “and? she’s still my favorite!”. 

the rest of the car ride is filled with more chit chatting and laughing, happy that the two of you are finally reunited and that you weren’t separated by thousands of miles. soon enough karina is pulling up to your home and she’s quite impressed. while living in the states you had saved enough money to purchase a beautiful home here in seoul. 

it’s not the biggest but it has everything you need for you and your daughter. it has 2 rooms and 2 bathrooms, an office space for your work, a big living room with enough space for your daughter to run around in and a backyard for the same reasons. you were happy to have gotten to this point in your life and you were so happy to have a life like this with your daughter. 

karina doesn’t stay long after dropping you off, only staying to help you bring in your things, and do a small tour of your home. “i promise i’ll come back tomorrow! i’ve just got some things i need to finish for work.” she explains and you let her know that it’s fine and thank her endlessly for picking up you and your daughter from the airport. you and heejin wave her goodbye as she drives away. 

you walk back inside still carrying heejin on your hip. “alright, bambi. it’s just you and me, and our new home.” you say softly and heejin smiles at you. 

“just you and me mama!” she says and it makes you smile as you nuzzle your nose with hers. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

the next few days are filled with unpacking boxes, waiting for deliveries of furniture and food, and exploring the neighborhood and town. your car was delivered on your 2nd day back in seoul so thankfully you didn’t have to wait around at home or feel guilty of asking karina to drive you around places since she had her own fair share of responsibilities. 

your other friends have asked you when they could come visit, especially your cousin; jay– who said, “i can’t believe you let karina see my niece and she’s not even blood!” when he found out karina met your daughter before your cousin. 

karina was like your sister but jay was actually blood. jay is your cousin on your mom’s side and you had stayed with his parents while living in seattle until you were able to get a place of your own. he’s a few years younger than you but he was always the wiser of the two of you; he was like the angel on the shoulder of life while you were the devil– however you weren’t evil… just chaotic. 

you, jay, and karina all grew up together so you all had a bond that's unbreakable. people often made comments about how jay was the gentleman he is because of all the women he grew up around and you’d agree. he was the kindest and most mature boy you know and even when he loosened up a bit and got chaotic like you, he was always the level-headed and mature jongseong at the end of the day. 

when you would sneak out with boys in high school, jay would cover for you. 

when you got in trouble for getting a C- on your chemistry exam, jay vouched for you and said that the chemistry teacher at your high school was sexist and punished all the girls in the class. 

when you found out you were pregnant, jay was the first person you called and was right by your side every step of the way up until you were boarding the plane to seattle. 

jay was your rock and you wished he was your brother but a cousin would suffice just as long as he was always there for you. 

you’re about 90% moving into your new home, the last thing that needs to be completed was just tossing out all of the trash and recycling that has accumulated from all of the items you bought or takeout that you’ve been getting so you didn’t have to worry about cooking for the first week of moving back. 

you’ve invited jay over for dinner after he’s insisted on cooking dinner for you and your daughter, claiming that he wants to make a good impression on his niece so he wasn’t necessarily going to take no as an answer, and honestly– a home cooked meal by jay sounded nice. he was a great cook, excellent even, you? not so much. 

you knew how to cook a variety of things but most of it was out of convenience so that you weren’t always eating takeout. your daughter was simple when it came to her taste buds and favorite foods, 80% of the time she just wants to eat chicken and thankfully she doesn’t complain much about having to eat vegetables. however, never brussel sprouts. she hates brussel sprouts. 

it’s around 5PM when you’ve finished putting all of your trash bags outside, giving you just a half hour to freshen up your daughter and you before jay would be arriving. he felt apologetic for not being able to help you move in but you told him that he had nothing to feel sorry for and that you knew he had a busy schedule ever since he took over his dad’s company at the beginning of the year. jay’s dad owned a construction company in seoul and although jay had different passions like music and fashion, he was the type of child to never refuse his parent’s wishes and eventually accepted that he would become the owner when he grew up so there was no point in arguing with his dad. 

he was an only child so it was hard not to feel bad for him and see that he had so many things he wanted to do for his life but was often shortsighted and left responsible for whatever his parents wanted because he was their only child. 

that was probably why you often felt like you needed to bring jay out of shell and loosen up a bit. being so caught up with the responsibilities he had at home, you wanted to make sure that he still had fun as a teenager because his life as an adult was already planned out for him. 

when jay turned 16 you spent all of your christmas money on a guitar he had been talking about for months. jay rarely cried but you remember the pure joy and gratitude in his eyes when he unwrapped the box and saw the familiar leather case he had seen so many times at the guitar shop. you swore you could see his eyes glow from excitement when he unclasped the guitar case and finally saw the instrument on the inside. the fender eric clapton stratocaster electric guitar shined onto his face and you’d never forget the smile on his face as he set aside the guitar next to him so he could get up and give you a hug. telling you how grateful he was and that no one would know how much that gift meant to him besides you. 

after changing yourself and your daughter into a fresh pair of clothes, jay was ringing your doorbell. he barely greets you when you answer the door, placing the bags of ingredients into your arms when you open them for a hug and instead he runs into your home to scoop up his niece into his arms. 

“jinjin!” jay says as he carries her above his head. a nickname they both came up with whenever they’d facetime. 

“uncle jayjay!” she says, giggling at him as he gently tossed her into the air and hugged each other. “yeah i’m here too y’know!” you say, narrowing your eyes at your cousin as you put the bag of groceries down onto your kitchen counter. 

“yn-ieee!!” jay says, setting your daughter down onto the counter next to the groceries and giving you a hug of your own. “been so long cousin!” he says and you hum in agreement. 

“well it’s not like you couldn’t come visit me in seattle!” you say teasingly and jay rolls his eyes, “oh, please! you wouldn’t even let me no matter how hard i tried– plus you know how busy i got after dad passed over the company.” he says and although he didn’t mean it in that way, you felt a slight tinge of guilt. 

“i know, i know jong, just teasing. i missed you.” you say, hugging him again but this time ruffling his hair like you used to do when you were younger. 

“so what’s on the menu today, chef?” you ask as you help him unpack the groceries. 

“yeah, uncle. jinjin hungry!” your daughter says and you and your cousin laugh at your daughter’s remark. as she’s gotten older and has begun watching toddler shows, she’s picked up on their habits of speaking in 3rd person. 

“well, jinjin. uncle jayjay is going to make you ravioli and meatballs. sound good?” he asks, staring at your daughter with a box of ravioli pasta in his hand. 

“ravioli?” she asks and jay nods.

“right, you’re 5; you don’t know what that is.” he mutters and you just chuckle. 

“come on, heejin. why don’t we set up the table while uncle cooks, hmm?” you ask and she nods eagerly– always excited to be a part of the activity in some way or another just as long as she’s included. 

“i want the pink plate!” heejin says as she raises her arms so you could pick her up off the counter and set her on the ground. while you and heejin were at ikea shopping for home supplies, she saw a pink plate with the face of a pig on the top and the tail on the bottom and just had to have it. and honestly, your daughter looked so cute looking at it that you couldn’t say no. as a matter of fact, the plate wasn’t even very expensive and it was cute so it wasn’t a hard decision to say yes. 

jay doesn’t take long to finish cooking dinner; knowing to choose something quick and easy to make so that he could feed the two of you and so he could have ample time to hang out with his niece. 

needless to say, heejin loved the ravioli and was completely baffled at how they got the cheese inside of the pasta– constantly asking jay how they did it as if it was some sort of magical spell to create a ravioli. 

after dinner is over and your daughter insists on dessert, the three of you enjoy some ice cream even though it’s still winter and with jay’s help in convincing you because “ice cream tastes good in every season”. you offered to wash the dishes since jay cooked you dinner and although he insisted on washing the dishes, you told him that it was okay since he could spend more time with his niece instead– to which he didn’t argue. 

the rest of the night was filled with giggles as jay got to hang out with his niece outside of a phone screen. learning so much about her and how similar he was to you. he even got the opportunity to put her to bed when she got sleepy after watching bambi, her favorite movie. 

“bambi, huh?” he asks after the two of you quietly slip out of her bedroom.

“yes… bambi. it’s her favorite movie so i nicknamed her bambi…” you respond, trying to avoid his stare. 

“no other reason?” he asks and you shoot him a glare. “alright alright. i’ll drop it. it’s a cute nickname anyway.” he confesses and you mutter a small thank you, thankful that he’s not prying any longer. 

“i know, she’s cute like a baby deer, what can i say?” 

you and jay find your way into the kitchen, putting away the dishes from the dishwasher and beginning a new topic of conversation. 

“does everyone know you’re back?” jay asks genuinely, not intending to allude to a certain person from your past. 

“yeah, karina and ningning know. i spoke to jake and hoon yesterday and i told them i’d come up with a day they could all come over for dinner.” you explain. 

you had a close friend group going into college. you, karina, and jay all grew up together and early during college you had met ningning, jake, sunghoon, and another… friend. 

the seven of you were inseparable and were always together despite having completely different college majors. you, ningning, and karina all moved in together for the last half of your college career while the guys did the same. you’re all older now and have all of your own lives but most of them kept in touch with you after you decided to move away all of a sudden. 

opting to not ask questions out of respect but always making sure to check up on you every once in a while. 

“should i reopen the groupchat? haven’t seen the silly seven back together in a while.” and just as fast as the words leave his mouth, jay regrets it just as fast. he notices you tense up a bit as you’re putting some dishes away into the cupboard and he realizes he’s made a mistake bringing up your original seven friend group. a certain member becomes a tainted memory inside of your heart that you wished to not remember but are forced to remember in the most endearing and loving way. 

someone you wished you could leave in the past but you’re glad you chose not to as the memory continues to live through your daughter. 

“um, i’ll let you know. i’ve got some things i need to finish up before i start reuniting fully with everyone– plus i still need to get heejin caught up on all of her medical stuff for school so…” you begin to say and jay catches on. 

“ahh, don’t worry about it! just got a bit excited to see everyone back together again. i’ll look forward to it when it comes.” jay says, softly rubbing your back and offering you a smile that you return. 

“thanks jay…” you mutter quietly as you try to avoid his gaze. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

after three weeks of being back home in korea, you’ve finally gotten somewhat of a routine down as you’ve settled into your new home and neighborhood. you’ve got pretty accustomed to being back in korea and although it’s only been five years since the last time you were here; a lot has changed within those five years. 

you’d wake up on weekdays around 6am to get your day started, making breakfast and your daughter's school lunch before you woke her up at 7am to get her ready for school. she hadn’t started school yet back in the states so you wanted to ensure that you enrolled her into school once you had settled into your home. 

she was surprisingly excited to start school and make new friends. her favorite part of kindergarten so far was break time when she and her classmates would spend 30 minutes a day at the playground. she’d come home with unruly hair opposite of the sleek bun or pigtails she had previously had when you dropped her off. 

when your daughter was at school you’d spend the day cleaning around the home, finishing up the last parts of your move that had to do with papers and legal stuff, and would spend the rest of the time before your daughter got off school to run errands like going to the market or getting used to driving around your neighborhood. 

it's about an hour before your daughter is off of school so you decide to quickly freshen up before heading over to pick her up. 

today, you had plans to have an early dinner with karina as you hadn’t seen her since you had gotten there so it was due time to catch up now that you’ve settled in for the most part. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

“where are we going, mama?” heejin asks as you help her into her car seat. “getting dinner with auntie rina, remember?” you remind your daughter and she cheers, excited that she gets to see her auntie rina again. 

“why are we eating early? i want chicken!” she says and you just chuckle at her. “ok, i’ll get you chicken, ok?” you say, kissing your thumb and putting it towards her and your daughter does the same, connecting your thumbs, at the same time the two of you turn your hands 180 degrees with your thumbs pointing downwards so that your hands make the shape of a heart.

it was a small gesture the two of you did, a small way to be connected with your daughter through a special handshake between mother and daughter. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

dinner was filled with laughter as you watched your daughter and karina bond over chicken, your daughter having the time of her life with all of the different flavors of chicken; her favorite being the cheese flavored one. 

“so, when are we getting the gang back together?” karina asks as she places another piece of chicken on heejin’s plate, the both of you watching your daughter pick up the piece of chicken and munch on it like her life depended on it. you tried to tiptoe around her question, afraid that it would only lead to the inevitable that you were constantly postponing. 

karina waves her hand in front of your face as she realizes you’ve somewhat spaced out and reiterates her question, “um.. i’m not sure. i really want to see everyone but you know..” your voice getting quiet at the end of your sentence as you realize only jay, your cousin, knew who heejin’s father was. 

your friends knew of your longtime crush on heeseung when you were all in college and all somewhat knew that you’ve avoided him because of some reason that you haven’t told them. there were theories amongst the friends of why you no longer spoke to heeseung but only jay knew the reason. your friends didn’t want to pry but curiosity always filled their minds whenever they would think about you or see the photos you posted online of you and your daughter. with all of the theories they came up with, no one seemed to put together the most obvious reason and you’d rather keep that way. 

it wasn’t that you didn’t want any of them to know, you just weren’t ready for them to know and aren’t entirely sure when you’d be ready. karina noticed your shift in behavior with her question and chose to ask any more questions. the rest of the dinner was karina giving you suggestions on things you and your daughter could do like activities, sports and extracurriculars, and whatnot. 

“i’ll see you soon, ok?” karina says while giving your daughter a warm hug. the two of you bid each other goodbye and go your separate ways. karina’s question weighs on your mind heavily as you drive home, thinking about how long you could keep this a secret from your friends and also hide the fact that you were back in town from heeseung who just seemed to constantly be on your mind since you’ve arrived back in korea. 

a part of you wanted to see him, you missed him so much, the way he made you laugh, the way he knew you so well that he used to always bring you breakfast during your 8am lectures because you loved to sleep in until the last minute so you never ate breakfast, the way he knew when you were sad, the way he knew you were uncomfortable, everything. 

he knew you so well but that night, that unfortunate night, it seemed that he was the person that knew you the least in the world. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

a few days after your dinner with karina and some encouragement from jay, you finally decided to send out invites to all of your friends to come over for dinner. your place was getting to a point where it was feeling like home and you wanted your daughter to meet some of the most important people in your life. you obviously weren’t going to invite heeseung but you thought about it and you quickly found yourself shutting down that idea. 

“hi guys! please let me know if you’re free this saturday around 6pm! i’d love for all of you to come over for dinner and meet heejin! if it’s okay could you all bring a small dish? heejin isn’t picky but she is allergic to fish so keep that in mind. she’s very excited to meet her uncles and aunties!”

karina: i’m always free for you! minjeong: i’ll bring the chicken hehe jake: lets goo!! can’t wait to meet little yn! sunghoon: i already know i’m gonna be her favorite uncle jay: yeah right i’m her favorite already, nice try bro

all of their responses made you smile and for once you weren’t stricken with the anxiety of the past and how all of this could crumble down onto you– but you were dedicated to not letting that happen. you missed your friends dearly and being surrounded by your loved ones you haven’t seen in years was long overdue. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

friday rolls around a lot sooner than you expected, which you didn’t mind because it was all you were looking forward to after spending the weekdays trying your best not to spiral. you were constantly thinking about what would happen if they brought up heeseung or if he miraculously showed up unannounced and uninvited. you made several dishes as the main course and set up your kitchen so that everyone could eat buffet style. 

there were rolls of kimbap that your daughter helped you prepare, tofu stew simmering low on the stove to keep it warm, and other food that you knew your friends and your daughter loved. 

as the day went by and the time that your friends would all slowly start arriving would come, you noticed that heejin seemed to be antsy. like something was bothering her, she was constantly squirming around unable to find a comfortable seat at the dinner table, the couch, or even her favorite bean bag chair designed to look like a peach. she was fidgeting with the hem of her dress so much to the point that she had pulled a loose thread, causing the dress to tear. you were more worried than upset, it was just a piece of fabric it didn’t matter if it broke, although you did keep a mental note not to buy from that store again; so you sat her down to talk about it. 

“bambi.. what’s wrong?” you asked her as you helped her change into new clothes, something she had chosen and although it was more casual than the previous attire she had on; she was way more comfortable in it. she shook her head with a pout, indicating she either didn’t want to talk about it or that there wasn’t anything wrong– and considering her actions moments ago, it was the latter. 

“you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong but just know mommy is here for you ok? i don’t want my little bambi to be sad or upset and feel like she can’t talk to mom about her problems..” you told her softly, fixing her hair as it had gotten slightly messed up while you dressed your daughter. heejin was everything to you, she was your life and blood, she was your light and you’d be damned if you ever made your daughter feel like she couldn’t fully be herself or come to her own mother to help her fix her problems. 

even though heejin was still young, you made sure to make an emphasis on communication with your daughter, teaching her to articulate her feelings and emotions in a way that was healthy to her and those around her– and for the most part, she did that. she often told you if she was uncomfortable or if she was feeling upset about something as small as her socks making her feel itchy– but right now; she wasn’t communicating to you why she was acting the way she was and it left you stumped. 

you weren’t necessarily sure how to go about it. you didn’t want to pressure your daughter to tell you what was wrong but the mother inside of you couldn’t continue without knowing what was bothering your daughter and how you could alleviate her troubles. “are you ok, heejin?” you ask and she once again shakes her head. 

“can you tell mom what’s bothering you?” you asked, lightly patting your daughter's head as you finished doing her hair. 

she looks up at you with her big doe eyes and for a second you see the uncanny resemblance of her and her father. “mama, who is my dad?” the question comes as a shock to you because although she had asked before, she’s never let the absence of her father trouble her the way it has now. your mouth slightly opens at her question but you quickly recollect yourself so she doesn’t notice your demeanor falter, afraid that your expression could cause her more worry if she was to realize how you reacted to her question. 

you so desperately wanted to comfort your daughter, tell her everything you knew about her father and how he lived only miles away; but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. it may seem selfish, and it was, but you simply weren’t ready to have that conversation with your daughter. even if it broke your heart to see her pleading eyes begging you for a single crumb of information on her dad, you couldn’t do it. it caused you an immense amount of pain to deny your daughter something she seemed to want so badly. 

“bambi, why the sudden interest?” you ask and she goes on to explain that when she was waiting to get picked up from school that day, she saw all of her classmates getting picked up by their dads and it got her thinking of her own, more specifically, the absence of her own father. 

your heart broke even more at her words but you chose to give her the answer that you’ve given her several other times she asked in the past. 

“bambi, your papa may not be here but he’s always in your heart, ok?” and you were glad that it provided her some form of comfort because it seemed like she knew you were going to say that so she closed her eyes and gently placed her small hand over her heart. it was moments like this that made you question yourself as a mother. denying your daughter from someone who was half of her all because of your own selfish intention and pain that you aren’t able to heal from. 

the two of you share another tender moment as you engulf your daughter into your arms for a warm embrace and try your best to get her to smile, which was fairly easy as your daughter was very ticklish. 

just in time, your doorbell rings indicating that some of your friends have arrived so you decide to carry your daughter to your front door to greet everyone. you gently rub her back to further soothe her worries, hoping that the emotional and vulnerable moment the two of you just shared didn’t cause her anymore worries despite the fact that she still had that longing look in her eyes. waiting for the day she could get the answer she was looking for and the day she’d get to meet her dad. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

you’re carrying your daughter in your arms as you open the door to welcome your friends and all of their eyes light up at the sight of you and your daughter. one by one they file inside of your home with a dish in their hands, greeting you and heejin with bright warm smiles. you return with a smile of your own as heejin waves at the strangers entering your home who she will grow to learn are the aunts and uncles that would love her and support her as she grows older. 

once everyone has gotten inside, you point to where they could all settle the dishes they brought and soon enough you’re setting heejin down to introduce her to everyone. 

“heejin, you know auntie karina and uncle jay, right?” you ask her while you crouch down to her, she nods her head in agreement, slightly shy as she still doesn’t know the several other people in the room. 

“this is uncle jake, he has a really big puppy, you like puppies right?” and once again she’s nodding but this time with a smile as she gets excited at the mention of  a dog. when heejin started to learn how to speak, one of the first words she spoke was “dog” and would later on constantly ask you to get her dog when she learned how to form full sentences. 

“heejin, i’ll introduce you to my dog, ok?” jake says with a smile and she cheers, happy that she finally gets to play with a dog since you wouldn’t let her get one of her own. 

“this one is auntie minjeong, can you say hi to her?” you ask and heejin shyly waves her hand and when minjeong waves back and asks if she can have a high five, heejin gives her one excitedly as you’ve taught her that high fives were a gesture of encouragement and sharing a high five with a friend was a good thing so she instantly felt happy when minjeong asked for one, already identifying her auntie minjeong as a friend. 

lastly, you point to sunghoon, “that’s uncle sunghoon, you like the snow right? uncle sunghoon is really good at ice skating.” you explain and her eyes and mouth widen at the thought of ice skating. “ice skating? do you make snow angels?” she asks and it causes the lot of you to laugh; to which sunghoon nods and tells her that he’ll teach her how to make some of her own. 

introductions go very well and heejin is calling everyone auntie and uncle in no time, opening up and breaking out of her shyness once she chats with your best friends some more as she tries all of the food they’ve brought. 

“yn, all this food is amazing by the way but you should’ve let us help more or at least bring more food so you didn’t have to cook so much!” minjeong says as she’s putting away her dish into your sink. 

“yeah, yn. this is delicious but next time let us take care of all of it okay? we’ll be sure to bring all the food that heejin likes. heejin, what’s your favorite food?” jake asks her and she cutely raises the chicken wing in her hand and shouts chicken and once again the room is filled with laughter because of your daughter’s cuteness. you were so happy to see your daughter being accepted by everyone, not necessarily because you thought they wouldn’t but because for the time that you’ve been gone; you were afraid that this drastic change in your life would affect the dynamic between you and your friends. 

but it didn’t. 

at least not completely. 

jake is slurping on his noodles when he suddenly says, “yo, heeseung brought me these noodles one time; it was so good we should all go some time.” and at the mention of heeseung’s name you’re almost frozen in your spot at the table. 

the room is instantly silent when they notice your attitude shift after hearing heeseung’s name. no one besides jay really knows what happened between the two of you and even then you’ve left out certain details from the story because you couldn’t bear to relive the pain from that night just so that someone could fully understand why you did what you did. 

sunghoon shoves jake lightly at his careless action and he soon realizes why the room had fallen silent, he glances over at you with an apologetic look followed by a string of apologies, “i’m so sorry, yn. i shouldn’t have brought him up- i wasn’t thinking.” jake says and you shake your head explaining that it was okay and that he had nothing to apologize for. 

“it’s fine, jake. he and i just don’t talk anymore.” you leave it at that and everyone chooses not to pry because it was truly none of their business. 

before the night ends you all take a group photo with heejin in the middle, you decided to have her sit on your shoulders as your friends crowd around her with warm smiles that could be felt through the photo. you were so happy to see the happiness radiate through the image that you didn’t necessarily care that all of your friends were quick to post that photo, the possibility of heeseung seeing it nowhere in your mind because you were more focused on the love that your friends were giving you and your daughter. 

you bid goodbye to your friends but not before you pack them their own little containers with leftovers because it was way more than what you and your daughter could finish alone. heejin happily waved goodbye to her aunties and uncles and had long forgotten about the sad moment the two of you shared before this dinner. 

she was so happy to meet them and to her they were all just her friends. your friends are equally as happy to meet your daughter and be a part of her life and yours again. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

on the other side of the city, heeseung is scrolling through his social media alone in his bed when he scrolls past the group photo you all took on several accounts. a pang of jealousy budding in his chest as he sees you in the center, happily carrying your daughter on your shoulders. 

heeseung couldn’t help but feel left out but all he could think about was why you hadn’t let him know you were back in town after disappearing for the last five years? 

so, he does what he thinks is right and opens the groupchat he has with the boys. 

“yo, you guys free tomorrow? wanna grab lunch?” heeseung taps into his phone and presses send and in a few minutes, sunghoon, jay, and jake are all responding to heeseung’s text. 

they all coordinate a plan to have lunch the next day. heeseung plans to let it come naturally, bring you up as smoothly as he can without coming off like he wanted to hang out with the guys just to find out information about you. 

but he knew deep down that he was going to get the information he needed one way or the other. 

even if it made him feel crazy because love makes you do crazy things. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

when the next day rolls around and heeseung is making his way to lunch, he realizes that his dreams that night were filled with one thing: you. 

he dreamt about all the ways he wanted to make up for lost time, he dreamt of past memories, he dreamt of you and he slept soundly knowing that you were so happy in his dreams. only hoping that he could make you as happy in real life like how you were in his dreams. 

you were truly the girl of his dreams and now that you were back; he wasn’t going to let you go so easily like last time. 

“whats up guys!” heeseung says as he walks over to the guys who had gotten a table for the four of them. they were all browsing the menu when heeseung arrived and they all did their usual greetings, asking how one another was and all of the normal things. 

they soon order food and jay could tell that heeseung was a bit antsy, sending glances over to jake and sunghoon with a gesture to look at heeseung and they do; realizing his leg hasn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down and he was chewing on his nails– something that he’s never done in the past. 

heeseung could no longer wait, he just had to ask about you even if it made the air between all of them awkward. “so..” he begins and jay cuts him off before he could finish. 

“heeseung, i know you’re going to ask about yn.” jay says and heeseung stops in the middle of his sentence, his mouth slightly ajar as those words leave jay’s mouth. he’s shocked that they knew, was he being less subtle than he thought? or was he just that predictable. 

heeseung and you were inseparable when you were younger, you couldn’t take one without the other coming along, the true meaning of  a package deal. but when you left, heeseung was left with so many questions, none of which could be answered by you as you cut off communication with him completely. 

the rest of lunch consists of the guys informing heeseung about you, small details that they thought you’d be comfortable with sharing with heeseung, and although heeseung wanted to learn more; he was happy to learn anything new about you since you’ve been gone for the last five years. 

they could tell that heeseung’s love for you never died or diminished in any way possible. when you first left, heeseung was a wreck and if they didn’t think he loved you then; his reaction to you leaving solidified that. he didn’t sleep, he cried almost everyday and he would try to write you letters even when he didn’t have an address to send them to. 

it wasn’t until about a year after you had left that heeseung started to somewhat go back to normal. he stopped moping around and he returned to the heeseung all of your friends once knew. but deep down, he and all your friends knew that he would never be the same without you in his life. he threw himself into his work and other priorities to distract himself so he didn’t have to think about you but in the end, it always came back to you. 

he’d be walking on the street and would pass by your favorite restaurant and he’d think about you. 

a song would play and he’d be reminded about all of the times you two would dance and sing along to it. 

he’d see a cloud shaped like an animal in the sky and would remember all of the times you two would spend hours laying on the grass and spotting clouds shaped like whatever your mind could identify it as. 

everything he saw reminded him of you and although it hurt him to think about you, thinking about you was the only thing keeping you close to him when you were unknowingly so far away. 

when the four of them part ways from lunch, jay pulls heeseung aside for a quick chat before he leaves, “hey, i shouldn’t tell you this but…” jay says, whispering something to heeseung and sending him a text. heeseung’s eyes widen at the text and he’s instantly bringing jay into a hug, thanking him for whatever it was jay had told him. 

“yeah, yeah.. don’t make me regret this, she is my cousin; i’ll beat your ass if you fuck this up.” he warns and although he was slightly joking; jay was speaking with some truth because he knew how much all of this affected two people that were so important in his life. 

heeseung slept with a smile on his face later that night, not only because he was excited to be able to see you in his dreams again, but also because of what he had planned for tomorrow morning. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

“heejin! let’s go, bambi!” you call for your daughter as you slide your shoes on. heejin appears with her backpack dragging behind her, taking a seat next to you so she can put her shoes on to which you help her. you’re about to bring her to school, glancing at the clock near your front door when you realize you’ve only got 20 minutes to get her there. 

when you open the door, however, you’re met with a face that you hadn’t prepared yourself to see, at least not for a long time from now. 

“heeseung?” you ask as you look at him, standing at your front door with a smile on his face, flowers in his hand, and eyes as bright as they were when the two of you first met. 

“hi, yn.. long time no see.” heeseung responds, a sheepish grin on his face as he’s finally able to see you for the first time in five years. “sorry, i need to take heejin to school.” you explain, slightly moving him out of the way to lock the door and make your way to your car. 

“let me take you?” he offers and although a part of you wants to deny, you know that heeseung has always been stubborn and that if you were to try to decline; the two of you would just be going back and forth and before you know it, heejin would be late to school. 

so, you reluctantly accept his offer; quickly grabbing her carseat from your car and setting her up in the back of heeseung’s car. “mama, who is he?” heejin asks and you explain that he’s just a friend. “how come he didn’t come to dinner?” heejin continues with another question and you answer with something dismissive and tell her he was just busy. 

“ready to go? don’t want her to be late.” heeseung says and you look over at him and he’s still got that smile on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing and was happy that you were going along with it. you give him a tight lipped smile as you place a kiss onto heejin’s forehead before taking your seat at the front passenger seat next to heeseung. 

in the past whenever you two were in a car it would always be you in the front next to him because he trusted you the most with directions and music but mostly because he loved being able to see you next to him.  it was such a simple and innocent thing to be so close to you even if you were just sitting next to him but it never failed to make his heart race whenever you would look over at him, catching him staring at you when he needed to be focusing on the road. 

you’d tease him by saying, “eyes on the road” and talk about how you’ll crash if he keeps staring at you and he’d just respond by saying he would never hurt you or do anything that would put you in pain. 

heeseung tried to keep that promise and broke it without even knowing that he did. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

“bye heejin, have a good day ok?” you send your daughter off to school, watching her small figure skip away as she waves and greets the friends she sees as she walks into school. “she’s adorable.” heeseung says as you turn towards him. a part of you slightly forgetting that he was there because all of your focus was set on your daughter. 

“thanks.” you mutter, barely above a whisper. 

“wanna grab breakfast? my treat.” heeseung asks, a cheesy grin on his face as if he’s using his smile as a way to convince you to say yes; it worked… just a little bit. 

“fine.” you say while rolling your eyes, a part of you only saying yes because you had nothing better to do and he was the one that drove. the car ride was silent, filled with awkward tension as you couldn’t get comfortable in your seat knowing that you haven’t seen heeseung in five years and had no idea where this was going to go. would everything be the way it was before you left? or would it be filled with boiling tension that would eventually blow up. 

heeseung was fiddling with the steering wheel, tapping on the leather of the wheel, messing around with the car compartments, and constantly clearing his throat to drown out the silence that was so loud. 

“so… how’ve you been?” heeseung asks, slightly looking over at you as if he was suddenly nervous to make eye contact, fearing for how you’d react. 

“okay.. yeah i’ve been ok.” keeping your answer short so that you didn’t end up saying more than you wanted. you weren’t sure how comfortable you’d become with heeseung, someone who you once would’ve associated with the word “comfort” now was more closely aligned with “unknown”. 

“thats- thats good..” heeseung stutters. 

he doesn’t ask any further questions after he’s taken notice that you weren’t inclined for small talk or maybe just talking to him in general. which he couldn’t blame you for, you haven’t seen each other in five years and he understood that things were a lot different than before. 

you and heeseung used to be able to talk about anything and everything, whenever one of you or both would be stressed; you’d just talk for hours about anything to distract yourselves from whatever was troubling your minds. one time the two of you had even spent 63 hours on facetime, uninterrupted because you were both away from each other for the first time and couldn’t stand being that far away. 

the two of you were only separated for a weekend but it was too long for either of you. 

“order anything you want, ok?” heeseung says as he looks at the menu, browsing for what he wants to eat. you mirror his actions but you lift the menu a bit higher to cover your face because you were a bit shy. you didn’t know how to act around heeseung anymore and felt like shielding yourself away from. 

“are you two ready to order?” the waitress asks and quickly jots down your order, coming back momentarily to drop off your drinks and returning about 20 minutes later with the food you had ordered. heeseung had ordered ramen for breakfast, it came on a small personal burner so that it remained hot as he ate. you slightly smile to yourself, trying your best to hide it because this habit of heeseung hasn't changed in that aspect. 

heeseung always loved ramen, it's his favorite. 

you had just gotten rice with some grilled meat and a fried egg, something simple but delicious. heeseung is busy slurping on his noodles when you decide to break the silence, “how did you find me, heeseung?” you ask, causing heeseung to choke a bit on his food at the random question. 

he quickly apologizes, grabbing a tissue to wipe his mouth before responding, “oh, yeah about that. don’t be mad but jay told me. it’s not his fault though, i practically begged him.” heeseung says, eye widening as if to prevent you from getting upset that jay had given heeseung your address without permission. 

you were a bit upset, especially because jay was the one that knew what happened with everything out of all of the people in your life. you made sure to bring this up to your cousin when you had the chance, keeping in mind that jay would get a piece of your mind about this. 

the rest of the breakfast was filled with the same awkward tension as you two ate your food in silence, every once in a while asking each other questions for some small talk but nothing that the two of you talked about did anything to cut through the awkwardness. when you and heeseung finished eating, he kept his word about taking care of the bill, and although you wouldn’t have cared if he didn’t, it was nice because it felt just like old times. 

back in college, when you and heeseung were little broke college kids; he always paid no matter what it was. a late night snack? heeseung paid. you were craving boba? heeseung paid. it was your birthday? heeseung paid. even when it wasn’t food, heeseung paid because he loved taking care of you even in small matters like paying for your things. 

a sign you should’ve seen sooner that heeseung saw you as more than just a friend. 

“thanks for breakfast and dropping off heejin at school. have a good day, heeseung.” you say while exiting his car. you’re startled by heeseung’s sudden action when he shouts when and runs out of the car and around to your side, you give him a confused look from inside of the car as you watch him. heeseung closes your door and reopens it for you, “madam.” he says, while gesturing with his hand and a slight bow. 

you couldn’t help but laugh but when heeseung raises his head to look at you, your expression instantly changes because you didn’t want to give heeseung the satisfaction that you found it amusing. you were still upset at heeseung for something of the past and although it’s been harbored inside of you for years on end, you couldn’t help but feel it slowly rising back to the top ever since you had returned to korea. 

heeseung walks slowly behind you as you make your way to the front door like a lost puppy and when you get to unlocking your door,  he clears his throat, gaining your attention. 

“look… i know we haven’t spoken or seen each other in years, but i’m not going to act like it wasn’t the hardest five years of my life. you kind of just disappeared without explanation and when i tried to reach out… i didn’t hear back. 

i had even asked our friends and they didn’t have anything to tell me, i mean- i knew jay would’ve known because he’s your cousin but he didn’t tell me anything. 

can we please just talk?” heeseung was rambling and you felt bad because you could tell he was a bit anxious and probably rehearsed this in his head. 

“yn.. i missed you so much and i tried to practice what i wanted to say to you when i saw you again but i’ve just thrown that all out the window. 

say something..? please?” and you could feel yourself slowly falling back into that old familiar place. the one where you could look into heeseung’s eyes and you could tell how he was really feeling even if he tried to mask it with his rambling. 

“heeseung, why don’t you come inside and then we can talk… not out here..” you said with a chuckle and heeseung eagerly nods, a smile on his lips at the invitation into your home, a stepping stone back into your life. 

you don’t know where this conversation was going earlier and now that it’s almost been two hours since you saw heeseung again, you still didn’t know what to expect. 

“can i get you something to drink?” you ask and he lets you know that water is fine so after a few minutes, you return to find heeseung standing in your living room, admiring the photos you framed of yourself and your daughter. 

“you guys look so happy.” heeseung comments as he joins you on the couch, setting the two cups of water in front of the two of you. “heeseung.. i don’t know what to say to be honest. there’s a lot i’ve wanted to say to you and over the last five years, i’ve only wanted to say more. 

i didn’t mean to disappear i just-”

“then why? why did you leave?” heeseung says, interrupting you and his eyes have transitioned into one that expressed that he was pleading, begging, and waiting for an answer from you. an answer that he had been waiting for since the day you left. 

on the other hand, you were too. you had so many questions for heeseung but you knew that you couldn’t get answers without having to answer any of heeseung’s questions. you weren’t sure how to answer heeseung. you wanted to be honest and tell him the full truth but you didn’t even know if you were ready to face that. 

it was five years ago but now, sitting in front of heeseung as he looked at you with tears threatening to fall from his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to relive those moments where you felt the most alone, unwanted, and misunderstood person in the world. 

you stuttered to answer and the longer you thought about the more complicated it became in your head. your breathing started to become heavy and your eyes were constantly blinking. you couldn’t look at heeseung any longer because it made you feel uneasy and nauseous, the anxiety of this moment having built up inside of you for so long that now that it was all happening, it was corroding the stability you had worked so hard to build in your head. 

“are you ok, yn?” heeseung asked and his voice sounded muffled to you and as he scooted closer, the image of heeseung in your vision blurred and doubled like he was a mirage. you were starting to get light headed and that was when you knew that you were going to faint, the anxiety had taken over your brain and before you knew it your eyes were fluttering closed and heeseung was catching you in his arms before your body could fall over onto the coffee table. 

heeseung catches you instantly when you notice your body start to go limp, rocking back and forth. he wasn’t sure what happened but something must’ve been bothering you so much that you had fainted in his arms. heeseung tries his best to gently position you onto your couch in a comfortable position, moving your legs into place and softly setting your head on the armrest with a pillow propped up under. 

he admired your sleeping figure and if it wasn’t for the fact that you had fainted, he probably would’ve found this moment cute. it reminded him of the first time heeseung had realized he liked you more than he thought he did. the two of you had gotten very drunk one night after failing your economics exam and you had a habit of getting sleepy when drinking. 

you were in the middle of talking when your head started to get wobbly and your eyelids had become heavy and before you knew it; you were falling asleep next to heeseung; your head softly landing on his shoulder like a makeshift pillow. he found it cute and he still does. 

⋆˚ʚɞ five years ago

you had been texting with heeseung all night, he had been going through something and although you wanted to know what it was; you settled on just making him feel better. like a good friend would do. your crush on heeseung has something your friends had known about for a while and although you’ve wanted to confess your feelings to him for a while now, you were too afraid of ruining your friendship and it potentially affecting your whole friend group. 

heeseung was currently on his way to your dorm and it was like you were waiting for a blind date. you fidget with the tassel on your throw pillow as you wait for him on your bed, running through the different scenarios in your head of what’s been bothering him. 

he was fine the last few days but today something had shifted; heeseung felt like he was carrying something heavy on his mind and it was showing. he had sent you a string of messages that represented someone on the verge of a crash out and all you could do was worry for him, eventually inviting him over so you could talk and find a way to make him feel better. 

to which heeseung accepted instantly as if that was what he was waiting for. 

after a few minutes, a knock on your door softly echoes throughout your dorm as you’re just about to text heeseung if he was alright. “hee-” you say, getting cut off when heeseung storms into your room, breathing unsteady as if he had run over to you. 

“what’s wrong, are you ok?” you ask, worry settled onto your face as you shut the door behind you. 

heeseung is standing facing away as he tries to catch his breath, unsure of how to talk to you about what has been weighing on his mind heavily. a reality that he’s finally chosen to come to terms with despite thinking it was all his delusions until recently. 

“hee?” you ask again and he whips around to face you, your expression softening when you see that it looks like he hasn’t slept and looks absolutely exhausted. his eyes were red, cheeks a bit sunken, and the shadows around his eyes were more prominent. he looked like he’s so emotionally and physically drained you couldn’t help but rush over to him, cupping his face in worry– rubbing his cheek with your thumb and you could feel heeseung melt into your hand. 

his eyes flutter closed as he breathes a sigh of relief; like your touch alone was enough to soothe his mind even though the reason for his distress partially had something to do with you. you guide heeseung to your bed and you can’t help but frown at his appearance, you didn’t know how long this has been going on but it seems that it was enough to reflect on his face. 

“hee? are you ok?” you ask and he finally takes a deep breath before responding, “yn.. i just want you to know that i don’t want any of this to change us.. and i hope we’ll be okay after this but-” heeseung begins. 

“heeseung you’re scaring me..” you whisper, anxiety building inside of you as heeseung tries to avoid eye contact with you. 

“just- please listen.. i don’t want you to think of me any differently after i say this but…

i think i love you.” 

and when those five words leave heeseung’s lips, everything goes silent. 

you’ve been wanting to hear heeseung say those words for so long, wishing that he would reciprocate your feelings, confess his love to you the way you’ve been too afraid to confess to him, and now that he has; you didn’t know what to do or say. 

heeseung was finally able to look into your eyes, looking for an answer because the silence after his confession had him thinking that he shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. 

“please, say something..” he whispers, voice trembling like he’d be in tears at any moment. 

“hee… i just-” when you try to respond even though you weren’t sure what to say, heeseung brings his hands to your face and brings it closer to his; “please tell me you feel the same way or else i might go insane.” he whispers, his lips just a few inches away from yours. 

heeseung’s gaze trails from your eyes down your face and lands to your lips, heeseung absentmindedly licks his own as if it were a physical reaction to seeing yours. “i do heeseung-” you begin but before you could finish your sentence; his lips are on yours. 

the dryness of his lips instantly disappears as your two lips dance with his. a kiss that both of you had been longing for since you two have first met, like there was tension between the two of you that could only be relieved with one another. everyone in the room could feel it but neither of you ever wanted to confront that no matter how badly you wanted to. 

heeseung pulls away for a moment, allowing the two of you to catch your breath; “i’m sorry, i should’ve asked but i just couldn’t wait any longer..” heeseung murmurs, his bedroom eyes glued onto yours as you try to gather your thoughts. you had been waiting to share this moment with heeseung for so long but for some reason it wasn’t like how you’d dreamt.

“heeseung, this is wrong.. what about your girl-” you’re about to bring up heeseung’s girlfriend but he just shakes his head. “you’re the one i want.. it’s always been you” he says, connecting your lips once again, the kiss being just as passionate and filled with hunger like you’re both deprived of the other. 

your dorm was soon filled with you and heeseung’s pleasure, a craving that was finally satisfied after so many years; finally having you in his arms. you never thought this day would come and although you thought that it would never come; you were going to cherish this moment with heeseung. 

the next few days felt like a dream. you and heeseung were inseparable and it’s everything you had hoped for when you used to think about how your life would be after confessing to heeseung about how you truly felt. 

only for him to confess first, leaving you shocked that he felt the same way. 

the conversation after that night in your dorm room was a bit awkward but the two of you quickly learned to laugh it off and move forward with your relationship. you had agreed that you’d keep this between yourselves for now because you were unsure of how it would affect the dynamic of your friend group. you even held off from telling jay, your cousin, who you told everything to. 

it was hard for the first few weeks to hide your relationship with heeseung because whenever all of you were together, you wanted nothing more than to hold his hand or sit on his lap, the tension from before being converted to secret longing glances and smiles that you two would try to hide from your friends. 

the good lasted for only a few months, until the fateful day that would change your life forever. you had woken up feeling like a ton of bricks had fallen on top of you while you were sleeping. you were fatigued, nauseous, and spent the morning hunched over your toilet as you threw up your dinner from the night before. 

you weren’t sure why your body was suddenly feeling unwell so you made a trip to the pharmacy to grab some medicine, browsing the aisles to see what would help with your symptoms, and that was when your eyes landed on the sleek white box towards the end of the shelf. 

“pregnancy test: accurate results in just under 10 minutes” it read on the box in bright blue font. there was no way that could be the cause of your distress, you didn’t have sex with anyone else besides.. heeseung… that night.. three months ago. 

your mind starts to spiral as you think about the possibility that you could be pregnant with heeseung’s child as that night replays in your head– now just remembering that the idea of a condom was absent from both of your minds as you were both in the heat of the moment, exploring one another’s bodies. 

frantically grabbing a few boxes, you make your way to the cash register but are stopped in your tracks when a voice calls out to you; “yn?” and when you turn around it’s heeseung’s ex-girlfriend. 

the conversation with her was short but awkward. she just wanted to clear the air, letting you know that she had no animosity towards you or heeseung and that she wished you two the best. which confused you because you certainly didn’t tell her and know that heeseung wouldn’t have told her without discussing with you first. when you asked her to clarify, her explanation only heightens the mental distress you were currently in. 

“heeseung and i broke up a few months ago and i just figured you two would be together by now..” was all she said before walking away. 

the night that heeseung confessed his love to you and where you had shared one of the most intimate moments two people could experience together; also happened to be the same night that heeseung broke up with his girlfriend. 

leading you to believe that it was the only reason he felt so inclined to be with you. like you were just some rebound that heeseung knew would be waiting for him like a lost puppy who had been left at home all day, knowing that if he called out to you– you’d come running to him. 

you were a rebound. 

did he even mean anything he had said to you or was it all just a way to get you to play along with his desires? did he even know you felt that way about him? and he used it as a way to get what he wanted? 

you felt disgusted knowing that the moment you shared with heeseung that you had been waiting for was merely just a way for him to get over his ex-girlfriend. a second option that he knew he could fall back on but not in the same way that he would’ve been supported by his friends who he could fall back on during a hard time, but more so like you were just a stepping stone and a temporary fix for the despair he was in that night. 

using you to forget his ex if it meant that he would feel better at your expense. 

it feels like the ten minutes that you were waiting for the pregnancy test to be ready was the longest ten minutes of your life. “less than ten minutes, my ass” you scoffed as the clock showed it’s been ten minutes and the results weren’t being shown through the small indicator window yet. 

your head falls back in annoyance and to your surprise, the next time you look at the test, a giant plus sign is clearer than day. you swallowed the dryness in your throat, throwing the test into the garbage and ripping open into the two other boxes you bought to test again. 

refusing to believe that the first one was accurate, like it was a fluke, a false positive, anything to convince yourself that this was not happening. 

but it was. 

⋆˚ʚɞ 

when you wake up, about an hour later, you almost don’t recognize where you are until you realize you’re wrapped up in a blanket on your bed. you remember being on the couch but don’t recall how you ended up on your bed. you sluggishly roll out of your bed, eyes half open as you scratch your head and make your way to the living room; only to find heeseung sleeping soundly on your couch. 

shock shoots through you as the memories of what happened before you fainted return to your mind, remembering that you and heeseung had reunited after not seeing one another for the last five years when he showed up unannounced at your front door. 

you slowly walk over to him, momentarily admiring his peaceful face as he snoozed on your couch, clutching onto the small pillow with his arms. “i know you’re staring at me.” heeseung murmurs, opening one eye to look at you; a grin on his face when he sees the annoyed look on yours. 

“what are you still doing here?” you ask, crossing your arms and tilting your head to one side as you questioned him. “wow, already kicking me out? if we were in college you would’ve begged me to stay while you tried to convince your roommate to leave.” he says, sitting up straight with the same playful smile on his lips. 

“okay, if you’re gonna stay then i guess we need to have this talk don’t we?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try to muster up the courage to have this conversation after it led you to faint just an hour prior. you take a seat next to heeseung, much like how the two of you were positioned earlier and the night when  he showed up at your dorm, both of you sitting on your bed; looking into each other’s eyes as if you were the only two people that existed. 

holding one another so closely like at any given moment one of you would be torn away from the other. only if heeseung knew that you would be torn away from him months after, maybe he wouldn’t have made the decision he did that night. 

but that night was nothing that he’d ever regret. 

“so.. where do i begin.. you say trying to think of how you wanted to start– 

that night, when we hooked up in my dorm room; i know why you showed up. when you told me that you loved me it was everything that i could’ve hoped for. i feel like i started to fall for you the day we first met and every day since then i fell for you even more but i just thought that i wasn’t someone that you could ever love. 

so, even though it hurt me, i settled with being okay with just being friends; because it was better than not having you in my life at all. 

but when you told me you loved me that night, i was the happiest girl in the world. until i wasn’t. i felt like the few months that we were dating was the happiest moments of my life, obviously not compared to now because i have my daughter, but i’ll cherish those moments forever because it truly made me so happy to be with you–” 

“then why did you leave?” heeseung pleads, begging for an answer as you somewhat tiptoe around it. “a few months later, i ran into your ex while i was in the store and i found out that the two of you had broken up the same night we hooked up…” heeseung was now shaking his head in denial at what he was hearing. 

“heeseung, you used me as a rebound for your breakup– no, yn. that’s not true. i promise i would never do that to you.” heeseung whines, shaking his head in frustration that you’ve harbored this misunderstanding about him for the last five years which drove you away from him. 

⋆˚ʚɞ five years ago, two days before moving away

“why have you been so distant?” heeseung asks, his doe eyes looking at you as he pleads for your attention, lights reflecting in his eyes that made it look like he was tearing up, and he was trying his best not to cry in front of the girl he’s loved for so long. 

you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, this battle inside of you that you’ve been going through on whether or not you wanted to tell heeseung the life changing news, your oversized hoodie covering up the secret you have. 

“heeseung, i just don’t think we can do this anymore.” was the only thing you could say before having to do the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

walk away from the boy you’ve loved for so long. 

heeseung didn’t know what he had done that led you to breakup with him but he held onto this idea that you hated him ever since. he respected you enough to let you walk away from him even though it took every ounce of strength inside of him to not run after you and engulf you in his arms. he would’ve begged you to stay if he could, but he didn’t. 

not running after you and fighting for your love was his biggest regret. 

two days later, he’d find out from jay that you left the country and although he begged and begged jay to let him know where you moved to, how to reach you, and to help him get in contact with you; jay respected you too much after learning what led you to leave to just set you back by allowing heeseung to waltz right back into your life. 

jay tried his best to not let his judgement of heeseung be clouded by what you told him, but he couldn’t help but feel empathy towards you. his cousin who’s life was going to change drastically because of his best friend and all he could do was support you from afar even if it meant helping you move into his childhood home where jay’s parents would be there for you to help you throughout the whole thing. 

⋆˚ʚɞ 

“heeseung, this is all too much for me right now. i want to have this conversation, i’ve thought about it every day for the last five years, but i don’t think i’d ever be ready for it. 

i think you should leave.” 

and as much as heeseung wanted to stay, beg for you to let him stay and talk it out, but he respected you too much to fight with you. 

so just like that night, he walked away even if he didn’t want to. 

you sighed as you closed the door behind heeseung, peeking into the small window beside your front door to watch him leave, shoulders low and head hunched over as he walked to his car. you close your eyes and exhale before swinging the door back open and calling for heeseung, “heeseung!” you shout and he’s instantly whipping around at the sound of your voice. 

“heejin’s birthday is in two weeks, you’re invited if you’d like to come.” and heeseung’s attitude changes, a bright smile spreading onto his face as your words ring like church bells in his ears. 

“i’ll be there.” he says before waving goodbye and driving off. 

a small smile tugging on your lips as you tried your best not to feel like that young girl you once were whenever you’d get shy around heeseung. 

⋆˚ʚɞ 

the next two weeks is filled with heeseung’s endless attempts to make his way into your everyday routine whether it was showing up again unannounced to take heejin to school, to which she’d never deny because heeseung always brought her the juice box she really likes, or if it was him asking you if you needed help with anything for heejin’s birthday. 

heeseung was going to find his way back into your life even if he annoyed you– but all you had in your mind was her birthday despite heeseung’s attempts to occupy your every waking thought. 

the build up for heejin’s birthday was filled with excitement and anxiety as you tried to make her 6th birthday something special because it would be her first birthday in korea. in the past, her birthdays in seattle was mostly just you and her, sometimes your parents would fly in town to visit but not often. 

and now that you’re back in korea and surrounded by so many people that loved you; you were going to make sure this birthday was something that she remembers. her birthday was in just 24 hours and everything was set in place. 

it was somewhat difficult to keep everything hidden from her because she was one curious girl and was constantly rambling about what she wanted for her birthday, unicorns, rainbows, the color pink, a cake that was chocolate but also vanilla and had strawberries, the color pink, a pinata that was shaped like bunny or maybe a unicorn, and oh, did i mention.. pink? 

pink was her favorite color and it showed with every since thing she always picked out for herself was pink. 

at midnight when the clock indicated that it was finally her birthday, you snuck into her room as she slept soundly with a small cupcake and a number six candle in the center. you gently walked over to her and softly sang happy birthday, waking her up and her eyes instantly widened at the sight of you. 

She was smiling from ear to ear and clapping her hands together in joy. “happy birthday my sweet bambi.” you said after singing happy birthday, softly patting her head as she makes a wish and blows out the candle. 

“thank you mama.” her small voice coming out just above a whisper. “sleep now, okay? you have a big day tomorrow.” booping her nose as she enthusiastically goes back to bed, eager to fall back asleep and wake up the next morning to her big day. 

birthday preparations started earlier for you as you made sure to do some last minute cleaning and organizing for the party. setting out all of the stuff in your backyard with the help of jay and your parents. your mom busied your daughter so that she wasn’t running around and to stop her from looking through every single thing at her party. 

she was so happy, a type of happiness you wished would stay with her forever. 

soon after, the preparations were complete and heejin was dressed in a sparkly pink dress, one that she had picked up several weeks in advance when the two of you were shopping together on a mommy and daughter date. 

your friends, sunghoon, jay, jake, karina, and winter had shown up with gifts that made your daughter smile so bright. her classmates had shown up, excited to celebrate heejin on her big day– you watched from the side as you took in all of it. some of the people you loved most in one place to celebrate the person you loved most. 

seeing your daughter happy made you happy and that was all you could wish for. 

you took a gander at all of the people enjoying the party when a knock at your front door catches your attention. you jog over to the door and are met with heeseung, a cheesy grin on his face as he carries several boxes in his arms, peering from behind it to reveal himself. 

“i hope i’m not too late?” he says and you just chuckle, telling him that the party was just beginning. you invite him inside, instructing him to set her gifts onto the table in the far side of the kitchen as the two of you join everyone in the backyard. 

you can hear gasps coming from your friends as they see you and heeseung standing together, a sight that none of them thought they’d see so soon. “yo! heeseung, you made it man.” jake says, standing up to shake his friend’s hug as everyone follows to do the same. 

karina and winter send you a teasing glance, the two of them pointing to you and heeseung like you were all kids teasing their friend when their crush walks by, earning them an eye roll as you laugh it off. 

“where’s the birthday girl?” heeseung asks, still holding onto a small gift as he walks back to you. you pointed at heejin who was playing tag with her friends; unafraid to get rowdy with the little boys in her class. “heejin, bambi! come here, you’ve got a gift.” you shout and she comes running as she hears the word gift. 

heeseung crouches down to her size and hands her the gift, “happy birthday heejin.” he says with a soft smile, one that heejin returns. hugging him to thank him, “can i open it mama?” she asks and you gesture her to ask heeseung since it was his gift– earning an eager nod from heeseung who encouraged her to open it. 

heejin tears into the small box, a gasp escaping from her tiny mouth as she sees the box, the gift wrap revealing a soft brown deer plushie with a pink bow and blushing cheeks. she jumps up and down in excitement, her arms wrapping around heeseung’s neck to show her appreciation for the gift. seeing heeseung hug her back pulls at your heartstrings as you watch all of it unfold, an image in your head that you thought you’d never see. 

your daughter and her father sharing a tender moment with an embrace. 

⋆˚ʚɞ 

the party dies down once the sun has set and most of the guests have gone. the only people left were your parents, winter and sunghoon, and heeseung. your friends had offered to stay back to help you clean and because your mother was your mother, she wasn’t going to let you clean up alone even if you had your friends to help. 

heejin was in the living room with bright eyes as she looked at all of the gifts she had received, several gifts of stuffed animals, toys, clothes, and other presents that a small child would appreciate. “okay, bambi let’s get ready for bed. you can play with all of your toys tomorrow, ok?” and heejin nods, grabbing the deer plushie that heeseung got her and taking it with her as you help her get ready for bed. 

heeseung notices you and heejin walking away and excuses himself from your mother to which she just nods and tells him it’s okay and she’ll take care of the rest of the chores in the kitchen. heeseung parted with a small bow as he makes his way to what he assumes is heejin’s room. 

winter and sunghoon on the other are glancing at each other, having confirmation with just their eyes as they watch heeseung run after you. 

“you know.. not to be a conspiracy theorist but doesn’t heejin look like.. heeseung?” winter asks, whispering to sunghoon as she walks a bit closer to him. “no, i see it too. also, the nickname? we used to say heeseung looks like a baby deer all the time when we were in college and yn nicknamed her daughter bambi?” sunghoon adds and winter looks at him like he’s just spilled the deepest secret one can hold. 

sunghoon and winter send each other knowing glances as they both arrive at a revelation. 

“hey, you guys alright?” heeseung asks while popping his head into heejins room with a soft knock. you tell him that you’re just her ready for bed when you wave him inside. “thank you for the gift, she loves it a lot. i’ve been looking for that thing for months and i can’t believe you were able to find it.” you tell him and heeseung chuckles.

“it’s no big deal” he responds and you ask him about how he knew to get that for her. “she talks about it whenever i drive her to school, she also mentioned that her mommy calls her bambi and i figured it would make the perfect gift.” he explains, making it a point to reference the bambi part as he knew that was also a nickname he had within your friend group, one that you started. 

you hoped that you weren’t too obvious with that but chose not to dwell much longer on the nickname as it could just be coincidence– although it wasn’t. 

“thank you for the bambi!” heejin says as she walks back into the room in her pajamas. heeseung pats her small head as she climbs into her bed, tucking her into her blanket as you ask her about her day– heejin rambling on about her favorite parts of the day which just turned out to be every single aspect of her party. 

you smiled at her as she went on and on, “but my favorite is the bambi.” she says while stretching her arms out with the plushie in her hands and then bringing it into her arms for a hug. “thank you dad.” heejin says and it catches you and heeseung off guard– heejin herself doesn’t even realize what she’s said as she gets cozy in bed. 

there was a sense of awkwardness between the two of you at the comment by your daughter and it causes heeseung to start questioning things and putting puzzle pieces together. the possibility that he could’ve been heejin’s dad hadn’t crossed his mind once and now that it’s been brought up; it’s all he was thinking about. 

“goodnight, baby.” you say before placing a kiss onto heejin’s forehead and as you’re about to leave; she calls out to you. “mama, can you sing me a lullaby?” she asks and even though you were exhausted, you weren’t going to say no to your daughter. 

“can i?” heeseung asks and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no when heejin looked so excited, so you nod and heeseung takes a seat on the bed next to heejin who was still hugging the deer plushie. 

heeseung then begins to sing a song to your daughter. you haven’t heard his voice in so long, the melodic trill of his vocals, a symphonic honey like sound that lulled your daughter to sleep in no time, her soft snores mixing with heeseung’s beautiful singing. 

when the two of you were certain that she was sound asleep, you carefully walked out of her room and shut the door as softly as you could. as you try to walk back to finish some cleaning, heeseung holds onto your hand and whips you back around to look at him, his gaze filled with love and the same type of longing that has lingered inside of him for years on end. 

“can we talk?” heeseung says and you nod, letting him know to continue. 

“i know that i hurt you when i made it feel like you were just a rebound, but that couldn’t have been more wrong. it was always you, i’ve always loved you and i would always choose you. my ex and i were constantly fighting throughout that week and the day i came running to you was when we broke up but i never told you why… 

we broke up because she realized how much i loved you in comparison to her and it wasn’t fair that whenever i was with her, all i could think about was you. 

i’ve loved you since the day i met you and i just never had the courage to say that, but i would write your name in the sand again and again after the waves have swept it away if it means that my love for you is shared across the seas.” 

tears streaming down your eyes as heeseung’s hands gently cup your face, his thumb wiping your face of your tears. heeseung brings you into his arms for an embrace and when he feels your arms wrap around him, he breathes a sigh of relief knowing that he was finally able to get that off of his chest.

something that he’s had weighing on him for so long and was so happy to finally profess his love for you. the girl he loves and will always love. 

when you pull away from him with a sniffle, heeseung wipes your tears again as you lock eyes, “is she mine?” he asks in reference and you nod, finally telling heeseung the secret that you’ve held for the last five years. 

tears sting heeseung’s eyes at the information and he holds you even tighter in his arms when he hears the news. he couldn’t believe that the beautiful girl he just sang to sleep was his daughter. joy was an understatement to describe the emotion that he was feeling. the type of love only a family could share where they’d do everything to keep the family together and happy. 

you and heeseung spend the night sharing stories of what you’ve missed in each other’s lives in the time that you were gone. tears, laughter, and tender touches shared between the two of you as you do your best to rebuild your relationship from scratch. 

“thank you for giving me another chance.” heeseung whispers as you lay in his arms, the moonlight shining onto your faces, leaving a small white cast into the room. 

“thank you for not giving up on me.” you respond, heeseung placing a small kiss onto your temple before you both drift off to sleep. a type of joy and delight radiating from your bodies that neither of you have felt in so long. something you would have only gotten from one another. 

⋆˚ʚɞ 

you’re awoken to the smell of grilled meat wafting throughout your home, your nose dragging you to the living room to find heejin and heeseung in the kitchen cooking together. “what do we have here?” you ask and they turn to look at you, “mama! he’s teaching me how to make pancakes and bacon.” she says, running over to you and hugging your legs. you pick her up and walk back to heeseung who was setting the last pancake onto the plate. 

“let’s eat.” he says and you all sit at the table together and enjoy breakfast like a family for the first time. a moment that you’ve always wanted to share as a whole family and now that you’ve finally been able to share the truth with heeseung, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

“heejin, i have something to tell you, ok?” you tell her and she’s looking up at you with her big doe eyes, identical to heeseung’s who was shyly sitting to the side. “remember when you asked me where your papa is?” and heejin nods, a small pout on her lips. 

“bambi, heeseung is your papa.” and you’ve never seen heejin move so fast before as she’s jumping out of her chair and into heeseung’s arms to which he welcomes her, hugging his daughter with so much love that you could feel it coming off of them. heeseung extends one of his arms to invite you over and as tears fall from your eyes once again, you join in on your first ever family hug. 

you didn’t know when this day would come and you were elated that it came sooner after you had been running from it for the last five years. the happiest moment of your life with the family you’ve created could’ve never happened if you didn’t face heeseung and allowed for him to bare his soul and heart to you. something you should’ve never been afraid of. 

heeseung waited for you every single day, thinking about the day that you’d come back to him and when you’d finally be his. to his surprise, you gave him a beautiful daughter that, although he has a lot of time to make up for, was so happy that he wasn’t too late to watch her grow and be a part of her life. 

no matter how hard you tried to run from having to face this hardship, heeseung was thousands of miles away back in korea waiting for you with only love in his mind. wanting nothing more than to have you back in his life and to never let you go like he had done the first time. 

the image of your broken face replayed in his mind every night when he slept, thinking about the pain he must’ve put you through without knowing the full capacity of what you had to experience alone. he wished he was there by your side through every single step, holding your hand in the delivery room, taking photos of you as your stomach grew, witnessing his daughter’s first steps and first word, everything. 

but now that he was back, he was going to make sure that he didn’t miss anything else. 

you and your daughter instantly became the most important people in his life, knowing that he’d love the both of you endlessly, unconditionally, and forever. 

forever. 

something that he’d always associate with you because you are his forever and now, so is your daughter. 

love should be forever and you were forever going to be loved by him. it was like love and forever was synonymous with you because to heeseung, loving you is forever. 

⋆˚ʚɞ

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[thebarneschronicles]

Out of Depth, Into You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.3k

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes was supposed to get in and out. Simple. Clean. But Hydra had other plans.

An ambush leaves him broken, bleeding, and barely standing—and you’re the only thing keeping him upright. Trapped in a safehouse, patching him up with shaking hands, you realize the truth you’ve been avoiding: you almost lost him. And that scares you more than anything.

Because Bucky isn’t just your mission partner. He’s yours.

And maybe… just maybe, he’s known it all along.

Trigger Warnings: Violence (injuries, blood, broken bones, combat); Medical trauma (setting a broken bone, treating severe wounds); PTSD/trauma symptoms (flashbacks, avoidance, emotional suppression); Self-deprecation/self-worth issues (Bucky struggling with his identity and past); Smut (very little but still there !!!!)

Author’s Note: OOPS, I did it again. Idk, man, thoughts of being the one to save him for once were swirling and I had to do it again. Blame the hormones! Hope you like it and let me know what you think. B x

--

He should’ve been in and out. That was the plan.

But somewhere between Bucky taking out the first two guards and you directing him toward the extraction point, everything had gone to hell. You should’ve known he couldn’t, shouldn’t have gone in alone.

No matter how much time had passed, no matter how many missions he completed, Hydra never stopped hunting him. They never stopped wanting their soldier back, their weapon, their ghost of the past. Maybe they’d been waiting for an opportunity just like this—Bucky Barnes, alone in Eastern Europe, tracking down a Hydra splinter cell. Everything had been fine until it wasn’t.

And when Hydra saw their chance, they took it.

You had been following this lead together, him on the field, you in his ear, his eyes when he couldn’t see, his guide when things went south. But neither of you had expected the ambush. Too many hostiles. Too little time.

You heard it before you saw it. The grunts of effort, the dull crack of fists against flesh, the sickening crunch of bone breaking. Bullets ricocheted off vibranium in sharp, ringing bursts. Shouts filled your comms, angry orders in languages you didn’t recognize, and then—

Then you heard his hiss of pain. Short, sharp, barely contained. A sound that turned your blood to ice.

Bucky never let pain show.

Your hands flew over the keyboard, trying to pull up security feeds, but his voice cut through your panic, strained but calm. Too calm.

"I need an exit. Now."

Your heart stopped.

Bucky Barnes never walked away from a fight. He fought until there was no one left standing but him. If he was asking for an exit, it meant something was very, very wrong.

You yanked up the nearest camera feed and felt the world lurch beneath you.

There he was—cornered in a crumbling warehouse, backed against a stack of rusted shipping crates. He was holding his own, but barely. Blood dripped down his temple in sluggish trails. A bruise darkened his jaw, stark even in the grainy footage. But worst of all—his right arm, his flesh arm, was hanging limp at his side, twisted at an angle that wasn’t natural.

You gripped the edge of the desk so hard your knuckles ached.

Broken. His arm was broken.

And if his arm was that bad, you didn’t want to think about what other injuries he was forcing himself to fight through.

Your voice wavered, but you forced it to stay steady. "Bucky, there’s a service door to your left. Get there and I can guide you out."

"Copy," he gritted out, his breath heavy, strained.

He fought his way to the door, but you saw it—the way he staggered, the way every movement came at a cost. Every punch with his left arm rippled agony through his body. Every twist, every block, every moment that should have been second nature was suddenly a fight to stay upright.

And still, he kept going.

By the time he made it through the door, you were already running.

Darkened streets blurred past as you sprinted toward the extraction point. Your lungs burned, but it didn’t matter. You needed to get to him.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was supposed to come out unscathed, meet you at the car, and get out before things got messy.

There weren’t supposed to be this many Hydra agents.

There wasn’t supposed to be a fight.

Fear clawed at your throat.

You rounded the last corner and skidded to a stop.

Bucky.

Leaning heavily against a brick wall, half-shadowed beneath the flickering glow of a streetlamp. His chest rose and fell too fast, his breath ragged. His skin looked pale—too pale. Blood painted the side of his face, his fingers, his shirt. He lifted his head as you approached, his jaw clenched so tight you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.

Up close, he looked worse. So much worse.

And that—that terrified you.

You had seen him bleed before. Had heard his sharp, bitten-off curses through comms, had watched him shake off pain like it was nothing. But this was different.

This was Bucky barely standing.

This was his chest rising and falling too fast, his face too pale, his right arm twisted and useless at his side. This was blood—so much blood—seeping through his jacket, dripping from his fingers, staining the ground beneath him.

And you—you couldn’t breathe.

Your hands trembled as you reached for him, the rest of the world fading away. Nothing else existed except for the wreckage of him—broken, bleeding, and still standing.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this.

He was just your mission partner. Just the man in your ear, the one you guided through hell and back, the one who always came out on the other side. Just the Soldier.

Except he wasn’t.

He was Bucky.

Your Bucky.

You swallowed hard, shoving the rising panic back down where it belonged. You couldn’t afford to lose it. Not now.

Stepping into his space, you braced his good side, feeling the solid weight of him against you. And that’s when you realized—

He was leaning on you.

Bucky Barnes, who carried the weight of his past like an iron chain, was letting you carry him.

Your throat tightened.

"Hey, Soldier," you murmured, voice steadying through sheer force of will. Anything to drown out the fear clawing at your ribs. "Still with me?"

For a second, he didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at you.

Then—his lips twitched, the ghost of a smirk, like he wanted to make some cocky remark. But all that came out was a wince.

"Yeah," he rasped, voice rough, worn down to nothing. "Just having a great time."

Something in you cracked.

You exhaled sharply, fingers twisting in his jacket, clutching onto him like you could hold him together.

He was alive.

Battered, broken, bleeding out against you—but alive.

And you were going to keep him that way.

The drive to the safehouse was short, but agonizing.

The car felt too small, too silent, too full of blood and fear. Your hands clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles bone-white as you tried to keep your body from shaking apart. You had to stay focused. Had to keep breathing. Had to ignore the way Bucky’s breath, shallow and uneven, filled the space between you like a countdown.

Every bump in the road pulled a ragged sound from his throat, one he barely let slip past gritted teeth. His broken arm was cradled against his chest, his fingers twitching, blood soaking through the fabric of his jacket and seeping into the leather seats. Thick. Dark. Too much.

Don’t think about it.

You’d already gone through a mental list of everything you needed to do once you got him inside—stop the bleeding, set the bone, clean the wounds. All of it so completely out of your depth that panic pressed against your ribs, sharp and unforgiving.

The safehouse appeared through the trees, a dark shape buried deep in the woods. You yanked the car into park, twisting toward him before the engine had even died.

"Buck," you said, voice unsteady. "Buck?"

Nothing.

"Bucky, you still with me?"

For a second, nothing but silence—and then, finally, a low, pained grunt. A small nod. Barely anything, but it was enough to keep the panic from swallowing you whole. A grunt of acknowledgment that shouldn’t have felt like relief but did.

You swallowed hard and moved fast, yanking open his door, looping an arm around his waist as you pulled him up. He was heavy. Too heavy.

Getting him inside was its own battle.

Bucky Barnes was all muscle and solid weight, and even now—weaker than you had ever seen him, barely upright, barely conscious—he still outweighed you by too much. You nearly buckled under his weight, but he held onto you.

His full weight pressed against you, and for the first time since you’d known him, he didn’t try to carry himself. Didn’t try to tough it out, to stay standing on his own. Because he couldn’t.

Each step sent fresh bolts of pain through him, his teeth clenched so tight you swore you could hear the grind of enamel. He swayed dangerously, his blood leaving a trail in the grass, marking the path of his suffering.

Your heart slammed against your ribs as you tightened your grip around his waist.

"Almost there," you whispered, half to him, half to yourself. "Just a little further, Buck. Stay with me."

His only response was another sharp exhale through his nose—the sound of a man trying not to curse or scream.

By the time you dragged him over the threshold, kicking the door shut behind you, your entire body was trembling. The adrenaline that had kept you moving, kept you upright, was beginning to wear off, leaving only panic in its wake. Your breath came in short, uneven gasps as you struggled to keep him upright, his weight more than you could truly handle.

"Come on, Bucky, please, just a little longer," you begged, voice cracking as you guided him toward the worn-out chair near the fireplace. You barely managed to ease him down before your legs nearly gave out beneath you. "I need you to stay awake, honey."

The endearment slipped out without thought, but neither of you acknowledged it. His head lolled forward, strands of damp, sweat-soaked hair clinging to his forehead. His breath was a shallow rasp, chest barely rising and falling.

Logically, you knew he could heal. His body would knit itself back together, given enough time. But logic didn’t stop the knot of dread twisting inside you, didn’t chase away the fear choking you as you took in the state of him.

You had never seen him this bad.

His skin was pale—too pale. Sickly, almost. Sweat slicked his forehead, tracing tracks down the sharp angles of his cheekbones. The bruising along his temple was already deepening, a sickly shade of purple that stood out against his ashen skin. His left arm was an ugly mess—swollen, bent at a sickening angle. And then there was the gash along his ribs, jagged and deep, seeping blood at an alarming rate.

Your hands scrambled for the first-aid kit, tearing it open with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling. "Okay," you said, forcing a steadying breath, forcing yourself to focus. "I need to set your arm."

Bucky exhaled slowly. His eyelids fluttered, his breathing labored. But when his gaze finally found yours, there was no fear. No hesitation.

Just quiet, unwavering trust.

A barely perceptible nod.

No complaints. No resistance. Just Bucky Barnes trusting you with his pain.

And somehow, that was worse.

Because Bucky Barnes never let anyone take care of him. He barely let people touch him, let alone see him like this—vulnerable, human. The weight of that trust settled deep in your chest, thick and heavy.

For a fleeting second, a dangerous thought slipped through the cracks of your resolve—what would it be like if he let you touch him in other ways? If his trust extended beyond battlefield necessity, beyond survival, into something more?

You swallowed hard and shoved the thought away. Now was not the time.

Shoving it down, you grabbed the shears from the kit and began cutting away his ruined jacket, peeling the blood-soaked fabric from his skin. His arm was an ugly mess—swollen, bruised, bent at an angle that made your stomach turn. But the deep gash across his ribs wasn’t much better, the bruising on his temple stark against his too-pale skin.

Your hands hovered over him for a moment. Hesitant. Terrified.

You can do this.He needs you.Your fingers pressed against his skin, searching for the break. He barely reacted.

Except—when you touched the worst of it.

His body tensed. A muscle in his jaw ticked. His metal hand curled into a fist against his thigh.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, throat tight. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—"

Then, before you could think too hard about it, before you could hesitate—you pushed the bone back into place.

The sound it made was sickening.

Bucky’s whole body locked up. His teeth clenched, every muscle in his body straining against the agony tearing through him.

Your stomach lurched. You wanted to take it back. Wanted to take it from him.

But then—it was done.

You looked up, searching for his eyes, needing to see that he was still with you.

But his eyes were shut, his lips a thin, bloodless line.

He hadn’t screamed.

Hadn’t even made a sound.

"Buck?"

Your voice was barely more than a whisper, but it felt like a scream in the suffocating silence of the safehouse. Your hands were slick with his blood, still shaking, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You didn't know how to make it stop.

"Bucky?"

Still no response. His head lolled slightly, his breath uneven, shallow. The dim light in the room cast long shadows over his face, accentuating the stark pallor of his skin, the gauntness in his features. He looked fragile, and that was something you never associated with Bucky Barnes.

Your fingers fumbled, pressing against his neck, searching for his pulse. Your mind screamed at you to calm down, to think logically. The serum would keep him alive. He wasn’t dying. He couldn’t be dying. But logic meant nothing when fear had its claws in you.

Too fast. But steady.

He was alive. He was going to stay alive.

A sob clawed its way up your throat, thick and suffocating, but you swallowed it down. No time for that. You had to focus. He needed you.

You forced your trembling hands to work, pressing gauze against the deep gash in his side, trying to stem the flow of blood. The fabric soaked through instantly, a deep crimson blooming across the sterile white.

"Come on, Buck," you murmured, voice barely holding steady. "The serum needs to kick in. Just let it work, okay?"

Your fingers traced the edges of the wound, breath hitching at the heat radiating from his fevered skin. The cut was deep—too deep—but not fatal. It had to be something sharp, something deliberate. The thought made your stomach twist. Whoever had done this had meant to hurt him, had meant to make him suffer.

You pressed down harder, desperate to keep the bleeding in check. He let out a low, pained groan, his body tensing beneath your touch. Your heart clenched.

"Did I make it worse?" Your voice cracked. "Am I hurting you more? Please, Buck, you gotta tell me something, anything..."

Silence stretched between you, thick and unbearable. His chest rose and fell in slow, shallow movements. The hum of the wind outside filled the void. Your hands, stained with his blood, trembled against him.

Then—

A rough, barely-there sound. A groan, deep and strained.

His throat bobbed as his lashes fluttered. His brows drew together, his lips parting as he struggled to pull in a breath.

And then, so quietly you almost missed it—

"Nah."

Your heart stuttered.

His voice, though raw and wrecked, was unmistakable. Relief crashed over you like a tidal wave, so overwhelming it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. You reached up, pressing his sweaty hair back and away from his forehead.

His head shifted slightly, his fevered skin pressing into the palm of your hand. His breathing hitched as another wave of pain rolled through him, but he forced his eyes open just enough to look at you.

Blue. So damn blue.

And looking right at you.

"It’s not—" He swallowed thickly. "Not your fault," he rasped. His lips twitched, like he was trying for a smile, but it barely formed before fading. "I'm still in one piece."

A breathy, choked laugh escaped you, completely unbidden. God, how could he joke right now?

Your fingers curled against his jaw, your grip grounding both of you. "Barely," you whispered. "You’re a mess, Bucky."

A slow, uneven exhale left him. "Wouldn’t be the first time."

Your throat tightened. Even now, bleeding out, clinging to consciousness by a thread, he was trying to reassure you. Trying to make it easier.

"Is there anything else I can do?" you asked, voice small, desperate. "To make the serum work faster? God, why isn't it working, Bucky?"

He let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching against his thigh. His lips parted, but it took him a moment to form words.

"Takes... time," he murmured, voice slurred with exhaustion. "Always does. Just gotta... wait."

Wait. The thought was unbearable. Sitting here, helpless, while he fought to heal—it felt like torture.

Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, the stubble rough against your skin. He blinked sluggishly, exhaustion tugging at him, but he was here. 

"You’re supposed to heal, Buck," you whispered. "Please. Promise me."

A slow, lazy blink. Then another. His lips parted, another whisper of breath escaping. Speaking seemed like a tremendous effort.

"‘I will, doll."

The nickname slipped out, rough and unintentional, but it sent something hot and aching through your chest.

He didn't know. He had no idea. How much you loved him. How much it would break you if he didn’t recover. You could barely even entertain the thought.

You swallowed hard, pressing your forehead against his, letting his warmth seep into you, grounding you.

"Good," you breathed, voice shaking. "You better."

His lips quirked—just barely, just enough.

And then, exhaustion pulled him under again.

–

He slept for hours.

So long that time lost meaning. The only markers of its passing were the slow shift of light through the windows, the way the world outside darkened and quieted, and the steady rhythm of his breath.

At some point, just before nightfall, you had dragged him to the old couch, wincing as his weight slumped against you, his body a dead weight of exhaustion and blood loss. The couch was too small, barely accommodating his frame, but it was better than the rickety old chair. You had folded up a sweater to tuck beneath his head, hoping to give him something resembling comfort.

Then, you sat beside him. You stayed there, unmoving, watching over him like some kind of silent sentinel. Every breath he took became an anchor, something to hold onto while the storm inside you raged.

The serum was working, you realized. 

You willed it to.

You willed your hands not to tremble when you finally dared to check his wound. The bleeding had stopped. The deep gash at his side was still an angry thing, but no longer a threat. You cleaned him up as best you could, dabbing away the dried blood, the sweat, the remnants of a battle neither of you had been sure he’d walk away from. He didn’t stir when you bandaged him up, didn’t even wince when you pressed down to ensure it held. He was dead to the world, lost in some place where pain couldn’t touch him.

The relief hit you like a punch to the gut. So intense it nearly stole your breath.

You could have taken a shower. You could have eaten, slept, done a million things in the endless stretch of time before he woke. And yet, you sat there, knees drawn to your chest, hands curled into your sleeves as you watched him. The soft light from the kitchen, the only you one had dared to turn on, flickered across his face, softening the sharp planes of his jaw, making him look almost peaceful.

Almost.

Bucky Barnes never looked truly at peace. Even in sleep, there were the faint lines of tension around his eyes, the ever-present ghosts lingering beneath the surface.

You had no idea when it happened. When he became more than just the man you guided through missions, monitored from a distance, and kept safe from behind a screen. It had snuck up on you in the quiet moments—the way he paid attention to your every word, the way he trusted your intel without question, the way his voice softened just a little when he spoke your name. The rare, fleeting glint of warmth in his.low chuckle when you cracked a joke through his earpiece like you were the only thing tethering him to something lighter, something more than the constant battles he had to face.

You never meant for this to happen. But it had.

And now here you were, sitting in the half-dark, staring at him like a fool, with a heart that beat too fast in your chest.

A low, hoarse sound broke the silence. A groan, rough with sleep and exhaustion.

Your breath hitched as his head stirred against the makeshift pillow. The twitch of his fingers, the slow shift of his expression—until those blue eyes finally cracked open, hazy and unfocused.

“Am I dead?”

His voice was a rasp, rough and broken, like gravel scraping against metal. It sent a shiver racing down your spine, an involuntary reaction to hearing it at all. Because for a terrifying moment, you thought you never would again.

Still, the laugh that tumbled from your lips was more relieved than anything else. “No. But you were trying really hard to get there.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his battered face. He moved sluggishly, turning his head toward you, eyes struggling to focus as he took you in. The sight of him awake, coherent, was almost enough to bring you to your knees.

Almost.

“If you had,” you murmured, arching a brow as you gestured around the small, dimly lit room, “would this be your heaven?”

It was a joke, mostly. A feeble attempt to lighten the moment, though the humor didn’t quite reach your voice. The old house was barely livable, the bare minimum of furniture thrown together in a desperate attempt at a safe house. It lacked warmth. It lacked everything, really.

Bucky exhaled sharply, something caught between a laugh and a scoff. “You think I’m going to heaven?”

That laugh. Short. Self-deprecating. Dripping with irony. You hated it.

“You don’t?” you challenged, gaze unwavering. “You must’ve earned a place after all that suffering.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The word slipped from his lips so easily, like breathing, but it knocked the air right out of your lungs. You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to react, but it was useless. Especially when you realized he was still staring at you. Taking you in. Seeing the exhaustion that clung to you like a second skin, the dried blood smeared across your hands and clothes—his blood. The worry written into every crease of your expression.

You felt exposed. Raw.

“You... been sitting there this whole time?”

You hesitated. You could lie. Maybe you should. You could brush it off, say you had just been checking in on him, nothing more… Instead, you settled for the truth.

“Yeah.”

Bucky exhaled heavily, his head falling back against the pillow, but his gaze never left you. Something flickered in his eyes, something unreadable, but you felt it all the same.

After a moment, his lips quirked slightly. “Didn’t know I rated that kind of devotion.”

Your breath hitched. If he noticed, he had the decency not to comment on it.

“I never saw you like that before,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “You were bleeding all over the place, Bucky. You’re… you’re my super soldier. My Terminator. You’re supposed to be invincible.”

The joke melted into something softer, something vulnerable. You dropped your gaze, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes. You couldn’t let him see. Couldn’t let him know just how close you had come to breaking.

“You could’ve at least taken a shower.”

He meant it as a distraction, but it only served as a reminder. The truth was—you hadn’t wanted to leave. Not even for a second. But admitting that? Dangerous territory.

“I couldn’t,” you muttered instead, shaking your head. “I had to make sure...”

Bucky hummed low in his throat, the weight of his gaze pressing against the side of your face. Then, with a sigh, he reached out—slow, careful, testing the limits of his body—and let his fingers ghost over your wrist. Barely a touch, but it sent your pulse into a tailspin.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words rough, real.

You swallowed hard. “Yeah, well... just try not to do it again, alright?”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he studied you for a long moment, then sighed. “You look exhausted. Should’ve told me to move over.”

The thought of sharing a bed with him—this small, intimate space—had you reeling. “The, uh, couch is too small. And you needed the rest.”

His eyes drifted over you, lingering. “And you didn’t?”

Desperate for some normalcy, you let out a small huff, adopting a teasing tone. “I don’t need as much beauty sleep as you, Barnes.”

That earned you a tired chuckle. “So that’s how it is, huh?”

“Yup. You were looking a little rough before all the blood loss. Thought I’d do you a favor and let you rest.”

Bucky groaned. “Damn. Knew you were brutal, but this?”

“Hey,” you grinned, squeezing his thigh lightly, “if you can keep up, that means you’re feeling better.”

Bucky let out a breath, and for a moment, something warm flickered behind his exhaustion. “Guess I must be.”

Silence stretched between you, heavier this time, something unspoken weaving through it. You allowed yourself to lean against the cold metal of his vibranium arm, savoring the quiet until he shifted, groaning. Both of you stayed there and you thought he’d fallen back asleep when his groan broke through the quiet. Carefully, Bucky pushed himself upright, wincing slightly as his muscles protested.

“Gonna take a shower,” he mumbled, rubbing a tired hand over his face. 

"Bucky, I don’t think—"

"Not asking, sweetheart," he cut in, already pushing himself to his feet. Wobbling. 

Stubborn son of a bitch.

“Why won’t you listen to me? You always listen to me,” you argued, audibly on edge, rising to your feet to try and make sure you were prepared in case he tumbled over.

“I am covered in blood and I smell,” he grunted, vibranium hand pressing to the bandage you had patched him up with. He was clearly still in pain but too stubborn to admit it. “It’ll make me feel better.”

You rushed forward, steadying him before he could fall over like an idiot. "Jesus. Fine. But keep the door unlocked, okay? In case you—"

"I'm not gonna drown in the shower," he deadpanned.

You gave him a look. "I was gonna say in case you pass out and crack your head open again, but now I’m adding ‘drowning’ to my already very long list of concerns, thank you very much."

Bucky sighed, squeezing your hand before stepping away toward the bathroom. You should have looked away when he peeled his blood-streaked shirt over his head, revealing bruised skin beneath. But you didn’t.

And when he glanced back at you, a tired smirk still playing at his lips, you knew he had caught you staring.

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. He was alive. Battered, broken, but alive.

The weight of the past few hours pressed heavily against your chest, like a vice squeezing the air from your lungs. Your hands still trembled faintly, a phantom reminder of how close you had come to losing him. You told yourself you should move, should get some rest, but you couldn't. The exhaustion sat on your shoulders, thick and suffocating, but it couldn't compare to the quiet, gnawing fear that still hadn't fully released its grip on you.

What if he hadn’t woken up? What if his breathing had slowed, softened, and you hadn't noticed until it was too late? What if, even now, you had missed something—some unseen wound, some deeper injury lurking beneath the surface?

The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably. He had survived this time. But the next?

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to clear the sting in your eyes. No, not now. Later—when he was truly safe, when you weren’t holding yourself together with nothing but sheer stubbornness and the desperate need to keep him breathing.

Then you heard it.

A muffled groan.

Maybe a pained grunt.

Then— your name.

Your stomach flipped. Fear, sharp and immediate, sank its claws into you, coiling tight around your ribs.

Without thinking, without hesitating, you moved.

The door swung open—

And you froze.

Steam curled around the small bathroom, thick and humid, clinging to your skin. The weak spray of the shower rained down on him, rivulets of water streaming down his battered body. His head was bowed, one hand braced against the tiled wall, his broad back rising and falling with every breath.

Bucky was naked.

Completely, gloriously naked.

Your pulse stuttered, breath hitching as your gaze trailed over him, helpless to look away. It wasn’t just the powerful cut of his shoulders or the elegant curve of his spine, the way his waist tapered into lean, honed muscle. It wasn’t just the deep bruises shadowing his ribs, the still-healing scrapes and cuts littering his arms and torso, each one a whisper of a battle he’d barely survived.

It was all of him.

The sculpted lines of his abdomen, the way water cascaded over his taut skin, tracing over each dip and ridge like it worshipped him. The sharp cut of his hips, leading down, down—

Oh. Oh.

Heat licked up your throat so fast you almost choked on it.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head.

Blue eyes locked onto yours—heavy-lidded, exhausted, but aware. A single droplet of water trailed from his collarbone, slipping down his chest, following the defined ridges of his stomach before disappearing.

Your brain bluescreened.

You forgot how to function. Forgot how to breathe. Forgot everything but the way he stood there, utterly unbothered by his own nakedness, watching you with quiet, unspoken curiosity.

The last thread of your sanity snapped somewhere between the sculpt of his abs and the way his very beautiful, very distracting cock hung between his thighs.

“Doll?” His voice was rough, hoarse from exhaustion, raw with something else, something you couldn't name.

The way it sank into you—deep, warm, consuming—nearly made your knees buckle.

Your throat worked, but words failed. You tried again, this time barely managing to rasp out, “You called?”

A small furrow appeared between his brows. “I didn’t…” he murmured, voice gravelly, confused.

You were so, so done.

You should turn around. Give him privacy. Make some joke, brush it off, leave before this moment became irreversible.

But Bucky didn’t move. He didn’t look away. Didn’t demand you leave.

He just stood there, watching. Waiting.

“Sweetheart?” His voice was softer now, laced with something dangerous. “Is there something you need?”

There was no anger in his expression. No embarrassment, no shock—just quiet patience. Just exhaustion. Just that quiet, quiet thing that had always existed between you, humming beneath the surface, never spoken aloud.

The air between you crackled, electric, charged. The space between the door and the shower stretched impossibly vast. Your pulse roared in your ears, drowning out logic, reason, the part of you that still had a chance to walk away.

Instead, you took a step forward.

Bucky didn’t stop you.

Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t tense.

He just watched as you took another slow, deliberate step into the bathroom, your fingers trembling as they reached behind you—

And closed the door.

The quiet click sealed something between you, a silent understanding woven into the steam curling around you both.

You were going to do this.

Your fingers twitched at the hem of your shirt. Slowly, you lifted it.

His gaze dropped.

Tracked the movement, eyes dark and unblinking. Watched as your hands trembled, hesitating for only a fraction of a second—before you dragged the fabric over your head and let it fall to the floor.

The air thickened, heavy, pulsing.

Bucky’s breathing changed, a sharp inhale barely audible over the patter of water. His pupils widened, lips parting slightly. You felt the weight of his stare, dragging over every inch of newly exposed skin as you unbuttoned your pants, sliding them down your legs.

Piece by piece, layer by layer, you joined him until you were bare.

There was no way you were leaving now.

You had crossed a line—an invisible but irreversible threshold, shifting whatever had existed between you and Bucky forever.

You weren’t leaving.

Couldn’t leave.

Not tonight. Not when he was hurting. Not when this had been building for far too long. Not ever.

And as you stepped into the warmth of the water—into him—Bucky exhaled.

The heat of the water curled around your feet, sinking into your skin as you stepped closer. Closer to him. The steam wrapped around you both, thick and humid, clinging to your skin like a second layer. You were painfully aware of how bare you both were, how little there was between you—just air, charged and heavy, laced with hesitation and the weight of unspoken words.

Bucky swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His vibranium hand twitched at his side, the black and gold glistening under the water, fingers flexing as if torn between restraint and impulse. His other arm—still sore from the break but free—hung at his side. He shifted slightly, muscles rippling, making room for you as you moved beneath the steady stream of water.

The moment your bodies brushed, heat flared—electric, searing. His hip grazed yours, slick with water, and you fought the urge to lean into him, to close the meager space that remained. Instead, you tipped your head back, letting the water cascade over you, washing away the remnants of the day—the grime, the blood, the sweat, the panic.

When your eyes reopened, blue locked onto you. But not the sharp, perceptive blue you were used to—this was deeper, darker, laced with something raw and consuming. Something that mirrored everything you had fought to keep buried.

"Is this as nerve-wracking for you as it is for me?"

Your voice barely carried over the steady rush of water, but the confession was out before you could second-guess it—honesty slipping through the cracks of your restraint, as it always did when you were pushed past your comfort zone.

A flicker of hesitation ghosted across his face, fleeting but there. You caught it. Felt it.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, voice rough, edged with something raw. "You don’t have to—"

"I know."

You stepped forward, letting the water cascade off your shoulders, droplets ricocheting against his chest and streaming down the ridges of his abdomen. Heat radiated from his skin, from the space between you, from the sheer gravity of this moment.

"I want to," you admitted, breath hitching. "I’m just… a little nervous. There’s a lot of you."

A slow, uneven breath left him. His vibranium fingers flexed, tension coiling in his posture, but his gaze dropped, something unreadable flickering behind his storm-colored eyes.

"Not really," he murmured. He lifted his left hand slightly, the metal catching the dim light, gleaming through the mist. A humorless smile ghosted over his lips. "This is all I got right now. Kind of half a man at the moment."

A pang shot through you at the quiet self-deprecation laced in his words. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out, fingertips brushing the smooth, unyielding metal. Another step closed the distance, your chest grazing his, the barest contact sparking something molten, something inevitable.

Your voice was steady when you spoke. "You could never be half of anything."

Bucky inhaled sharply, your words sinking into the spaces he kept guarded. Still, he didn't move. He just stood there, letting you guide his hand to your waist, letting himself feel.

A moment passed. Stretched. Deepened.

Then, rough and uncertain, he confessed, "I’m not sure… how to do this."

The words slipped out before you could stop them. "Do what? Me?"

The tension in his face broke, just for a second—surprise flickering, then amusement. A real, genuine laugh rumbled from his chest, the sound so foreign in the moment that it stole your breath. It was almost impossible to believe this was the same man who had been bleeding beneath your shaking hands only hours ago.

"I don’t think that’s in the cards for us tonight, sweetheart," he said, voice edged with both apology and something else—something almost reverent.

You tilted your head, lips curving. "Thought you'd be more confident than this." Leaning in, you pressed a kiss where metal met flesh, felt the way his breath hitched. You smiled against his skin. "Big, strong super soldier, shying away from a little skin?"

His exhale was sharp, almost a scoff, but it didn’t quite mask the way his grip on your waist tightened—just barely, just enough to betray him, just enough to make your pulse trip.

"Not shying away," he murmured, voice thick against your ear. "Just… don’t wanna mess this up."

You tilted your chin, brushing your lips against the space just below his collarbone, feeling the way his muscles tensed. "And what exactly would ‘messing this up’ look like?"

His jaw clenched, tension rippling through him. "Rushing. Disappointing you… taking more than I should."

His hand flexed at your waist, like he was testing the edges of restraint, feeling out what was safe, what was allowed.

A slow exhale left you as your fingers trailed higher, mapping out the scars, the history written into his skin. "Bucky," you whispered, the warmth of his name wrapping around him. "I never thought… never thought you’d want me like this. I want you to take whatever you want."

His forehead dropped to yours, and for a moment, there was only the steady rush of water, the ragged edge of his breathing. Then, slowly, he pulled back, eyes searching yours, something fragile, unguarded, unraveling in their depths.

A quiet, breathy laugh left him—something between disbelief and surrender. His lips hovered near yours, close enough that his breath warmed your skin.

"Want isn’t quite how I’d put it."

Your breath hitched. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t joking. The depth of his words settled over you, heavy and thrilling and terrifying all at once.

"Then how would you put it?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper, fingers threading into his damp hair.

He exhaled, slow and deliberate, his forehead pressing into yours. "I think you already know."

And then his lips brushed yours, tentative, testing. Your body answered before your mind could catch up—arms winding around his neck, pressing closer, heat pooling low in your stomach. The kiss deepened, unhurried, a slow unraveling, a discovery.

Bucky's hand splayed against your spine, mapping the dip of your back, fingers tracing down to your hip, exploring, learning. Every glide of his tongue ignited something deep, every touch sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through you.

You let your hands roam—over the hard planes of his chest, the dips and ridges of his stomach, the firm grasp of his waist. Each touch was a silent question. Every shift of his body, an answer.

"You’re shaking," he murmured against your lips, voice thick. "Still nervous?"

"A little," you admitted, breathless, cheeks flushed with heat. "I want… I want this so much."

His mouth curled, the faintest smile, almost apologetic. "I’m sorry I can’t give it to you."

"It’s alright, I—"

You surged up on your toes, kissed him harder, pouring every ounce of want into the press of your lips. A small, needy sound escaped you as his hand tightened at your waist. When you pulled away, your teeth grazed his bottom lip, and he exhaled sharply, his body rutting forward—instinctive, aching, desperate.

Your bare stomach brushed against him, and your breath hitched. "God, okay—can I touch you?" Your fingers curled at his waist, pressing, feeling the tremor in his muscles. "I want to make you feel good."

Bucky's breath stuttered, his hand tightening just enough to send a shiver racing through you. His forehead pressed to yours, a war waging behind his eyes.

Then, voice low and wrecked, he whispered, "Sweetheart… you already do."

Your fingers traced lower, over the taut muscles of his abdomen, feeling the way he tensed beneath your touch, like he was trying to hold himself together. His breath was ragged, unsteady, and when you let your nails graze lightly over his skin, a low, shuddering sound rumbled in his chest.

"Bucky," your voice was a whisper, sweet and coaxing, threading through the steam like a promise. "Will you let me touch you?"

His jaw tensed, head dipping forward as though the weight of restraint was too much to bear. "You don’t—"

"Please." Your fingers trailed lower, teasing, testing, watching the way his muscles twitched beneath your touch. "I want this. I want you."

A sharp inhale, his control fraying at the edges. Then—he gave in.

Not all at once. He unraveled in pieces, like a taut thread snapping one fiber at a time. His body melted under your hands, surrendering inch by inch. His vibranium fingers flexed at your waist before falling away entirely, like he couldn’t trust himself to touch, to take. But you saw it—the way his pupils blew wide, the way his lips parted around a strangled breath as your fingers wrapped around his length.

"Jesus," he rasped, head knocking back against the tile.

You bit your lip at the sight of him—chest heaving, muscles taut, his restraint hanging by a thread. Slowly, deliberately, you tightened your grip, savoring the way a groan tore from his throat, raw and unguarded. You stroked, slow and deliberate, thumb teasing the slick head of him before your fingers curled, picking up the pace.

"Is this okay?" Your voice was breathless, uncertain for the first time.

His answer was immediate—a sharp nod, his hand covering yours for the briefest second, grounding himself before letting go again. "Yeah, sweetheart. Yeah, just—"

A strangled noise broke from him when you abandoned his length in favor of the heavy weight of his balls, rolling them in your palm, feeling the heat, the way his hips twitched into your touch like he couldn’t help it.

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to drop to your knees and taste him, make him fall apart in a way that would leave him wrecked for anything else. You wanted him to snap, to pin you against the wall and take you, bury himself so deep you forgot your own name.

You wanted, wanted, wanted.

It was all you could think about.

"Fuck," he choked out, vibranium fingers digging into the slick tile, his flesh hand flexing like he wanted to grab you but didn't trust himself to. "You're—"

"Good?" you teased, pressing a kiss to his jaw, smiling against his skin when he trembled.

"Perfect," he groaned, voice wrecked.

Encouraged, you found your rhythm again—slow, deliberate, teasing your thumb over his sensitive head, drinking in the way his chest heaved. Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in tandem with each measured stroke, and his head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut. Water streamed down his skin, but it did nothing to cool the heat rolling off him, the way his body shook beneath your touch.

"You always this quiet?" you murmured, pressing your lips to the hollow of his throat.

A breathless laugh, broken at the edges. "Tryin’ not to lose my mind here, sweetheart."

"Maybe I want you to," you whispered, tightening your grip and twisting just enough to make him curse under his breath.

His hips bucked into your hand, desperation bleeding into every ragged exhale, every twitch of his muscles. He was unraveling, piece by piece, falling apart in your hands, and God, it was intoxicating.

"I think I could come just from watching you," the confession tumbled from your lips, unfiltered, the pulsing ache between your thighs intensifying. "You’re beautiful."

A guttural noise, raw and wrecked. "Fuck, you’re killing me." His forehead pressed against yours, the last fraying strands of control slipping from his grasp. "I—shit, I’m not gonna last."

Pleasure curled hot in your belly. He was holding on by a thread, and you wanted to be the one to pull him under.

"Don’t," you urged, pressing closer, stroking him faster, feeling the way his muscles locked beneath your touch. "Don’t hold back, Bucky. Let me see you."

His breath hitched. His jaw locked. And then—

He let go.

A shuddering moan, unrestrained and devastatingly raw, tore from his lips as he spilled into your hand. His body jerked, muscles seizing, fingers digging into the tile like it was the only thing keeping him tethered. You felt the tremor in his limbs, the sharp, broken breaths leaving him, his forehead still pressed against yours like he needed the anchor.

You stayed close, pressing soft, lingering kisses along his jaw, his cheek, his temple, until the tension bled from his body, until his breathing evened out.

A low, breathless laugh rumbled through him, rough around the edges. "Jesus. You’re dangerous."

You grinned against his skin, feeling the way his chest still rose and fell unevenly beneath you, the tremor of aftershocks still running through his muscles. His vibranium arm curled around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against the heat of his still-thrumming body.

"Not dangerous," you murmured, brushing your lips against the sharp line of his jaw, lingering at the corner of his mouth. "Just very, very into you. And willing to wait."

Bucky exhaled, still catching his breath, still holding you like you were the only thing keeping him upright. But this time, it wasn’t because of his injuries. It was because you had unraveled him, completely and utterly, in a way no one else ever had.

His fingers flexed at your hip, gripping you like he was still making sense of the way you fit against him. "Sweetheart," he muttered, voice low and rough, "whatever patience you got? You might need it for me."

You smiled, threading your fingers through his damp hair, pressing your lips to his in something soft, something promising.

"Can’t wait."

His arm curled more firmly around you, holding you against his chest, warm and steady. Your hand traced down his bruised arm, gentle over the battered skin. He tensed slightly beneath your touch, but didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you hold him, let you feel the weight of him—whole, breathing, here.

You nuzzled against his chest, pressing a lingering kiss over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your lips. "You scared me today," you admitted, barely above a whisper. You tightened your grip around him, clinging to the solid warmth of his body, trying to ignore the heat of desire curling low in your stomach, giving way to something even stronger. Something scarier. "Don’t ever do that again. I mean it, Buck, I—"

"I know." His voice was softer now, his lips pressing into your hair. "I could see it. In your eyes, you were—"

"Yeah." You swallowed hard. "I was."

Silence settled between you, thick with everything you weren’t saying. The air still hummed with the remnants of adrenaline, of tension, of the quiet fear that had lodged itself in your ribs the moment you saw him bleeding, barely standing, on the edge of collapse.

Bucky shifted, just slightly, his vibranium hand pressing against the small of your back, keeping you close. Then, quietly, deliberately, he murmured, "I need you to know something, doll."

The seriousness in his voice sent your heart skipping. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. "What is it?"

For a moment, he hesitated—like he was choosing his words carefully, like he was about to step over some invisible line he could never uncross. His thumb brushed over your jaw, a touch so tender it made your breath catch.

"This isn’t just tonight," he said, voice steady despite the rawness in it. "It’s not just the adrenaline or the heat of the moment. It’s not even just because you saved my ass back there." He exhaled, his forehead briefly pressing against yours before pulling back, searching your eyes. "It’s you. It’s been you for a while now."

Your breath hitched.

Bucky’s hand trailed up, fingers ghosting over your cheek, tracing the curve of your face like he was committing every inch of you to memory. "I don’t always know how to say the right thing," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Or how to be good at this. But I know that I want you. Not just here. Not just now. I want all of it. All of you. If you’ll have me."

A sharp, aching warmth bloomed in your chest. He was laying himself bare, in a way you knew wasn’t easy for him. No bravado, no deflection—just truth.

A slow, shaky smile tugged at your lips as you lifted a hand to his face, your thumb skimming along his stubbled jaw.

"Bucky Barnes, you are the most ridiculous man I have ever met."

His brows furrowed, lips parting—until you leaned in and kissed him. Slow, deep, like he was something precious. Something worth holding onto.

When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead to his, your fingers still tangled in his damp hair.

"I’m not going anywhere," you murmured, voice thick with emotion. "Not tonight. Not ever."

A breath shuddered out of him, and then his arms were wrapping around you—tightly, fiercely, like he could somehow pull you into him completely.

"Good," he whispered against your skin. "Because I think I’d go crazy if you did."

You smiled against his collarbone, letting yourself melt into him, into the warmth of his body, into the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat.

Bucky was safe. He was healing.

And now, finally—he was yours.

[likeumeanit9497]

| after hours c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: chris practically begs his best friend to massage his back, but after an awkward discovery, y/n finds it difficult to keep her hands -- and her eyes -- on the job.

warnings: smut; established friendship; oral (m/f receiving); fingering; hand job; squirting; unprotected p in v; dirty talk(!!!!); 18+

notes: whew! long time no see! life has been putting me through the absolute ringer lately! i haven't felt like a real person in months! i still don't tbh! im working on it! but i have absolutely missed writing and tumblr and u all so much! pls forgive my absence on here i literally haven't even been able to open this app since october when my life went south. my semester is over now so i have one major thing off my plate, so im hoping i can be a bit more consistent with writing. I MISSED U ALL SO SO SO SO MUCH and i hope u enjoy this chrissy one shot that i started months ago and just finally finished it today. love u all <33333

“No Chris.” I chuckled, standing up from my couch and walking to my kitchen to put away our leftover dinner. “Please,” I heard him whine behind me, “My back is killing me Y/n.” I turned around, facing my best friend still sitting on the couch where I left him. I laughed at his fake expression of misery, and the hand pressed to his lower back was a nice touch. “Chris, you know I’ve made it a rule not to massage my friends in my free time.” I explained, putting my hands on my hips. He groaned dramatically. “But why? You have all your stuff in the next room!” He began standing up from the couch, being sure to make it seem like a painful struggle.

He was right. I was a licensed massage therapist, and had recently started my own practice from the comfort of my home. I had turned my den into a massage room, fully equipped with a massage table, calming music, and essential oils. But I had made it clear to all of my friends — especially Chris — that I wasn’t going to massage them after-hours. Of course, I would treat them free of charge, but they had to book during normal hours. I was brand new in this career, and I wanted to ensure professionalism right from the start.

“You already know why.” I replied, turning away from him and opening up the fridge to put away my leftovers. As I leaned down into the fridge, I gasped as I suddenly felt a hand press against my lower back. “Just right here.” Chris whispered behind me, circling his thumb along my lower back. “It’ll only take five minutes.” I shuddered at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his touch. Chris had a habit of turning on his sex appeal when he needed something from me, and even though him and I were only friends, it unfortunately worked.

I turned around and closed the fridge, coming face to face with my friend. His eyebrows were knit together in what I could only assume was faux pain, because there was a playful smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair before pointing at the closed french doors leading to my massage room. “Go in there, take off your shirt and lay on the bed. Call me in when you’re under the sheet.”

A smile consumed his entire face, and before I could change my mind he walked over to the room and shut the door behind him.

Chris’s POV:

As I shut the door of the massage room behind me, I stood for a moment to take in the room. She had never let me in the room before, in fact she made it known that she considered it separate from her home and so she didn’t like going into it when she wasn’t working. I always joked around with her because of that, asking her if it was really a secret torture room, but as I saw it for the first time, I couldn’t help but smile. It was professional, but still had personal touches that made it clear that it was hers.

The lights were dim, enough to see clearly but dark enough that everything had a blurry haze to it. It smelled like that shit she diffuses in her bedroom — I think she told me once that it was lavender or something. I noticed the various candles dotted around the room, and took it upon myself to light a few of them. As I lit the last candle on the small table beside the bed, I noticed an old phone connected to a small speaker. Finding that the phone didn’t have a password, I opened it and hit play on the playlist that showed up first, smiling at the title: music that makes strangers fall into my bed.

I chuckled to myself. Not so professional, sweetheart.

Typical spa music filled the small space, and I couldn’t lie, it did add to the meditative atmosphere of the room. Looking at the massage table in the middle of the room, I remembered what I was actually in there for and felt a wave of excitement hit me. I hadn’t been lying when I told her that my back had been hurting — not exactly, at least — but I had definitely been exaggerating. The truth was, I just really wanted to see what her hands could do. Not wanting to waste any more time, I took of my clothes and climbed onto the table, slipping my lower half under the thin white sheet.

“Y/n!” I shouted, “I’m all set!”

Y/n’s POV:

From my place at the kitchen counter, I heard Chris’s voice and my stomach did a flip. I wasn’t sure why I was so nervous, I had given a few of my other friends massages before, but for some reason I had been dreading the idea of giving one to Chris. Maybe it was because him and I had such a playful relationship, and I was so used to being professional with my clients, I couldn’t quite envision how combining my two personalities would go. Still, I took a deep breath and headed for the room.

Once I opened the door, I noticed the candles were lit and soft music was already playing. Looking at Chris, laying face down on the table, I chuckled. “I see you made yourself comfortable.” I remarked. Heading towards him, I noticed the pile of his clothes on the floor, including his sweats and boxers. “Uh Chris,” I began, stopping at the top of his head, “I said you only had to take off your shirt, remember?” He lifted his head from the table, looking up at me briefly. “I know. It’s just that the pain goes pretty low down my back and I figured it would be easier to just take everything off.” There was a playful look in his eyes. “It’s what I’ve seen them do in the movies.” He added softly, making me chuckle.

“It does make it easier,” I replied, moving so that I was now standing on his right side. “It’s really just about what you’re comfortable with.” As I spoke, I began running my hands down his back, from his shoulders down to his tail bone, to check for any tightness. He remained silent underneath me as I applied pressure on certain areas. “So, you said right here is sore?” I asked, pressing down on the same spot that he had when demonstrating on me. I heard a muffled hiss and watched as he nodded his head. “And the pain kind of shoots down to here.” He added, awkwardly moving his arm behind him and trailing it from where my thumb was down to just below the white sheet.

I hummed in acknowledgment, pumping the bottle of massage oil beside me and rubbing it in my hands. “Okay, I’ll get started. Let me know if the pressure is too much.” I said the same thing that I said to all of my clients robotically, before working against his muscle. It was pretty tight, but definitely not as bad as he was making it seem before on the couch. Like I do with my other clients, I stayed silent to encourage him to relax against my pressure. A few groans of pain fell from his lips as I worked, but he encouraged me to keep going each time I asked if he was okay.

I noticed him shuffle a few times under the sheet. “Are you uncomfortable?” I asked him softly, wondering if maybe the massage table was too hard. “N-no, I’m fine.” Was his reply, and even though there was a slightly panicked edge to his voice, I took his word for it and continued working my hands lower down on his back. I felt my cheeks grow hot as my hands pulled the white sheet lower to gain access to his pain. I had never seen this much of Chris’s body before, and even though I was trying to be professional, I felt like the act was a little too intimate.

I rushed to finish up, and after about fifteen minutes I was satisfied that the knot in his back had improved. “Alright, I think I’m done. Want to flip onto your back for me?” I asked, pulling the sheet up slightly. “W-why?” Chris asked, his tone filled with alarm. “I usually finish every session with a neck massage. Sometimes the neck gets stiff from the way it lays when you’re on your stomach.” I replied. “Oh, uh, it’s okay.” He replied, refusing to move. I rolled my eyes. “What? Not even 30 minutes ago you were begging me for a massage, and now you’re turning it down?” I crossed my arms and moved over to his head, “Come on, turn over. It won’t take long.” I reassured him.

He sighed, and, holding onto the edge of the sheet, slowly turned over. I stifled a gasp, because between his legs, the thin white sheet had tented, and I could clearly see the outline of his erection. I was thrown off, unable to take my eyes away from it, but quickly recovered — clearing my throat and dropping my eyes to his face. His eyes were still closed and his cheeks were flushed; I could tell he was embarrassed. In a normal circumstance, I would think that I would have made a joke about it, and he would have just told me to shut up. But at that moment, there was something so real about his exposure and humiliation, and so I knew that I would just ignore it.

I began massaging his neck, trying to focus on my actions and regain my professionalism. But, I couldn’t stop looking at the white sheet; it being the only thing between his cock and my eyes. I could tell that it was huge, and I watched as it grew harder and harder as I continued working his neck. It went from standing straight up and wobbling in the air as Chris breathed, to being pressed right against his front. The sheet draped around it, perfectly outlining its girth, and I could see a small bead of dampness taint the sheet a translucent shade of white at its tip. My mouth watered and my mind wandered. I felt my own body begin to react to the sight in front of me, and the tension in the room began to grow so heavy that I began to gasp for air.

“I-is the pressure okay?” I asked, doing my very best to keep my voice strong as I worked his neck. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously before nodding his head. “It’s good, Y/n.” His reply was so simple, but there was something about the gruff undertone, the almost indiscriminate breathlessness as he said my name, that caused my knees to weaken and my throat to turn into a desert. Suddenly, I could no longer hear the soft music playing throughout the room as my blood pumped deafeningly in my ears. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from his bulge for more than a few seconds at a time — it seemed so hard that it had to be painful. My eyes continued to flutter between his flushed face and pulsing member until suddenly, when my eyes returned to his face, his bright blue eyes were wide open and staring right at me.

I felt a new wave of heat crawl up my face at the fact that I had just been caught red-handed staring at the one thing in this room that both of us had been actively ignoring. I opened my mouth to attempt to explain myself, but his words beat me to it. “I’m sorry.” He murmured sheepishly, his face turning the same shade of red that I imagined mine to be as he squeezed his eyes shut. Immediately, I began shaking my head rapidly. Partially as a reassurance to him and partially as an attempt at erasing the last two minutes of my life. “No! Don’t be sorry. It happens all the time.” I rushed out, doing my best to make light of the situation. “No it doesn’t.” He replied flatly, with a hint of disbelief in his voice. I forced a chuckle. “Okay fine, it doesn’t happen all the time. But its not not normal.” I tried again, brushing a soft curl out of his face.

Chris was silent for a moment, his eyes still squeezed shut in either embarrassment or concentration. I had stopped massaging his neck, but my hands were still on his damp skin; my thumbs drawing gentle circles against his rapid pulse. After a moment, an exasperated sigh fell from his lips. “It won’t go away.” He said, his voice laced with genuine disgust. “I’m sorry Y/n, this is creepy.” A forced laugh, then another sigh.

The room fell silent again as I tried to find the right words to fill the space. Words that would reassure him more genuinely than more “it’s okay’s”. Because, from the way my pulse had quickened, and from the way my core had grown so slick from arousal that I could feel it dripping steadily onto my panties, it really was okay. It was more than okay. So, instead of trying to find the words that could possibly portray just how okay it was, I leaned down and pressed my lips to his.

I felt him tense at the first brush of my lips against his, clearly shocked by the sudden close proximity of our mouths; closer than they had ever been before. So, I pulled away for a moment, finding his piercing eyes to search them for whatever thought is running in his mind. They were wild, racing across my face trying to make sense of what just happened. But there was something else there, something erotic that was blurring the line between right and wrong. Between professionalism and spontaneity. Between friends that fuck around and friends that fuck. I could tell that we were both balancing on that same fine line, but when I brought my lips back down to his, and when he opened his mouth to welcome mine with the kind of hunger than can never be satiated, I knew that we both came to the same conclusion.

Our lips moulded together in rhythmic wonder as our tongues explored each other. Immediately, I felt his body relax as his hands reached up and wrapped themselves in my hair. A soft moan of satisfaction fell from his lips as I nibbled on his bottom lip, causing my body to react in a way that was foreign to me. I felt goosebumps raise up across my skin as if his hands were all over it. He pulled his lips from mine and used his grip on my hair to tilt my head to the side, giving his swollen lips access to my neck. He sucked and nibbled against my electric skin just below my ear, and I felt as though I could fall apart and dissolve into a puddle just from that. “L-let me make you feel better.” I managed to moan out through the waves of pleasure I was feeling. My eyes wouldn’t leave the rock hard bulge under the white sheet, just barely out of my reach. Chris groaned against my neck at my words, and I watched as his cock twitched under the sheet as if it heard my words itself and was begging me to help it.

After another moment of Chris devouring my neck, tasting every inch of it as if he couldn’t get enough, his grip on my hair loosened and he allowed me to straighten up. I looked down at his face, now even more flushed than before. His lips had gone bright pink and were so beautifully swollen from their journey against my skin. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and, after a short moment, his eyes fluttered open and landed on me. “You sure you want to do this?” He asked, his voice slightly tentative, and I knew what he meant.

A kiss between friends is one thing. It can be brushed off as a slight moment of weakness, can be something that the two friends can one day laugh about as they look back on their friendship. It can be never spoken of again, can be hidden from their other friends deep in the vault of the minds of the two people that shared it. But anything more than that, any other touching, or licking, or exploring of the other person is not as easily ignorable. In friendships there is deep love and strong understanding of the other person. Once that love and understanding collides with the act of literally merging together, of being as physically close to another that you can be in this lifetime, it’s not so easy to ignore. My mind may not be able to shut out the events that transpire with Chris tonight ever again. We may never be able to chalk it all up to a moment of weakness, or keep it a secret from our mutual friends. We may never have the same friendship we had before I agreed to this massage. But there is no way to know that for sure. What I did know for sure in that moment, with Chris staring up at me with eyes filled with intoxicating desire, with my own body vibrating with lust, was that I wanted this.

So without a word, I walked down his body towards his beckoning cock. I took a moment to just gaze at it, closer to it now than I had been all night. I rested a hand on his thigh hidden beneath the sheet, and watched as his cock once again twitched. I chewed on my bottom lip in an attempt to keep myself from moaning just from the sight, and after a moment let my eyes flutter back up to his face. “I’m sure Chris.” I replied softly, searching his expression. “Are you?” I asked, realizing that he was likely considering the same potential outcome that I had been. He kept my gaze for a brief moment, his eyes focusing on different parts of my face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He replied finally, a cheeky smile growing on his face. I felt my own expression mirror his own, and without wasting another second I began peeling the thin sheet down his waist.

My smile fell the moment his bare cock was finally exposed, and was replaced by what I knew was the expression of desperate hunger. His length was impressively long, and I felt my mouth water at the thought of running my tongue along its veins up to its swollen head. Reaching to my left, I pumped some massage oil into my hand. I brought my cupped hand above his upright cock and let the oil drip between my fingers and coat him. He released a sharp hiss at the feeling of the oil as it trailed down his length towards his base, and I watched as his hips thrust forward desperately from the barely-there contact. A bead of pre-cum suddenly dripped from his slit, and I used my thumb to collect it before finally pumping my hand up and down his shaft. Immediately, a deep moan fell from Chris’s lips as I worked his oiled cock in my hand. I focused on his body language as I adjusted my movements to figure out exactly what he needed to feel good.

When I went slow, I watched his breath grow steady, telling me that I should pick up the pace. When I used a softer touch as I moved along his cock his hands would stay relaxed at his side, but I knew he liked it when I used a bit more pressure along his tip as his hands would tighten into fists against the sheet. But when I used both hands, twisting in opposite directions with the occasional brush against his balls with my pinky, I discovered that was what he liked most of all. A deep grunt followed by a moan fell from his lips, and his right hand flew to my upper thigh; where he gripped so hard I was sure that he would leave a bruise. “Fuck, Y/n.” He breathed out as I continued with these movements.

His hand traveled further and further up my leg until his fingers slipped under my loose-fitting shorts. I continued to stroke him with both hands, even when I felt the tip of his fingers just milimetres from my trembling core. They brushed against the ever-so-soft place between my pelvis and my pussy, and I bit back a moan. Subconsciously, I adjusted myself so that my legs were wider apart; giving him access to touch even more of me. My hands continued to work his cock as his fingers inched closer and closer, before finally, I felt the very tip of just one of his fingers reach my core and dip into its warmth. My knees buckled at the barely-there contact just as he released a muffled moan. “Jesus fuck, Y/n,” My eyes flew to his face and the translucent arousal that I found all across it was almost enough to push me over the edge. “Put that on my face right fucking now.”

His demand was so jarring, his voice so gritty and raw, that I didn’t hesitate before peeling my shorts down my legs, lifting myself onto the massage chair, and straddling his face. Immediately, his hands gripped onto my thighs and pulled them apart; giving his eyes untethered access to my glistening core. “You’re fucking soaked.” His words came out in an almost-whisper, as if he hadn’t actively planned on speaking them aloud. Still, they shot straight to my lust and I leaned forward, resting my head against his chest to allow him to see even more of me.

I gasped as I felt his thumb against my slit, collecting my arousal. I heard a wet sound and then another deep moan. “So good.” He whispered before suddenly his warm mouth was suctioned to my clit. Immediately, I dissolved into a puddle of desire as his tongue swirled and licked against my sensitive bundle of nerves. Moans fell from my lips as my brain turned to mush from the relief of finally having his mouth on me. I began moving my hips against his face, chasing a high that I so desperately needed. Satisfied moans slipped from his mouth into me, and I felt a sharp slap against my ass cheek that added to my intense need.

I had turned into nothing more than a dead weight on top of him, his lethal tongue paralyzing me. But as I opened my mouth to release a guttural moan, I felt my lip brush against the tip of his cock. Without a second thought, I slipped his cock into my mouth and began pumping up and down. Another moan fell from Chris, vibrating against my clit and causing me to moan around his girth. “Fuck.” Chris muttered against me, and I responded by deep throating his cock until my nose pressed against his bare thigh. “Mmmm, Y/n.” Chris breathed, removing his mouth from my clit. I stopped my movements as well, waiting on shaky legs for him to continue.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.” He began, gently running his knuckles against my ass cheek. “And I don’t want to do that yet.” He slipped two fingers into my core effortlessly, causing me to immediately begin rocking against them. “Mmm. Thatta girl.” He breathed, presumably watching for a moment as I rode his fingers just inches above his face. “What I want you to do is focus on making a mess all over my face, then after that I want to cum with these tight walls wrapped around me.” His words caused my eyes to roll to the back of my head, and a sharp moan fell from my lips. “Sound good?” He asked, his voice muffled as he reattached his mouth to my throbbing clit. I nodded my head maniacally as he resumed his impressive movements against my nerves. He kept his fingers inside of me, and as I slid my soaked cunt against his face, I cried out at the added sensation of his fingers filling me.

“Fuck C-Chris.” I moaned, my words nearly incomprehensible as I grew closer and closer to my climax. He could tell that I was quickly approaching, and tightened his grip on my ass cheek with his free hand; pressing my cunt so hard against his face I was afraid that he would suffocate. “G-gonna cum!” I warned him just before the tumultuous waves of my orgasm took over. My body began shaking as I came hard against his face. I had never before felt so out of control of my own body, and relished in the feeling as my back arched and a plethora of moans fell from my mouth. I felt a gush as I squirted against Chris’s mouth, and trembled at the guttural moan he released as he began lapping me up.

Once my mind reattached to my body and my orgasm had finishing ripping through me, I rested my head against his stomach as he ran his hands along my tense back and dropped gentle kisses against my sensitive core. He let me lie there on top of him for a few moments, catching my breath and slowing my heart rate, before gently lifting my limp body off of him and sliding off of the massage table. I sat up on the edge of the table, facing his standing figure before me, and my gaze landed on his excruciatingly hard cock. He grabbed my chin and lifted my head up before pressing his wet lips harshly against mine. He tasted like me, and immediately a new wave of arousal filled my core.

As his tongue flicked into my mouth, I reached between our bodies and began stroking his cock. He thrusted into my hand instinctively, and a moan fell from his lips as his hand shot to my core where he drew torturously slow circles against my over-stimulated clit. Caught up in how good we were making the other feel, our kissing slowed and our mouths eventually turned into matching O’s; eyes shut in pure bliss. I dropped my forehead against his bare chest, and watched as our hands worked on the other’s body, slowly working up the nerve to do the one thing we hadn’t yet done with each other.

“You still want to do this?” Chris asked, his voice strained. I jolted slightly at his words, shocked at the fact that he seemed to be reading my mind. A sharp wave of pleasure hit me from his fingers and I moaned softly before looking back up at him. “Mhmm.” I breathed, meaning it. “Do you?” I asked in return as I felt his cock jump in my hand. “So much.” He replied before lowering his head and planting another deep, wet kiss against my mouth. After a moment, he grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head. He took a moment to admire my bare chest before kissing each of my painfully pebbled nipples. “God, you’re unreal Y/n.” He moaned, running firm hands against my completely naked frame. I arched my back against his touch and shut my eyes blissfully.

He leaned forward and ran his tongue along my collar bone. “You ready?” He asked. I felt his hand replace mine on his shaft, and bit my lip as I felt him line the head up with my soaked core. He used his free hand to hold firmly onto my lower back, and I wrapped my legs around his waist; using the grip to press him against me. “I’m ready.” I replied breathlessly, looking up at him through my eyelashes. Without wasting a second, Chris kept his glazed eyes on mine as he slowly pressed his hips into me. My jaw dropped as his girth stretched my walls out further than I thought possible, and the intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain that can not truly be described with words turned my brain into mush.

Chris hissed as he bottomed out in me, his cock taking up every inch of my cunt. He remained still as he rested his forehead against mine, his breath erratic and hitched. “Fuck.” He finally groaned out, his body more tense than I’d ever seen it. “You okay?” I asked, wrapping my arms around his neck. He nodded. “I’m gonna cum in, like, record speed here Y/n.” He replied, taking deep breaths and keeping his forehead pressed to mine. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s okay Chris,” I replied, running my hands through his hair. “Just give me what you’ve got.”

My last seductive whisper seemed to give him the motivation to power through, because immediately he snapped his hips into me. I released a sharp moan from the depth of his movements, and that was enough to bring him fully back into it. Using the grip he had on my lower back, he plowed into me relentlessly. My eyes were rolled into the back of my head as I felt my walls stretch with each thrust; allowing him to hit my g-spot each time. “Jesus!” I cried out, gripping onto his shoulders in a weak attempt at holding onto my sanity.

“You’re so f-fucking tight.” Chris groaned into my shoulder as he continued to drive his ruthless cock into me. The room filled with the sounds of our bodies smacking against each other, adding to the indescribable arousal I was filled with. Chris’s hands began travelling all across my body, taking his time on my tits as his thumbs drew circles around my hardened nipples. He gave my tits a harsh squeeze before travelling down my stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my skin as he reached my clit and began rubbing it in rhythm with his thrusts. “God, keep going baby.” I moaned, wrapping my legs even tighter around Chris’s waist, “F-feels s-so good!” I cried just as Chris lifted me up off the table and slammed me into the wall. I released a sharp gasp from the shock, but as he continued pounding into me, my pleasure was intensified.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Chris growled as he nibbled against the skin on my neck. “You always this fucking wet?” His dirty words make my head spin. “N-no. I’m n-not.” I reply honestly, feeling my juices spread all over his front. A wicked smile covers his face. “Just for me then, huh?” His tone was arrogant, but there was an undertone of overwhelming arousal in it that told me he needed it to be true. I nodded my head rapidly. “Y-yes Chris! O-only this wet f-for y-you.” I managed to reply just before my second orgasm swept in and overtook me.

Just as I began riding my high — my nails digging into his skin and my mouth sputtering out profanities — Chris stilled inside of me and released a ragged “Oh fuck!”. I felt his cock pulse inside of me, painting my walls with his warm seed as my orgasm milked him dry. He released soft grunts against my neck as he rode through his own high, and I relished in the feeling of his cum as it dripped from my cunt.

After a while, both of our bodies relaxed and we rested against one another as we caught our breath. I waited for the overwhelming feeling of regret to wash over me, as one would expect it to after fucking your best friend, but it never came. In fact, I was so relaxed in that post-sex liminal space, pressed against the wall with Chris’s softening cock resting in my core, that I almost couldn’t believe that we had never done that before.

I was pulled from that thought by Chris placing a deeply passionate kiss to my lips. There was no lust, no untethered desire attached to it; it was almost as though this kiss was the end of one chapter of our lives and the beginning of a new, more exciting one. Our lips moved in slow motion, as if we had kissed like this a thousand times. With his lips still on mine, Chris slowly helped me down so my feet were on the ground. After another moment of our mouths merged as one, I pulled away and was immediately wrapped in a hug. Chris’s warm body felt so familiar, even more familiar than before, and I closed my eyes and took in the moment, as I knew it was the start of something new.

“Well, I think we have some things we should figure out,” Chris said, and I felt a soft chuckle against my head tucked into his chest. “Because I don’t know about you, but there is no way I can go the rest of my life without doing that again.” It was my turn to laugh, and I pulled myself out of his arms and looked up at his face. “I think I am officially under your spell.” I replied, feigning a smile. “Let’s go sit down and figure this all out.” I grabbed my discarded shirt and threw it over my head before walking towards my living room. “Oh by the way Y/n,” Chris grabbed me by my waist from behind as we walked through the door, “My back feels great now, in case you were curious.” I rolled my eyes with a smile and continued walking. “You have magical hands.” He whispered, and all I could do was laugh and give him a half-hearted shove.

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Mad Woman"

ok yall im out of school now! this was rushed so don't judge, when i write i just pour out whatever's in my head, that's why it's almost always rushed. i feel like if i don't write it, it'll disappeare! also to everyone hating in my asks, NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ MY WORK!!!! hating does nothing but discourage me and lower my already non-existent confidence in my writing. pls leave me alone, if you don't have anything nice to say; don't say anything. i LOVE all my positive asks and comments, they make my day. don't ruin it for me.

Prologue: hapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4: Chapter 5 Chapter 6:

Six months, that's how long it's been since Bruce exiled you to New York and left you alone once again. It's been 387 days since Tiffany Maverick pulled the rug from beneath your feet and ensnared your family in her web of lies and manipulation. For six months, your family ignored you, only Alfred sending you the occasional care package which you promptly threw in the garbage.

You wish Tiffany and Damian were as content with ignoring you as the rest of the family but unfortunately, they went out of their way to rub their closeness in your face by sending you pictures of family movie night, family game night, and the family attending their school events. It made you angry at first, before you saw how funny it was. A family of billionaires, a family of detectives, a family of vigilantes, sitting next to a spy; obliviously feeding her insider information. The Batman, sitting grinning ear to ear next to a girl who could be his downfall.

Surprisingly, boarding school was amazing. The boys were hot, though most arrogant and dumb, they were all loaded and into you. The girls idolized you from the moment you walked in, your word was law around here and the power felt amazing. You decided what was in and out, who was hot and who was not; a huge difference and change of pace from the years of bullying and ridicule at Gotham Prep.

The charm came with your new abilities, most likely. Sure, the first two months were fucking painful and exposed you to pain you didn't think was possible but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing for the power of being able to charm and flirt your way out of just about anything, being able to eject venom with the slightest trace of your fresh set of acrylics, being able to literally bite people with your fangs and have them enjoy it, sensing heat signatures and feeling emotions and eyes on you, having the ability to give literal bone-crushing hugs, and so many things you haven't even discovered.

Not to mention your random overnight makeover! Suddenly, your figure was to die for, perfect in all senses of the word. Your skin gleamed and shimmered in the light, long shed away were all the blemishes and scars. Your hair always shiny and your teeth always pearly white, albeit a bit sharp. You're the image of beauty.

Who cares about the price when the product was this good anyway?

Who needed familial love when everyone here worshipped you? That new view and utter hatred for the family is what convinced you to accept Ariele, your boarding school bff and roomie,'s offer to spend summer break with her family in the south of france. Of course, you wanted to go back to manor for a week before meeting her there. Alfred asked you to come and though you were angry at him, you missed the old man. You swore to yourself that you'd only stay the night, catch up with Alfred, and ignore your 'family' then promptly spend the summer half naked, tanning on a super yacht with your girls.

Little did you know that you'd never make it to france, in fact, you wouldn't even make it out the manor now that Tim discovered the truth and told the rest of the family.

Tim Drake noticed things. Small things. Minute details that other people might overlook. That's how he found the truth.

It started with the cooking. Tiffany had casually mentioned one evening that she’d found some old recipes in the manor’s archives, recipes that you had once written down, hoping to impress Damian with Arabic dinners and desserts. Tiffany had barely glanced at the handwritten notes before she had offered to make dinner that night—a perfect replica of your signature stuffed cabbage leaves, Malfoof, as you called it.

Tim had been there when it happened. He’d recognized it immediately. The dish was one of your favorites, one you had made for family dinners. It was too familiar, too precise for Tiffany, it lacked the usual love and effort.

Then came the awards. It was subtle at first, too. Tiffany casually dropping that she had “entered a local baking competition” and how much fun it had been to win. Tim had known that you had been the one to actually win that competition the year before, he remembered rolling his eyes as you foolishly tried to impress him. But when he checked the award Tiffany had won? It looked eerily similar to the one that you had earned. Tiffany didn’t even bother hiding her gloating as she showed it off, calling it “another step toward making Gotham proud.”

Tim’s stomach churned. It wasn’t a coincidence. Tiffany was stealing your life and he was the only one that saw it. Who knows what else she was stealing.

The pieces clicked into place when he found the old photo albums. Tiffany had been snooping around the library one afternoon, pulling out albums that had been tucked away in the back, ones that hadn’t been touched in years. They were full of memories of your achievements, pictures of family vacations, awards won for charity work and academic excellence. Baby photo's, old camera's, journals, even old clothes.It wasn’t just admiration. It was an obsession.

He saw her dig through and read every one of your old entries, saw her stare at pictures and attempt to manuever her body how you stood, but what really creeped him out was when she started tracing over your handwriting.

Tim couldn’t let it go. This was insane. It was almost as if Tiffany wanted to wear your skin.

It wasn’t that he wanted to make Tiffany an enemy or villainize her, quite the opposite actually, he'd been ignoring her strange behavior and smell for a year now because of how fond he was of her. But this? This was crossing a line. She wasn’t just trying to fit in anymore, this was dangerous.

He now suspected there was more to Tiffany than just her obsession with your life and after putting the pieces together, it was becoming clear: Tiffany was playing a much deeper game. She wasn’t just trying to steal your identity, she was stealing information, too.

Tim’s investigative skills had been honed through years of being the tech guy of the Batfamily, and when something felt off, he didn’t ignore it. Not anymore, he started tracking small anomalies—times when Tiffany’s presence seemed too convenient, moments when crucial data about Gotham’s underworld went missing from the Batcomputer, or when confidential mission details were leaked through channels Tim knew the Batfamily didn’t use. Times when the Joker seemed to know the family's course of action and times when villains knew Duke's plans.

That’s when it clicked.

Tiffany wasn’t just trying to fit in with the family. She was spying. Her affections with the family were a cover for something darker. She had been gathering intelligence for a shadowy organization, feeding them vital information about their operations. This was bigger than him—this was a full-blown infiltration. Tiffany was working for someone else, someone dangerous.

Tiffany’s betrayal ran deep, and her spying wasn’t just about information anymore; it was personal. She had been stealing pieces of your life, your successes, your talents , your family. She had slowly taken everything that you had worked for and twisted it into her own false narrative. It was sickening.

Tim couldn’t stand it anymore. He had dug through encrypted files, tracked hidden transmissions, and pieced together cryptic conversations. Tiffany wasn’t just trying to steal your identity for the sake of becoming the perfect family member. No. She was mimicking your cooking and baking skills, down to the awards she had won for those very talents. She had been trying to erase you and replace you with a manufactured version of herself.

It was almost too much for Tim to handle. But there was something even worse lurking beneath the surface: the deeper he dug, the more it became clear that Tiffany wasn’t just feeding information to criminals. She had been feeding off your spirit, your presence and she had nearly replaced you entirely.

Now he just needed to tell the other.

The tension in the Batcave could be cut with a knife as Tim stood before Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred, ready to show them what he had discovered.

“I’ve been tracking Tiffany’s movements for the last few days,” Tim began, his voice low but sharp. “And I found something that’s... unsettling.”

Bruce, who had been scanning a mission report, looked up with interest. Dick turned to Tim, a puzzled expression on his face. Alfred stepped forward, his usual composed demeanor now replaced with a rare concern. Even Damian looked confused.

“What did you find, Master Tim?” Alfred asked, his tone calm, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He clicked a button on the computer, and the large screen behind him flickered to life. A series of encrypted files appeared—mission logs, surveillance footage, and even intercepted communications. The Batcave was suffocating in its silence as Tim presented the evidence to Bruce, Dick, Jason, Alfred, and the others. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and every new image, every new file, felt like a punch in the gut.

There was a long silence as everyone processed the information. Bruce’s usual stoic expression faltered for a moment, and Dick clenched his fists. The weight of the revelation was hitting hard, but it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was that someone in their midst had been pulling the strings behind their backs for a year.

The data was damning. It was all there, proof that Tiffany had been copying your recipes, your designs, your machines, even stealing the culinary awards that you had earned over the years. And on top of that, she had been siphoning critical Batfamily intel to an unknown organisation. The information was so sensitive, it could have jeopardized every single one of them.

“Do you see it now?” Tim’s voice was quieter, but his anger was unmistakable. He flicked the last file onto the screen. Tiffany’s false accomplishments, stolen directly from you. The stolen recipes. The mission intel sent out from the Batcomputer under her watch. “All of us have been blind to it.”

“About a month ago,” Tim said, “I found an odd encryption pattern in the Batcomputer—something I’ve never seen before. When I decrypted it, I found a set of mission details. Ones that shouldn’t have left the system. I traced the origin back to Tiffany.”

Alfred's face tightened as he took in the footage on the screen. It was a recording of Tiffany accessing classified Batfamily data, tapping into their most sensitive files.

“She’s been stealing information,” Tim continued, his voice gaining intensity. “Every single time she’s interacted with the Batcomputer, she’s been sending that data out to an unknown address. I can't track where it's coming from, it's too advanced; even for me.

“Impossible,” Bruce muttered, but his eyes were narrowing in disbelief. “Why would she—?”

“Because she’s a spy,” Tim interrupted, “and it gets worse. She’s been feeding them everything. Our weaknesses, our next moves, our schedules. She’s not just a mole in the manor. She’s been working against us this whole time. She's why so many missions have failed.Tim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the family’s accomplishments she’s been stealing. She’s been getting close to each of us, using our trust. She knows things, personal things, and she’s been leaking that information. She’s been feeding it to the highest bidder, giving Gotham’s worst players a playbook for taking us down.”

Dick’s face twisted with disbelief. “She was pretending to be (y/n), taking her accomplishments as her own, but—” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “How could we have let this happen? How did we not notice?”

Jason’s voice cut through the heavy silence, rough and sharp, like a crack of thunder. He stepped forward, fists clenched. “I should’ve known. She’s been playing everyone, pretending like she’s all sweet and innocent, but she was using all of us.” Jason’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back at Tim, his face a mask of fury. “She lied to me. She’s been lying to all of us. And she’s been trying to replace her.” His hand slammed onto the table, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. “She doesn’t belong here. We trusted her. We all trusted her.” Jason’s anger bubbled over. This betrayal, the way Tiffany had wormed her way into their lives, made him see red

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I should’ve known,” Jason spat, pacing in circles, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “I let her get close to me. I let her in, we all did! And now look at this. She’s been pretending to be everything she’s not. She’s been trying to take her place, her rightful place in this family!”

Alfred, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat, his voice filled with quiet but growing fury. “I should have seen it,” he muttered, his gaze darkening. “I was too lenient with her. I allowed her to slip through the cracks, to play at being part of this family. I should have known better.” His usually calm demeanor was cracking, and the regret in his voice was palpable.

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of Tim’s words sank in. His eyes hardened as he stared at the screen, disappointment creeping into his features. Tiffany had been their guest, their supposed family, and this whole time, she had been playing them all. You had tried to warn them.

Duke, who had been standing quietly at the back of the room, spoke up. His voice was low but steady.

“I knew something was off,” Duke said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but... she’d been acting weird around me. Always asking questions—asking about the family, the missions, everything. I thought I was paranoid.”

Damian had always been fiercely protective of what he considered his, no one could ever doubt that. He mocked you, saw you as his pathetic bastard older sister, he had wanted to hurt you. But now, as the reality of Tiffany’s betrayal settled in, something darker began to take root inside him. He remember your unconditional love for him, how you took everything he said did to you with grace and compassion. He remembered how good you were to him. He noticed that everything he thought he loved about Tiffany was what she stole from you. His eyes burned with rage as he thought about how Tiffany had wormed her way into the family and his heart, how she’d stolen your accomplishments, and how she’d attempted to erase his sibling from the very fabric of their world.

She was trying to replace her. That thought alone made his fists tighten, nails biting into his palms.

It had been a long time since Damian had felt this kind of protective rage. He was the blood of the Wayne family, the one who deserved to be at the center of it all, but you; his blood sibling, his equal, had always been ignored, undervalued ridiculed and neglected. And now Tiffany, a mere interloper, had dared to manipulate and tear him away from you.

Damian watched the family, his gaze flicking to each of them as they tried to process the betrayal. The anger from his family was palpable, but there was something else there too: possessiveness. Protectiveness. regret. They weren’t just angry at Tiffany for what she had done to you, they were furious at themselves for pushing you away and leaving you alone and unprotected in New York.

You were his responsibility, his blood, and no one; not even Tiffany, was going to steal you away from him. He had always wanted to prove his superiority to the others, but now that wasn’t his focus. His attention was fixed solely on bringing you back to him, where you belonged.

Cass, who had been silently observing, nodded. Her face was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw told Tim that she, too, had been sensing something wrong for weeks.

Steph, ever the sharp observer, had her arms crossed over her chest, her usual sarcasm now tempered with a cold seriousness. “I knew she wasn’t perfect, but this? This is next-level crazy. Are you sure bout this Time?” She leaned forward, her voice suddenly harder.

Barbra was too shocked to say anything. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Alfred glanced toward Bruce. “Master Bruce,” he said softly, “the level of infiltration, this is something I never anticipated. We should have seen the signs.”

Bruce’s expression was steely. “We were too distracted, too willing to accept her presence as part of the family. We let our guard down.”

“That’s not just her fault,” Dick interjected. “We’ve all been too trusting. Especially with everything that happened with (y/n).” His voice hardened as he glanced at the screen again, eyes flicking to Tim. “What now? What do we do about it?”

Tim stepped forward, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’ve already notified our allies. The information she’s passed is enough to give this organization an upper hand in Gotham, maybe beyond. She hasn't revealed our identities but she might soon. we can’t let her get away with it. She’s been playing us this whole time.”

Steph threw her hands up in exasperation. “So what, we just let her go? She’s been lying to us, manipulating us for months! ?”

Tim’s eyes were cold, calculating. “We’ll have to trap her. Use the information she’s already stolen to set her up. Once we confront her, we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away.”

Bruce’s fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw set in stone. He had failed [Y/N]—he had failed his child. The weight of that was too much for him to bear. “This ends now. We’re going to fix this.”

Ok yall since apparently 8 ppl think my work is absoulte shit and and SURE i knew how they felt this is pretty rushed and i feel like it sucks! anyway!! i hope at least some people enjoy <33 send in nice aks and questions and ideas pls. its so fun answering them. yall are mind readers and are so creative!! lmk if there's any typos bc I copy-pasted half of it from my notes app. yeah i did write half of this when i was supposed to be in class, and??? Next chapter Tiffany gets confronted, reader comes home, Batfam start groveling and regretting their actions, sort of on their way to yandere-ism and make reader move back to gotham to be closer to "family"

[churipu]

JJK MEN REACTING TO YOU GETTING LEFT OUT BY YOUR FRIENDS 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, sukuna ryomen, inumaki toge.

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. just jjk men being overprotective of you bye, and cursing.

note. guysssss, no requests pls, they're not open :(( and if you sent one in, i apologize but they're going to take a bit of time to do :(

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

before you did — gojo had already sensed that your friends were shit. believe me when i say that he has tried talking to you about it from the moment you introduced him to them during your weekly "girls night".

but you said that your friends were fine. gojo doesn't think so. ever since that day, every time you said you were going out with your friends; he came along with you, not leaving you out of his sight.

that includes today. your "girls night" or whatever — when you try to convince gojo that he didn't need to come with, but all he said was, "i am one of the girls, aren't i?"

so he came along. and he didn't regret it. not. one. bit.

your friends, he didn't even know how to describe them without slipping in a curse or two. because he couldn't believe you were actually friends with these douchebags. it was plain obvious they were leaving you out on purpose.

whenever you try to chime in the conversation, your voice is immediately toppled over by one of them. or when you try to walk beside them, they step a bit further — on purpose. he could tell.

the male was really glad he could smell the stench from a long time ago. so when you and him were walking behind them, fingers interlocked. he stopped walking, and it made you stop too, "what's wrong, 'toru?"

"let's go," he tugged you in the opposite direction from where your friends are walking to, "they don't deserve you."

the male was very upset for you. he wasted no time driving you home with him, giving you the love you deserved (and a pep talk on why you should never ever talk to your friends again).

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

toji didn't even care whether he knows your friends or not. but when you convinced him that they wanted to meet him, he agreed (begrudgingly).

and everything went south when he noticed the different way they react to you — and to him. you and your friends were a trio.

it's always a trio. he never gets it, he's seen his fair share of shitty friendships among people. that's why he doesn't have friends (or people don't want to befriend him, doesn't matter).

it wasn't even a trio any more. it was a duo, with you on the side. toji noticed the subtle way they share a look to each other whenever you start talking — or the way they nudge each other when you do something. god, it pisses him off.

he swore if you weren't there, he'd resort to violence.

when you excuse yourself to go to the restroom, toji of course takes the chance to give a small talk (straight up threatening) to them. he waved to you vaguely as you walk towards the direction of the restroom.

"don't ever fucking talk to my partner again after this. y'hear me?"

the mood plummeted and you realized after you came back from the restroom. but you said nothing about it.

and like toji threatened, your friends never talked or contacted you ever again. which obviously saddened you — but the male told you how shitty they are and that it was a good thing they're not talking to you anymore.

to this day, you still didn't know it was toji behind it all.

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍

he has no shame in speaking his mind. and he immediately sensed how your friends were treating you differently from the first time he sees them. the male wastes no time giving them the eyes, where he was clearly telling them to fuck off.

when you and your friends (and him) decided to take a break inside a restaurant, he was pissed. sukuna, didn't even want to come with at the first place — he actually forced himself to come for you. he wanted to make sure your friends knew their place.

he has a bold tongue. sukuna is spicy with his words, he could care less about what people think of him. so the second he hears a disrespectful comment from either one of your friends directed to you to make you feel like you're the odd one out, the male glowered at them.

"mind repeating that?" he questions calmly, but something in his voice was intimidating. as if he was about to jump up from his seat and strangle the hell out of your friends.

of course, your friends were silent. afraid of him.

"exactly." the male stood up, tugging you along with him out of the restaurant, "what friends you have."

you were embarrassed at the comment, and sukuna sensed that too. even if he was tempted to say more things about your friends — he held back. for you.

"you don't need friends. what more do you need than me?"

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄

believe me when i say that he contemplated using his cursed speech technique on your friends. he had seen you come back from a night out with your friends, upset and teary eyed.

and from that day, he's always hated them. so when you said that you were going to hang out with them again — inumaki followed you, trailing after you like a lost puppy.

actually — scratch that, you were the lost puppy. trailing after your friends, behind them like you aren't even a part of the group. if it weren't for inumaki being there, it would just be you alone.

inumaki mutters out a lot of, "salmon" and "tuna mayo" to you. fuming.

you grabbed his hand, swinging it happily. at this point, you didn't even care about your friends — as long as inumaki was there, you didn't feel alone like you used to. so you did what you had to do since long ago.

ditch them.

"thank you for being here, toge."

inumaki was happy now, no longer in a foul mood, and he squeezed your hand, "tuna mayo!"

a little translation: "i'm hungry."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ million dollar man ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x girlfriend!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story takes place in an alternate ending for squid game where sang-woo wins instead of gi-hun! 🤍

˚ ༘♡ it had been over two weeks since you last heard from cho sang-woo. no calls, no texts, not even the smallest acknowledgment of your existence. the silence weighed on you, growing heavier with every passing day. sang-woo, your long-term boyfriend, the man you had imagined spending the rest of your life with, had seemingly vanished without explanation.

˚ ༘♡ he was everything you had dreamed of, handsome, intelligent, educated. in your eyes, he was near perfect. you had moved to south korea a year and a half ago. the two of you met only a month after your arrival in seoul. you were standing at a convenience store counter, struggling to buy an iced coffee before work. the cashier’s words blurred into a language barrier you couldn’t break through, leaving you flustered and embarrassed.

˚ ༘♡ then there he was. cho sang-woo, with his neatly pressed suit and square-rimmed glasses, stepping in to translate with a calm assurance that immediately put you at ease. he went further and insisted on paying for your coffee, brushing off your protests with a polite smile. “you can pay me back with your number,” he had said, his tone light but his warm gaze unwavering. you gave it to him without hesitation, your heart racing as he walked away with a casual, confident stride that lingered in your mind for days.

˚ ༘♡ what followed was akin to a fantasy. your first few dates were sweet and unassuming, dinners at cozy restaurants, walks through bustling markets, late-night phone calls that stretched into the early hours of the morning. before long, it became more than casual. he wasn’t simply a charming man in a suit, he was someone you trusted, someone you leaned on. yet, as your relationship deepened, so did the flaws.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo treated you well in many ways. he insisted on paying for meals, even when you protested. he offered to help with rent when he noticed you were stressed about expenses. his job at joy investments afforded him a lifestyle of financial stability, one that he willingly extended to you. however, beneath his polished exterior, there was an undeniable distance.

˚ ༘♡ it started small, little things that nagged at you but seemed too insignificant to bring up. his phone was always locked, the screen flashing dark whenever you glanced at it. he would leave suddenly, without warning, offering only vague explanations that never quite satisfied your curiosity. “work,” he would say, brushing off your questions as though they were irrelevant. and no matter how many times you pressed him for the truth, he never admitted anything.

˚ ༘♡ those moments of secrecy chipped away at your trust, leaving an uneasy ache in your chest. you told yourself it was nothing, that you were overthinking. but the fights that erupted when you brought it up told a different story. his calm facade would crack, and he would grow defensive, his words sharp and cutting. “don’t you trust me?” he had asked more than once, the accusation in his tone a slap in the face.

˚ ༘♡ despite the arguments, despite the unanswered questions, you loved him. you loved the way he smoothed a hand down your back when you were upset, the way his voice softened when he called you by name. you loved the rare instances of vulnerability he let slip, the heartfelt glimpses of the man beneath the polished exterior. you loved him enough to forgive, enough to overlook the secrets that cast shadows over your relationship.

˚ ༘♡ as you sat alone in your apartment, staring at your phone with an empty inbox mocking your worry. two weeks of silence was unbearable. the man you loved, the one who had promised to protect you, had left you with nothing but questions and a ache where his presence used to be.

˚ ༘♡ the doorbell rang, cutting through the quiet of your apartment as though it were a sharp blade. it wasn’t merely unusual, it was unsettling. who would come at this hour? you glanced at the clock on the wall, its glowing numbers reminding you that it was well past midnight. your stomach churned uneasily as you stood up, your fatigue from a long shift at the café clinging to you.

˚ ༘♡ working from sunrise to sunset every day had worn you thin, but you had refused sang-woo’s offers to help you financially. he had already done so much, given so generously, and the thought of taking more was crossing a line you couldn’t bring yourself to breach. it would be an abuse of his kindness.

˚ ༘♡ the hallway was dark as you approached the door, your bare feet silent on the cool floor. you hesitated before unlocking it, your hand hovering over the latch. “hello?” you called out cautiously as you cracked it open, peering into the dimly lit corridor.

˚ ༘♡ before you could register what was happening, a hard shove sent the door crashing into you, knocking you backward. you stumbled, barely managing to catch yourself against the wall. your heart leapt into your throat as the figure who had forced their way inside quickly shut the door behind them.

˚ ༘♡ your confusion turned to disbelief as the light from your apartment fell on their face. it was sang-woo.

˚ ༘♡ his chest heaved with each labored breath, his shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned at the collar, his dress pants scuffed and slightly torn. his glasses, the ones you always teased him about for making him look too serious, were nowhere to be seen. instead, his face bore the evidence of recent hardships, bruises, faint scars, and scabbed-over cuts that marred his formerly pristine appearance. even his hands, the ones you’d grown so used to seeing holding a pen or a glass of wine, were scratched and battered.

˚ ༘♡ he looked like he had aged years in the short time he had been gone.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you stammered, your voice unsteady with equal parts confusion and fear, “what the hell are you doing? it’s the middle of the night, and… why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

˚ ༘♡ he opened his mouth as if to respond, but the words didn’t come immediately. instead, he leaned against the door, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “i…” he started, his voice hoarse and raw, but he seemed unable to finish.

˚ ༘♡ without warning, he crossed the room in a single stride and pulled you into a tight embrace. his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that felt almost suffocating, his head burying into the crook of your neck as he clung to you.

˚ ༘♡ you stood unmoving, the shock of his sudden appearance warring with the affection of his touch. part of you was relieved beyond words to have him back, while another part was angry. angry at his disappearance, at the unanswered calls and texts, at the fear and doubt he had left you to wrestle with.

˚ ༘♡ “i missed you,” he murmured against your shoulder, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

˚ ༘♡ his words tugged at your heart, but they weren’t enough to quell the storm of questions brewing inside you. “sang-woo,” you said, your voice softer now but still laced with frustration, “what’s going on? where have you been? what happened to you?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer right away, his grip tightening, as though the very act of holding onto you could keep him grounded. his breath was unstable, his chest rising and falling against yours in a way that betrayed the turmoil beneath his silence. the room felt oppressively quiet.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo!” you exclaimed, your voice sharp, desperate for clarity. the sound seemed to jolt him, his body stiffening before he reluctantly pulled back.

˚ ༘♡ his hands were shaking as he reached into his pocket, the movement clumsy and hurried. when he withdrew, he thrust a thick stack of cash into your arms, one hundred million won, neatly bound and unnervingly out of place in your modest apartment. the weight of the money startled you, as you stared at the crisp bills in disbelief.

˚ ༘♡ “listen to me,” he said, his voice shaking but steadfast. “after this, after i take care of everything, i’ll buy us a beautiful home. somewhere quiet, somewhere safe. hold onto this for now.”

˚ ༘♡ you blinked at him, your mind struggling to process the sudden shift, the money heavy in your grasp. “sang-woo,” you said, your tone rising with vexation and confusion, “where did you get this money?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer, his eyes avoiding yours, and that only fueled your frustration. “tell me!” you demanded. “where have you been? do you have any idea what I’ve been through? i thought you left me for another woman or fled the country!”

˚ ༘♡ his jaw clenched, his expression fading as guilt flashed across his face, but he said nothing.

˚ ༘♡ you pressed further, your voice strained with a mix of hurt and fury. “i talked to your mother. she said you haven’t called her in ages! i went to your work. they haven’t seen you in weeks! your friends? same thing. no one knows where you’ve been!” your hands tightened around the cash, your knuckles white as your chest heaved with the distress of your tone. “how could you do this to me? how could you leave without a word, without an explanation?”

˚ ༘♡ his silence hurt more than any words could have. he looked at you, his expression a painful mix of regret and something darker, something you couldn’t place. his lips parted as if to speak, but he hesitated, the words caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears began to sting your eyes. “please. i need to understand.”

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll tell you everything soon, i promise, sweetheart,” sang-woo murmured, his voice unsteady, as if it pained him to speak. his hand, calloused and trembling, reached out to rest gently on your cheek, his touch delicate. your heart ached as you met his gaze, those dark, exhausted eyes glistening with unshed tears. it was a look so raw, so unfamiliar.

˚ ༘♡ “you have to trust me,” he said, his tone soft but pleading. “you have to listen to me. i’ve already given you what you need to cover your expenses.” his hand lingered against your cheek for a monthly moment before falling away, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. “i have urgent legal and business matters to deal with, but once they’re resolved… we’ll have the life we’ve dreamed of. everything we’ve talked about.”

˚ ༘♡ his lips brushed against your forehead, the kiss light but filled with a quiet desperation that made your chest tighten. “nothing could ever keep me from you,” he breathed, the words barely audible. “promise me you’ll do as i ask.”

˚ ༘♡ everything about this felt wrong, the way he avoided your questions, the haunting exhaustion in his voice, the bruises that lined his hands and face. you wanted answers. you wanted to demand he tell you everything right then and there, but the way he looked at you, so broken, so unlike the composed sang-woo you knew, kept you from saying anymore.

˚ ༘♡ uncertainty clouded your mind, nonetheless you nodded, your voice hardly above a whisper. “i promise.”

˚ ༘♡ his shoulders sagged slightly at your answer, the tension in his body loosening, though not entirely disappearing. “good,” he said softly, almost to himself. he was still nervous, his eyes darting toward the door as though expecting someone to burst through at any moment.

˚ ༘♡ “i have to go,” he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. “but i’ll come back. i swear, okay?”

˚ ༘♡ “okay,” you replied, unsure but unwilling to push him further.

˚ ༘♡ he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a fleeting, tender kiss that left you yearning for answers. then, without another word, he turned and left the apartment, closing the door behind him.

˚ ༘♡ you stood there, the silence of his absence pressing down on you, dread engulfed your thoughts. your mind churned with questions, with doubts, but one thing was certain, you were relieved, no matter how strange the circumstances of his return, to have seen sang-woo again. the agonizing ache in your chest told you that his departure had left you with far more questions than answers.

a/n: my first sang-woo fanfiction!! is it controversial for me to say i love his character and he’s my favorite one in squid game? please let me know if you have any requests! 🤍