#could've taken even longer on those counts though. anyways of course it's time for a waist up portrait of everyone's fave

[unproduciblesmackdown]

our beloved blade gunnblade upstage at any time

[aftqrglow]

A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.  

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence. 

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table. 

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you. 

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back. 

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky. 

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said. 

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual. 

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

tags:

@goldengoddess @wherearethesantreys @ughlantsov @for-bebbanburg @mriddlemethis @xleiaorgana @xsamsharons

if you would like to be added to or removed from my taglist, just send me a message or an ask off anon!

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter six - “lake, the sequel”

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.7k

synopsis: reader seeks out bucky after his dramatic exit and they find themselves earnestly conversing... back at the lake

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: this story is available on my wattpad as a bucky x OC fic @ / typicaldaze :)

He didn't like this feeling. No, he didn't like this feeling at all. He hated it, in fact. It was betrayal, bodily betrayal. He just could not sit in that room any longer or he would've peeled his skin off. His lungs felt as if they were bound with barbed wire and the state of his stomach had him worried he was going to throw up. Most of all he felt guilty. How could he have just stormed out of the room like that? She was going to hate him now. How could he let this happen?

He was thinking this over whilst sitting at the lake, hands in the grass, trying to distract the physical body from the mental cacophony he had just endured. He had somehow found his way there after leaving Y/N. These extremely unpleasant sensations were unfamiliar. Was he sick? Could he have been drugged? He was so confused. Bucky realized he seemed to be confused most of the time. Following that realization, he became mildly pissed off.

The super soldier stared out at the lake. It was a calm day, the water tranquil and clear. It was a stark contrast against his stress. He leaned forward and looked into the water at his reflection.

"Damn," he said out loud.

Is that really what I look like now?

His eyes traced over the long shaggy hair, dark under eyes, and the subtle but noticeable worry lines. This sight reminded him of when he broke the mirror at his old place in Bucharest. Now he remembered why. God, he looked as fucked up as he was. He leaned back and tossed a stone at where his reflection had been.

A deep sigh left his lungs, which were now conveniently working properly.

"Fuckers," he muttered, referring to the mercurial organs.

He had spent nearly two years alone in Bucharest, and he had grown accustomed to living in this new body. He was always on edge, that much he could tell. However, he was never too introspective; he never thought about his feelings or his behavior. All he was focused on was surviving. When there is more to life than survival, that's when things get complicated... not that they weren't complicated before. God, he was running in circles inside his own mind. His scarred and ruined and manipulated mind that resided in this body that was used as a tool for destruction and violence and death-

"Hey."

His head whipped around, startled out of his thought frenzy. Always on edge. Mentally, he shook his head in disappointment.

"Oh! (Y/N)!"

He stood up immediately. "Listen, I'm so sorry about before, I don't know what-"

"It's okay," she said quickly, holding up her hands. "Bucky, you do not need to apologize, everything is totally fine."

He was taken aback. Words didn't seem to work.

"I'm not mad if that's what you were thinking," she said.

"You're not?"

"No, of course not. If anything I was worried."

"I- Worried?"

"Yes, you were clearly in distress, and that room was the last place you wanted to be. I'm glad you found your way back here because you look much better now," (Y/N) explained with earnest eyes.

She could tell he was freaked out? She probably thinks he's insane.

"Yeah, I... I think I'm better now."

He was far from okay, but definitely better than before.

The psychologist sat down next to where he was standing. He didn't move, but looked down at her.

"I don't think it'd be wise to leave you alone here considering you're supposed to be in a session with me right now and you can't go anywhere without an escort. It would most likely lead to suspicion and then trouble you don't need. I'm going to stay with you. We can continue the session if you'd like, but if not we can just sit."

She said this all while looking straight forward at the water.

In all honesty he wasn't sure what to say, so he settled with a breathy, "Okay," before sitting down next to her.

"I'm getting the vibe that this is more of a just sit situation..."

"Yeah... I think I'm all therapy-ed out for today," Bucky said in a meek attempt at a joke.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a wide smile. He then realized that she didn't know he could see it, and that's why this smile seemed different. Most differents in Bucky's life hadn't been outstandingly pleasant. But this was a welcome different. This was a good different. It was genuine and unbridled. That was the most open he'd ever seen her.

Every now and then he forgot that he was a literal trained super spy. He may not have any PhD's, but he had his own way of reading behavior, cues, and subtleties. Perhaps he'd make an effort to be more observant. Perhaps he wanted to learn a little more about what else was behind this new different.

A few beats of comfortable silence passed before he heard the word again.

"Hey," (Y/N) started softly. "I'm sorry if I went a little too far today. I know I said our first session wouldn't be much, but I realize I was pushing too far."

"Oh, it's okay," Bucky replied, looking down at the grass between his knees. "I think it's more my fault anyway. It's not like the questions were super intense."

He let out a loaded sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Bucky it's really okay. If it's anyone's fault it's mine. This whole process is supposed to be based on your comfort levels and at your own pace. And there's nothing wrong with you. Your reaction was completely normal given the circumstances."

Bucky wasn't terribly familiar with reassurance. He turned his head, looking at her dead on. She was so genuine, like she knew all of what she was saying was the all encompassing truth.

Echoes of different combinations of "there's nothing wrong with you" and "completely normal" and "your own pace" flitted around inside him until they melted into a feeling he hadn't felt in so long: hope. It was horrifying... yet it gave him a kind of relief he didn't know he could feel.

The super soldier then realized that (Y/N) was looking right back at him dead on. He was about to stumble through some sort of apology for staring or thankful expression for her kindness, but he noticed that she didn't look like she was necessarily waiting for a response. She was just... looking.

Bucky tried to say something, anything. But he just couldn't seem to pull his eyes away. In this brief moment, he felt crystallized. His conscious, logical brain was somewhere far away, hypnotized by the stillness of the moment. It was only a few seconds, but somehow felt longer. These very few seconds of mental sedation were soon over.

Speak, idiot.

He snapped back to reality, suddenly finding himself inspecting at the grass below him.

"Thank you."

"Of course," she replied without missing a beat. Her tone of voice was water soft.

"(Y/N), do you... do you know what happened with me earlier?" he asked, cautiously. "Like, what was wrong- I mean, not wrong but why I-"

He sighed frustratingly, cutting himself off.

Her face was patient, but she was waiting for a description of something he didn't know how to describe.

"I know I said we were done for today, but I-I don't know how to explain it, and I want to know what it is," he confessed.

"I think you had an anxiety attack."

Anxiety? That couldn't be right. There's no way that could've been from being nervous.

"What?" he asked incredulously.

"Anxiety. It seemed as though you were experiencing high amounts of anxiety. Most people get nervous at times, but those tiny amounts are normal. But, some other people are a lot more nervous a lot more of the time. Sometimes, these peoples' anxiety can get particularly high and be so overwhelming that their body kinda takes over, and they can experience really uncomfortable physical symptoms, and this can turn into an anxiety attack."

"I thought I was... sick or... or drugged or something."

"Well, I'm almost certain you weren't drugged, and I'm pretty sure you can't even get sick."

"Oh."

He honestly didn't know what to say.

"Bucky," she looked straight at him again and he almost felt himself slipping. "In terms of psychology, a lot has progressed since the 40's. I'm not sure how anxiety was presented or studied then, but there's really a lot more to it than people think. And honestly, given your situation, it would be strange if you didn't develop an anxiety disorder."

Anxiety disorder?

"Anxiety disorder? I have that?"

"Well, again, I think we have to do more work to confirm, but that's what it seems like."

"I thought you said I had PTSD?"

"I do. I think you have both."

Christ.

"Wow, I'm a whole sack 'a problems, aren't I?" he chuckled, giving up on trying to internally oppose his short comings.

"You're not a problem, Buck. You had to deal with a whole sack of problems, though," she smiled.

The nickname didn't miss his radar. Was that the first time she's called him that? He ignored how he liked it.

"That's for damn sure."

They conversed for a while after that, and didn't seem to notice how late it was until the sun began to set. The ending day's reflection on the water created an aura so relaxing Bucky didn't want to move. But alas, reality calls.

(Y/N) stood up. "If you're not back soon, they'll start looking for you. We should probably get going."

Bucky stood up, too, following her request.

"I'll walk you back to your quarters," she offered.

And so they went, conversation continuing naturally, as if they were old friends. Bucky found it strange that someone he knew so little was so easy to talk to. He brushed it off as some inherent therapist quality.

He still found her hard to read although he knew her more with each passing word between them.

Despite all of this, the walk back, with cool air, a melting sky, and languid steps, was the best thing he had experienced since coming out of cryo. His memory may be spotty, and his mind may be rough, but this, this he was sure of.

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

Augustus' burner phone is the key to locating Nero but the team discovers that it's more than just Nero that's behind all of this. Will the former 141 soldiers find out what Nero is up to? Will Alex rescue Samantha?

Table of Contents

Hello! Ray's Back in his game!

Chapter 16 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

My Damsel in Distress

"Alex"

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

On a plane off to somewhere

General Shepherd.

The name sent Alex's blood boiling from rage. He couldn't believe that a high ranking official would actually betray them and could still run away from it.

It's no secret that he wanted 141 out of the Nero scene. But why? He knew full well that Samantha doesn't have access over the address but he still took her? And he also knew that this little team won't walk away without her safe. Alex wondered what's running inside the snow-caterpillar-stache's little brain. He couldn't even say his name now.

He clenched his fists, feeling the thick leather gloves he wore for battle. It was a devastating day for him. They just bonded for a few moments here and there and now she’s already taken away from him. He couldn’t keep count how many times it happened. It was frustrating.

“So, which safehouse are you bringing us today?” Alex joked with his former CO. Jack looked serious as always, he never gets these kinds of humor.

“Same one in Brazil. It’s the most forgotten and spacious. No one’s going to come looking for us in South America.” Jack replied, looking worriedly at Alex.

“I know when you’re preoccupied Alex. What happened afterward?” Jack turned to him and Alex knew he had to open up. He deserved the truth anyway.

“I uh… I fell for her, Jack. I know I told you that I won’t but it just hit me.”

“Like a fucking brick…” Jack interrupted and chuckled.

“All I can say is that you’ve done a better job than I did when I fell in love. I could still see your determination towards your work. Or maybe because she’s still involved in all of this.” he added, causing Alex to relax his tensed shoulders.

“It’s good to have you back, old man.” Alex shook his hand and smiled. With all the problems around him, it was good to have someone close to him to talk to. He was glad Nero didn't kill him back in the Gulag.

“Yeah. Me too, and it looks like you’ve got yourselves a determined bunch. Especially that guy.” he noted, pointing to Soap who was sitting with France. Alex remembered how the two of them met at the Gulag and in that short span of time Jack was able to read the whole guy’s personality.

“Soap? Yeah, he’s an achiever. Heard he’s top of every obstacle course back at the base.” Alex mused, looking at the two. They were sitting together quietly but Alex felt jealous. He could've been doing that with Samantha right now. Now that she's ready to hear the truth about them.

"Yeah. He's got some fight in him. I'm sure we'll defeat Nero even with this little band right here. And I'll do my best to be of assistance to you." he patted Alex's shoulder and went back to check on Nikolai.

~

Safehouse 110197, Brazil

Alex remembered that this place was compromised, but then again that was the CIA mole's henchmen that found them here and they're no longer affiliated with Nero. Or he picked this place because no one would think of going back here after being compromised. The Reverse Psychology card. Either way, Alex didn't mind.

As the team slowly scattered around the house and prepared everything, Alex took note of some changes since his last visit. More beds were added and supplies got restocked. Even the bullet cache looked reloaded.

The team loaded off everything they salvaged, or stole, from the 141 and set it all up. Ghost prioritized the tech stuff while the women fixed the bedrooms. Alex offered help but was denied by Gary saying "Your face still hurts so don't over exert yourself, we can do this on our own."

So Alex plopped by the central couch as Ghost untangle the wires, putting them on their respective slots.

"You holding up okay?" The masked man asked as soon as Alex released a deep sigh.

"I'm worried about Samantha." he replied, resting his hands on the back of his head.

"She doesn't have the address, what does Shepherd want from her?" Alex added, his tone raised like a kid complaining.

"I have no idea. But I do have something else. Information on the surprise attack at the 141." Ghost said, as Jack and Price moved toward them and discussed the contents of Augustus' phone.

"That bastard gave away our location." Price cursed.

"So his plan to disband us would be successful." Alex added and Ghost nodded.

"Why get Samantha though? He knows we'll be coming for him." Ghost added and the rest of them speculated their theories.

"Augustus failed to get her so Shepherd did it for him? For what?" Jack noted, reviewing their whole mission for reference.

"Something bigger, I presume." Price spat and everyone fell silent. The rest of the team except for Gary and Maxine gathered for a short briefing. Everyone gave away their take as to why, some of them made sense while some reasons don't add up. And thinking about it was only making them more frustrated.

Everyone looked serious until they inhaled the fresh aroma of dinner from the kitchen. Alex turned and saw Gary and Maxine, smiling while serving up the team's dinner. He could sense something him and Samantha once shared in this place and it looked like the Safe house did it's charm once again.

"Now that's bloody good cookin'" Price announced and everyone laughed. He wasn't the kind of person to say those kinds of things, but he did, and it was all they needed to ease the tension of not knowing what's next.

They never gathered like this before, together, happy and noisy. The two oldies sat on the opposite edges of the round table while Soap, France, Gary and Maxine sat beside each other on the left. Simon and Alex sat on the other side, an empty chair resided beside them.

"Don't worry lad, we'll rescue her." Price muttered and Jack nodded. Alex smiled as they started to eat some food.

"Hold on a minute!" Soap exclaimed causing everyone to halt.

"Thank you Lord for thy blessings which we are about to receive. Amen." he muttered while everyone looked at him.

"Amen!" they all said in unison and wolfed down Gary and Maxine's delicious meal.

"This tastes so good! Just like Mom used to make!" Francine chewed happily. Maxine stared at her supposed to be sister and smiled.

"It does?" she breathed.

"Mmhmm.. I was always jealous that you two were so close together in the kitchen, everything I touch turns to a culinary mess." she frowned and made everyone else laugh. Soap stared at her in amazement.

"You and me both, France." Jack agreed. The gang bonded throughout dinner and enjoyed the company. Alex volunteered on the dishes and France offered to help.

"You think she's going to be fine?" Maxine asked as she checked the contents of the fridge, looking at Alex who looked very focused on the dishes he's cleaning.

"She's been kidnapped a lot of times now. I think she's used to it." Alex attempted to joke, but the tone of his voice was far from kidding.

"Aye, That lassie's a tough one. Don't worry Alex. We'll get her, Shepherd's bound to make a mistake anytime soon." Soap commented from behind him while leaning on the kitchen island.

"I told you I can handle assisting Alex on my own!" France giggled as she wiped the plates dry.

"Aye! I know! Can't a man just enjoy some time with his girlfriend?" he raised his hand mocking surrender. France turned back and crossed her arms.

"Ahem. Girl space Friend. There's a space in between." she scolded and MacTavish just chuckled.

"Whatever you say, Babe." he joked once again as he stepped out of the kitchen.

"Ugh. That guy's so full of himself." France groaned. Alex and Maxine exchanged glances and laughed, causing the female soldier to worry.

"What?" she asked.

"You two look cute together." Maxine chuckled, closed the fridge and walked away.

"We're not together!" France yelled, making sure Maxine would hear it wherever she went.

"We will be soon!" Soap exclaimed from outside, followed by collective laughter from the group of men with him.

~

Alex groaned and looked at his watch. It's already 3:36 am and he couldn't sleep. He slowly got up and looked around. On the huge bed, Jack and Price slept peacefully as evidenced by the loud snoring. Beside him on the floor was Soap, Roach and an empty spot where Ghost was supposed to sleep. The girls occupied the guest room.

Alex slowly got up and carefully assisted his metal leg, trying not to make noise as he waltzed to the balcony where he suspected Ghost to be.

And he was right, Ghost sat by the railings on the terrace, not a single expression of fear etched on his face. A face Alex saw for the first time.

"Can't sleep?" the former CIA asked. Ghost slowly turned his head and nodded.

"I'm just contemplating…" he muttered, the tone of his voice sound defeated.

"We caught ourselves in a crazy situation, huh?" Alex chuckled trying to make the best of the situation. Ghost didn't seem to like the vote of happiness as he clicked his tongue and sighed.

"I'm into France… but it looked like she's happier with John." he spat. From what Alex heard from Roach, Ghost was not the kind of person to open up. And this was all too surprising for him.

"I… uh…" Alex stammered.

"Look, I'm also sorry… You don't have to reply… I was about to vent to Gary about this but he seemed too preoccupied with Maxine and I didn't want to bother him."

"Look, it's okay. Ghost."

"It's Simon, Simon Riley."

"It's okay Simon. That's life. You win some, you lose some." he consoled. He tried to make it as positive as possible but he was also down in the dumps, like him.

"Thanks for the honesty. I just realized how devastated you must be. I never got to hear your story until Gary told me. It must've been tough losing her over and over again." Gary talked without looking at him.

"It's like I've been cursed to lose her and save her all over again." Alex complained.

"Like Link." Simon announced like it's a great metaphor which Alex didn't get.

"Link?"

"Like from the video game. Where this knight was always out to save her damsel in distress. It's got many different variations but it's always the same name. Generations have passed and Link was always destined to save Zelda." he said in amusement.

"My damsel in distress…" Alex noted and looked up at the stars, wishing that wherever Samantha may be, he hoped she's safe and also thinking of him.

Next Chapter : Delayed Flight

Notification Squad my beloved

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @whimsywispsblog @beemybee @ricinbach

[mother-snake]

More letters? More letters.

I'm going to break a few hearts....

------------------

The pain of losing your child was an agonizing one. You could never stop thinking that you should have been in their stead, that you should have protected them, that you failed as a parent because..... Because your baby is dead and you couldn't stop it.

Virgil didn't know someone could get that pale. Or that they could have black vains. Or that they could cry black inky tears until their face was sticky and it was impossible to wash off.

It was a very sad day.

They just came home from a very sad event, that no one wanted to name because they couldn't accept that he was gone.

Virgil went to his room almost immediately after they got home.

Tears still streaming, he hadn't stopped crying since they found his baby

He walked over to his desk, where four letters sat. Each envelope was a different colour with a different wax seal to match it. He picked up the white envelope with a deep wine red seal, the only thing that was marking it as his was the dark purple ink used to mark his name and the #1

He tore it open carefully.

Hey Vee Anxiety

I guess if you have these letters I'm gone now. I also suppose that you know what happened to the dark side. If you don't, well its gone now. I'm sorry it had to be this way. But I had too.

You and Remus are the only sides with black hair now. How does that feel? I know your hair is dead straight, does it fall into your eyes? Do the others treat you differently because of your hair colour? Speaking of that.

I know I was a horrible child Anxiety, you loved me from the very moment you met me and all I did in favour was tell you I hate you. I don't hate you. I could never hate you.

I hope you gave me a nice send off. Was there daffodils? You know, daffodils were originally called Narcissus. They symbolize self love. I'm sure you know the myth, but it also ended rather tragically. I'm no expert but I think my life also counts as a tragedy. At least it feels like it.

It feels like no matter what I do, I get punished. Society says that you get punished for your wrong doings but what have I done wrong? I wish I had black hair like you. Things might have ended better.

I'm going to be writing a series of letters. Simply because I can't bear to say goodbye to all five of you at the same time. I'll write to you tomorrow Vee.

~Janus Sanders

The sobs only got deeper as Virgil read on. Memories rapidly repeating in his mind. Over and over. The sight of his child dead on the ground. Crumpled suit and knocked over goblet, his eyes were like glass and any pigment in his skin rotted away.

"DAD! Dad!!" the 17 year old looked down at the much younger side. Just passed 7. "Yes my little baby snake?" the child bounced up and down "I'm hungry!!" Virgil's smile creeped onto his face "Hi Hungry! I'm Dad!" the look on the seven year olds face was something he could never forget. Virgil let out a loud laugh, "Fine! Fine! Come on little snake, lets go get you some food" the child's face lit up. "STRAWBERRIES?!?" Virgil grabbed the childs hand. "We can have strawberries, little snake."

Virgil went downstairs and dug out the box of strawberries form the fridge. He ate the entire box.

The next day was just as horrible.

No one wanted to leave their rooms and deep sobs were coming from many doors.

Everywhere Virgil looked, he was reminded of his baby snake.

When he ran out of oxygen for the louder sobs, Virgil grabbed the second letter. A lilac purple envelope with a yellow seal.

Hey Vee,

The others are getting particularly violent recently. Often getting aggressive for no reason. Well unless you call me standing in my bedroom a reason. Well, reason or not. I have a new bruse or five.

How are the others holding up? I'm guessing not well. But maybe I'm just over estimating how much all of you care. After all. Why would anyone care for a side that has only made their lives harder? I personally don't see the logic in that.

But I don't know that much.

I'm going to be completely honest with you Vee. You are absolute shit at taking care of yourself when you are upset. Did you even eat dinner the night before? Wow. Look at me. I'm lecturing my father to take better care of himself while I'm dead.

I should get an award for biggest hypocrite. I haven't properly taken care of myself in years.

I'm serious about this though, don't isolate your self and spend time with the others. They'll be your biggest help in accepting..... In accepting that I'm not there anymore.

~Janus

Sucking in a shaky breath, Virgil stood and went to ask the others for their company. Because Janus was right, its easy to spiral by yourself. Then there was a knock on the door.

Logan wanted to watch some of Janus' favourite movies.

Virgil couldn't say no. Even if he wanted too.

~~~time skip~~~

Everyone was passed out except for him and Logan.

Logan had been very quiet lately, then again. He did barely leave his room for days

The end of Over the Garden Wall was playing. The characters were talking about something when Virgil spiralled back into the memories.

"DAD!" Virgil burst into the room, running to cradle his child in his arms, "Baby, what happend? Are you hurt?" small sniffles left the eight year olds lips "I dr- dreamt th-that you left m-me!" Virgil felt his heart clench. "I will never ever leave you, my little one" Crystal coated over the childs eyes, "Promise?" "I promise with all my heart"-

Virgil fell asleep with a heavy heart, knowing that he broke his promise to his baby.

The next morning was slightly better, not by much though. They ate breakfast together. Then, they returned to their rooms.

Virgil grabbed the third letter as soon as he walked into the room. The pale yellow cover wrinkling in his tight hold. He carefully broke the purple wax.

Hey Vee,

I'm scared. Wrath keeps banging on doors and I think I heard a window break. Apathy keeps trying to calm him down but it isn't working. Depression just left. I honestly don't know where he went.

This is why I need to get rid of the darks. I heard them talking about taking over the mind and I just can't let that happen Vee. What kind of self preservation would I be if I just let them destroy Thomas? A shitty one.

Thats why I made a poison. Its made from my own venom and it is lethal with less then a drop. I'm going to put the whole vial inside of the wine at the party in a few days. I don't know why I'm telling you this. I don't really plan what I write here. I kinda just write.

I really want a hug right now. I think I'll vist today or tomorrow. If I can get passed the others that is. If they find out where I'm going I might not get the chance to poison the wine.

~Jan

Virgil could tell that the writing was frantic. Some words slurrrd and squished together. Janus did come over to the mind that day.

A small hesitant knock hit Virgil's door. When he opened it, there standing was Janus, he looked up at him, "Can... can I have a hug Vee?" Virgil felt a small blossom of hope in his chest, "Of course, my little baby snake."

That blossom of hope died when he found his child's body. Cold and pale. He cried over the memory and over the letter.

The soft sound of jazz coming from Logan's room.

The next day, he grabbed the last letter. Hands shaking heavily, he broke the white seal holding the black envelope closed. When opened, a picture fell out.

Hi Dad,

I'm almost out of purple ink. Most of it got dried out after I forgot to out the cap back on. I'm sorry dad.

I'm sorry that I took your love for granted. I never accepted it as enough. Even when you did your damnedest to protect me and anyway you could. I used to be mad and upset and wanting to cry at every memory but now I wish I enjoyed those moments longer.

Thank you for indulging my strawberry habit. Thank you for holding me late at night. Thank you for introducing me to reading. Thank you for all the memories and hugs. Thank you for everything Dad.

None of this is your fault. You were the best father I could've asked for.

I love you

~Your Baby Snake

The picture was of him and Janus when the yellow side was nothing but a toddler. Bright golden ringlets sticking out in every direction. On the back was written

"To the best Father, Thank you"

Virgil's tears were interrupted by loud screams from Logans room.

They all bolted to comfort the blue side. Virgil's eyes drifted down to the his letter.

I love you

Virgil couldn't help the thought of his baby in a suit. Attempting to tame his blond curls while walking down the isle. His baby fell in love.

And he'll never get to experience the rest of it.

His tears only fell faster.

-------

Hahahaha

OW

i almost cried tears, i held them in barely. fam were in the room. how dare you stab my heart like this?? i am wounded. (tho seriously, this is absoulutely amazing and i friggin love it to bits!)

[kimvvantae]

feel better; (1)

➜ being with jimin is hot but cold at the same time. sweet but painful, exciting but sad, intimate but distant - and you don’t know if getting too close is worth the risk.

pairing: daddy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut (in future chapters), angst, fluff 

warnings: language, non-explicit mentions of sex

word count: 2k

A/N: this is an introduction of what i plan to do. if you guys like it i might update. also, i know that daddy kink is cringey, but 190105 jimin awakened the sub bitch inside of me and i had to write it. i’m not sorry.

➜ check out masterlist in bio for more of my works!

It's one of those days when you're sure the Universe hates you.

Whenever you think everything is fine, whenever you think you're about to have a nice day for once, whatever creatures that control the world probably look at you and say hm, I don't think so, bitch.

You close your eyes tightly and embrace your own body, heavy blankets covering you. The bedroom is considerably dark, but it's probably already noon and the world outside must be looking beautiful. It's summer, after all - and you're in one of the nicest places in the planet to enjoy summer: Rio de Janeiro.

You still don't know exactly how you ended up here. Jimin simply texted you some nights ago, asking if you wanted to "escape" from work. Of course you said yes, but you didn't expect that Jimin meant "escape" literally and would take you to fucking Brazil. 

You don't know him very well, but one thing you've learned about Park Jimin in these six months is that he's a very surprising man.

When you started with the whole sugar daddy thing, you didn't expect it to turn out to be good - because at the beginning, it really wasn't. You just started it because the idea of earning money easily was nice and you were desperate, so when you found out there was an app to find daddies (yes, there are apps about it), you downloaded it quickly. Let's just give it a try.

You did not meet anyone at first: you just sent nudes and some videos to your "clients", always covering your face and identity to protect yourself, and the experience was humiliating to say the very least. You kept doing it because the "clients" actually did pay for it and, again, you needed the money. Many of them said they'd pay more if you met them in person. You always refused. If just sending them some nudes made you feel that bad, then meeting in person or maybe having sex with them would be terrible.

That is… until you met Jimin.

You still don't know why the fuck he was using that app. Let's be honest, Park Jimin is not the type of man that needs to pay for sex. He sent you a message, though, and for some time you just sent him nudes as usual. Jimin was doing it anonymously - as most of the "clients" do - so you had no idea he was young. That is, until he started to ask for your private number. You got worried at first; he wasn't the first one to ask this, and you'd always refuse any kind of personal contact with the "clients". You're not stupid. You know that most of those old men are searching for a dumb girl or boy to use them in ugly ways. You considered blocking him…

Until you woke up to one thousand dollars in your bank account.

No one has ever paid that much.

All that because he wanted your private number.

Well, you gave him. If anything became strange, you could just block him and get rid of this number, right?

However, things took an unexpected route when the first thing Jimin sent was a video of himself masturbating for you.

You couldn't believe it. It could be a fake video, right? Are you telling me this beautiful man was on an app that only old men use? It took hours for you to reply - both because of your suspicion, your shock, and the fact that the video was mesmerizing. 

The man on the video was ridiculously hot. He was biting his bottom lip (such plump lips!) and moaning in a way that made your legs feel like jelly. And his cock - wow. Just wow.

You got wet and texted him back.

It was the first time someone made you come with texts.

You used to make fun of your friends when they talked about sexting, but sexting with this man was something out of this world. He was good with words and, before you noticed, you were sending more and more videos and nudes of yourself - and he'd constantly send videos of himself, too, what made you come to the conclusion that it wasn't fake. You've reached a point where you were doing it because of how hot it was, and not because of the money.

But then, Jimin thought that just sexting wasn't enough and asked to meet you in real life.

You still hesitated. You knew nothing about him. He could be a rapist, a psycho, a murderer. Jimin didn't force you into meeting him, though, what was unexpectedly nice of him (sugar daddies usually are not that nice), but he would ask from time to time if you'd like to meet.

A certain day, curiosity took the best of you and you said yes - as long as you'd meet in a public place.

Jimin choose a mall downtown.

It was a shocking moment.

One thing was seeing photos or videos of him. Another thing was seeing him in person.

His beautiful, plump lips. His cat-like eyes. Pitch black hair, flawless skin. He's not that tall, but his body proportions are balanced and perfect. The way he carries himself with confidence and pride, the way he looks at people with his piercing gaze…

When his eyes landed on you, you felt like being shot.

You promised yourself you wouldn't have sex with him, but ended up fucking the whole night.

The. Whole. Night.

Jimin was seductive. He was strong and flexible and had great stamina. Rough but  slow, deep and intoxicating, breath-takingly intense. He wasn't focusing only on his pleasure but on yours, too - and he didn't stop until he saw you begging desperately for release, dripping wet, toes curling, a moaning mess.

Jimin is that good.

After that night, you started fucking constantly. He started paying you higher, too - you soon found out Jimin is actually very rich and he doesn't mind buying you ridiculously expensive stuff. He even bought you a car. You're being so well paid that it's getting hard to hide your "secret life"; people are starting to notice you don't seem to struggle that much financially, which is strange, considering you work as a secretary with an average salary and has a university loan to pay (well, had; Jimin paid it for you).

You two are not close in the slightest, though. You don't know anything about Jimin's life other than the fact that he's super rich, his family owns Korea considering the amount of business they have in the country, and that he fucks good. Your relationship is strictly sexual. You don't ask about his life, he doesn't ask about yours. Jimin also made clear that he doesn't mind if you have a boyfriend or not and that you can end your "business" with him whenever you want. That's what surprises you: he seems to be a nice guy. Jimin doesn't force you to do anything, he constantly asks if you're liking it or not when you're fucking. His sex might be rough, but his actions and words are not. He never screamed at you, never spanked too strongly, never roped you too tightly, never offended you. Jimin doesn't think he can do whatever he wants with you just because he's paying for it.

Does it make you feel less bad? No. You know that what you're doing is prostitution. Sure, Jimin is the only person you have sex with, but it doesn't change the fact that you're being paid. You still need the money anyways - and you won't finish it all until you get what you need.

Jimin being so nice and fucking so good makes you consider staying a little longer sometimes.

He is so nice that he brought you to Rio with him after all. You know he's a busy man, having some free days to travel was probably hard for him. You should be rewarding him. You wanted to make him feel good, to enjoy the sun and the sea, to wear that pretty bikini he bought for you. Shit, you two should be fucking out there in the beach.

But here you are. Locked in the bedroom under the covers.

Sick.

Fever, headache, vomiting everything you eat. The doctor said it's a virus or something. You were already feeling bad even before you got in the plane, and now you feel bad for not telling him, because you could've taken some medicine and you'd be feeling better now. 

Instead of a sexy bikini, you're wearing one of your ugly (but comfy) pajamas, far from the nightgowns Jimin likes. Your hair is a mess, you're not wearing any makeup. What if Jimin gets disappointed with you bare face? Everything about this trip is wrong. 

When you hear Jimin's steps and the door opening, you close your eyes again.

He sits down by your side and put his hand on your forehead.

"How are you feeling?" He asks softly. You open your eyes and see the stunning man in front of you: he's wearing simple black shorts and a white cotton shirt. It's amazing how he can look good in such a simple outfit.

"Like crap," you say, raspy voice, and Jimin giggles. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing, baby? No one gets sick on purpose." It's one of the rare moments when Jimin is not talking with any type of sexual connotation, which is surprising. You expected him to be mad or disappointed, but he looks… concerned? The way his eyebrows are furrowed and he analyzes your face look like concern, at least. "I think the medicine is working. If you feel worse, I'll call the doctor again, okay?"

You nod weakly while Jimin caresses your hair. "I wish things were different."

"It's alright. This house is mine, we can come back whenever we want." You don't know why you still get shocked when Jimin says stuff like I own a mansion in a private beach so naturally, as if it's not a big deal. "We can visit Copacabana next time… and the Christ statue, if you want to, but that place is always too crowded. There is a city near here called Paraty, I think you'd love it, too…"

You lay there in silence as Jimin speaks. Okay, that is unexpected. You thought he just wanted to fuck in a cool beach, you didn't expect Jimin wanted to take you to touristic places. It almost felt like…

A couple?

You brush this idea off as soon as it crosses your mind. You know Jimin doesn't feel anything but sexual attraction for you - and it's the other way around. You're not stupid enough to fall for him. This is a man that pays to have you. He surely has some obsessive issues. You think that he wouldn't be a nice boyfriend at all, your relationship just works because you're as detached as him.

The idea of being in an actual relationship with him is… well…

"Rest now and you'll feel better soon." He says reassuringly, a small smile on his lips. Again, you search for any hint of annoyance on his expression - nothing.

The discomfort eases a little.

That is, until you see Jimin getting under the covers with you.

"What are you doing?!" You ask, surprised. Jimin's not going to initiate anything sexual, right? He's seeing you're sick!

"I'm not a doctor, but… one thing I know is that cuddling helps a lot in the healing process."

You feel Jimin's arms wrapping around your waist, your back touching his chest. He snuggles closer to you in a warm, cozy hug.

Your heart races. 

"Sleep now, baby." He whispers on your ear and kisses your neck tenderly. "Don't feel bad. I'm not mad at you."

As unexpected (and weird) as it is, you smile softly. It's been a long time since you've been so close to someone like this - no second intentions involved. It feels good. Although you're very aware of what your thing with Jimin is and you agreed with it in the first place, not being treated like a sexual toy feels good.

It's the first time you touch each other like this.

It feels more intimate than any sex you've ever had.

"And…" Jimin whispers in a raspy, low voice. "We'll have enough time later for you to pay for what we lost here, baby."

This makes you shiver. You love it when Jimin talks like that.

Your stomach twirls in excitement just imagining what Jimin will do to you in the future.