#i just woke up and i looked up with this art cus this is too MUCH CUTES for meee <333 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hornime · 4 years ago

Text

watch and learn | iwaizumi hajime x f!reader x team japan

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

warnings: 18+, timeskip!everyone, BIG MANGA SPOILERS BASICALLY, exhibitionism, voyeurism, orgasm denial

w/c: 3.1k

a/n: now i don’t know if iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer learned about female orgasms when he was studying sports science at irvine BUT he def knows how to show a girl a good time which is reason enough for me to write this. also, i read this article to prep for this piece and it was super enlightening, so i do recommend giving it a read if you’re interested!

in the middle of his morning run, iwaizumi slowed momentarily to check the repetitive buzzing of this phone, curious as to who was messaging him this early. when he’d left the apartment, you were sleeping, and you had the tendency to still be sleeping by the time he returned, so who else could it be?

he unlocked his phone, quickly finding the source of the notifications: the team japan group chat.

[06:43 AM] miya: hey @iwaizumi—you know stuff abt the human body right?

[06:43 AM] miya: cus like you studied it in college and shit??

iwaizumi rolled his eyes. i spent four years in america to earn my degree, came back home to support my country’s olympic team, and dealt with the biggest idiots of volleyball, only to get treated like this?

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: yes, miya. i took many courses on the human body. in fact that’s the purpose of my job. to know the human body. because i am a fucking athletic trainer.

[06:44 AM] miya: okay okay i get it. dumb question

[06:44 AM] iwaizumi: why? is something up? you need help or anything?

[06:44 AM] miya: uhhh kinda

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata i’m not fucking asking this

[06:44 AM] bokuto: bro just do it

[06:44 AM] miya: @hinata @hinata @hinata

iwaizumi cocked an eyebrow. what the hell are they going on about?

[06:45 AM] iwaizumi: so am i needed or...

[06:45 AM] hinata: YES

[06:45 AM] hinata: we had a question

[06:46 AM] sakusa: by “we” he means him, miya, and bokuto

[06:46 AM] suna: yeah don’t bring us into this

[06:46 AM] hinata: don’t listen to them! both suna and sakusa wanna know too

[06:46 AM] iwaizumi: okay. what’s up

[06:47 AM] hinata: we wanted to know how to make a girl cum

he chuckled in disbelief.

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: you’re telling me that you guys are in your mid-20s, literal olympic athletes, and you don’t know how to make a girl cum

[06:47 AM] iwaizumi: have you never done it before??

[06:47 AM] miya: NO

[06:47 AM] miya: FOR THE RECORD IVE MADE MANY GIRLS CUM

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ME TOO

[06:48 AM] bokuto: i think

he laughed out loud, briefly startling another runner on the sidewalk.

[06:48 AM] iwaizumi: you guys are unbelievable

[06:48 AM] hinata: i mean she says she finished but idk what i did to make that happen

[06:48 AM] bokuto: ^^

[06:48 AM] hinata: so like i wanna know how to actually do it

[06:48 AM] suna: actually im kinda interested in this too

[06:48 AM] aran: i pray for your future girlfriends. this is painful to see. im out

[06:48 AM] kageyama: i’m with aran on this one. you guys are dumb

[06:48 AM] hinata: shut up. you suck.

[06:48 AM] miya: cmon iwaizumi, help a guy out

[06:48 AM] sakusa: it wouldnt hurt for you to give us some pointers at least

iwaizumi sighed.

[06:49 AM] iwaizumi: @miya @hinata @bokuto @suna @sakusa meet in the locker room after practice. ill give you guys a lesson in the art of pleasing a woman

to teach effectively, he needed a volunteer, though he was sure you wouldn’t need much convincing. you’d always loved the attention, and the biceps, of the pro athletes. he spun on his heel and jogged home.

you woke up to the sound of your apartment door opening, your boyfriend creeping inside, forehead damp with sweat.

“hey,” you said quietly, making your way towards him.

“hey, baby. sorry for waking you up, i was trying to be quiet.”

you giggled sleepily. “s’okay, haji. you spoil me too much anyway, always letting me sleep in for hours while you’re off doing god knows what.”

at that, his eyes crinkled in amusement, and as you tried to step into a hug, he shuffled back. “woah there, baby. i gotta shower, ‘m all gross from my run. and then,” he gave you a peculiar look that you couldn’t quite place, “i got a proposition for you.”

after his shower, he waltzed out of the bathroom, steam wafting out from behind the door. his tanned body made you feel things you definitely shouldn’t be barely an hour after the sun’s risen, and you reached out to massage the tension in his shoulders. “so, what’s your proposition?”

“well,” he hesitated. “it’s a bit... unconventional. the team asked me to show them how to make a girl cum,” he took in your intrigued expression. “and it’d be a lot easier to explain if i had someone to do a live demonstration with. so,” his eyes flicked up to you. “that’s where you’d come in.”

“a... live demonstration? like you’re gonna make me cum in front of them?”

“yeah, essentially.” he gave you a devilish grin. “you want that, baby? wanna show those boys how a real man treats a gorgeous woman like you?”

you rubbed your thighs at his words. “yeah,” you purred. “i do. wanna show them how good you are to me.”

and that’s how you found yourself nestled between iwaizumi’s muscled thighs, back pressed against his chest, completely naked, with five of japan’s best volleyball players staring at your body in awe.

practically an expert in his field, iwaizumi knew the human body inside and out. this had many benefits; of course it allowed him to catapult up the ranks and work with the country’s best athletes to keep them at the top of their game, but it also had a unique side effect: an overwhelming vault of knowledge on how to make a woman feel good anywhere.

you’d seen the proof firsthand; he knew exactly where to push, prod, stroke, and tease to have you cumming in seconds, over and over, as many times as you wanted. he was amazing, and you were well-aware just how lucky you were to have such a talented man in the sheets.

“oi,” iwaizumi snapped his fingers, drawing each of the players’ eyes away from your glistening cunt. “pay attention. i know more than anybody that she’s hot as fuck, but you gotta listen to what i’m saying or else there’s no point to this.”

he lightly pressed his lips against your collarbone, slowly tracing them against your jaw, the contact making you squirm. “if you wanna make a girl cum, first thing you gotta do is make her comfortable. if she’s worried about how she looks or sounds or smells she’s gonna be too stressed to let go.” he moved his hands to grope your tits, his calloused fingers brushing over your hardening nipples. “so reassure her, tell her how irresistible she is, how pretty her moans are, how tasty her pussy is. shit like that. the sexier she feels the better it’ll be.”

he leaned into you, whispering into your ear. “feeling good, baby? we can stop whenever.”

you nodded weakly, afraid to open your mouth, barely holding in your whines as his palms worked wonders on your chest and stomach, sending shocks of heat wherever they touched.

you craned your neck up to observe the men before you. atsumu was flushed red, wringing his hands as if he was worried they’d do something embarrassing if he didn’t keep them occupied. hinata was bouncing his leg up and down, wiping his palms on his shorts as he took in the plushness of your thighs. bokuto was basically drooling, greedily tracing your soft curves with his eyes. suna maintained his indifferent expression, but the reddening tips of his ears showed that he was a lot more hot and bothered than he let on. sakusa stood quietly to the side, leaning against the wall, mask tucked under his chin as if he’d just realized how much the temperature had gone up in the room.

there were two things they all had in common: the growing bulges in their pants that they were urgently trying to distract themselves from, and the fact that their full attention was on you.

"make sure to try different things; there’s multiple ways to make a woman cum. only like a quarter of women experience orgasms just from penetration,” someone made a sound of shock. “yes, the number is that small, bokuto.”

his fingertip slowly trailed past your belly button, dipping into the mess between your thighs, causing you to slightly arch your back into the solid chest supporting you. “foreplay with the clit is your best bet; even stupid fucks like you probably wouldn’t screw it up too bad.”

hinata opened his mouth to speak, but iwaizumi anticipated his question and continued.

“i know you’re wondering where the clit is. it’s around here, under this hood of skin,” he slid his digit between your labia. “s’not gonna come with a label so you gotta explore a little bit. i know where hers is like the back of my hand, but for you guys, with your girls, you’re gonna have to move your fingers around. slowly. and pay attention to her expressions.” he began to rub in a circular motion around your clit, causing you to make small whimpers of pleasure and shift your hips to meet his movements.

“if she clenches up or twitches when you feel a certain spot, like this,” your legs flexed as he increased the pressure, “that’s the clit. be kind, it’s not a volleyball. be gentle n’ make small circles, whether it’s with your fingers or your tongue.”

he thought for a second. “speaking of which, oral’s important. very important. most women cum when they’ve been eaten out, so use your mouths for something more useful than just dirty talk. suck on the clit, maybe tongue-fuck her a ‘lil, but your main focus should always be the clit.”

he removed his hands from your sopping pussy, and you made a pathetic noise of frustration. “’m sorry, baby,” he muttered seductively in your ear. “don’t wanna have you finishing too early. lesson’s barely started.”

he turned his attention back to your audience, his lustful tone being replaced by a more instructional one. “there’s other places that’ll help a woman orgasm, too: her nipples, her neck, her ears—”

“her ears?” sakusa questioned. he blushed profusely as everyone turned to look at him, surprised that he’d opened his mouth. “what? we were all thinking it.”

“s’a valid question,” iwaizumi said. “yeah, you can lick ‘em if they’re sensitive. hers are.” as if to prove his statement, he licked a stripe on the shell of you ear, making you wiggle helplessly at the stimulation. “‘n leave kisses everywhere else. feels good for them just like it does for us.” he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and forcing your movements to stop as he traced patterns with his tongue all around your neck.

“something you should know about an orgasm is that it’s something called a positive feedback loop.” he looked up and was met with five blank stares. shouldn’t have expected anything from these dumb jocks, he lamented. “basically that means that, once you start releasing sexual tension, things will feel better and better until you climax.”

“oh!” atsumu chirped. “like how my sets get better and better throughout a game.”

“no, not really,” he quipped. “your sets suck throughout.” atsumu frowned at that.

iwaizumi exhaled exasperatedly. “the general idea is that the body gets more and more sensitive, muscle contractions become more and more frequent, and touches feel more and more stimulating until you cum. all right?”

they all made noises of understanding except for bokuto and hinata, whose eyes had glazed over at the first mention of an academic term. whatever, iwaizumi thought. they’ll get it through example.

"don’t worry about it too much if you don’t get it, that’s just an orgasm on paper. in practice, though, this is the crucial step: listen to her. she knows what feels good. never forget that you’re just an idiot with a cock.” he took a breath, gathering his thoughts before proceeding with his lecture.

“if she tells you to slow down, you slow down. if she tells you to go harder, you go harder. if she tells you to keep doing what you’re doing, you...”

“keep doing what you’re doing”, they all chimed in at staggered times.

“that’s right. don’t go faster or else you’ll mess up the rhythm and she won’t cum. and you wanna make her cum, don’t you?”

they nodded simultaneously.

“so if you keep up the tempo and force that feels good to her, you’ll be fine. questions?”

suna spoke up. “what about,” he choked on the word. “penetration?”

hinata hummed in agreement and bokuto jumped in. “yeah, what if i wanna make her cum on my cock?”

iwaizumi made a weird face. “that’s some pretty advanced stuff, but i guess i can go over it. when you try it, though, you have to be patient. with both of your bodies. s’not rocket science but s’not always easy. also it depends on the woman but sometimes she physically won’t be able to finish from penetration alone. just make sure you’re communicating.”

his swirled two fingers over your hole before shoving them in, your wetness making it easy for him to thrust in and out as your entrance stretched to accommodate him. “f—fuck!” your eyes flew open at the intrusion and you body lurched forward, but you were held back by his strong forearm. “ohmygod, oh my g—ah! feels s’good haji, s’good!”

“i know, baby, i know. you’re taking it so well.” he turned his attention back to the men, each of who were gulping heavily. if that didn’t signal to you that they were evidently affected by your moans, the way they shifted in their workout shorts did.

“boys, focus.” he curled his fingertips, brushing at the spongy spot at the top of your walls, ripping a pleasured wail from your throat and causing tears to prick at your eyelashes. “when you’re fingering her, you’ll feel an area inside that’s a bit soft and squishy. that’s the g-spot.”

you trembled in his arms as he mercilessly struck the same place over and over again with his fingers. “when you’re fucking her, try to keep the pressure building there, but it’ll be harder to make her finish since you can’t see what you’re doing.”

your breath hitched as iwaizumi’s incessant movements brought your body tantalizingly close to your release. he suddenly stopped and you almost sobbed in disappointment, until he plunged his fingers impossibly deeper.

a guttural scream of ecstasy came from within you, and your eyes rolled back as he began playing with another part of you, your body putty in his hands. “hngh, haji, ah! so good, s’good...” you threw your hands back around his neck, nails digging into the skin as you desperately tried to keep yourself grounded. your soft moans filled the air.

“stop clenching,” he hissed. “can barely move my hand.” you tried to relax but failed miserably as the tips of his fingers grazed your cervix.

“holy fuck,” suna muttered. “you’re a god.”

“she sounds so pretty,” atsumu said in amazement.

“i wanna make a girl feel good like that, too!” bokuto sulked.

“you can do it, bokuto!” hinata hit him on the arm. “just listen to iwaizumi. clearly he knows what he’s talking about.”

their eyes refocused on your figure, writhing in pleasure, prompting white hot waves of arousal to pool in their stomachs.

“yeah,” sakusa said. “clearly.”

“stop talking,” iwaizumi ordered. “and listen. beyond the g-spot is the cervix, which is basically the end of the vagina. if you’re long enough,” he briefly scanned each of their faces, “which i’m sure you are, you’ll be able to reach it if you bottom out.”

“haji—hajime, please.” the stimulation was coming absolutely unbearable, and you could tell he was sadistically holding you at the edge, refusing to give you the satisfaction of finishing. “lemme cum, please. please lemme cum, please, please, i can’t—i can’t take it ‘nymore!”

“what was that? you can’t take it anymore? gonna cum?” you helplessly bobbed your head up and down, hoping that he’d give you permission. “well,” he growled, “we can’t have that happening, can we?”

he abruptly halted his thrusts, pulling his fingers out of you with an embarrassing squelch and popping them into his mouth. pearly tears rolled down your cheeks as you grieved the loss of contact and relief.

your viewers looked on in horror, feeling immense sympathy for you; you just looked so dejected from being denied yet another orgasm.

“why didn’t you—why didn’t you let her cum?” bokuto asked.

“why do you think?” iwaizumi snapped. “don’t want you guys to see her when she does. that’s for me, and only me.”

“oh, okay,” he responded, disgruntlement clear in his voice.

iwaizumi’s glare could cut glass, it was so sharp. the possessiveness that had enveloped his mind made him hyperfocus on just one thought: being alone with you. “so, any other questions? if not, we’re done here.”

you pouted at that, not wanting the demonstration to be over. “but haji,” you mumbled into his collarbone. “i di’nt get to cum. and i wanna.” you looked up at him, eyes wide with want. “please make me cum.”

iwaizumi sent a harsh glance to the players that nonverbally communicated his message loud and clear: get out. they shuffled awkwardly out of the locker room due to the hardness between their legs that they would most definitely need to deal with soon.

your boyfriend turned his attention back to you. “’m sorry, i know i had to deny you a bunch of times. i just really hated the idea of anyone but me seeing the cute way you look when you cum.”

you made a small noise of acknowledgement and a little whisper of it’s okay, haji. he looked down, sensing the way your poor, desperate cunt was pulsing around nothing, the erotic sight injecting him with the pure need to ravage you.

he shifted his head to kiss you passionately. “why don’t i make it up to you?” he breathed between your parted lips before picking you up by the backs of your thighs, forcing you to lock your ankles around his waist.

he delicately situated you onto one of the recovery beds at the back of the room, before murmuring something that made your pussy throb in anticipation: “i’ll make you cum whichever way you want, however many times you want, all right? all you gotta do is lay back and take it.”

#kinky.inky #haikyū!!#haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #atsumu smut #hinata smut #bokuto smut #suna smut #sakusa smut #iwaizumi #sakusa #bokuto #hinata #suna #atsumu

4K notes · View notes

soobasaur · 4 years ago

Text

buzzfeed said i like-like you..

— a lee felix x au

(half felix pov half y/n pov)

lee felix x gender!neutral reader genre: best friends to lovers

a/n: this is mainly in felix’s pov since i thought it would fit better, the next felix au will be in y/n’s pov (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃ and if you have any requests just ask away and i’ll try my best <3

« masterlist

felix was currently very calm!! c a l m!!

certainly not panicking, nope not him!

it started when he flopped onto his bed in defeat after giving up on his art history essay

he could only analyze medieval paintings for so long >:((

so he ended up clicking on his folder of bookmarks and scrolling for the buzzfeed quiz one

dont judge him it was very relaxing !!

he did a couple weird ones like ‘what type of bread are you?’ (he was a challah bread apparently?!) and ‘what is your horror movie death scene?’ (he was going to be murdered!!)

he started clicking on the recommended ones until he landed on the romance section

he usually ignored these since they were typically very boring but just for the sake of it he chose one titled ‘are you in love with your best friend?

he scoffed as he let the quiz load and his mind wandered off to you

you and felix had met in grade school due to the both of you being the new kids and immediately being stuck together since no other kids wanted anything to do with you

and every since then you had been glued to the hip

he loved you sure, but being in love with you? he didn’t think he was.. he wouldn’t be opposed to it though

‘do you think your best friend is beautiful?’

obviously!! felix thought, choosing said option, how could he not? u were the most ethereal person he had ever been blessed to see, other then himself of course

‘when you get into arguments, are you reluctant to apologize and end it quickly or wait for them to apologize first?’

felix had to think about this one

you both didn’t rlly fight, it was usually over stupid things like the both of you needing to take care of yourselves more and such

but felix found himself apologizing more since he knew you were too stubborn to make the first move even if you wanted to

and whenever he did apologize you always broke down and did the same

he chose ‘i apologize first to get it over with’

‘do you often cuddle and kiss your best friend?’

doesnt everyone? felix thought, hovering his cursor over ‘duh!’

he often gave you cheek kisses and pulled you into hugs whenever he saw you, even if you were always shy and flustered afterwards

he thought it was cute to see you like that

and you often fell asleep in his bed during movie nights and the both of you woke up tangled into one another

now that he thought about it he didn’t really kiss his other best friends, he shuddered at the thought

‘would you get jealous if someone else were to kiss your best friend?’

felix frowned at the mere thought of someone else kissing you

only he could give you cheek kisses goddamnit !!

he wouldn’t be mad if jisung got kisses from someone else though, he’d be happy his friend had found a partner

but if you found a partner...he didn’t know how to feel about that

it would fall between wanting you to be happy and he should be making you happy

he quickly filled out the question and moved on, that was too much for him

the rest of the questions were things like ‘do you know their favorite color?’ ‘do you have their birthday memorized?’ (yes to both!)

he clicked done and waited for his old laptop to boot up the results

oh...O H

WTF ?/$:&:@;

felix squinted at screen once more before pulling up a google tab

he went through multiple wikihow articles before just shutting down his laptop and taking his head into his hands

did he have a crush on you??? weren’t crushes supposed to give you butterflies and shit?

well...he did get butterflies whenever you complimented him,,,

oh shit he did have a crush on you

he dove headfirst into his pillow and kicked his legs before sitting up, coming to a conclusion

he couldn’t just hold this vital piece of information to himself!!

and that’s how felix found himself in front of your dorm building, freezing in nothing but basketball shorts and a hoodie he was pretty sure he stole from you

felix came barreling towards you, picking you up in a hug despite his tiny size

once he finally stopped spinning you and set you down was when you have him a confused look

“your welcome over whenever but why the sudden visit at 3am?” you ask, leading felix towards your dorm room

“fun news!! i realized i’m in love with you, thanks to a buzzfeed quiz!” he answered, doing jazz hands as you locked the dorm door behind you

“you’re...what now?” questioning if you heard right, ignoring your heart beat thumping loudly against your chest

“yeah like, i’m in love with you and realized it just now so i came here to tell you and-,”

/!&:@:@;@;@@, you were malfunctioning

how was?? felix so?? casual?? about this??

u had known you were in love with him since like /forever/ aND THIS MF JUST REALIZED A MINUTE AGO??

and you told him so, stalking towards him and reaching him in just two strides, shaking his shoulders

“what took you so long oh my god-,”

“wait does this mean you feel the same? cus if not it’s cool we can be homies ahah-,”

you did the cliche thing where you shut him up with a kiss

it made him go ∴◠‿◠∴

“we are not homies-,”

“we’re homies with benefits!”

*deep sigh*

from then on your relationship didn’t change that much

you were just best friends who know kissed one another and made out

bonus: headcanons

felix took on a new routine of coming over to your place at the ass crack of dawn

it drove you mad but you never slept anyways so you always opened the door

which was why felix came over in the first place!! to seduce you into a healthy sleeping schedule ;)

“y/n you would look so good tucked into your covers, all warm and cuddly as i hug you close-,”

“are you really trying to seduce me into sleeping right now??”

“...well is it working?” felix winked

“...maybe.”

(side note felix’s morning voice was to die for so if staying up late got felix to come over then that was another excuse for you to not sleep)

and since he was a dance major you always bought him bouquets and gifts after every single showcase

one time you got him a bunch of red roses and when you guys went back to his place he stuck one in his mouth and pulled you into a slow dance

it didn’t last very long though cus a thorn was left on the stem and caught his lip and you ended up having to help stop the bleeding

he still gave you a smile throughout it all though

“you look so creepy smiling with a mouthful of blood-,”

which made him smile even bigger

college with your best friend was fun but was even more fun with your boyfriend

the two of you often went on double dates with your friends jeongin and jisung, who recently got together, and had a blast going to parties

felix was a clingy drunk

if you thought he was clingy before just you wait

he would latch onto your arm like a koala and let you drag him around

and he would back hug you as you walked around

it was endearing though so you always let him get away with it

but if felix got too much to drink all hell broke loose

you still have flashbacks to that one time he started stripping on the pool table

you got a nice sight of his abs but so did everyone else !!

felix was willing to do anything with you and vice versa

if you even had the smallest inconvenience he was there to help

like that one time your coffee wouldn’t come out of the vending machine he karate kicked it until it did, and dragging you to run away when he spotted a hall monitor walking towards you

all in all he made you happy

it was perfect :’)

thank you for reading !!

#lee felix #yongbok #lee felix imagines #felix x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #lee felix x reader #yongbok x reader #lee yongbok #lee yongbok x reader #felix au #lee felix au #stray kids au #stray kids best friends to lovers

410 notes · View notes

vickyshinoa12 · 3 years ago

Text

Bro I’ve been loving Scáthach or Scatch recently... idk what it is but I took a nap today and dreamt of her and I making out under the stars... my Bisexual ass woke up and legit looked her up for some art stuff as well as seeing if there’s any x Female reader stories. So far there’s only one. But I just want a story where it was like I dreamed.... where Reader Chan is under the stars and then made out with Cu’s teacher I mean come on now.

*cough* Ok so now on Scáthach is my waifu as well as Ryuko Matoi... you know what- I think I have a type for bad ass women and that’s probably why I had a little crush on Wonder Woman when I was younger... but yeah bad ass women is my wife. Erza would be one too but she’s more like my favorite character then a waifu.

Anyway here is a picture that pretty much sums up Scáthach being like, “Guess who turned the ‘I only like fictional men’ gay?” Face lmao!

Besides that I haven’t been really posted a lot of Bisexual stuff on here I noticed, but yeah I’m fangirling over how pretty she is-

OK LEMME STOP BEFORE I PASS OUT!😳

#bisexual #lesbian thoughts #I’m in love with a women rn #Scáthach #fate/GO #Fate Scáthach #she is so beautiful #please marry me #I love her #legit blushing when writing this

1 note · View note

omori-aus-archive · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 14: Older Siblings' Responsibility Part II

Mari, thankfully, was in a much better state of mind after properly resting.

And during the night before the sleepover Sunny was supposed to have with the brothers, she had something important on her mind.

"I've been...thinking about something." She told Sunny in his mindscape. "Would you be alright without Omori and I for a little bit?"

The boy tilted his head in confusion, cuing his sister to elaborate, "I've been wondering...if I should try to go back into my mind again soon."

She then shrugged, "I don't know. I just...feel like maybe I'll be able to wake up or my brain might improve...."

Mari rubbed her eyes, "I just want things to go back to normal. I hate this. It hurts you. It hurts me."

"It's not fun being like this if we're...constantly reminded of our pain." She added, before feeling Sunny curl up against her.

He's too exhausted to verbally answer....

But because Mari was here of all places...with nothing to prevent her from hearing her brother's thoughts...she could tell that Sunny trusted her with her choice.

And believed in her, regardless if she woke up...or simply improved.

Mari knew how much her unique circumstance reminded her brother of what he perceived as his worst mistake.

Sunny knew that his sister wanted nothing more than to be awake and talk to everyone. She also didn't want to die without making up for what she saw as her worst failure.

To that end.... To make things feel right again.... Sunny believed and trusted Mari's choice....

...With every bit of his heart and mind.

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

As the day turned to night...and as Hero and Kel came over, had dinner with Sunny, before heading to bed, Sunny found himself in the piano room late at night....

....

He didn't know what called him to go there.

He remembered that during this past year, he had been peering into the room, slowly growing more comfortable with its presence again.

And as of a few months ago, Mari had found it in herself to openly voice her hidden resentment towards it and her practices.

It seemed that while music was Mari's passion, these past few years have helped her realize just how lonely and pressured she felt during her piano practices.

Music, despite Sunny appreciating and liking it, wasn't his passion. Art was.

The boy entered the room, looking around and at the piano.

Mari was asleep right now, as was Omori, so the boy didn't have to worry about making his sister uncomfortable by being in here.

Just as he reached for the keys, Sunny jumped at the door behind him opening.

It was Hero, giving a small smile, "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." "Can't sleep?" He asked.

Sunny shook his head, leading the young man to enter the room and sit with him by the piano.

"You know Mari will forgive you, right?" Hero said, rubbing the boy's back. "You know her. She's forgiving and loving. That's the kind of person she is."

The boy nodded, whispering, "I know...."

After a few moments of silence, Sunny said, "Mari hates this room. She hates how lonely she was. How much pressure she was under."

"She hates not noticing what was going on sooner. She hates not taking action sooner." He added.

The young man looked at the boy like he was losing his mind.

"WHAT?" Hero asked firmly.

Sunny sighed, rubbing his eyes and going over with Hero what he told Aria.

The young man, unlike the artist however, still seemed lost.

"I'm...not gonna lie to you, this still sounds outlandish." He told the boy. "Not to mention it's a lot to take in...."

Sunny gave a small nod, lowering his head.

It was surprising. Aria was the last person he thought would believe him, but she did without hesitation. Hero, the person who he thought would believe him immediately, was more reluctant and skeptical.

Sunny yawned, before Hero said, "How about we talk about this more later. It's late and you're tired."

The boy gave a weak nod, before making his way into the hall....

...Before promptly making his way to the makeshift bed on the floor and laying down next to Kel, immediately falling asleep.

The young man blinked a few times, stunned that Sunny just stole his spot, before noticing how comfortable he seemed next to Kel.

A small smirk formed on Hero's face, taking a quick picture of the scene before whispering to himself, "I can sleep on the couch. I'll tease them about this later."

Omori: Recovery Route (A Coma-Mari AU by pyroanime2k16)

A/N: Sorry. No special cover this time. Also, this will primarily focus on Mari and Sunny's interactions, as that's what I write best.

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

Chapter 1: Case Of Awareness

Mari would've had to be a fool in order to NOT notice what her brother was going through.

Even now, as they were practicing for the recital one more time, the girl could tell how stressed Sunny seemed.

She could tell that he was growing tired and frustrated with the constant practice of the recital. Her perfectionism and their father's expectations certainly weren't helping and she knew it....

The older of the two siblings wanted to apologize in some way. A way that could actually be felt.

Mari was also worried about straining or ruining her sibling relationship with Sunny.

Eventually, the practice ended and Sunny quietly left the room. Mari felt a sickening feeling in her abdomen.

....

And then there was the sound of something shattering on the floor, cuing Mari to immediately stand up and rush to the foyer, spotting a broken violin at the bottom of the stairs.

The teenage girl paled. She screwed up. She was certain that she had fucked up now....

Especially when she turned to face Sunny, who was struggling to calm down. He was heaving, his arms shaking as he tried...and failed to take in deep breaths.

Mari went up the stairs. She had to fix this. She let this happen for too long. She had to do something to make up for it.

"Sunny...?" The teenager called out, cuing the boy to instinctively turn away. "Sunny, please look at me."

The boy didn't say anything for a few moments, before mumbling, “Please leave me alone….” His sister shook her head, “Brother, please talk to me…!”

“Mari, please stop….” The boy mumbled at a volume that was to quiet to hear. He was struggling to keep himself calm.

He wanted to run. He wanted to leave.

"Please just...talk to me, Sunny...!" The teenager pleaded. "Please let me try to help...!"

The boy shook his head, trying to block the words out. He needed to leave. To be alone to calm down.

Eventually, after a few more moments of back and forth, Sunny just...couldn't take it anymore and chose to push Mari away to give him some distance....

...Except both parties forgot that they were on top of the stairs. Upon being pushed, Mari's bad knee ultimately buckled painfully, causing her to fall towards the stairs....

Almost on pure instinct and in a state of shock, Sunny lurched forward and grabbed Mari's hand with his left, holding the railing with his right.

Almost immediately, the boy's weak grip began slipping, cuing him to tighten his hold as much as he could. The two siblings looked at each other, still in shock by what just happened.

The older of the two siblings, much to Sunny's surprise, just gave a weak and sad smile as the boy's grip ultimately failed.

The boy could only watch in horror as his sister collapsed on the stairs and tumbled to the floor.

The boy stood in fright and silence, before eventually working up the courage to walk down towards Mari. Of course, he understandably assumed that she was dead....

That he accidentally killed his own sister....

Then he heard the very faint sound of breathing. After kneeling down and putting his ear near his sister's face, he was able confirm it.

The breathing was obviously strained...as a result of severe pain and a near-fatal incident....

But Mari was miraculously alive. Unconscious, but alive....

Though, before he could react to that, Sunny realized that there was another person in the house...right in the front doorway as he glanced up.

"Basil...?" The boy whispered, noticing the equally shocked and frightened blonde.

Basil then asked in a shaky voice, "I-Is she...?" "She's...alive.... Needs help. NOW...." Sunny responded as attempted to control his breathing.

"Get Kel and Hero's mom or dad...." The boy pleaded, which resulted in the blonde rushing next door in a panic....

...Leaving Sunny alone to hold Mari in his arms and whisper apology after apology....

#omori #mari omori #omori au #omori mari #omori sunny #sunny omori #recovery route au #omori omori #omori basil #omori kel #omori hero #omori aubrey #tw coma #tw hospital setting

38 notes · View notes

ambrosiaicecreem · 4 years ago

Photo

93 fun OC asks because why not (PT 1/2)

i’m splitting this up cus its a LOT, but it’s gonna be all 93 LMAO. courtesy of @lazysunjade. this one’s for YOU!

BASICS:

1. What is their gender?

Cis Male

2. What is their sexuality?

Bisexual

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

Silas means “the youngest”.. which is ironic really since he’s the oldest. He doesn’t really have many nicknames. He’s either just referred to by his first name or last name.

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger? Which sibling are they the closest with?

Silas only has one sibling: Marcus. Silas is older than Marcus by about 4 years, but despite the age difference they are incredibly close with each other. Marcus is Silas’ best friend, without a doubt about it.

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Silas was incredibly close with both of his parents while they were both still alive. His only other known relatives were his maternal grandparents, and he also had a positive relationship with them before they died. He had no other living known relatives.

6. What would they give their life for?

His family. No hesitation. Whether its for his brother or his kids, if he had to make the decision to sacrifice himself for their safety, he would do it.

7. Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet?

Silas is/was(?) in a relationship with Miss Camellia Pineda. It’s a bit complicated at this point in time but you can reread how they met here!

8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

Part of him still believes in the old Greek myths of departing to the Underworld. But another part of him believes that nothing will really happen, considering he already had his second chance to experience something out of death and all as a vampire. It’s unsettling to him, to say the least.

9. What is their favorite color? Favorite animal?

He really likes deep shades of red. His favorite animal has always been the Black-Winged Kite, a small bird of prey that’s native to Greece.

10. What are some of their talents/skills?

Silas is a master of the arts. Throughout his whole existence, he’s studied multiple art forms, but the one’s he’s perfected are painting and sculpture. Besides that, he’s very proficient with hand-to-hand combat, specifically Pankration which is the Greek form of martial arts. He has an almost perfect memory, which comes from his special talent of being able to project his memories.

11. If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be?

He honestly really wouldn’t want to change much, but maybe he’d like to be credited for a certain famous sculpture that he made that doesn’t have a “known artist”.

12. How old are they? When is their birthday?

Silas is 2,346 years old and his birthday is March 20th.

13. What do they do for fun?

Silas likes to create art, whether its painting or sculpting something. He also really likes to read history books. He was asleep for a good portion of it, so he likes to read up on what he missed.

14. What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it?

Silas is honestly really simple when it comes to human food. He likes freshly made loaves of bread. He doesn’t eat it often, simply because of how specific he likes it. Its more of a special treat whenever he’s in the mood to make it himself.

15. What was something their parents taught them?

Silas learned how to tie simple sailors knots from his father at a young age, meanwhile he learned how to bake bread from his mother.

16. Are they religious?

In a way, he is still. He does believe in the Greek pantheon to an extent. With his rebirth as a vampire, he isn’t 100% sure anymore, but he tries not to think too hard on it at times. When it comes to practicing his religion, he makes offerings to the gods with every new season that comes.

17. Where were they born?

Athens, Greece

18. What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages?

Silas can fluently speak Greek, English, Spanish, and Italian. He learned Greek from his human life. When he woke up from his hibernation, he learned English, Spanish, and Italian over a span of 100 years from traveling and attending university.

19. What is their occupation?

Technically, he has none. He doesn’t necessarily need to work, but he does take freelance art jobs from the city whenever they’d like something from him.

20. Do they have any titles? How did they earn them?

No titles.. yet.

PERSONALITY:

21. What is their favorite thing about their personality?

He likes how patient he can be. His patience has been a gift, really, in moments of high stress and it really could have drastically changed things if he didn’t have it.

22. What is their least favorite thing about their personality?

He’s got the good ol “Montolvo Hot-Head” trait. It takes a lot to get him genuinely angry, but when he gets mad.. he gets MAD. He’s almost blind to it and reacts entirely all on emotions, as seen when he punishes all three of his kids for something only one of them did.

23. Do they get lonely easily?

I’d say he does. Especially with how attached he’s gotten to Camellia in such a short amount of time.

24. Do you know their MBTI type?

I think Silas would be ISFJ: the Defender. Protective, warm, and caring.

25. What is their biggest flaw? & 26. Are they aware of their flaws?

He’s too forgiving, almost to the point of being a total pushover. He’s taken a lot of shit, specifically just from his ex-wife Serafina, but he still gave her the courtesy of explaining herself to their kids instead of just telling them himself. In hindsight, he shouldn’t be giving so many chances to people who’ve only proven to continuously fuck him over. He is WELL AWARE of his flaws, and he’s taken responsibility for them.

27. What is their biggest strength? & 28. Are they aware of their strengths?

His sense of loyalty. Whether its to his family or someone who he’d consider as family, if he’s needed, he’ll be there. He’s aware of it, but he tries to humble himself and doesn’t really focus his attention on it that much. He’d much rather focus on improving his flaws.

29. How would they describe their own personality?

“Loyal, Protective... and boring.”

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”?

It’s sorta a case by case thing, but he’s more flight than fight simply because of how strict vampire rules are in New Brando.

31. Does this character ever put somebody else’s needs before their own? Who do they do this for? How often do they do this?

uh, ALWAYS. He ALWAYS does this. He’s always putting other people before himself. He does it ESPECIALLY with his family and Camellia now.

32. What is their self esteem like?

He’s got a pretty average level self esteem. He doesn’t necessarily consider himself all that good-looking or interesting. He’s only recently gotten a confidence boost ever since he started dating Camellia.

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it?

His biggest fear is losing his kids. If he even loses ONE of them, he won’t be able to handle it. His guilt would consume him, and honestly, he’d probably just lose himself in order to be with them again.

34. How easily do they trust others with their secrets? With their lives?

Silas doesn’t really trust others with his secrets all that much. I mean look how long it took just for him to reveal the truth about the divorce. He’s the same way with his life. He only trusts a select few with that as well.

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them?

Just by being overly obnoxious and in his personal space.

36. What is their sense of humor like? Give an example of a joke they would find humorous.

“Dad, did you get a haircut?” “No, I got them all cut!” He’s a dad. Dad humor is in his blood at this point.

37. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? Do they say it without meaning it?

Silas will only say “I love you” to someone that ISN’T his family if he GENUINELY means it. If he doesn’t feel it from the instant spark, then odds are he’s not going to ever really come to say it.

38. What do others admire most about their personality?

He wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s extremely open to others and caring and protective.

39. What does their happily ever after look like?

Well I can’t just spoil that. It’s gonna be the ending!

40. Who do they trust most? Is that trust mutual?

Marcus, Angelina, and Camellia. That trust is all mutual.

PHYSICAL PROFILE:

41. What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh?

Silas has this kind of hearty laugh. Its very warm and inviting. He’s been laughing a lot more lately with Camellia being a sort of light in his life.

42 & 43. What is their favorite & least favorite thing about their physical appearance?

He likes his hair. He thinks its the most interesting thing about himself, physically. He doesn’t really have a least favorite thing about his appearance? He just considers himself to be really average for the most part.

44. Do they have any scars? If so, what are the stories behind those scars?

He does not have any real noticeable scars.

45. How would they describe their own appearance?

“Tall, a bit on the skinnier side, and boring clothes.”

46. How easily can they express emotions? How easily can they hide emotions?

He tends to wear his emotions on his face really easily. He knows how to hide them though, but he chooses not to.

#sims 4 #ts4 #aic: the montolvos extras #silas montolvo #answered asks

9 notes · View notes

abunchofstories · 6 years ago

Text

Last Night in Bucharest

A Bucky Barnes/OFC One-Shot - 15.816 words

This is Bucky’s POV, When in Romania is the OFC’s POV.

By: @lowkeysebastianstan

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Allusions Of Torture, Angst, PTSD, Explicit M/F Sex, 1st person POV, Excessive Use Of Commas, Far Too Long Paragraphs, Waffling, Adverbs, Google Translated Romanian

(Original art created for me by my wonderful husband.)

I could feel my hand slipping, but I couldn't feel the wind. I can never feel the wind. There had been wind. Roaring wind. I knew that. And the sound of metal screeching as the train flew along the ridge. No! Bucky! Hang on! NO!! Grab my hand. NO! Bucky!!! GRAB MY HAND!!!

Then the wind came.

It was all I knew until I woke, drenched in sweat, blood pulsing, heart pounding, and for a moment I didn't know again. I didn't know if I was still flying even if I clearly was grounded. I didn't know. I gasped for air, but the pressure was too much, the pressure on my chest was too much. Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe. I grabbed my knees and pressed my head between them. Safe. Safe.

"Obține bucata ta de rahat din calea mea!" The voices were muffled and mingled with a low howling sound. I flinched, but looking up I saw the glimmer of daylight through the makeshift blinds. Safe. I was in the room. My room. The door is there, the bolt is secure. They can't reach me. Safe.

"Du-te dracu!" The faint howl wasn't a siren, but a car honking. Safe.

I relinquished the grip on my calves, knowing the left one had angry red welts, four at the front, one at the back, and sank down, closing my eyes. I inhaled slowly, keeping my hands flat against the mattress, ignoring the uncomfortable chill of the soaked sheets. Safe.

I felt good, the dream being the wind one. The wind one was the best.

I exhaled and focused on the three stains on the ceiling, the three stains that looked like a dog. There was the bicycle too, but that was in the other direction, and I had just moved the mattress two days ago. I inhaled again, breathe in, exhaled, breathe out, inhaled, breathe in, exhaled, breathe out. I rolled off the mattress and stood up, ignoring the flashes of pain. I always ignore the pain.

Removing the cardboard from the window, I opened it to let in some fresh air before I walked into the bathroom and ran the shower. I stroked my chin to check if I needed to trim, appearance is important, they had taught me that. They taught me a lot of things.

I had to shop today, I remembered because I had made a list. The steam spread through the room, heating it. I wrenched out of the tee and sweats, and stepped in, feeling the hot torrent, thinking about the wind. Steve was in that one. He was in the other one too, but there he always turned into the other one. The one in white. Zola. No! Safe. Safe. Safe. I held my head and closed my eyes, concentrated on the list. I was going out today, and I had to shop. Safe. Safe. Safe.

I wriggled the handle, checking that the door was locked before descending the staircase. I scanned the floors carefully, no reason not to, everybody does that. The old lady on 3 approached carrying a big bag when I came down, and I held the door for her.

"Bună ziua, doamnă. Ar trebui sa te ajut?" I smiled, I have to smile, if I smile they smile back.

"Bună ziua, dragă. Nu, mulțumesc, mă descurc." She went inside, smiling appreciatively.

"Multumesc draga. Să aveţi o zi bună." I nodded, still smiling, and let the door slide shut before I stepped out of the shade of the entrance and into the faint afternoon sun.

It was pleasant, and there was a light breeze. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, shaking off the dream. Safe. I took my list out and set off to the library, I could shop at the little red store around the corner from it. After that I had to go out, but I didn't know where to yet. I had to walk until I found somewhere, maybe tonight I could find somewhere nice. Last week hadn't been that good, the music was too loud, and the patrons too drunk. I remember drinking, but I can't remember being drunk. I can't get drunk. I've tried, but all I get is lightheaded. I've tried because I know drinking is supposed to make you forget, but I remember all of them.

I reached Biblioteca Metropolitană and dipped my head in greeting to the girl at the front desk. Today she was wearing a low cut cotton tee in a soft blue colour, with some sort of animal printed on the front, her hair a brown mass of loose curls tumbling down her shoulders. She nodded back coolly, and I could feel her eyes on me, warily following me as I made my way to the elevator. I resisted the urge to look back as I pressed the button and waited for the doors to slide open, and when I turned in the lift she was staring at the screen in front of her. She was scared of me, she hadn't always been, but after the incident she'd kept her distance. She seemed a smart girl.

The doors closed, and the lift shook slightly, creaking as it ascended before coming to a halt on the third floor. Scanning the hall, I made for a desk in the back, pulling out a chair. I removed my cap, shrugged off my jacket, and sat down. The computer whirred to life, I opened the browser and got to work.

I remember all of them, but there are others I have to search for. The fallout, the collateral damage. All the wives and children and grandchildren, all the lives lost by corrupt regimes. All the damage done, the blood shed, and history changed. My imprint on the world; courtesy of Hydra.

Dallas, November 1963, Memphis, April 1968, Chernobyl, April 1986, Long Island, December 1991, Rawalpindi, December 2007. It's dreary work, but I have to do it, I need to know.

Today I went through Stockholm, February 1986, and when I flicked the computer off I felt I'd made some progress, adding two more names to the list. Two more to the endless list of lives destroyed. I stuffed my notebook into my pocket and put my jacket and cap back on before backtracking through to the lobby and out the door, relieved the girl was away from the desk. I walked down the huge marble steps in front of the library, turned and headed for the store.

The store was empty, the after-work crowd being done for the day and settled into their homes, their safe havens. Checking the list, I walked around slowly, trying to avoid having to double back for anything, shopping is hard enough, no reason to add chaos to it. I treated myself to a ready-made cheese and pickle sandwich, I was gonna have to talk to Andrei about more work anyway, and it didn't cost much.

"Tony Stark şi Natalia Romanova, mai bine cunoscut ca Iron Man si The Black Widow, sosit la Viena în această seară, împreună cu restul de Avengers pentru un summit să semneze acordurile de la Skovian. Acordurile sunt concepute pentru a exercita un control şi să limiteze strict Avengers implicarea în conflicte din întreaga lume. Acordurile sunt scrise în colaborare cu 117 naţiuni suverane, şi a fost initiativa lui T'Chaka, regele Wakanda, după 11 Wakandian vieţi au fost pierdute în timpul unui atac terorist în Lagos, Nigeria. Ca moartea lor au fost un rezultat direct al Avengers implicarea, regele numit pentru un control mai puternic de ceea ce el considera ‘vigilantes violenţei cu niciun motiv de îngrijorare pentru siguranţa civililor au jurat pentru a proteja.’ Lipseşte din grupul care a sosit a fost Captain America, el însuşi, Steve Rogers, şi zvonurile sunt acum răspândire despre discords în Avengers ei înşişi. În altă ordine de idei, un al doilea val de căldură loveşte coasta Mării Negre şi de afluxul de turisti... “

The radio was drowned out by the roaring in my ears, and I stood frozen for a minute before I became aware of the thin handles of the shopping basket bending in my grip. I relaxed my arm, consciously loosening each of the fingers on my left hand, rolled my neck, and shot a quick glance in the mirror above me. The clerk seemed oblivious, which was as expected, but caution never hurt, everyone is cautious.

So Captain America wasn't signing. Steve. His name is Steve. His name is Steve Rogers, and I knew him. His name is Steve Rogers, and he was my friend. I was a little surprised, but at the same time it made sense; mine wasn't the only life changed two years ago on the bank of the Potomac.

I slowly made my way around to the checkout, set the basket on the counter, and reached for my wallet. I try to avoid thinking too much about Steve, thinking of him pulls too many other things into focus, but I need to keep up with the news. All of it, even the uncomfortable news. Especially the uncomfortable news.

It pays off occasionally; last year I'd spent two weeks in Sokovia, helping to clear debris. It had been rewarding, even if I'd stayed away from the rescue, not wanting to bring attention to myself, attention isn't good. Safe.

The cashier rounded up my things and I paid, counting my money as I handed him the correct sum. I really needed to see Andrei about more work. Construction work is easy, and he pays well, always in cash. He likes me, or my ability to work, is always friendly, and he never asks questions. Questions are bad, questions bring attention.

"Vă mulțumesc, și au o noapte bună, domnule." The cashier held out the bag with my groceries. I took it, remembered to smile and nod, and exited the store.

It was getting full dark outside, but the air was still pleasant, and I decided on the long route back. I started down the street and stepped aside to let two young women pass. They were dressed for a night out, heavy makeup and short dresses, a lot of bare skin. I hoped they would be okay. They were laughing, and one of them looked at me, running her eyes over my body. She turned to whisper something in her friend's ear before she giggled and shot me a backwards glance. The other one laughed, and I smiled a little, allowing for a brief moment to imagine myself walking with them.

I remember fun. I remember dressing up, going out, the excitement, the carelessness. I remember girls, dressed more modestly perhaps, but still strikingly similar, soft and warm. I remember how they would smile and laugh. I remember dancing. But that was when I was the other one, when Steve was still little, and I had something to lose.

I stood watching until they were swallowed up by the darkness and continued down the pavement. I caught a glimpse of myself in a window and saw a brief glint of my hand. I stopped and checked it out, and found a small hole at the side of the glove where the seam was coming apart. I would have to put gloves on my list for tomorrow. The gloves are important, especially this kind, the ones I use when I go out. Leather for grip and durability, but nice enough looking that people don't notice.

I picked up my pace, if I wanted to stop by Harry I had to get a move on. I was getting hungry, and I wanted to eat my sandwich.

The alley was dark, but I knew where to go. As I closed in on the nook behind the dumpster, I could hear the rustling of movement and the tiny mewing of kittens. Harry came out and started rubbing against my feet as I fished the can out from my bag. I pulled the lid off and emptied the contents into the cracked bowl sitting there. Harry purred and went to work on the food.

One of the kittens came out from the darkness and stood on wobbly feet in front of me, barely discernible even if my eyes had adjusted to the dark. I leaned back on the wall, opened the plastic wrapper on my meal, and watched as the two others came out. They were only 4 weeks old, but they were growing fast, and it was nice to see them getting more coordinated and developed. I'd thought she was a tomcat until they suddenly appeared one day, and I tried to make a point to stop by every other day to check on them.

I munched my sandwich, trying to savour it, but as usual it didn't taste much, food rarely does. Except fresh food, like fruit. Fruit is nice, it's sweet and it tastes like life. Otherwise eating is a chore, something I have to do. I had tried to refuse to eat, but they had taught me not to. They taught me a lot of things.

I finished my food at the same time Harry did, and she came over, begging for more. I bent down and scratched her behind the ears, scooped up the empty can and stuffed the plastic wrapper inside, tossing it into the dumpster. I smiled at the kittens, but walked away, knowing I would stall if I let myself. I had to go out, it was on the list, and I needed to get my shopping home before it got too late.

I stepped into the pitch black room, the weak stairwell light letting me see as I made my way over to the window, satisfying myself it was clear before I hit the switch and the fluorescent buzzed to life. I crossed the floor in three steps and knelt, prying open the floorboard carefully and extracted the backpack, depositing the notebook into the small inside pouch. I always keep track of the current one. I shook the contents to flatten the pack, tucked it into the hole, and slid the board back, making sure it aligned.

I made a quick detour to the bathroom, turning the shower on to let it heat before putting my groceries away. I put my toothpaste and shaving cream on the small shelf over the cistern and undressed, checking the temperature before stepping in. I let the water soak my hair and just stood there a while, trying to think about where I should go.

Maybe I could do something different tonight, maybe a place outside the city centre, some small neighbourhood hangout. I would have to drive, public transportation was far too unreliable, but I had filled up the bike just last week and had hardly driven it since.

I finished my shower and slung a towel around my waist, letting my hair and arm dry while finding fresh underwear and a clean sweater. It was too hot for long sleeves still, but since I have no choice I never bother to question it. I have several, and I chose a red one.

The drive was uneventful, but good. I like to drive, the traffic was light, and I could even speed a little on my brief run on the freeway. I like to drive but I rarely do it, I need to interact with people, and you can't do that when driving a motorcycle. My bike is a 1100cc 95' Honda Shadow, and it's my only possession of value. It's old, but in good repair, and I keep it in the shed across from my building. I bought it cheap when I was in Prague, and I generally only use it for when I move, but sometimes I have to venture out of the city, and then it's a good thing to have.

I kept my eyes open for a suitable prospect and in the end saw a promising bar around the corner of a small hotel. I circled the block three times, making sure I knew the easiest exits. No reason not to, everybody does that. Safe. I pulled up and parked the bike around the corner between a couple of cars, made sure it was locked and backtracked to the three steps leading down into the basement bar.

I scanned the location through the glass in the door before I went inside, and found it looking benign enough. Besides, the music was nice, it wasn't too loud or upbeat. I walked over to the bar, took a vacant stool on the far short end, satisfied that it was a corner seat, with a short hall leading down to the restrooms and an easy exit. Safe. I shrugged off my jacket and waited for the bartender to finish with the couple he was serving. After a few moments he turned towards me and gave me a welcoming smile.

"Bună seara. Ce pot să-ti aduc?"

"Bună seara. O sticlă de culoare închisă Stejar, te rog."

He nodded and went over to fetch my bottle while I got my money ready, adding a small tip. He took it gladly, opened the bottle with a bit of flair and left me to enjoy my drink, not striking up conversation. I liked the man.

I took a sip, and tried to relax, hoping this time it would be better. The low murmur from the other guests kept me occupied until she came in. I didn't notice right away, there was a group speaking Russian two tables down, and I was listening to their banter, trying to rid myself of the growing unease. Russian is the language I know the best but like the least, and I was thinking about draining my beer and leaving when she came into view, inching herself onto a stool at the middle of the bar.

She was around my age, my apparent age, and lightly dressed in a simple sleeveless linen dress, not tight but clingy enough to show off the soft swells and curves underneath. Her hair was sun-streaked, her bare arms smooth and she didn't wear much in the way of makeup. Her eyes shone with excitement, and the brilliant smile never left her face while she was talking to the bartender, her phrasebook in hand. She was beautiful and confident and alive, and she seemed intent to enjoy every minute of it.

I was conscious I was staring but had a hard time looking away, she was so fascinating to watch. The bartender made her drink, and I felt a small sting of jealousy, envying him the pleasure of talking to her. She turned away for a moment, leaning casually on the bar. Her hair fell back enough to allow a glimpse of bare skin on her shoulders and neck, her elbow on top of the counter revealing the black lace of her bra underneath her arm. I felt a twitch in my groin at the sight and took a long draught of my beer, staring when she swung back, stiffened for a moment, whipped her head around and caught my eyes.

I felt the rush of panic and averted my eyes, attempting to appear calm. Safe. Safe. Safe. I looked down on the shiny surface of the bar, studying the small indentations and scratches from years of wear, and lifted the bottle to my mouth, looked over the edge of it and met her gaze.

She was staring intently, not looking the least bit abashed, and then she tipped her glass in a silent toast at me and the panic was back. My chest tightened, and I tried to steady myself enough to be able to walk out unnoticed. But she will notice. And she will still remember. If anyone comes to ask. Not safe.

I sank back down and concentrated on keeping my breathing steady and my pulse in check. I turned around and found her still looking, taking in the sorry display, but I didn't see any contempt or pity in her eyes, only a piercing curiosity. I tried to smile but my mouth wouldn't cooperate fully, and it felt more like a grimace. I swallowed hard, willing some saliva back, and I watched her as she looked down the bar and saw the empty stool across the corner from me, silently asking for consent to occupy it. My pulse started to quicken again as I nodded, and she gathered her things, slid off her seat and came towards me. Not safe.

She shrugged herself onto the tallish seat, causing her dress to twist. Her neckline was pulled down slightly, drawing my eyes to the soft swell of her cleavage, and I could feel the twitch again, my jeans becoming tighter as I hardened. I averted my eyes from hers, trying to hide my embarrassment, but she seemed totally oblivious and cheerfully offered her name and extended her hand.

My name is James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. My name is James Buchanan "Buc—I'm Sgt James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th Inf—My name is Bucky Barnes and he's my friend. My mind blanked, and I couldn't for the life of me remember my current alias, and I suddenly realised I was staring dumbfounded at her hand. I reached out and took it, the warmth of it burning in mine.

"Bu—Jam—Bucky. My name is Bucky."

Not safe. At least I hadn't given her everything, but I'd given her enough. She felt safe, she felt real, but I don't always trust my instincts, they had taught me not to. They taught me a lot of things.

I let go of her hand and grabbed for my beer, trying to hide the upheaval. She took her glass and looked away, giving me the moment she saw I needed.

"Bucky. That's not local. So... American?"

I cursed myself again, and my heart fell while I tried to come up with any kind of response that wouldn't press the matter further.

"Yes. American. But I live here now." It sounded hollow and pathetic, and she was clearly wishing for more, I could see she was forming the questions in her mind.

Her lower lip shone in different hues reflected from the bottles behind the bar, and a rush of blood surged, constricting my erection against the fly. I shifted in my seat, trying to shrug away my discomfort, still painfully aware of her searching gaze. Not safe.

She was too close, my head was clouded from the brightness in her eyes, the gentle puffs of her breath, the heat from her body, and her faint scent. Sweet with a hint of citrus, stirring some memories I didn't dare examine.

I remember sex. I remember it from before, but mostly I remember dreaming of it in cryo. Sometimes I miss cryo, the simpleness of it, the comfort. The cryo dreams feel real, and they aren't marred like the others, they don't blend together and become nightmares. I think they are true memories. So I remember sex, I remember lust, I remember the anticipation, the joy of it. I remember the relief and the pleasure and the release and the contentment. But most of all I remember the warmth. The warmth and comfort, the softness and the ache. I licked and bit my lip, trying to find my bearing.

"I'm just coming through. I'm trekking Europe. Sort of an adult interrail. Planes, not trains." She drew a short breath, and I realised she knew. She didn't know why, but she knew, and she offered me some peace.

"Interrail?" I gratefully latched on to the topic, trying to keep my expression calm and the words from hitching in my throat. I knew the answer, but I needed her to carry the conversation, less risk of losing control again.

"Yes. It's a European thing. Kids get train tickets and travel around, backpacking all over. Sort of a rite of passage." She looked at me and cocked her head. "You know, some architecture and culture in Prague for a couple of nights, beer in Berlin for three, then Athens and Rome for art and history, some sunbathing in southern Spain before ending in a stupor on Jim Morrison's grave at Père Lachaise."

I racked my brain, but I couldn't pin down any information, and, hating to reveal my ignorance, I had to concede. "Jim Morrison?"

A glimpse of confusion made my heart sink further, and I suddenly regretted not sightseeing at Père Lachaise when I was in Paris last.

"The front singer in The Doors?"

An internet page flashed before my eyes, the name and a picture, but I still had nothing, and not wanting to push it further I feigned.

"Ah. Yes, of course." I could see she still saw right through me, but she was obviously determined to be gracious, and let me off. "And you do this? Alone?"

"Yes. This is my last stop before Paris. And the stupor. Why not?"

I felt a pang at the thought of her leaving, it was strangely disheartening, which was a surprise. So far all I had were a few fleeting thoughts of attraction and some terribly awkward conversation, it shouldn't affect me at all. On the other hand it was still conversation, still interaction, which was rare. Not safe.

I tried to focus on the positive of it, not harbouring much hope of it getting less awkward, but I had to try; everyone does that.

"Well, you're a... well, I mean, is it safe?"

The look of offence on her face confused me until I realised she thought I was questioning her independence. I tried to mount an explanation, some sort of rationalisation, but before I managed to form the words she voiced her displeasure.

"What? You think a woman can't take care of herself?"

I felt the colour drain from my face, and for a second I thought about running again, the condemnation being too much to bear.

"No, I didn't mean to imply—I mean, I didn't..." The words came out a scramble, not the saving grace I'd hoped, but suddenly her expression shifted, and I felt a flush of embarrassment. "You're joking. Sorry."

Her face did the thing again, her eyes were glittering with a mixture of joy and mischief. I felt the warmth spread through me, my cock becoming absolutely rigid and the blush deepened.

"Yes. Or not really. But you're not the first man, or woman for that matter, who's asked me that. And in some ways it's a fair point, shitty as it is. The world has changed little in the last century." Her tone kept light, but the sense of urgency was apparent.

"Yes. Apart from the world changing. I think it's become rather unrecognisable."

The sardonic look she gave me told me I was off, but that she still appreciated the effort.

"Sure. I guess. In some ways. But you'd think with all the technical advances these things would change too. That was my point." The point was fair, and the close echo of my own thoughts just a few minutes before had me cursing internally, I really should have been able to keep up.

"Ah. In that case, yes. One would think that'd be the case. I'm sorry."

She smiled and once again I was struck by the brilliance of it, and I wanted nothing more than to prevent it disappearing. The sudden ache caught me off guard, and I hoped the flinch wasn't visible.

"It's not your fault. I'm just glad you agree."

She chuckled, a warm calming sound, and another rush went through me. She lifted her glass thoughtfully, and I copied her movements and emptied my beer. The last dregs were rather flat, but I could have drunk gallons of it just to continue sitting with her. I waited until she'd drained hers, and I took the leap, the question out of my mouth before my brain could voice the objections I felt forming.

"Another? On me." For an agonising moment I got worried she would take it as another affront to her independence, but she looked positively radiant, and my pulse raced, almost drowning out her reply.

"Sure. Thank you."

I turned and caught the attention of the bartender, waving him over in what I hoped was a casual and collected manner.

"Scuzati-ma. O alta bere pentru mine, și la fel pentru doamna, oricare ar fi ea are." The man's smile told me he was clearly a team player, and for an instant I was back in New York, surrounded by friends and the elated hopes of a bright future. The feelings lingered as I tucked the dangerous memories away. "Vă mulțumesc, păstrați schimbarea."

He set the drinks down in front of us, took the tip, and turned without trying to hide the knowing smirk on his face. When I met her eyes she smiled shyly and looked a little winded, making me suspect my mind wasn't the only one that had wandered. She lifted her glass in mock gusto, and I readied mine with a smile.

"To Romanian, and the foreigners who really make an effort to learn it."

I grinned to hide the pang of chagrin that hit me, it was no achievement of mine after all. She kept her steady gaze on me, a completely guileless expression in her eyes, and I suddenly felt another flush and some genuine pride.

"I've been here for some time. It's not that hard to learn. Besides, I've got a fair knowledge of Slavic languages." It was a half-lie, they could be extremely hard to learn, but they had taught me. They taught me a lot of things.

"Really? How about Ukrainian?"

I laughed and offered some sentences, all more benign than my usual repertoire.

"Labvakar, skaista dāma. Paldies par rotā manu dzīvi ar savu precence. Hop uz karuseļa un izbaudīt braucienu.”

She stared and kept her eyes fixed on my mouth, seemingly enthralled, making it hard to concentrate.

"Russian? Hungarian? Latvian?"

I wanted to skip the Russian, nothing sounds benign in Russian, but I couldn't bear any disappointment on her part.

"Ty krasivaya zhenshchina. Annyira örülök hogy találkoztunk. Šī ir mana laimīgā diena."

She either didn't care or was too embarrassed to ask for the translation, clearly finding the game too much fun to risk. She continued her prompts beyond Eastern Europe, and I was happy with the move but didn't dare to continue my shameless declarations in languages she would be more inclined to understand.

"Je suis heureux d'obliger, bien que ce n'est pas ma première langue. Das Wetter ist schön an diesem Abend, zu verpassen. Möchten Sie für einen Mondlicht spazieren zu gehen?" I shot her what I hoped was a teasing look, and she laughed, racking her brain for new challenges.

I remember fun, but I couldn't remember it feeling like this. It was exhilarating and joyous, sure, but most of all it was terrifying. I could feel my defences slip, and for the first time since I stepped out of the Potomac I wanted to allow myself the opportunity to make a real connection. Not safe.

But I couldn't stop, I was already too far in. She was easy to talk to when I let her lead, all I had to do was not dwell too much, or ask too much or hesitate too much. I finally found use for all the hours spent in the library and bookstores, trying to garner some sort of impression of what had happened in the last seven decades. I'm a good student, I'd tried not to be, but they’d taught me anyway. They taught me a lot of things.

She was an animated person, and she kept squirming and moving around, constantly showing off new parts of bared skin. I tried not to dwell on it, but it was a losing battle.

She had a light drizzle of freckles on her nose and cheeks, furthering the image I had of her being out in the sun. She smelled like she was out a lot, fresh and clean.

I like the sun, but I prefer the overcast, when it's hot I have to stay inside. I sometimes venture out to ride my bike because then I have a reason to cover up, but it's still hard. Her dress was almost see-through, and I could discern a faint outline of dark panties, probably a matching set with her bra. I ignored the tightness between my legs, I didn't even want to entertain the thought, and I hoped she wouldn't notice.

She brought up Sokovia, which was expected because of all the focus on the Accords, but I couldn't tell her about being there. I didn't want her to ask. She did ask something in the end, but that I didn't mind too much. I have been all over, but some of that was before. So I even managed to make light of it, finding the discomfort of reaching back in my mind lessening. I topped off our drinks as needed, heartened by the fact she didn't seem to mind. I could afford it, I had to talk to Andrei regardless, I could just as well do it sooner than later. So I managed. I even thought I managed well. Until she fell.

She announced she had to go to the bathroom, and she wobbled a little when she jumped off her seat, causing her sandal to catch in the footwell, and suddenly she was there. Her breath hit my face in waves, I would have been able to taste her had I been able to inhale. The weight of her hand burned on my thigh, and I could feel the trembling resonate up the sensors where my hand was gripping her upper arm. Her lips were pink and soft and shiny and just inches from mine, but I could hardly see them, mostly all I could see was her eyes. They were widened and only a thin slice of her irises circled the dilated pupils. I wondered fleetingly what was scaring her until I remembered another reason for pupils to dilate like that.

"Want to get out of here?" Her voice was barely audible, but she could have been shouting.

I finally drew breath, her scent engulfed me, and I couldn't think. "Yeah."

I can't get drunk, but I think this was close to how it feels. My head was buzzing, my body felt like falling, and it was strangely pleasant. I couldn't tell if it was her or the toxins of the alcohol finally getting to me, but at that point I was beyond caring.

"Yeah. I do."

She pushed herself off me, hand on my chest, the pressure of her hand causing my heartbeat to echo back into my chest. "Okay. Gimme a minute."

She smiled shyly and started towards the ladies room, my eyes glued to her every step of the way. Not safe.

As soon as she disappeared the spell was broken. Without thinking I slid down off the stool, grabbed my jacket and was around the corner of the bar when I saw the bartender staring at me. I stopped. Not safe. Not safe. He caught my eye and looked at me, some mixture of pity and judgement in his expression. I felt shaken and panicked and cowardly. Not safe.

I have been hiding from the world for two years, two years of unveiling the actions of seven decades. Two years of trying to find some footing, trying to learn to walk, talk, see, sense, touch and breathe on my own, but all I've really learnt is to run. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe.

I hesitated for a few more seconds before I shakily retreated back onto my seat. The man gave me a short nod of appreciation, I smiled weakly and tried to relax. I was half hoping and half fearing she'd run off, made her escape through the back window, but I couldn't tear my eyes off the door to the ladies room.

She appeared smiling, her eyes sparkling, and I willed my voice to carry. "Hi."

She walked over and took my hand, hers still damp from washing. The simplicity of the gesture was unnerving, but I closed my fingers around hers, letting them entwine lightly.

"Hi. Shall we?"

I didn't dare answer, but stood up, glad my weak knees carried, and followed her outside, jacket in hand. When we got out I was lost, having no idea how to proceed. I was sure what she had meant when she'd suggested the move, but I still couldn't wrap my head around it. I stammered out a question, but she just turned around and tugged me along.

She lead me around the corner, and up the steps of a small nondescript hotel and once again I had to stagger the panic that surged through me. I managed to let her tow me inside and over to the lift at the far side of the lobby. The wait for it was excruciating. I kept my gaze fixed at the lights indicating the descent, fighting to keep my breathing even, concentrating on the warmth of her hand, and emptying my mind. When the elevator finally arrived I walked in a trance beside her, voluntarily putting my safety in the hands of another for the first time since I woke up. We stepped in, the doors slid shut, and everything changed.

She brushed against me when she turned and the last of my defences broke. I grabbed her, and I lost sense of everything else. All I could feel and touch was her. All I could smell, all I could see. The sweet citrus of her perfume drowned me, the softness of her breasts against my chest, her waist and hips supple under my hands. I could almost feel her heat burning against my left, cold dead limb. Her stomach soft to my erection, her eyes impossibly close, impossibly bright and alive before they slid shut and she sank down as I pressed my lips against hers.

She tasted of mint and gin and summer, and she was warm and wet and soft. Lost memories got dragged up to the surface as I realised she wanted me just as much as I wanted her. Lust and happiness raged in me like I hadn't felt for so many decades, and I felt human again. Like the man I had been before they started teaching me. They taught me a lot of things, but they didn't teach me this.

I was only half aware the lift had stopped until I had her against a hallway wall. I didn't want to move, but a small voice told me staying there was a bad idea. I tore free of her mouth and tried to steady myself long enough to communicate my intentions.

"Where?"

Her breath hit me in furious bursts and she let go of me while she fished out a key from her bag and waved it in the right direction. "Number 14."

I took it, and without hesitation led her down, agonising over the fact I had to let her go even for this. I found the door, pushed the key in, and wrenched it open, tugging her inside.

My jacket fell from my grip as I pushed her around, feeling the door slam shut behind her, and I was on her again. Her exquisite and welcoming mouth left me lightheaded, much more so than mere alcohol could ever do. It felt like every ounce of blood in my body churned into my groin and my cock, and I revelled in the emptiness it left behind. She explored my mouth hungrily, and her hands were in my hair, pulling at it, the small sharp stings in my scalp egging me on, keeping me oblivious to anything but the heat, the throbbing, the lust. I wanted to consume her, I wanted to lose myself in her, I wanted to fuck her, and for a moment I forgot.

I forgot all I've felt, all I've known, all I've seen. I forgot I wasn't human, that no matter how hard I try I can never escape the monster they made, I'm no longer made for this. My body reacted to her, and I forgot to be gentle. A small intake of air and an involuntary jerk away from the source of the pain, and it came rushing back. Not safe. Not safe. NOT SAFE! I jumped back, releasing her, my head roaring and my heart pounding, air caught in my throat.

"Oh god. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I saw she was confused, that she didn't yet understand, and I was grateful. "I'm so sorry. I should never have... I'm sorry."

She moved towards me, questions flickering in her eyes, and I backed away, not trusting myself near her.

"Bucky. What's wrong?”

The softness in her voice sounded like someone trying to calm a scared animal, and I almost laughed. I wanted to be through the door, needing to get away, to get away from her questions and the temptation.

"I'm sorry. I have to go. This was a bad idea." I started towards her, expecting her to step aside, but she just stood there, blocking the exit. For a second I thought about forcibly pushing her aside, but eventually the unlikely realisation hit me. She didn't want me to leave, she wasn't scared, she trusted me. She felt safe.

"Bucky. Please. I'm fine. I don't want you to leave."

I wanted to scream at her, to make her understand, but I couldn't. I wanted to stay, I was desperate to. I didn't want to give her up—give it up so soon after having discovered it. I looked at her, tried to form the words, to ask the questions I needed to have answered.

"You're not scared? Or hurt?"

She shook her head and took a tentative step towards me, while I fought the urge to flinch back.

"No. Not at all. I'm fine."

I tried to wrap my head around it, to understand the full meaning behind her words, not daring to believe the truth behind them. "You're really fine? You want to... continue?" I knew what she would say, but I still needed her to say it.

"Yes. I'm fine, I'm not scared, and I'd very much like to continue."

I watched her carefully, trying to gauge the amount of risk involved while ignoring my own selfishness. I wasn't sure if I could, but every fibre of me told me I should, I couldn't remember the last time I'd wanted something this bad. I closed my eyes and drew a long breath, trying to empty my head of the qualms.

"Okay. But we're taking it slow." I could hear the doubt in my voice, and so could she, she laughed huskily and stepped closer.

"Slow it is." She reached up, breathed the words into my mouth, and I could feel her tongue on my lower lip before I had mine in her mouth. I lay my hand on her, leaving the other hanging motionless, and held her lightly, not daring to give into it again.

She pressed closer, ran her hands up both my arms and, after the initial resistance, I followed her cue. If I was doing it, I had to do it right. I willed myself to relax and soon I was getting lost again, she made it so easy, her whole body attuned to mine. I let out a sigh as I embraced her more forcefully, getting harder, again feeling her stomach and hips as I ground against her, her back arching, her dress riding up.

"God. You're so warm and soft."

She started tugging at my sweater and, having come this far, I just let it happen. I moved back half a pace and pulled it over my head, but took care to leave my tee on, she didn't need to be exposed to the most visceral of my physical scars. I dropped my sweater to the floor and took a breath, bracing myself for her reaction. After a fleeting flash of shock her expression was a mixture of disbelief and wonder. She let out a small gasp, and I almost felt the need to apologise.

"Bucky. What is that? Is it a prosthetic? It's beautiful."

It's a fully functional, nearly indestructible cybernetic prosthetic limb made of a vibranium infused steel alloy, made to mimic the motions and reactions of a human arm to near perfection. Ensuring the asset can perform its tasks unhindered in the field. A demonstration, please.

I shoved the unwelcome imagery as far back in my mind as I could, and stretched the arm, letting the panels ripple and whirl. She stared, hypnotised, and extended her hand, gingerly asking for permission before she touched it. She took her time, and I let her, finding a strange sense of pride, amazed that something so destructive and horrifying could actually be conceived as beautiful. When she spoke she seemed slightly out of breath.

"Sorry. I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't this. How does it work?"

It's drilled directly into its humerus and scapula, the deltoid being the primary muscle connection, but we also used parts of the biceps, triceps and teres major where possible to ensure as much natural movement as possible. It's further attached to the central nervous system by direct fusion to the radial and median nerves in addition to an artificial synaptic lead through the brachial plexus and the cerebellum while the subject was awake to ensure the easiest and most accurate registration of nervous reactions, such as pain and stress. The asset shows extraordinary aptitude in its performance and has conformed to the limb without much resistance.

Despite my efforts, the memory forced its way back into my brain. I fought the urge to squeeze my eyes shut, to close off the voice in my head, to heave on the floor, and I managed a small smile, moving away from the panic and onto safer ground.

"Like an arm, I guess. I don't know the mechanics of it, other than it's fused to my shoulder, connected to the central nervous system." Shying away from the hollowness in my voice I removed my glove, and looking at the silver extension I became consciously aware of the only real deficiency of it. I found it strange that it had never occurred to me before, but then I hadn't really wanted to touch anything like I wanted to touch her.

"I obviously can't feel anything." I reached out and ran a finger down her cheek, trying to will something more than the register of resistance from it. She leaned into it, held it at her cheek and sighed.

"No, but it feels good."

I refrained from telling her what it could feel like, using all my will to concentrate on the obvious positive reaction she gave me, letting it permeate the thing itself, and letting it permeate me.

"Really?"

She smiled again, and it was the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.

"Yes, really."

I let myself believe her, and took her face in both hands, gently teasing her mouth with mine, and eliciting a small moan from her. Her hands were on my hips, stroking my sides and stomach, searing my skin as they went, grabbing my jeans, pulling me closer.

My breath hitched, and I responded eagerly, finding her thighs, stroking up her dress as I went, kneading lightly and left my hand on her back, rubbing against her, feeling her grinding back, searching for closer contact. The movement had my cock throbbing even more, every nerve exposed, and it threatened to overwhelm me as I found her knee and hitched it to my hip, opening her up to me.

She slung her arms around my neck, allowing me to get a hold of her ass. As soon she was in my arms, her ankles crossed behind me, pressing firmly, narrowing the gap, her weight grinding in jagged motions on top of my strained jeans. I heard her sandals drop down, and I was desperately trying to contain some control when I suddenly felt her wetness smearing my stomach where my shirt had ridden up, and I lost it.

"Oh god." It was visceral, and I couldn't think about anything but how it would feel to be in her, to penetrate her. To feel the slick, silky warmth of her yield and conform and wrap around me. My breathing became ragged, and I found her neck as she arched back and moaned into it, my tongue and teeth tasting her. She started yanking furiously at my tee, and for a moment I stopped, and just held her, making sure to commit the feeling to memory in case this would be the thing that ended it. Not safe.

"What? Bucky?"

I bit my lip and inhaled the sweet scent of her, trying to shake off my fear.

"Please. Tell me what's wrong."

I could feel her twisting, wanting to get a response from me, and I tightened my embrace one last time before I slowly released her and sunk her to the floor. She backed away, for the first time showing a reflection of my fear and doubt. With a conviction I didn't feel, I ripped the shirt over my head, letting her see me. Her eyes widened, and she stood completely still for a second, and I wanted to cover up again.

"Yeah. It's not pretty."

She shot me a look, and my mind raced. I'd been prepared for disgust and horror and pity, but what I wasn't prepared for was the look of admiration and marvel she met me with. Her eyes were wandering all over my torso, but her focus wasn't where I had expected it to be, she hardly seemed to notice the ragged ruins of my shoulder at all.

"No. You're right. Pretty doesn't even come close." Somehow that made me even more self-conscious and, strangely, more aroused. The way her gaze lingered on my chest and moved slowly down my abdomen had me twitching, and her unabashed look reminded me of a predator closing in on its prey. "Don't you even own a mirror?"

I snorted, for a brief second imagining telling her the truth, that I’d not seen myself reflected in anything but vague random surfaces since the 40s; but she continued her shameless ogling, not caring one jot.

"No, of course you don't. How would you get anything done?"

I couldn't stifle a laugh, and not even her finger slowly rising to gently trace the ragged edge of the mutilation could stop the smile forming on my lips.

"You're beautiful." The honesty in her voice moved me thoroughly, and I felt the rush of blood reddening my cheeks. I wanted to respond, but I was struck dumb by her twisting her dress over her head and dropping it on the floor. "There. So you don't have to feel uncomfortable."

I could barely hear the quip comment over the roar of blood churning in my head and left me unable to form any coherent thought as I just stared at her, taking in every stunning inch of bare skin she offered. Her chest was moving rapidly, causing her breasts to quiver slightly in the cups of her lace bra, the hint of tan lines along the rim, the faint shadows of her hardened nipples rippling down her slim but soft stomach. Her waist was accentuated by the roundness of her hips, ending at the black triangle of her panties pointing down between her legs, having me dwelling on the heat and moisture and tightness I knew it covered.

It wasn't a matching set. The randomness of the stray thought amused me, I'd been so sure it had been. The irony wasn't lost on me even thinking about it when my only concern was getting it off her. She had a small scar on her thigh, and I felt a bit better, seeing that the flaw only enhanced the perfection that was the rest of her. She watched me with glittering eyes, a smile playing on her lips. I swallowed hard, fighting the impulse to just fling her on the bed and fuck her senseless, though something in her eyes told me she wouldn't have minded that one bit.

"Uncomfortable isn't the word I would use, no.” I traced her bra with a finger, not quite hiding the tremble in it, and let my palm brush against the peak of her nipple through the lacy fabric.

A shiver ran through her, and, encouraged by the response, I moved slowly to the side, sliding the strap off her shoulder. Her tongue darted out, flicking over her lips, and she stared at me a moment before quickly reaching back, unhooking it and shaking it down her arms. My hips jerked and I could feel myself leaking at the sight of her. I tried to keep my hand still and carefully cupped the breast, feeling it yielding and forming to my palm, and I brushed my thumb over the hardened peak, feeling it stiffening further. Air hitched in my throat as my breathing became shallow, and she moaned silently before laying her hands flat on my chest, burning against my skin.

She ran them lightly down my stomach and rested them on my hips. My brain was in a haze as I bent down and closed my lips around a nipple, my tongue tasting and circling it, sucking gently. She pulled me closer, grinding as I moved to the other one, not wanting to let any part of her go unexplored. She pressed into me and started tugging at my belt, her fingers grazing my lower torso, drumming above the fly of my jeans. Small jolts thudded through the swollen head of my cock, and my hips shot back an inch, allowing her space to work.

Without conscious thought my hand reached down and found the soft tender skin inside of her thighs, stroking up between them and feeling the wetness overflowing her panties. I couldn't hold back. I slid my fingers underneath the edge and slipped them into her. The feeling was unbelievable, the slickness, the heat and the pulsating resistance. I stopped, wanting to revel in it, to make it last.

"Jesus." I moaned loudly and found her chest, neck and shoulders, inhaled and tasted her, there was no part of her I wasn't aching for.

She started grinding harder, hands yanking at my jeans again, the fly flew open. Her hand was on me, closing around me through the damp front of my underwear, jutting her hips up with a gasp, and I was pushed further inside. My head fell forward, and I didn't even connect the long drawn groan with myself.

Base instinct took over, a remnant of a time long past, and I felt my fingers twitching and turning slowly, exploring the entrance and inching further inside while my thumb connected with the soaking wet lace covering her clit. Her nails dug into my neck and shoulders as she fell back, her full weight on my hand as I slid it down behind her and pulled her knee up, pinning it to my waist with my elbow, stroking down again and finding her panties, hooking a finger under the skimpy fabric. I was vaguely conscious of her laugh as it snapped in my hurry to pull it down, but it was exchanged for a deep groan as my bare skin connected with her, sliding between her folds and finding the throbbing centre buried in them.

"Oh fuck yes." Her hands reached up around my neck, groping and clawing for anchoring as she fell back further, her lungs working overtime expelling air in shallow bursts while I massaged her, falling into a steady rhythm, hitting deeper inside her, revelling in the hot softness. My breathing was just as ragged as hers, my whole midriff and groin seemed on fire, her reaction being so feral, so real, so joyous. She whimpered into my mouth, and I felt my mouth turn up in a wondrous grin, and she came.

"Fuuuuck." She whimpered and moaned into my smile, and pushed herself even closer, her walls clenching furiously, her heart vibrating in my chest, her pelvis pinning my arm between her and my dick, almost causing me to come with her. I kept the pressure on, rubbing carefully as she rode it out, and I chuckled as she struggled for air. "Damn."

It was hardly a whisper and so feeble it had me shaking with a low laugh, making her thrust against me, register my rigid erection and stop. She leaned back, locking her eyes into mine, a calculating smile forming while freeing a hand and sliding her fingertips into the elastic of my boxers. The grin froze on my lips along with the rest of my body as she slid her finger around to my stomach, and with a gentle yank pulled them down.

I stopped with a gasp stuck in my throat, and I couldn't look away when I felt her warm hand close around my balls, kneading gently while she was biting her lip. The pressure and tightness were amped up to an unbearable level, my crotch was on fire. I arched back, and my hand slid out from between her legs to grab her shoulders for support until she let her leg down and started falling to her knees, not once breaking eye contact, anchoring her descent firmly around my base.

Trying to remember all the reasons it might be a bad idea, my eyes widened and I bit my lip to conceal a primal growl building in my throat. I watched her tongue extend and lap up the leaking precum before closing her soft lips around me, sinking down while moaning silently.

It was indescribable, for a moment all my other senses were shut off completely, I couldn't breathe, and I didn't want to. Every nerve in my body seemed to register the soft resistance of her throat, her tongue poking and stroking every indentation and ridge underneath, her hand tightening and relinquishing in slow motion as she pumped in perfect rhythm. I held her gaze, her eyes half closing, small wet sounds in unison with the languid pace, her hair flowing down her shoulders, and I fought with every fibre for some restraint. The sight of her was enough to drive me over the edge, the feel of her was almost too much to handle. I was scared to touch her, I was scared that if I did I wouldn't be able to let go of her, and I was half wishing she would stop, but I couldn't act on it. I could feel myself swelling and aching impossibly inside her, and she was the most beautiful and the most lecherous being I'd ever seen.

I remember sex, I remember all of it, but I didn't remember this. The pureness of it, the division. I wanted to retain my dignity, to be in control, but I also just wanted to give in. I felt like I would burst every time her tongue pressed and stroked, every time the overload of nerves that was my cock hit her palate, every time her teeth grazed lightly, every time her hand jerked. But I kept my hands off her, I managed, until she slid her other hand inside my pants and took hold on top of my ass.

I couldn't have stopped her if I wanted to, and I didn't want to. She had control, and I was completely helpless. She pushed and released, pushed and released, and I let her. Every small jut of my hip imitating the initial penetration, her mouth tightening and expanding around the head in a steady pace, the sight of my cock entering her beautiful mouth, and I had to hold on to something. So I grabbed her head, held on to her hair, afraid to hurt her, scared of the part of me that didn't care if I did. I wanted to go deeper, I wanted to pull out, I wanted to come, I wanted it never to end. Safe. Not safe. Safe. Not safe.

In the end it was not up to me, she was in control, complete control, until I tensed up, and I held her, and I thrust. I exploded in a blinding euphoria, the best 3 seconds of my far too long life.

I'd thought I remembered sex. The way I remember it from before and dreaming of it in cryo. Cryo, with the simpleness of it, the comfort. The cryo dreams feel real, and they aren't marred like the others, they don't blend together and become nightmares. I've thought they are true memories. I remember sex, I remember lust, I remember the anticipation, the joy of it. I remember the relief and the pleasure and the release and the contentment. And I've orgasmed since I returned, it took a long time, true, but I've jerked off, several times a day sometimes, it's a semi-effective way to get more relaxed. Besides, I'm 99; not dead.

I've tried to recreate it, but my memories are wrong. No matter the dreams, no matter how unmarred I think they are, I didn't remember this. It didn't compare. Maybe it was the rarity of it, the amount of time that had passed, maybe I'd simply never been this attracted to them. The beautiful and warm and fantastic girls I had known when I was the other one and the future was bright and Steve was little. Maybe it was because she was so free, uninhibited and daring. It could be any or all or none of them, but this by far surpassed any memory I ever had had.

I was shaking, I was panting, and I could feel myself unloading into her mouth, again and again and again, for a long moment I felt it would never stop, that I would never land. I felt free and relaxed and warm and safe. It was brief, and it was fleeting, but it was there. Like in a haze I became aware of the way my hands were entwined in her hair, the steel grip I had on her head, and I opened my eyes, trying to make my fingers relax and free her. She was smiling, clearly enjoying herself, and she was stunning. I tried to calm my breathing enough to speak, but it took a few seconds until I was able to form any coherent thought.

"Jesus." The inadequacy of the statement wasn't lost on me, but she seemed to take the full meaning. She pushed back, and, with a last lick, she released me. I pulled her up, her shoulder grazing the belt buckle, my softening cock sliding between her breasts, and grazing her naked stomach. I cupped her face and took in her brilliant smile and sparkling eyes before kissing her. Lightly at first, then deep and demanding, tasting myself on her lips and her tongue, and I held her, never wanting to let her go. "God, you're amazing."

Her cheeks touched my chin as she broke out in a grin, and a soft chuckle escaped her. "Really? I never would have thought you thought that." Her teasing tone and her husky voice sent a wave of pure joy through me, and I laughed as I embraced her and just stood there, content, breathing her name. Safe.

"No, I really kept my cool, didn't I?" She chuckled again, and I closed my eyes, savouring it fully.

"Yes. Impossible to read. To be honest I'm still in the dark as to whether you even liked that." She reached up and stroked my hair away from my face, and her grin widened even more, she was clearly enjoying the tease, and it was contagious.

I flexed my fingers, gently dug them into her sides, and in a fit of laughter we tumbled back onto the bed behind me. She fell on top of me, and I just held her, enjoying the pureness and spontaneity. I may have remembered it wrong, but the joyous emotion was still familiar, and for once I didn't try to suppress the rush from the past. I lay back, closed my eyes, and just felt her weight, her skin, her curves under my hands, the reality of her. I couldn't keep track of time, it felt endless, but a pang still hit me when she moved, it was far too soon.

"But it's too bad really."

I opened my eyes, watching her.

"What?"

She was sunk down beside me, a leg draped over mine, chin in her hand, resting on an elbow. A lazy smile playing on her lips.

"Well, maybe I should have saved that for something else." Her fingers were tracing my torso, her gaze glittering and seductive, her hair slightly messed, and I suddenly wasn't as spent as I thought I was. She walked her hand towards my pelvis and gently brushed her fingers in the hair just above my already hardening dick. I met her eyes, wondering if she could recognise the awe in mine, and grinned, taking her cue.

"Yeah. That's too bad." My voice was hardly carrying, the influx of lust overwhelming me for a second. I felt my pulse increase, envisioning the continuing possibilities, and I reached up, brushing a nipple, feeling it stiffen under my thumb. Her midriff jerked closer, spreading her legs, her pussy soaking my thigh. My cock twinged visibly, and I struggled to keep my tone light and teasing, the surge of blood making my sentiments entirely clear. "Really too bad. But I can't do anything about that now."

She ground harder, trying for some traction, and I flexed my thigh obligingly before sliding my hand down and felt my way through the impossible wetness and heat.

"Really, really too bad."

She hid her face in my chest, moaning, and suddenly I had her pinned underneath me, wanting to feel her again, needing to feel her. I inserted my fingers, twisting up as I penetrated her mouth with my tongue, my already rock hard length rubbing against her as I settled between her legs.

I became aware of my feet still tangled in my pants and hurriedly shrugged out of them. Without losing momentum, I kissed her breasts, her neck, grazing my teeth over her nipples, touching all the bare skin I could reach. She let out a gasp when I pushed deeper inside her, teasing her apart, stretching her. Keeping up the pressure as I wriggled down, I used her hip as leverage, tracing her stomach and mound with my mouth as I went. I had planned to keep her suspended, but when I got down I couldn't. The heat and scent blocked all my other senses, and I pushed her knee out, exposing her and finally sunk my tongue in her entrance, tasting her, savouring her again and fighting the urge to lose myself. She tasted of salt and sex, of trust and joy and warmth, of sweetness and of life.

"You taste like heaven." It was an involuntary moan, but her response was loud and clear.

She was writhing under my touch, arching her back and kicking off to get friction, and I wondered fleetingly if this was what happiness felt like. I wanted to drown in her, take her, have her, keep her, but most of all I wanted to please her. I'd given up on being gentle and caring and selfless a long time ago, they had taught me not to be. They'd taught me a lot of things, but for the first time in a long time I finally believed some things can be unlearned.

I sighed contentedly and licked my way up and found her clit while she pulled me in by my hair. With only minor doubt I released her knee and brushed my metal fingers along her inner thigh, opening her up with my other hand, gauged her reaction, and slowly slid two cold, smooth hard fingers inside her.

"Fuck." Breath caught in her throat, she moaned my name, and it made my heart race even faster. "Bucky."

I kept my tongue on her, circling and stroking, recalling vaguely what to do without needing to, she made it so easy. Her every movement and reaction a confirmation, and my laugh resonated, the effortlessness a welcoming surprise. She squirmed violently, and I rotated my fingers, watching her closely, making sure the lifeless limbs adjusted to the delicate softness surrounding them. I could feel her swelling in my mouth and willed the sensors to register her tightening and pulsating around the unyielding surface and with a strange sense of pride and accomplishment I knew she was close. I was torn between letting her come and the urge to keep her there, tethering on the brink, but the rapid whimpers and curses chose for me, there was nothing she could ask that I would deny her.

"You wanna come, doll?" The writhing and low groans left me in no doubt, but I wanted to hear her say it, wanted to deliver it to her.

"Yes. Please. God yes!"

I drove my fingers upwards one last time and sucked harder, pressing my tongue full into her, and she came, a violent shiver running through her frame. She bucked in ecstasy, and I could feel her orgasm pulsating against my tongue and my lips and even in my hand. The spasms gradually and carefully expelling me while she sank back, panting and heaving for breath. I lifted my head a couple of inches, looking up at her, and kissed her lightly, a grin on my face, my lips and chin wet and slick from her.

"Damn. I had almost forgotten how good that felt. You taste fucking fantastic." I ignored my lie and kept my eyes on hers as I worked my way upward, small currents emerging where her skin touched mine. My cock was rigid and leaking, brushing her thigh, as I lowered myself onto her. "Thank you." I cupped her face, resting on my elbows, and smiled as I kissed her, wanting to convey the truth without revealing too much, and she was gracious.

"You're welcome. It was a genuine pleasure." She twisted under me, scooting downward, stopping just as she barely touched me, letting me feel how she was throbbing and dripping still. The reminder was maddening, and I had to use all my restraint, reliving how she felt in my mouth and around my fingers, and my breath hitched a little imagining her wrapped around my cock. I was on fire again, equally if not more eager that I had been initially, the intense orgasm making me hungry for more. I crashed my lips onto hers and her mouth opened, our tongues meeting forcibly. I savoured the combined flavour of her mouth mingled with her pussy, my chin and cheeks still covered with the proof of it.

She moaned weakly and started to grab at my hips and waist, landing on the small of my back, and steered me into her. I rotated slightly, angling myself and she spread out, allowing me access, and I dipped into her, my cock almost bursting against the heat. I drew a shaky breath, one hand braced by her head, kissed her again, and pushed against her, feeling the tight wetness of her entrance, my head dizzy with anticipation... and stopped. The thought was unwelcome, and every fibre in me wanted to ignore it, but I couldn't. I let out a snort, half in desperation, half in exasperation, it was just too idiotic. I fell down and buried my face in her shoulder, laughing silently.

"Fuck." I wanted to shout, I wanted to cry, I wanted not to give a damn, but I couldn't. She pushed me up and looked at me, and I felt equal parts embarrassed and tragic; it was too stupid. I wondered briefly if there were any options open, but in the same thought I realised that the only thing I wanted was to be inside her. Which I couldn't be. My cock twitched at the thought, and I fell down and buried my face again. "I don't... We can't do this. I don't have anything." I felt pathetic, and annoyed, and mortified, but what struck me most was that I also felt comfortable and relaxed. Apart from the incessant thrumming and burning in my groin I felt more relaxed than I could remember ever feeling. I smiled despite myself, clinging on to the thought that I'd still have this.

“Anything what?" It took her two seconds, she'd been fairly gone in the moment too, something I felt another twinge of pleasure at. "Oh. Right. That." I nodded into her hair, a groan escaping me, my head shaking.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think, I never expected... I haven't done this in a really long time." I hoped she would let that comment slide too, and she did, only not in the way I expected. She started laughing, and I felt her wriggling down and applying pressure on my back again, stopping only just when I was dipping into her folds, wet, yielding and welcoming. I stared at her, unbelieving. "That's not helping, you know." She wriggled infinitesimally closer and grinned, her eyes sparkling.

"Get my bag." I stared at her for a long moment, my mind boggled by the implication, and then I was off her, searching frantically for her bag. I found it hidden under my jacket, her having dropped it there when we entered the room. I threw it in front of her, and she rooted through it, fishing out a small box and handed it to me. I stared at her, my eyes asking the question without meaning to. "What? Alone in the big world, remember. Besides, I used to be a girl scout." I chuckled and opened the box, tipping some of the content out in my hand, keeping one, and returning the rest. I looked at her before turning my attention to the object in question, weighing it in my hand, turning it around, reading the description, trying to ignore the throbbing ache as I became aware of yet another complication.

"Yes. I remember. Always prepared, huh. Wise words to live by." I bit my lip thoughtfully, shooting her another look, and was struck by the chagrin in hers.

"What? You think I'm a slut?" I was stunned for a second before I realised what she was saying, and I was kicking myself for allowing the faintest trace of the thought to enter her mind.

"What? No! I think you're fucking amazing." I stumbled over them in my hurry to get the words out, and I inhaled before trying again. "I think you're the most amazing woman I've ever met." I hoped action could convey my sentiments more clearly and bent down and kissed her, first her lips and then her nose. Relief rushed through me when her face brightened, flushed and relaxed, before the inevitable question formed, and she shot me a sardonic glance.

"But what then? You don't think it'll fit?" Her eyes darted between my erection and my face, a strange gleam of sarcasm and lust playing, and I snorted and shook my head, not quite knowing how to explain.

"Yes. That's exactly it." I smiled, but then stopped, sighed, struggling to find the words while she looked at me attentively. "No. I just... I don't know if I can... I haven't... It was different, they were different..." The words were a scramble, and for a moment I wished I could take them back, a pang of annoyance hitting me that I would cause more problems. I've worked to avoid conflict for two years, spending every day meticulously planning to ensure I don't have them, and I wasn't prepared to deal with them. I looked at her, grinning, trying to hide the agony, trying to think, trying to ignore the well of opposites working in me, I just wanted it to be easy. Like it used to be, like this should be, like it had been, and like it would have been throughout had I not been taught different. Had I not been different, had I been just a man.

She looked at me another moment, returned the smile and rose, keeping my eyes locked as she stepped over and saved me. I opened my mouth to speak, but she leaned in, kissed my chest and ripped the foil off in one smooth motion before gripping my cock at the base and wiping the moisture off the head. The touch of her made me flinch, suddenly all my inner turmoil was washed away, and I summoned all my energy to keep myself in check. I stood there gaping, not daring to breathe, until she placed the condom on top and dragged her hand down, securing it in one tight motion, and I lost it.

Before I knew what was happening she was hoisted up and pinned against the far wall, her legs firmly pressed on the swell of my ass. Her hands clawed at my neck, threading into my hair, my hands clamped around her shoulders, her ribs pinned by my elbows and her pussy; wet and soft and sweet and warm, crowning the tip of my cock. It took all the self-control I could muster to stop, trying to manage enough clarity to make it last, to be considerate and gentle. I wanted to be considerate, I wanted to be gentle, I wanted to be everything they taught me not to be. I wanted to be me, or at least the version that was left to me. I tried to steady my breathing, feeling hers wash over me, her taste and scent, and my head was swimming.

"Are you sure?" It was a ragged moan more than a sentence, but she seemed to understand me well enough, small affirmative whimpers and nods mingling with puffs of air in my mouth and I finally let go. I dug my fingers into her shoulders, pulling her down as I thrust into her, slowly, endlessly, trying to make sense of every moment as the taut swollen head of me pushed into her, feeling her stretch and conform, tighten and constrict, closing around and squeezing every inch of me, until I finally was inside her, swallowed and helpless. I blanked out, I just stood there, having no emotion or sense that wasn't directed into her. I could feel every twitch and clench, every squirm and wriggle, every breath and every heartbeat. I was fleetingly grateful for both the orgasm and the condom, without either I would have come in an instant. "Oh god, oh god, oh god." I fell against her, gasping for air, clamouring to string a coherent thought together, not quite succeeding. "Is this okay?" She just spread out further, her heels digging into my buttocks, grinding frantically for traction, and my focus was fast dissolving. I was vaguely aware that I should loosen my grip on her, but I was afraid to move, I couldn't see myself being able to stop if I did.

“Oh, god yes. Please." She twitched and buckled a little, making her pussy twinge, sending a small electric current through my whole frame. I shifted, clamping her firmer against me, wanting to go deeper but making a last effort of control. "Please, Bucky. Just fuck me." If it was the pleading tone, the command or simply the use of my name I didn't know, but the words had me simultaneously wanting to explode in her and make it last as long as possible. Keeping all my focus on the latter, I finally pulled out.

The cool air in the room made the difference even more noticeable when I sunk back in, the heat and tightness almost scorching. I groaned helplessly into her neck and shoulder, trying desperately to direct my attention elsewhere as I felt her rubbing against me, her clit finding friction on my pelvis. Her fingers tugged frantically at my hair, her breathing small, ragged moans.

“Jesus fuck.” I secured my embrace and began thrusting, slowly and steadily, gradually building the rhythm. Blood roaring for every stroke, her walls were squeezing around me, slick and soft, impossibly wet and warm. Every fibre and nerve of my cock exposed to the pressure, forcing its way in, feeling her close on the way out, repeating the process over and over, every intrusion threatening to push me over the edge. She found my mouth and latched on, lips moulding to mine, letting my tongue penetrate her as I fucked her, air catching in her throat, and I could feel she was close.

My arms flexed, wanting to clamp her tighter, to go deeper, and somewhere buried in my brain a warning light flashed. Not safe. Not safe. Not safe. For her. Not safe for her. With agonising effort I found the last ounce of reason left in me, and firmly inside her I stopped, panting and sweating, hunched and pulled my head back, looking at her, marvelling at the sight. Her eyes were shining, her face and chest flushed and her hair was darkened by moisture, small droplets of sweat running down her temples and on the bridge of her nose. She looked glorious, and I was filled with equal measure of joy and renewed surges of lust as she scrunched her eyes in exasperation, moaned, gasping for air, sending me a pleading look.

"Don't stop." I could understand the dissatisfaction, I wasn't hurting her half as much as myself, but the gratification I got from her frustration made a huge grin break out on my face. She stared at me in mock annoyance, losing her composure as I shifted my grip, slid my hand under her ass, spreading my fingers for support, and shot my hip up. I penetrated her deeper, effectively landing her full weight on my cock. The increased pressure and depth threatened to overwhelm me, but I managed to retain composure long enough to brace myself on the wall beside her head as I leaned in for a kiss, her lips trembling against mine.

"No, I don't ever want to stop." I laughed shakily, feeling her sink even further down, and I abandoned the last attempt of control. I used my arm for leverage, hoisted her up and pushed her against the wall, allowing myself space to move and sank into her as far as I could. My breath hitched, my tongue plunged into her mouth, and my mind went blank. I was engulfed by her, drowning in her, the feeling of her skin, the intensity of her heat, the soaked, clenching tightness that squeezed and contracted around me. It made every nerve burn and ache. The taste of her mouth, the firm demands of her tongue, the scent of her skin, the sound of her breathing, the moans she elicited into my mouth, and I forgot. I completely forgot as I stroked harder and faster, pounding relentlessly, feeling every connection, every fibre, every drop of moisture. I forgot to breathe, I forgot to think, I forgot who and what I was, all that mattered was her, feeling her, sensing her, fucking her, loving her.

"Oh god, I'm co-co—" Her whole frame buckled, and she arched back, impaling herself on me as she orgasmed, her nails digging into my neck and shoulders, forcing my mouth onto hers. I chuckled, my head swimming before I thrust into her with all the force I could muster, and I came violently, cursing her name. Everything stopped for what felt like a flash of eternity, my head was completely empty, a brilliant moment of clarity. Then the pleasure and euphoria hit as I landed, and I regained all my sensory system, all of it focused at that one point where I throbbed and ejaculated, a feeling of complete relief washing over me. I felt completely spent, I felt relaxed, I felt whole, I felt alive, I felt human. I felt warm. I felt safe.

"Fuck." The small sound was barely audible through the incessant creaking of the wall under my hand. The blood roaring in my ears and our combined panting, and I let out another small laugh as I became aware of her slumping down on my shoulder, her legs shaking and struggling to keep their hold around my waist. "Jesus, Bucky. I'm falling apart at the seams here." I laughed again and tried to keep my own legs steady as I gathered her up in a firmer embrace, tugging my fingers out of the dents they'd made, hoping she wouldn't notice. My face hiding in her neck, I carried her over to the bed, resting on my knees as I laid her down, still inside her, reluctant to pull out. Not wanting to let her go. I never wanted to let her go. She slumped back, ankles still crossed behind my back, and I kissed her, her contractions expelling me, having her squirm against me one last time. I got a hold on the condom, slid it off and dropped it on the floor before rolling down beside her. I settled her onto my arm, and she slung along my side, her knee on my thigh, her head resting on my shoulder. I had no words, there was nothing I could say that could even begin to express what I felt, so I kept silent, listening to the receding pulse in my ears, the rapid thrumming in her chest. I took her soft, small fragile hand in mine, struck again by the contrast, but for the first time trying to recognise the potential similarities. Safe. I closed my eyes and sighed.

"Thank you." I barely got the words out, they seemed so insufficient, so hopelessly inadequate, but I needed to say them. I could feel her twisting her head, rubbing her face in my chest, not knowing how to respond.

"For what?" My lips twitched, I knew she understood, but at last I didn't want to shy away from an answer.

"For the best night in..." I stopped, not finding the right wording, how to say enough without saying too much. "In a long time." It was too little, but it was all I had to offer, no matter how desperately I wanted to give her more. She twisted her head up, cupped my cheek and kissed me, telling me she understood, and a well of gratitude rose in my chest.

"You're welcome. And likewise." I looked at her, struck again by awe and wonder, her eyes glittering, her lips swollen and shiny, a small smile playing on them, her hair mussed and tangled and a faint flush spreading up her neck and face, making her hide her face again. I inhaled deeply and she snuggled closer, wincing slightly, and relaxed, moulding her body to mine. "Are you staying?" The words were light and casual, but I could feel the small hitch as she held her breath for a second, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

"Yes." I exhaled slowly. "If you want me to." She let out a tiny sigh, probably revealing more than she had intended, and I stayed gracious in return.

"I do. I have an early flight though, so you have to get up early." I smiled at the neutral tone, and tugged at the blanket, draping it over us, cradled her closer and kissed her hair, taking in her scent and the texture, forcing the thought of her leaving out of my mind.

"I always get up early. Just sleep. I'll be here.”

The roar of the bike was unnaturally loud in the quiet morning air as I kicked it to life, and I twisted the handle twice more before kicking into drive and speeding out of the alley, not caring about oncoming traffic. I sped through the sleeping streets, accelerated up the onramp, and flew down the empty freeway, clearing my head and chasing away the remnants of melancholy and sadness.

It had been a long night, but nowhere near long enough. She had fallen asleep within minutes, her heart slowing and her breath steady, her chest rising and falling softly, her eyes relaxed, her lashes resting on her cheeks. I'd lain there just watching her. Fascinated by the trust and peace she displayed, the trust she had in me. I'd traced her arms and cheek, her waist and thigh, following the contours of her, the outline, trying to make her tangible, to keep her. I'd been revelling in the warmth and comfort, both things I've given up a long time ago, and I had allowed my mind to wander, to imagine, to dream. What it would be like to ask her to stay, to go with her, to get to know her, to see her again, to see her always. I knew it would never happen, I never imagine, they had taught me not to, they'd taught me a lot of things, but lying there with her I still did it. I saw her trust in me, and I wanted to believe I could be worth it. That I could be more. That life could be more. More than routine and struggle and lists and fear, more than a fight.

Even as I'd lain there, I could feel the memories of the night fading. They were like dreams, my mind a sieve trying to catch them. It wasn’t a dream, and I knew that. I had to remember, to commit the feel of her, the weight of her, the warmth of her to memory. I had to remember. I continued to count her heartbeats until the first ray of the sun gleamed through the slip in the curtains, and I knew it was over. She was still sleeping as I carefully withdrew my arm, and lifted her leg to inch out from under it, sliding out of the bed, careful not to jostle it too much, not looking back at her, not wanting to lose my nerve. I'd found my clothes spread out across the floor, and I relived every moment of how each item got there as I collected them and got dressed. I'd tidied up what I could, I didn't dare make too much noise, I'd been determined to slip out unnoticed.

Until I'd stood by the door, my hand hovering over the handle and the ache became too much. I'd walked back to the bed and stood a long while just watching her, and when I bent down to kiss her I'd known she was awake. I knew she'd been awake, and I knew she'd let me go. Not because she wanted to, but because she knew she had to. I pressed my real hand to her hair, brushed my lips against her cheek and hurried quietly through the door before I changed my mind. I hadn't stopped until I was in the alley, sitting across my bike, fighting the urge to throw it through the nearest window.

I was halfway to Constanța when I noticed the traffic getting heavier, and the sun getting higher. I checked my watch and confirmed my thought that it was too late, and that she would be gone. I slowed down and idled in at the next rest stop, made a u-turn and fell into the increasingly steady stream of cars heading back to the city. I passed the tired commuters and truck drivers, the families with kids, and couples bickering and I felt more connected to them than I ever had. I had imagined myself to be one of them for a fleeting moment and that had been enough.

When I entered the city limit, I thought about stopping to get some coffee or something to eat, but my head was already buzzing and my appetite was for something completely different, so in the end I just stopped by Harry and checked on the kittens. She was visibly annoyed that I hadn't brought her something but placated enough when I sat there for a few minutes, scratching her and letting the kittens climb my arm. I left with promises to return later in the day with more food and drove slowly back to the room. My room. Maybe if I talked to Andrei I could get more work. And afford a better room. I parked the bike in the shed, locked it, and went in, half running up the stairs.

I was out of breath when I wrenched the door open and stepped in, doing a cursory sweep through the window before shrugging off my jacket and shoes. I latched the door and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. I brought it to the bathroom and turned the shower on, draining the water bottle as I waited for hot water. I stepped into the shower, and as the stream hit my hair, her scent washed over me, and for a fleeting second I was back there, with her. With her and with the knowledge that I'm not only a monster, that killing isn't all I can do. That no matter what they've taught me, there are other things to learn, other things I know. That even if the monster is still in me, so is the man. I recalled the memory of her, slipping as it might be, and fought with every fibre to keep it; if I can remember all of them, I must be able to remember her.

After I'd dried off I went over to the window and put the cardboard in place, shutting out the sun, I had to sleep no matter how much I was dreading it. I sat down and shook out the sheets before I stopped, scanning the room. I saw the clothes I'd left on the floor and went over, bringing back my sweater and shirt, draping them over the flat pillow before laying down on it, inhaling deeply. I am tired of fighting, and I want to stop, to rewind, to be different, to change. It always ends in a fight but maybe it doesn't have to. Safe.

I shifted to my side, buried my face in the pillow, closed my eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep 73 years overdue, not knowing that in 5 hours a bomb would go off in Vienna. Safe.

#a bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #sort of #last night in bucharest #lnib #lisa's scribbles #edited to add the link to wir

121 notes · View notes

a-writing-bear · 6 years ago

Text

[PruCan] Chapter 8: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/39297289

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU: College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature: Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.) WITHIN THIS CHAPTER - Mentions of Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, Counseling, and anti-depressants. (please note I am NOT anti-meds.) Family Issues are implied.

Setting up his usual war zone of paint, He lamented over his still unfinished piece of a personal canvas. Matthew detailed a picture in his mind so vividly he felt as if he could see the finished canvas on the wall already but his hands seemed to fail him in actually creating it. Upon a haphazard tarp stood his easel and he took the once pearly off-white canvas he had nicked from the art department- his lecturer adored him so he doubts it would be missed- the canvas was already messy with unfinished splodges that seemed off and unlike his previous works. It had been like this for months. No matter how many strokes, whenever he worked on this personal painting it never came out right. Somehow paint would be spilt and he’d be left either in tears or in a bitter silence as he cleared up his disaster zone. In fact, he should probably do this in the department if he wanted to avoid fines for ruining his rented dorm again with such heavy duty acrylic- but he found solitude in doing his art somewhere privately his own. As the coloured bristles feather-kissed the scene once more Matthew focused on the strokes, as if each one was more important than the other, solving an intricate puzzle. It shaped up pleasantly as each new stroke made the blurry figures come to life; he had been painting a captured memory, nostalgic enough that if he decided to gift it to any of the subjects he had been trying to depict, they themselves would hopefully remember it well. He could still remember the damp grass and the beautiful budding petals of the bunches of bright tulips, himself sat in the open cargo of Tim’s family pickup truck with his back to the driver’s compartment, Alfred on the edge where the tailgate opened, dangling his legs off almost falling onto the gravelly road. Tim, was on his left, even seated he was taller than him. It was a childhood memory he can always remember. The dutch kid had been insistent of showing the twins his family’s Tulip crop when they had come to visit for the summer- and his mother had taken a photo in the excitement of all three of the boys. Matthew knew he could just ring his mother for the actual picture but his hand would rather create the piece itself. If only he could finish it.

He smiled to himself, that summer was one of the best- he hadn’t a problem in his head too much that season, besides his usual anxious thoughts, it was a peaceful summer. Tim would be embarrassed by this, but he knew in some way or another Laura would get her brother to frame it and displayed in their home. Matthew always loved how secretly stuck to his family Tim was, even going as far to rent a house for his siblings and himself rather than bunk along in the dorms or find other senior flatmates. Family loyalty. Even looking at the painted version of Alfred made him feel guilty. Did Alfred really think Matthew wanted to break their trust? Well obviously not if he was willing to come to his session today- there was a knock on the door,

“It’s Gilbert” came muffled through the door and Matthew cursed a little, was it 5 already? God, he should be counting the hours down till he had to see Dr Paisley, not absentmindedly getting lost.

“Hold on!” abandoning his artwork, he flung himself to the door but not before running his hand through his hair a little.

“Hey.”

“Hey to you too” Gilbert himself looked tired, exhausted even. How did Gilbert somehow pull off the tired look so well? Must be the jeans or the- focus Matthew. They both shuffled back in, Gilbert already rambling on about the animation and class schedules. Turns out they both have completely non-compliant timings, no wonder they have never met before: If it wasn’t a class that made them miss each other, it was Gilbert’s work schedule. A schedule which made Matthew’s eyebrows arch in amazement- Gilbert worked hard.

“I mean, I used to be the bender sort you know. The type of college hooligan to...go out a lot”, when asked Gilbert, explained absentmindedly as if he was talking to himself a little bit. “But, Right now we need the money so I can’t afford to go out recklessly like I used to...i don't think I want to either, it’s not my- not my thing anymore.”

They went off topic, Gilbert shoved some more director notes he had made during his work break as Matthew ploughed through some old storyboards, already sketching in a plain spare artbook. The albino looked like he was gonna collapse, and although Matthew offered him the desk seat he had been rejected with nothing more than a pat on the shoulder and a ‘just continue sketching I’m cool’.

“You can take a nap on my bed if you want, I took a nap at Alfred's room earlier today so it’s not messy, promise.” Gilbert light up at the offer and carried his thin legs to the bed, the dorm rooms were tiny and yet he had only just noticed Matthew’s little corner hosting a new work in progress. It couldn’t have been coursework, the Canadian finished that yesterday after the music incident. It was very detailed and although unfinished seemed as if a photograph had been printed out in the paint. With half of the canvas still quite plain he wondered of what Matthew had been thinking when painting. It was new in some splodges, the paint was still wet and fresh with paint pooling on the tarp and pots still scattered around the legs of the strong easel, but the dry almost discoloured details in the other corners suggested otherwise.

“Whose that? In the painting?” his long fingers pointing at the tiny scarf figure, Matthew barely turned to even check what Gilbert was looking at.

“That’s younger Alf-”

“No, I know that’s your brother- the expression is on point, I mean the guy next to what I presume is fetus Mattie.” after a faux indignant huff of ‘hey!’ at that comment, Matthew had swivelled in his chair to examine who he meant.

“O-oh That’s Tim, a childhood friend. He’s a senior here actually. You probably know him.” distractedly the Canadian went back to humming as he raked through Gilbert’s script notes and his own little sketches. Gilbert’s eyebrows arched and furrowed after hearing Tim’s name. Was he the same Tim who Matthew was texting earlier? Would it matter if it were him?

“...the name doesn’t ring a bell…” Gilbert let his thoughts drift away as he snuggled more into the soft bedding. The smell flowery detergent enveloped him, and Gilbert grinned; It felt heavenly to lie down here- almost more welcoming than his own bed. About an hour had passed as he had napped, when he woke up, distracted by the sound of soft strumming from the nearby table speakers. The room host had been playing what Gilbert recognised as some Mom Jeans song. Of course, he listens to mom jeans. He’s perfect, Gilbert thought.

“Hey Matthew...” his eyes wandered to stare as Matthew’s form was hunched over in creative focus, messy hair slightly dishevelled from obvious rest earlier. Gilbert was going to attempt a little bit of chivalry, besides, Matthew had been so kind as to allow him to crash here; That deserved free dinner, right? Date or not...he could convince the other boy it was a platonic outing if he failed horrendously...which he doesn't.

“Gil- awake now? I can feel you overthinking from here dude.” Gilbert’s eyes fluttered now realising Matthew had responded to his distant Hey and was coming nearer to move onto the bed too,

“I just- Do you...I mean there's this really good diner in town- We could grab some food later cus I feel like I ow-” Matthew had turned in what could be perceived as shock but it melted away quickly as he was blushing in the brightest form of red; it was endearing and god Gilbert wished he could cup those cheeks and-

“That would be..!” The tone was so bright and loud and Gilbert’s heart jumped in premature celebration until he caught onto the last few bits of the reply “....actually fuck. I’m busy tonight Gil.” Apologising profusely aside, Gilbert could see a tinge of guilt wash over Matthew’s expression, secrets glinting under the faraway glaze. “In fact, I actually have somewhere to be soon and I should probably go.”

The silver-haired boy sat up, bunching his shirt in his hands; it sounded as if the Canadian was dying to avoid Gilbert right now Yet it would seem very improbable for such a kind-faced creature like Matthew to rudely do such a thing. Quick hands moved around the room as the blonde rushed round, hands searching for his hoodie that had been laid recklessly on the floor and a hasty pat down of pockets picking up the cheesy maple leaf keychain that latched onto his car keys. Matthew was about to run for the door before he realised his guest was still left on the bed very much puzzled,

“I just drafted some concept art, it’s not much right now- just scribbles. I’ll do the linework soon but if you want to stay in here for a bit t-that...that’s fine. I’ll uh not be back for a while. I really h-I have to go like right now.” The stumbling over words was nothing less than adorable but the complimenting panicky hands that fidgeted in a show of motion blurred movements really took the cake as he watched the man practically zoom out- a voice far from the doorway telling Gilbert to not forget to turn off the lights when he’s done. Alone with his thoughts, the air seemed thin and full of saddened merriment the longer he glared at his friend’s dorm room walls.

Matthew’s feet felt heavy and seemed to plummet with every step- his speedy getaway had slowed down significantly as he stood in front of Alfred’s dorm. He was not running away. He was just keeping track of time. His quick leave must of been really rude but his realisation over the time was more important- Dr Paisley didn’t appreciate late entrances. I’ll send him a text.

M @ 6:20 [Hey, Sorry didn’t mean to be rude. Just forgot I had to do something with Al. Ttyl?]

G @ 6:24 [Np. Tell the nerd I said hey! Ttyl, Imma sleep here forever man, your bed is amazing…]

The thought of Gilbert staying in his bed for even a second warmed his cheeks. Focus. His eyes ignored his phone as he went back to staring at his brother’s door down. Unsure hands knocked lightly as he heard quiet laughter drain out from underneath the wooden entrance.

“Come on in!” there was a quick shuffle as Matthew stammered in, not surprised to see Alfred closer what looked like a video call with Kiku. That’s adorable. He watched his brother fluster in closing the tab before snapping forward and clicking triumphantly towards his brother,

“Lemme just grab my stuff alright?” wallet and phone secured, the two wandered out humming, Car keys passed to Alfred as they slid into the slight wreck and worn out red car; Matthew almost insisted on driving as the other complained over the old ride but Alfred had already pushed it off and stuck his tongue out tryna reverse out the tiny university carpark. “So….what's on the agenda?” Careful eyes on the road as the day darkened, they made their way off campus. The red hoodie boy shrugged, leaning dismissively on the window as he watched buildings blur in the distance.

“It’s really just a catch-up and you get to sit in and then you’ve got to sign off for me.” The car had jerked to a stop as they reached a small private property, the building had been a renovated residence, and it’s awkward charm of brick build fit well in the surrounding suburban area. The clinic had been a reference from their family doctor, a private and less clinical-looking approach; Hospitals always made Matthew uneasy- a past of heavy hitting hockey accidents tend to make you regret hospital visits honestly. The two slinked out, Alfred smiling a little less wide, more genuine in his approach as he sauntered ahead- trying to appease Matthew anxiousness to ask him to go in. The little door jingled with an out of place kindness, and the secretary simply smiled as she saw Alfred gestured towards his brother.

“Hey Matthew, bit early but I’m sure she’ll let you slip in, I’ll let her know.”

“Thanks, John.” The two shuffled into the waiting room, the blue coloured walls screaming a soothing need to be somewhere else. A large white door that leads to the office glared at him, accusatory in it’s meaning. Although they were the only people present, Alfred’s demeanour just seemed so out of place, as if he was never meant to be in a generic chair surrounded by mental health posters- the beach blonde was basically a poster boy of happiness. Matthew scorned. No point getting upset over your brother, he’s tryna-

The big white door had swung open, a cheery disposition of Ms Paisley greeting the, ushering for the two to enter her office. The all-too-familiar couch never felt so small until he had to clamber onto it with Alfred cramping alongside him. The brown haired doctor had settled in her own seat, collected and calm as she watched the two settle patiently. This entire situation felt overcrowded. After she had introduced herself to Alfred, she had opened her arms out to Matthew, ready to fire off on questions no doubt.

“So! Matthew, Nice to see you as always, thank you for inviting your brother, I don’t want to make this difficult so let's lay down some rules.” explaining, her movement seemed so insistent on encouraging him to look at Al’s expression, but he couldn’t bring himself to even look away from her brown heels and the suddenly immensely interesting wooden floor.

“We can just do some simple questions today, Is that alright Matt? Alfred can sit in for a short while, and then I’d like to talk to him privately for a bit. That should take…” the clock taunted him as they both looked at it calculatingly. “30 Minutes, I’ll speak to Al for 15 and then we can have a little private time for the last 15. Is that alright?” It wouldn’t matter Al was already here he-

“Yeah that sounds good.” his voice caught up faster, desperate to get it over with. Don’t get the Canadian wrong: he enjoyed his sessions with Ms paisley, it was just hard...really exhausting being with his brother and his mind was about to explode with uncertainty over almost everything.

“How...how are you feeling Matt. Better than last week?”

Matthew felt like he was going to choke.

#prucan #APH Canada #APH Prussia #SoftSpokenCalling #prussia x canada #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #Axis Powers Hetalia #hetalia fandom #Hetalia Fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #Multichapter

7 notes · View notes

articsmiths · 2 years ago

Text

Day 5

Hello readers if anyone even sees this-

today has been ok

I woke up late, so I had to rush around the house at 6 trying to find my school stuff. My hair looked amazing all day, so I was very happy :). I had history first, so I didn't have a bad start, but I've had a DRY ASS COUGH all day! I felt so ill well I didn't at the time but now I do.

Then I had English, which was super funny, but I had to go on my timetable cus I'd forgotten I had that lesson- My ratty emo English teacher wasn't in for once, so we got to have fun and do some reading in stupid voices like mad people! The lad who was sat next to me did a super funny assent, but I was the only one laughing at him bit Awkard.

After I had break, and me and my mates were doing the usual chat like Claire moaning about me being sat in the seat, we both like.

After that I had my first food tec lesson!!!It wasn't supposed to be my first, but I was ill for the other food tec lessons so- We thought we were just reading about food, but we ended up making this Mank bland pasta which was fun to make!

Then a had art which I really like but my painting ended up failing and I put way too much paint on my Pallett, but I didn't get yelled at cus the art teacher really likes me :) and I got to redo my heart.

Then I had dinner where me and Claire raced to the "Gods seat" and on the way she tried to convince me that we should re do the deal cus it's not fair and she regrated doing it, but I refused cus I think it's a good deal whoever gets that seat first gets the seat! and Becky tol us all our music teacher said we could learn an instramen and we all really want to do music gcse! Me and Bryan want to learn the drums so i tolf him after school we should meet and ask sir about it!

Then i had Geography last and that was SO BORINGGGGGG exspet someone made a song for there homework so miss played it and everyone was cackling!

I meet with my mates outside the music room and turns out HE WASNT FUCKING THERE!!! so we had to go on a wild half an hour-long goose chance to find him >:(. He was in a detention room like Bryan had said like 20 mins before but idc. All my mates picked the Saxaphone and a picked piano cus I have a keyboard at home so it will be easier for me to play. We walked home jamming to music and as soon as I got home my sickness hit like a falling building. I made me and my stepbrother tea and i just got worse until my last nerve broke. My friend who we will call Amy who goes a different school has been going on about Claire liking my girlfriend and idk if she does it to get a reaction out of me or because she just cares about me but i think it's some joke to get me upset. and I she rang me talking about it and i snapped "I feel sick, and I don't want to hear it you're doing my head in I don't care!" and then she went ok ok ok then changed the topic but in the back of my mind it's just weird like why would one of my friends like my girlfriend like. that's just wrong if it's one of your mates. Like if i broke up with Becky would Claire shoot her shot? that's your mates ex they are like off limits that's just rude like wtf-

That call got me all pissed so i started typing my daily blog to calm me down and it dose really so thats where i shall be ending this blog

see you soon - Articsmiths

#online diary #dumb shit #illness

1 note · View note

aggresivelyfriendly · 7 years ago

Photo

~Who Names The Colors~

Hi loveys! I’m on the beach, I hope!! But this is all cued up for you all!! I am enthrall to @nocontrolforlouis, @bleedinglove4h, and my banner(wo)man @dirtystyles!

All the usual warnings apply! Age Gap, blah blah blah

If this makes you look like the dude above our trio, come SCREAM at me!

Chapter 11-The Scream

December 2014 The sun had risen, just- it was a new day, perhaps a new world. Jo was just as unfamiliar with it as a 16th century Spaniard in a jungle. She just didn't know how to navigate this and had no compass to help, not that she was even sure of what direction she wanted to go. The night had been a fever dream, but dreams unwound, and as undone as Jo had come with them, repeatedly, she was now in an even more complicated situation than before.

She was no longer lusting after a student, she had slept with one, her advisee to boot. The provider in her felt like she needed to immediately call this off. She didn't think Harry would go to the University if she did that, but she knew rejected men often acted in ways that could surprise you, hurt you.

It hadn't felt like he had any wish to hurt her. He'd been sweet and considerate and solicitous.

After they realized it was morning, he had located his phone. "It's 7:30. What time's Zoe get up?" He was still naked, and it was distracting. He was covered in more markings, from her hands and mouth, and he was splotched with gold, except his hand, which revealed him as the Midas who had turned her to gold. If he looked that messy....

"Soon." It was unpredictable when they had nothing going on for the day and as the Christmas holidays dawned schedules were loose. Shit! Ethan.

"Harry, where's Ethan?" Jo had asked as she stood up abruptly and tried to find her clothes. Her shirt she had taken off by where they, well where they were, but Harry had shucked her like a corn before they got into the paint. God, he was so distracting. Thinking about the night before doubly so. She was staring at him, because he was watching her intensely while she panicked.

"Harry?" She whisper shouted.

"Sorry, you look, really," And he was fumbling with the phone in his hand. "Can I take a picture of you?"

"Are you mental?" had been her immediate response. "You want evidence?"

"No, no," his voice went up a little then. "Course not, you just look like a piece of art? Like living and breathing creation." The wonder on his face made her ache. She wanted to go back to night with him. He still seemed to be existing there or had moved to basking in golden dawn where she was definitely standing in the cold of a December morning. She even had gooseflesh, from the cool air in her studio, her nudity, and mostly from reality. "I won't get your face. Just your torso. Want you to see yourself this way too. Please Jo?"

She surprised herself, again, with her response. It seemed to be her continual mood in his presence, "Yeah, go ahead Harry." And she let him stand her behind a painting stool so her lady bits were covered but her shape was revealed. She stood still and rather than curling into herself in embarrassment or shame she found her back straightening and her confidence growing through the lens of his camera, his eye

"Here, look. I'll delete anything that makes you nervous." He handed over his phone, but came to stand behind her and when he breathed she could feel his pebbled nipples on her shoulder blades. The sensation was pleasant and his heat sent the gooseflesh away and Jo forgot what they were doing other than being close for a moment until Harry started to scan through the photos. He had taken about 10 of them. And he hadn't gotten her face like he promised. But he had captured something else. Jo knew she was conventionally attractive, was reminded of it often enough, but she had never felt exquisite. In Harry's pictures, she was just that. In some, the turn of her body was soft and she looked like a nymph, in others, an Amazon. Always otherworldly, mythological. She was breathing heavy when he put the phone in her hand.

"Thank you, for trusting me. Scan through and make sure, so you feel safe." He put his hands on her shoulders and slowly ran them down to her elbows, and his nose came to smell her hair.

He was exquisite.

And he clearly trusted her too. Harry just handed her his phone, while it was open to the camera roll. She leaned back into him, her back resting on his chest. Last time Ethan was home he was showing her pictures and she went to swipe to see another and the yanked it away from her like she was a hot stove. People's phones were as personal an object as they got.

Shit, Ethan! And Zoe was going to be awake any moment.

"Harry, when is Ethan coming? Since he ditched me last night." While she asked, she pulled away and held her clothes to hide the front of her body.

Harry sighed, "I'm not sure, later today? He was hoping his date would go into break...um....sometime today, but he's not exactly an early riser!" He tried to joke.

"Are you?" Jo asked. But instead she winced when she tried to shift and felt the tight paint over her shoulders. Perhaps Harry's pictures lied and she wasn't the best canvas.

"Am I what?" Harry's eyes popped up like popcorn from where he had been admiring her.

"An early riser?" She should be showering, who knew if the paint would come out of her hair with any ease. It might cling on like the memory of last night. She was sure she'd be smelling them and feeling their communion for days. She hoped.

"Um, Yeah, usually but I can sleep all day if I'm up all night, painting or..." And he gave her a cheeky smile.

Her own was timid, she could feel it. How would she act if her feelings weren't so ambiguous? If there was not reason to feel shame of fear, no taboos? Jo imagined she would be jolly, hopeful like Harry seemed to be. She wanted to join him in his time out from reality, she would even take 42 minutes if she had them, but she did not. Zoe and Ethan would be round soon. She hooked a finger toward the door, "I'm gonna shower."

"Can I join you?" She pretended not to hear him as she fled.

Jo was busy freaking the fuck out in the shower about what happened now. She needed to get Harry out of her house before Ethan turned up, and she turned on her monitor, that she was sheepish to admit she still used to check on Zoe, to make sure her little girl was still sleeping. By the grace of god she was, and Jo was gonna get this gold off her body and out of her veins before she woke up. She was also gonna get the 6 foot piece of evidence out of the house. She was gonna get herself together and figure out how to get over this.

The dull thud of a knock interrupted her planing then. "Jo, can I come in?" She heard Harry's voice through the door.

"Um, I'm naked." She asserted and she nearly rolled her eyes, but she most certainly heard his scoff.

"Well, I hope so. Do you need me to wash your back?" He volleyed. When the air was dead for a minute he spoke again, "to get the paint off you. Is it coming out ok?"

It had, but she couldn't see her back, but jo was pretty sure she could explain some paint away and Harry in the bathroom would lead to more than back washing she was fairly sure and all of her resolutions would go down the drain, mixed with paint and come. "Think I got it."

"Jo, can I please come in?" She felt like he had his face against the door, his voice sounded like it.

"I'll be out in a minute." And she would, she thought as she combed and picked the paint out of her hair.

"Can I make you something: tea, coffee, toast then?"

"You can go home if you want Harry." She responded. And lay her own head on the shower door and felt the overwhelming need to cry all of a sudden.

Harry didn't say anything to that and Jo finished up and put on her winter robe, a pregnancy Christmas gift from Ethan, to get her coffee. Her house felt brisk this morning.

She yelped in surprise when she got to her kitchen table and Harry was sitting there, clean, with curling hair like melting chocolate and two mugs of tea on the table.

"Tea one still?" He opened with.

"Um, Yeah," Jo went to the bread box.

"Your bread is in the toaster, I didn't put it on, didn't want it cold for you. I have a banana over here too." his voice was a silly flirt and she wanted to joke with him.

"Thank you." She popped the toast down, and left his innuendo where it lay next to the food on her table. Jo realized she could see her reflection in the microwave glass next to her red toaster. She thought she was alone, that he would have taken the escape from the awkward situation she had set up for them, she hadn't even brushed her teeth, definitely not her locks. Jo smoothed her hair using the blurry image of herself in the door while she waited, she jumped when she saw Harry's reflection. He was right behind her and definitely in her space.

"Jo," Harry said quietly, "I can feel you freaking out. Please, it's freaking me out."

"I'm not freaking out." She said to the microwave and the black box was maybe the only thing that would believe her. "I just need to get cleaned up before Zoe wakes up and I gotta get ready before Ethan gets home." Which means getting you out of my house.

"Which means me leaving." He waited for her to confirm, she wouldn't. It seemed cruel no matter how true is was. "Ok, Miss Jo, I'll leave." And when he put his hands on her shoulders she tensed up like she was about to take impact from a huge lorry. Harry dropped his grip. "May I please have a hug?"

Jo finished her revolution towards him, the one he had started before he read her body language so accurately and knew this move was going to erase her morning's work. The call in his voice, and the base note of hurt too meant she would answer, like the call from the doctor you don't want to get but have to take. She kept her eyes on his clavicle though, his eyes were too much of an eraser. Who knew what would happen if she connected to him there as well.

He wrapped his spaghetti arms around her, he was floppy, like he needed her support to stay upright, and she held him. Jo wanted to hold him, feel him a little too.

"Can you look at me?" He asked to the air around her.

She shook her head against his chest and he nodded his understanding and pressed his mouth to her hair and kissed her there, breathed her ore in.

"Can you come see my new piece? Soon?" He asked, he seemed to be prolonging this hug as much as he could, and Jo clung on too, but opened her balled fists to press her palms to him as well and ran them down to disconnect them before she threw him a bone.

Jo finally looked up. "I'd love to, but, um, I think you'll need to bring it to me at my office, maybe after the new year. I'll be getting ready for my semester." Including checking her rosters to make sure he wasn't in any of her classes. Best to avoid minefields, or at least have a map for them.

"You can't come to my studio?" He was biting his lip before he spoke and she swore she saw wet emotion in his eyes.

She shook her head.

"Are you sure? I have a few things to show you I'm sure, and I think I found a new source of inspiration too." He bit his lip again, this time to try to evoke rather than hold back emotion she thought.

It did bring up something in her. He was successful, but he always was. It may have not had the effect he wanted. Jo's first response was tingly but it's companions came tripping on its heels, Fear, and longing. She had to say something. She knew she should not do this, knew before she kissed him, or fucked him.

"I can't go to your studio, Harry. I think we should not be alone together—"

"We're alone now."

"This should be the last time." They were so close, she was basically part of him still. And then she was kissing him. One last time. "This is the last time." She said against his mouth and promised them both.

"No it's not." He shook his mouth against her and she could feel his words and his grin.

"Has to be. You gotta go." They were still kissing and he was smiling and she was kissing his teeth. And she laughed when their teeth glanced against each other. She meant what she was saying, but she let him pick her up and put her on her kitchen counter and stand between her legs. She was just about to let Harry take her shirt off and maybe have her for breakfast when Zoe cried "Mummy."

Saved by the belle.

Harry was breathing heavily and she pushed him back against the cupboard to get herself back together. "You gotta go!" she said. This time it sounded like she meant it. and he grinned like a cat yellow because of all the canaries, like shrimp turn flamingos pink. Harry kissed her one more time.

"Last one, right?" he smirked at her when he pulled back.

"Get out of here, you cheeky ass!" Jo pushed around him and couldn't help looking back. It made her grin. He was leaning back against her counter top with his eyes closed and first two fingers against his mouth.

Her grin didn't return when she got up and found that Zoe had wet herself while she was being a horrible mother downstairs.

"Oh sweet one!" She pulled her out and stripped her and the bed. Jo heard the door close when she was taking her to the bathroom to rinse her off.

Harry didn't understand, what did he have to lose?

The chance to fuck his professor, again? Whereas she, she looked at her weepy little girl, and later that day, her handsome lad. She had so much to lose.

Ethan when he arrived was a beacon. He looked bright with love. Before she could even tell him he turned her thoughts back on her, like missing the exit on a revolving door.

"Mum, I think you are even prettier today!" He said while she served him and she almost asked what he wanted. Instead, Jo decided to observe him. She decided to turn up the magnification on the microscope up and crawl out from between the sandwiched pieces of glass. It was his turn to be the specimen.

He was grinning, there were no visible marks on his neck, but he had a collar and it was done up over his undershirt which was unusual. She watched him make faces at Zoe, and then pick up his phone to play the Moana song she was singing to her toys, then snap chat it. He was good with her. "Hmmm, thank you, love. How was your date?"

Ethan looked like a the bullfrog in his mouth accidentally had lodged in his throat, "um, it was really good! Not as good as yours though Mum!"He deflected back and she was concerned they were playing figurative ping pong.

"Why do you say that?" Jo tuned away with cheeks like a trash fire. She could feel it.

"You're glowing. Did he stay over?"

Jo looked back to admonish him about little ears and he was already covering Zoe's and smiling like a cartoon villain.

"Ethan! Are you really asking your mum this"?" Because yes, she had had sex, all night, for the first time ever and it was all she could do to not but her hand in the flames while she made breakfast because she wanted to approximate the feeling again. That was not information to share with your son, even if he was grown, and even if your partner was not his mate.

"I'm just dragging you, mum! Can tell it was good because you have paint under your nails. Inspiring?"

She turned back abruptly and knew the blush had migrated to her whole body.

Before she she could help herself, "maybe." Slipped out.

"What's his name? When do I meet him?" Ethan asked and Jo had a moments freak out. No way, no how. That was a scenario that could ever happen. Because Ethan knew the man, very well, and that made him wholly unsuitable. So, like any good parent, she pinged back his pong.

"Why are you so interested in my love life then?" She put some food before Ethan and on the tray Zoe was still using. Hmmm it was about time to transition her outta that.

"You have had bad goes Mum, you deserve somebody who is good to you and who you want." His brown eyes made her soft inside. They looked like her own. "You just look like you might have found it."

No, that was inconceivable, she wasn't gonna entertain that thought. She kissed the top of his head, "so do you!" And left it at that.

But, she did think about it. Jo thought about Harry and the night before and Ethan's attention to the color on her cheeks every time her mind wandered. Later when she was alone because Zoe was taking a nap that may very well be her last and Ethan was getting ready to meet mates at the pub, she got to thinking about it again, it was like the bad penny that kept turning up. Jo even had to stop herself asking if Harry would be at the pub. She needed to focus on the consequences, so she snuck into her studio, returned to the scene of the crime.

She had had time to get herself together this am, but had not been able to clean up the wreckage there. Usually this would be no problem, Ethan rarely came in here and Zoe couldn't do the doorknob she had on it yet. Today it felt like a stolen dress with the sensor still on, incriminating evidence, and she needed to see to it. When she stepped in her fears about the evidence were confirmed, the things made in this room last night weren't just on the canvases, and the proof was everywhere. Jo blushed at the print of her body inside of the thicker gold outline. Where Harry turned her over to press her down, the details were blurry, like she was a golden hummingbird, only hovering and impossible to capture. The halo he'd created when he poured the paint over her was much more defined. The edges of her were clear, like a holy halo.

It made her ache, because it was beautiful and because she had to hide it, and put it away. Him away. That was not a painting she could ever explain. Jo picked up the heavy canvas and hoisted it behind others, blocking the golden image, the memory with it. Jo felt like she needed to get rid of it. She also knew that she would not. Jo felt the imprints of last night within her body and without and would never be able to bear throwing out what she and Harry had made. Not even the memory. The point of coming in here had been to cover her tracks and remind herself the consequences, but instead she was reminiscing, or mourning, she wasn't sure which or what either meant.

A knock sounded on her studio door and she heard it open and she nearly barked at Ethan for intruding. It wasn't nice to be caught with your hands covered in crimson, or gilded here she supposed. She kept her cool but barely, "come in, love."

"I'm gonna head out, everybody but Harry's already there, but he runs late anyways."

She winced at the name. Jo certainly didn't need reminders of him. He surrounded her like the hoodie she had on. It also was a curious fact about him. Jo ran over her own interactions with him backwards. He'd never been late to her class or Zoe's lessons, or babysitting jobs, or her office. "Ok, can you...." she started to ask before she bit her tongue.

"I'll call if I'm gonna be late and no body will drive. Pinky promise." He'd come over to her and extended his pinky to her.

They kept promises, did Smiths, and least the Smiths she made. Jo promised herself she'd try to keep away from Harry as well while she hooked her tiny finger through his. "Thank you!" Jo exhaled and folded him into her arms like Ethan was smaller than her. Like when he was small.

"What were you working on after your hot date?" Ethan asked after she released him.

And then she lied to him, bold faced and intentional, "oh," she snapped the lid on her can of gold paint, which was way lighter than it had been since Harry's golden sunset 6 years ago. "I was so worked up I spilled paint over it. I think I'll have to trash it." She walked over to her bin and put the rest of the gold paint in there.

"That's to bad, mum! I wanted to see what this bloke brought up, besides your blushes!"

She blushed and pushed Ethan playfully out the door. "On with you!"

When he was gone, she sat on the stool Harry had used to protect her and put her head in her hands. "Five Minutes Jo!" She told herself and indulged her thoughts, the ones that kept brimming to the surface, about how he had touched her, treated her soft, but touched her cruel, and brought out desire and actions she had never thought of let alone acted on. She kept her reverie cerebral, she promised herself she was done touching herself to thoughts of him.

When her five minutes were up, she used the rest of Zoe's nap to paint. Her strokes were furious and fast. It was another woman, a voluptuous one, walking another beat, but this one went away from the viewer and Jo figured she had somewhere to be, maybe over a rainbow, or over the cliff. She switched on the monitor an hour in, and was trying to finish the beginnings when Zoe stated to stir. Something was missing and Jo couldn't figure it out.

The cries had reached the can't be ignored stage quickly, and with a mother load of guilt, Jo hustled up the stairs to get her girl.

But the missing piece niggled the back of her mind, all night, through the shop she ran to with Zoe to pick up a special gift for Ethan's stocking and through the easy dinner she threw on, she and Zoe made pizza's, and through bath and bed time.

Jo lay in her own bed, and could not close her eyes, or touch herself, or forget. She wanted to scream, but that was definitely an overreaction.

The ruffle of the bedclothes sounded in her ears before she even made the conscious decision to go to her studio. She threw on her thick robe and grabbed a bottle of wine and the key. She was pulling out the cork and closing the door, as she tossed the refuse, she missed the bin and reversed her steps to fix it. The gold paint can wound up in her hand before she even thought about it.

The Bordeaux was thick on her tongue and dried her mouth out like desire. She popped the top on the metallic pigment and didn't even bother with the paint brush. She dipped the ends of her fingers into it. She stared at the gild on her fingers and swallowed another sip before painting gold smudges for footsteps behind her woman. And the cliff, she was about to smear the gold into the distance. Over that colorful cliff, there was more than a pot of gold, maybe a valley of it instead.

A familiar chuckle hit her ears. Harry's when he was bemused and just that touch annoyed. Then she heard her son's mumbled tones. She was surprised she wasn't relieved. Ethan had made it home, but he had brought a problematic plus one.

"Mum!" Ethan happily smiled at her. "You know by now you don't have to wait up!" He only was mildly slurring, but he was hung on Harry's shoulder like he was much drunker than he appeared to be.

She quirked a brow in Harry's direction for confirmation, but he was avoiding her eyeline.

"Are you alright?" she directed at Ethan and returned Harry's icy shoulder, moving her body between the two of them, physically taking his place. She ignored the race of menthol burn across her skin when her clothed body glanced across his.

"I'm fine, I twisted my ankle trying to do a stupid dance. I could have made it home, but Harry insisted he help me." The ridiculousness of this was plain in Ethan's tone.

"You were limping, nearly fell again at the curb. You need a hand." Harry kept a careful gaze on Ethan.

"Yeah, yeah! Mum, were you painting? You've gone gold again!"

Harry's head snapped up at that and she tried to hide her ombre hand behind her leg.

They stared at each other and Jo shivered and pulled her robe a bit tighter. "I got carried away." She explained.

It looked like Harry wanted to be pleased, a smile crept around his mouth, but it wasn't so much suppressed as blocked.

"Should have seen her this morning, Harry! Not sure what her date was like, because she wouldn't fess up at all. But she had gold speckles on her neck, and in her hand. Even under her fingernails. And it wasn't event he gold paint that had her glowing. Must have been some goodnight kiss, at least that better be all it was, to inspire such crazy artistic fits. Can't wait to see this one. Are you recreating the one you spilled paint on?"

Jo and Harry were still staring while Ethan monologued.

"Mum, were you able to do it again?"

She blinked, "Um, something like it, let's get you off this leg poppet." Jo tried to get him moving, but he resisted.

"Make Harry help me, mum. I don't want that gold on me! Might make me all glowy too, ewww!"

"You are ridiculous!" Jo tried to remain unruffled, but is Harry looking at her had disrobed me, Ethan babbling about her shine made her feel totally stripped. "Harry?" she asked without making contact of any kind with him.

"I got him."

Jo didn't stick around and fled to her studio. She figured she'd be safe there.

Wrong, she was wrong. Apparently Harry saw no impediments.

Or any boundaries. "Harry?" She was startled, but before her hand had even come off her galloping heart, he was off to the races. His mouth covered hers and he swallowed her startled sound, and its follow up moan. His fingers clasped around her own and her heart rate beneath them never slowed down.

He tasted like wine and bread, like a sacrament, and wholly foreign to the morning, like the hours between were centuries.

Her mouth opened, so she could swallow his flavor whole and she took him down and laced her fingers with his before her brain could catch up. His free hand opened her robe and they had to move their hands and uncouple to get it off.

It was her colored hand, the one he held. He stared at it before he took it again. Then he kissed her again, sweet and low down, with slick tongue and wiggle. She followed him close, her bore her weight in their tangled tango and backed up until his back hit the wall.

"I want it!" Harry swallowed the words with his oxygen.

"What?" She tried to keep up with kissing him, if they talked, it gave her time to think.

"The gold, I want it all over me." He groaned out while he tried to her her shirt over her head without stopping their kiss again.

What was he saying? Gold? And then it dawned on her, Ethan had said he didn't want her to get the gold paint on him. Ethan, who was upstairs and Zoe too. And she had just promised herself this morning this was over.

Jo yanked her body away like when she had to yank a distracted Ethan back from walking into oncoming traffic.

"No, Har-H! We can't! I promised!"

"Who?" His mouth gaped open. "You told Ethan?"

"No, course, not!" She said.

"Good" And he rushed back onto her and pressed himself, desire and all from mouth to metatarsals.

Jo felt her shirt coming off her naked torso before she was able to slow again.

"No, no, I promised myself. My job Harry! My kids!" She pushed him against the wall and stumbled back until she was sat on the stool, it wobbled and fell. Jo didn't turn to check the wreckage, she kept her eyes on Harry, who was the picture of sexual frustration, his plaid was pushed off his shoulders and and his undershirt was stuck at nipple level. All that hair was disheveled, she guessed from her clawing at it, and his mouth was red. His eyes, where any green was visible glowed against the blacked out pebbles.

He panted and then threw his head back and shoved both hands into his pants. She could see him give his cock an almighty squeeze and she winced in sympathy. For all three of them.

"Ok, ok, I'll go." He said after taking minutes to collect and calm himself. Watching him unhand himself and catch his breath had Jo panting again, but she couldn't say that, they'd start all over again.

She turned her back to get her eyes off the spectacle she'd created and noticed her gold paint had been spilled.

"Jo," she heard behind her. "I know, I get it. But-" He seemed at a loss. "I'll try. I just don't know if I could go back."

Was her lady walking backward, away from the gold, if not, how did she get the golden footporints. If she wanted to leave, why was she backing away not running.

She nodded and heard the door close.

And she stayed out of her studio, after she cleaned up her hand and the spill. She walked backwards, stayed off campus, gave short worded critiques to Harry's texted pictures of his paintings.

He was increasingly frustrated. His lady was back to hide and seek.

His other texts she deleted. And she stayed away from the golden valley until she picked up the mail one morning just before the semester started while Audrey had Zoe so she could get prepared.

There was no return address, but it was a card, not soliciting mail. She ripped it open trying to think if she was expecting anything.

She wasn't expecting this.

"Dearest Joanne, I think about you every morning and wish I could greet the sun with you once again. In my paintings, my woman, who I wish was you, because then you would be with me and I could paint us together, is hiding from me as well. I would love to see her face, as I long for yours. I think of you constantly and can feel you on my skin, still.

My morning tea tastes different. I suspect it's because after having drank it with the taste of you on my tongue, I want to mix in your lemon and honey. I'd dip it in on my spoon if I could. Please, let the dawn break again. Craving you, sincerely and discretely, Harry"

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry fanfic #harry styles alternate universe #harry Styles au #who Names The colors #wntc #one direction #one direction fanfiction #painter au

53 notes · View notes