#in the second one it was the 'dream state' thing which became a whole feature as the samsara in sumeru archon quest and with aranara etc

[chalk-homunculus]

I've been once again maining Klee throughout this Veluriyam Mirage questline a nd while exploring the mirage, both because I did get her skin, but also because it cheers me up so much to see her having fun.

[yunjardi]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝!𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

[𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 [𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢], 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 & 𝐲/𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠), 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐦𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠!]

𝐩.𝐬. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 '𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬' 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞!

"but babe," jake pouted as he looked up at your face from the way his head was positioned on your lap, "trying for another won't hurt, right?"

'another' meaning another baby.

"jakey," you sighed, lacing your fingers between strands of his silky black hair, "i love you but being pregnant was such a pain in the ass, and i'm not sure if i wanna do that again. besides, when we tried for a baby last time, we ended up with two." you chuckled softly, recalling the shock on jake's face when the ultrasound revealed two little peanut-shaped things inside your tummy. needless to say, having twins was far from anything you planned, but you wouldn't want it any other way.

"okay, but think about it," jake started excitedly as he sat up from your lap, "having 3 cute little babies running around the house and playing with layla. isn't that so cute? i know how much you love the little pitter-patter of the twins' tiny feet on the floor." he became an excited puppy by simply voicing his thoughts of having another baby. "plus, your sex drive was way up while you were pregnant," jake added with a smirk.

he wasn't wrong; your sex drive was completely out of control while you were pregnant with the twins. so much that you and jake had sex or did something of sexual nature at least twice a week.

and as for the thought of your family growing, jake was right; it was adorable to think about, but you weren't too sure you'd be able to handle it. you and jake's daughters were still young, and adding another baby into the picture would most likely drive you crazy but after thinking about what jake said, you weren't completely against it. maybe this time the baby would bear more of your features than the twins do, both of them sharing most of jake's genetics such as his boba-like puppy-dog eyes and pretty lips. also, jake was an amazing father to your kids, and you knew he was more than capable of handling anything baby-related that came his way.

your baby girls getting pouty? jake knows exactly what to do to put smiles back on their faces. putting the girls to bed? jake is a natural at getting the two to fall asleep. teaching the girls how to use their manners? jake is an expert at guiding them toward kindness.

after all, he'd been dreaming of having a family of his own for years.

and that's how you ended up caving.

"okay, we can try on one condition," you stated to which jake nodded for you to keep going, "we stop trying at the end of the week when the girls come home." jake sighed lightly but agreed, giddy and excited that you agreed to try for another baby.

the girls were with jake's parents for the whole week because his mom figured the two of you could use a break from your daughters considering the fact that you've been practically hovering over them for 2 years straight. little did his mom know, you guys were about to use this little break to make another baby, which is the whole reason you were given a break in the first place.

jake was quick to begin running his big hands all over your body, not wanting to waste a second of precious time he could be using to fuck you until you were guaranteed pregnant. you undressed yourself until you were only covered by your matching bra and panty set that jake had bought you as a way of hinting that he wanted to have sex as often as you two used to before having the twins. you pulled on jake's arm as a way to get him to lay on the bed as you became needier by the second, but he insisted on getting undressed before hopping onto the bed, wanting to tease you by making you wait.

"please hurry," you begged quietly as his metal belt buckle clinked lightly, the sound making you more aroused knowing that you were about to get your pussy pounded.

"my needy girl," jake chuckled sexily as he climbed into the bed wearing only boxers, "tell me how badly you want to be filled up, how badly you want me to give you another little baby." jake's words were sweet but had a somewhat mischievous undertone which never failed to turn you on.

jake knew exactly what to say and do to make you become so aroused that you couldn't think of anything but him.

"daddy," you mewled needily, "need you now." jake couldn't help but get an ego boost from witnessing how impatient you became when you were deprived of his touch.

carefully, jake hovered himself on top of you, balancing himself with one forearm while using the other to spread your legs wider. you let out a soft whimper when jake lowered his hips down to yours, rubbing his clothed hard-on on your wet panties. the pace that he chose to go at was painfully slow, making you needier and needier by the second.

"please?" you begged once again as you grew more and more desperate to which jake let out a low and sexy chuckle at your neediness. "you want me already?" jake asked with sarcasm, his hand trailing from your abdomen down into your panties, his cold fingers sending chills all over your body, "i can tell by how wet your pussy has gotten for me in such a short amount of time." you felt shy at jake's sudden comment, your head instinctively turning away to avoid him seeing your bashful expression. "you're gonna make me blush," you pouted from underneath him. "it seems i already have," jake pointed out with a chuckle as he swiftly swapped your positions, him now being on the bottom while you straddled him, "i love how innocent you look before i fuck you like a slut." his comment almost made you pout again, but you held your true reaction in because you knew that he'd only prolong his teasing if you reacted like that; jake loved seeing how flustered you got when he'd sweet-talk you.

"wipe the innocence off my face, jake," you breathed out whilst running your hands down his torso. he gulped at the sudden sensation of goosebumps forming on every inch of his body. "fuck," jake breathed out as he toyed with the elastic waistband of your panties, eventually beginning to pull them down your waist until they were around your ankles to which you lifted your legs up one at a time to fully take them off and discard them onto the floor somewhere. now that your bottom half was left bare on his boxers, jake became more eager to touch you.

swiftly, jake lightly lifted you to the side so that he could discard his boxers. you bit your lip at the sight of his pretty cock springing out of his boxers and hitting his lower abdomen. jake couldn't help but smirk at the way your eyes were glued to his member.

"are you ready for me, baby?" jake asked amorously as he pumped his cock with his hand. in response, you gently grabbed his hand and led it down to your dripping hole, moaning quietly as you let his fingers dance around your entrance before letting go of his hand. "well, that answers my question," jake chuckled sexily as he rolled you into your side and put one of his big hands on your thigh, lifting it up so he could have easy access to your pussy. you couldn't help but get wetter at the fact that jake was starting off in your favorite position. he knew how much you liked being fucked rough but also maintaining romantic skin-ship, therefore side-fucking was the way to go.

he teased your clit with his thick tip before letting it pass through the first few inches of your entrance, causing you to let out a gasp as you gripped on the duvet. jake gave you some time to get used to his size since you guys weren't having sex as often anymore, but it ultimately turned him on even more to feel your walls grip desperately to his hard cock. you mewled out as he slowly began to pull his cock in and out of your needy hole, your body becoming more engulfed in pleasure with every stroke. you felt yourself becoming weak upon his touch.

"it's so deep," you moaned out as jake trailed his hand down to the skin right below your belly button, applying pressure to the spot where you could feel him inside you. you couldn't help but squirm as jake let his free hand touch all over your body, still continuing to pound your pussy while leaving harsh spanks on your ass until you were sure his hand print was left on your skin.

"if i cum right now, you'll feel it all up in here, right, baby?" jake smirked while rubbing circles on your lower abdomen, "you're gonna be so full when i'm done with you." nodding, you grabbed onto his wrist to squeeze it, overwhelmed with pleasure as you bit down on your lip to conceal your moans. "jake!" you moaned out loudly in pure pleasure, instinctively putting your hand over your mouth to keep quiet since you were used to having to do so. jake gently took your hand off your mouth and guided it down to your clit instead. "no need to stay quiet, baby," jake whispered in your ear, kissing your neck softly, "let it all out; moan like a whore for me. you know how much i love the way you sound when i fuck you." his statement alone was enough to cause a little mewl to escape your lips. "that's my good girl," jake praised lowly as he continued his clean thrusts.

"w-want to be on top of you," you subtly requested with a quiet squeak, "please, daddy?"

hearing you call him 'daddy' while he fucked you was enough to make him cum hard right then and there considering that you were about to make him become a father of three by giving him your body.

"fuck, okay," jake breathed out as he pulled his wet cock out of your pussy and leaned against the headboard, giving you time to get up and sit on top of him. you placed your hands on his shoulders for support as he guided your hips back down into his throbbing hard dick, making you let out a lustful moan once he was all the way inside you again. taking it slow, you began to roll your hips against his, causing his head to fall back in pure pleasure whilst you fucked yourself on his cock. "s-so good," you whined out while bouncing on him, "need to cum so bad, daddy." jake let out a deep groan, melting at how vocal you were being about wanting him. his grip on your waist suddenly tightened as he adjusted himself underneath you, getting ready to abuse your pussy the way he knows you like it. without warning, jake began to thrust his hips into yours, the two of you meeting in the middle with your lower halves.

you couldn't help but let out a loud moan for him as you lost all the stamina you thought you had. jake hammered his thick cock into your tight entrance whilst keeping a strong grip on your waist, wanting you to feel him as deep as you possibly could. he repeatedly hit your sweet spot until you were crying out as you creamed all over his veiny cock, your lower half numbed with pure ecstasy. while you were distracted by your intense orgasm, jake took it upon himself to slickly unclasp your bra and begin sucking on the soft skin of your boobs, causing you to grow even more overstimulated though you didn't mind.

"good girl," jake praised in between the kisses he planted on your breasts as he felt his member become coated with your arousal, "yeah, just like that, keep cumming for me. fuck, i can't wait until your tits get all swollen again when you're pregnant; it's so fucking sexy." jake added, the images of your pretty breasts already sparking in his sex-clouded mind as he continued to tease your sensitive boobs with his tongue.

the deep yet whimpery moans that jake was letting out along with the way his core stiffened was a dead giveaway that he was close to the edge.

"please fill me up," you begged, knowing that he was getting closer and closer by the second, "w-want to have your babies. a-all of them, please." you practically pleaded. and with that, jake was creaming your pussy. the two of you let out synced moans as jake worked his cum deep into you, making sure none of his seed went to waste.

panting, jake let his head hit the pillow that laid beside him as you rested your head against his chest where you could hear his still rapid heartbeat.

"god, this is gonna be a fun week," jake let out an airy chuckle as he held you close.

"this is our last day to try, so you better make the most of it," you teased jake as you booped him on the nose, making him pout. "okay, okay," jake breathed out, "i'll make you feel good." he promised.

gently, jake slid his veiny member past your wet slit as you whimpered and held onto his forearms for comfort. your legs trembled once he fully bottomed out and began thrusting into your sore hole.

after all, you two had been fucking every day that week. jake's determination to get you pregnant again was stronger than you anticipated.

"feeling sensitive?" jake cooed, placing a kiss on your neck. you nodded your head gently while focusing on adjusting to his size. eventually, you were able to calm your body down and let jake take control of pleasing you.

he left no part of your body neglected: your neck was being kissed gently while simultaneously having one of jake's hands tangled in your hair all while being stuffed with his cock. jake always managed to spoil you when it came to sex whether it be rough or slow and passionate. needless to say, you were a lucky girl to have somehow managed to bag such a charming and caring man like jake.

soon, your core began to heat up at the feeling of jake passionately making love to you, the sensation becoming increasingly difficult to handle, but you didn't feel too self conscious about it considering that it was obvious that jake wouldn't last long either.

the two of you fucked so much this week alone to a point where you'd definitely need to take a long break from it.

that being said, the two of you quickly came undone only minutes after starting.

"only time will tell if all of this sex was successful," you giggled, giving jake a kiss on the lips to which he smiled as he kissed you back. "pregnant or not, i still loved fucking you for a whole week," jake remarked, kissing you one last time before the two of you drifted off to sleep.

"i swear, jake, you've gotta make another batch of brownies. please, please, please?" you begged, pestering jake into baking more for you, "plus, even the girls love them as just as much as i do, so it'll be a good surprise for when they wake up from their nap." you added, still trying to convince him by using the family card.

"okay, okay," he sighed with a smile, "after all, i can't say no to the love of my life." jake was met with a swarm of kisses all over his face before you let him make his way into the kitchen. little did he know, you tricked him into making one of your biggest cravings just so you could have some alone time to take a few pregnancy tests while he was occupied.

for the past few weeks, you'd been experiencing some of the same, and a few new, symptoms that you had during your first pregnancy, so taking a test was a bit overdue considering how you'd been feeling.

you quietly crept into you and jake's bedroom and dug through one of your clothing drawers to find the pregnancy tests that you've been hiding away ever since jake mentioned wanting to have another baby.

unboxing the tests, you took a deep breath before taking them, your stomach in knots due to your anxiousness regarding the results. waiting for the tests to process felt like the most grueling three minutes of your entire life, and you felt like you were about to explode. finally, you looked up at the clock and saw that three minutes had passed which meant that the pregnancy tests were fully processed.

taking a deep breath for the nth time, you flipped them over to reveal the results:

double red lines all across the board.

you tried not to squeal with excitement too loudly, still wanting to surprise jake with the joyful news.

you wanted to think of a creative way to tell him, but your excitement got the best of you and caused you to simply walk into the kitchen to tell jake. you kept the tests hidden in your sleeve as you approached the kitchen where jake was stood putting the brownies in the oven. sensing your presence, jake looked over his shoulder to see you watching him with a warm smile on your face, causing a smile to grow on his face as well.

"you may or may not be making those brownies more often," you started, jake cocking his head in confusion, "...because i'm officially eating for two again!" you exclaimed as revealed the tests to him. "no way, really?" jake said in disbelief, hoping that you weren't joking but upon looking at the tests, he knew you were serious, "oh my god, we're having another baby!"

jake's ecstatic reaction to the news made your heart flutter as you pulled each other into an embrace, slowing rocking each other back and forth.

you knew the next step was to schedule an ultrasound appointment, after hugging jake, of course, so immediately after breaking your embrace, you called the doctor's office.

the highly anticipated day was finally upon you.

the drive to the doctor's office felt like an eternity, and you could tell that jake felt the same way from the way he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. eventually, you arrived and eagerly climbed out of the passenger's seat, holding jake's hand as you walked in. thankfully, you were let in right away with everything ready for your appointment.

you went through the whole question process with the nurse before she finally pulled out the ultrasound machine. you took a deep breath before she placed the camera against your stomach which was a familiar feeling. searching for a few minutes she finally found the area where the baby should be. you studied the screen for a second and after looking hard enough to see, you looked over at jake who had the exact same shocked expression on his face that you remembered from two years ago...

a/n: hi gang 🫵 the (lowkey crappy i'm sorry) sequel for ms. double lines is finally here after a literal month lol. i hope you guys are able to enjoy it :,)

perm. taglist (send an ask to be added!) : @axartia @jjhmk @valiantwastelanddelusion @jayroseyy @ayohahaha @asaheyow @lhsng @i-dalso @bunhoons @red-xherry @duolingofanaccount @lix-freckle3 @l0st-h0p3s @leeis @muffinminnie @green-orangeade @imbaeksbae @sunghoonmybeloved @tum73er @dilftime

©yunjardi on tumblr

[violetsiren90]

All I Haven't Said | Namjoon/Reader

💜 Chapter 2 💜

Table of Contents: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 (part 1), Chapter 3 (part 2)

Pairing: idol!Namjoon x f!Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU; idol AU; chapter fic; strangers to lovers; a bit of idiots to lovers, tbh; slow burn; eventual romance; eventual smut; angst (life is messy & hearts are complex); OT7 featured

Summary: You found your soulmate - or rather, he found you. Turns out he's an idol of much acclaim who needs you for very real and unglamorous reasons. What could become of two hearts so used to giving of themselves when they are confronted with needing each other?

Chapter Warnings: This fic is 18+, as is all my work and my page as a whole; Talk and depictions of cancer, its treatment, and the symptoms of both; implication of some disregard for personal agency by entertainment and medical industries; MC is diagnosed with asthma and experiences symptoms; flashbacks of a distressing situation; soulmate first touch & subsequent skinship; partial disrobing for medical purposes; medical setting and minor treatments; some social awkwardness; talk of food, eating, and alcohol consumption in the context of a soulmate AU

Author's Note: Chapter 2 is here! I tried my best to write Namjoon's response under the circumstances, but honestly I don't know how well it was executed. Let me know what you think in the comments/asks! I'm super open to constructive criticism and feedback. Also, I did my best with the Korean phrases and medical jargon. If anyone has more extensive knowledge on those subjects and wants to fact-check, please let me know!

P.S. If you want to join the tag list, drop me a comment or ask!

P.P.S. If no one has told you yet today, you're loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

"At night I dream that you and I are two plants that grew together, roots entwined, and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth, since we are made of earth and rain.”

~ Pablo Neruda

Chapter 2: Touching Me, Touching You

    When you touched down at Incheon International Airport, you and Matt were greeted by a rather unnecessarily large party of Hybe personnel in black plainclothes wearing masks who snatched up your baggage and ushered you into the first of a small fleet of black SUV's. The member of the legal advisory team who had visited you in the states, Choi Kang Dae, was riding shotgun and speaking into a cell phone that had not left his ear since departing the baggage claim. In the row behind you was another man you assumed to be a translator, given his fluency in English, but who was currently chopping it up with Matt in Korean, and beside him a large, serious, silent man whose eyes kept traveling to you every now and again. You assumed that meant that the rest of the ensemble filling the vehicles behind you were security, which somehow made you feel less rather than more at ease.

The further you advanced in traffic through the busy streets of Seoul, the more anxious you became. A thousand questions began to flood your brain as your heart began to hammer in your chest. If all these people had come to meet you, were you headed to the hospital now? Weren't you supposed stop at your accommodations first? If you didn't, would you even have a chance to shower a day's worth of airport off before meeting your soulmate? Were you about to bond right now? Would people be watching? Would it hurt? Why hadn't you ever thought of these things before? You felt a familiar tightness in your chest and pulled out your inhaler. An asthma attack right now? They always seemed to strike at the most inopportune times.

Matt was suddenly turning to you.

    "Hey, you okay?" he asked, looking at the inhaler you were shaking for a second puff.

You slowly exhaled and nodded.

    "I'm fine. But where are we going right now, can you ask them?"

The translator asked the Kang Dae something in Korean, and after he responded, the other man turned to you.

    "We're going to the hospital. Namjoon-ssi had a seizure last night due to a prolonged high-grade fever, so we are trying to act as quickly as possible to avoid further complications."

Matt turned to the translator.

    "This should have been the first thing we heard when we stepped off that plane. I'm not trying to play hardball here, but we're going to have to be communicated with about every step of this process so we can decide how we're going to respond. This was in the contract, communication and a chance to speak with me before she makes any step in this process..."

Matt slipped in and out of English as the attorney apologetically reassured him through the translator of their full intent to follow the contractual specifications. You felt sick, and your heart continued to hammer - though now for different reasons. You had been worried about a shower while he was fighting for his life. This was no time for nerves. You had to fight for his life too.

    When the vehicle pulled into the ambulance bay, you and Matt were handed surgical masks and ushered, with security and other Hybe personnel in tow, through the ICU and into a massive steel elevator. You watched the round button number "5" light up red as Kang Dae pushed it with a gloved hand. After the brief assent, the doors opened into a space that looked like it was straight out of a Star Trek episode - floor to ceiling white, blinding fluorescent lights, and hospital workers covered from head to toe in sterile garments ebbing and flowing in urgent silence to and fro to the rhythmic serenading hums and beeps of medical equipment. You blinked in the offending brightness.

Your party was immediately approached by a small woman with a tablet and stylus who addressed Kang Dae. You heard your name mentioned. You heard Matt's. After a brief exchange with the Hybe attorney, Matt relayed that you were going to meet with Namjoon's oncologist. Kang Dae turned to address the security staff, and his words were met with nods and murmurs of acknowledgment except by the tall, serious man from the SUV, who responded to the attorney in a low but firm tone, his eyes flashing over to you as he spoke. You looked over to Matt, your brow creased in question. He watched as Kang Dae concluded the exchange and lead your now small group of four to follow the petite woman down a long, wide hall. As you walked, Matt leaned down to whisper in your ear.

    "It appears the indignant gentleman is your personal bodyguard. Seems he's reluctant to stay behind with the rest of security."

You glanced in surprised curiosity over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of the guard seated beside the rest of the team, elbows propped on his knees and hands clasped under his chin, a pensive expression on his rugged features, before he disappeared from view as you rounded a bend.

    The hall connected to a labyrinth of others, snaking off left and right, and punctuated with massive, heavy doors. Your guide abruptly swung left to face one of the entrees, flashing a badge card across a sensor which beeped, allowing her to push it inward. It opened into a suite of rooms much homier than the atmosphere behind you, though every bit as sterile.

In the vestibule was a small acrylic table surrounded by matching chairs. As you passed through you noted to the right, a small kitchenette, and to the left a rather large bathroom. At the end of the suite, you shuffled into a large room, separated on the far left end by a curtain. The space in which you stood was fitted with grey leather furniture, a tall bamboo plant in the corner, and a low acrylic coffee-table. An older, distinguished looking man in a white jacket stood from where he had been seated in one of the arm chairs and bowed. Your group bowed in return, and the translator asked that you be seated.

Dr. Na, as the man in the coat was introduced, would run through some last matters with you before you were to meet your soulmate. He relayed through the translator that this hospital was state of the art, Korea's finest, and a frontrunner in successful experimental treatments for cancer and other genetic diseases. The room you were occupying, he said, was a suite meant for long-term inpatient care, and would be nearly identical to the space you would share with Namjoon for the remainder of his inpatient treatment. He explained that Namjoon's condition has been detected far later than was desirable, and that treatments had included invasive surgery and aggressive rounds of chemotherapy, which had slowed, but not stopped the spread of tumors throughout his body. He said that Namjoon had displayed extreme physical and emotional resilience, but that his will to fight the disease overtaking his body had begun to wane with his strength and increasingly burdensome symptoms from both the cancer and its treatment.

At this point, Dr. Na turned to face Matt full on, and earnestly imparted to him while gesticulating at you. Matt's brow furrowed, and he nodded as he listened to the oncologist before turning serious eyes toward you. Kang Dae began to say something, but the doctor held up his hand while also turning his eyes toward you with an expectant gaze. 

    "Y/n," Matt began, interlacing his fingers as he often did when trying to choose his words carefully, "Dr. Na says that there is not a lot of research around treating cancer, especially at such an advanced stage, with the soulmate bond. There are accounts of it having seemingly miraculous effects on injury and illness, but none that have been objectively measured. It has been scientifically proven to a degree that soulmates bring about peak physical conditions in one another through the bond...over time. The thing the good doctor here really wants you to understand is that there is no guarantee that there is enough time in our situation. He says that bonding with him is going to be a major risk. If the treatment isn't successful and Namjoon should pass, that would mean your ultimate death soon after."

Matt's face had lost most of its stoicism. He looked deeply worried. He looked like he wanted you to get on a plane with him back to the States. He looked like he knew what you were going to do instead. You see, you had already thought about it - the possibility of death. You nodded.

     "Tell him I understand, Matt," you said calmly, "Tell him I'd like to meet Namjoon-ssi."

Matt stared at you for a beat, as if debating with himself before turning back to relay your message to Dr. Na. The oncologist nodded, and then turned to you and asked another question in Korean. The translator explained that the doctor wanted to know if you understood the basic implications of the soul-bond. You sighed. You did.  You knew that once bonded you would be reliant on each other for nourishment and survival until the end of your natural lives, and that the bond once established was irreversible. You knew the bond was initiated and maintained through skin-to-skin contact. You knew that the bond changed your body chemistry to no longer need food or water, and that food would eventually be rejected by the body like poison. You knew these things because you had done extensive research, not because anyone in the company asking for you to give over your body and soul had tried to make you aware. They had been interested in matters of signatures and compensation. How considerate of someone to ask you now, you thought with some contempt. You wondered what Namjoon knew, what he had been told, what he had been asked. 

     "I would like to meet my soulmate now," you said suddenly, cutting through the exchange between Dr. Na and Kang Dae.

All eyes turned on you, leaving in half-finished sentences a wake of mild surprise. "I know what I'm getting into on my end of things. You had expressed before that time was of the essence and I would like to be brought to him now."

Matt relayed your response to the group, and the doctor nodded. Soon you were being handed a hospital gown, and a sports bra, underwear, and socks from your suitcase - that you realized with a bit of alarm and indignation, you had not given anyone permission to retrieve - and were instructed to shower and change into these items. 

     You slipped into the bathroom and sank down on the closed toilet, dropping your head onto the little bundle of clothes in your arms.  In your first few moments alone in over twenty-four hours, everything was beginning to hit like a volley of arrows. Agendas, agendas. Hybe wanted your soulmate. The hospital wanted to beat his cancer. You wanted to help him live. But what did he want? Had anyone asked? Would he be honest, if they did? Not for the first time, something squeezed in your chest at the thought of him. But this time, it was stronger. Your head shot up from your lap. You had somewhere to be.

 ��  After a quick and thorough wash-up, you padded into the hall where the little group awaited you. You were self-conscious in your limited attire, and you stood awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the next as people murmured in Korean. A nurse, who had joined the small throng, approached you, slipping a hospital bracelet with your name and Hangul characters and little numbers around your wrist and handing you a pair of grey slippers. Matt turned to you.

    "This is it, kiddo. You're going to go with Dr. Na and have your vitals taken, have some blood drawn, and then you'll go meet him."

Matt sighed deeply, his eyes searching yours. He took a backward glance and stepped just a bit closer, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"You sure about this?"

You nodded.

    "Yes, Matt, I'm sure."

He pulled his mouth in into a tense line, his brows drawing together.

    "That face you're making, that defiance in your eyes," his hand fell from your shoulder, "You could be his twin. I know I can't change your mind now. Nothing could."

You gave a knowing smile. He wasn't wrong. 

    "I'm gonna be okay, Matt. I'll see you tomorrow. Call my mom and tell her things went fine. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Matt scratched the back of his head, regarding you thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. He bent to press a kiss to your forehead, and turned to make his polite goodbyes.

    The nurse ushered you down the hall and into a room that looked a little more like a typical hospital room with a gauze-covered table, a scale, and other vaguely familiar machines and equipment. After she had collected the desired data and taken a vial of your blood, she made a page in Korean, and then motioned for you to follow her. She took you down another series of passages and finally, when you were sure Theseus himself couldn't have found his way back, she stopped in front of a large steel door and scanned her badge.

Room number 594.

The door opened on its heavy hinges, swinging slowly inward. Your heart was hammering in your chest. You realized the moment you crossed the threshold  that you didn't have your things. You didn't have your phone, or your bag, or the book that was inside it, or what was between the pages of the book.

You thought about pear-shaped Italian cheese as you crossed through the kitchen area.

You thought about little Diana trying to stop your mother from crying as she lay on the floor of the kitchen, body shaking with sobs, as you moved into large open room at the end of the suite.

And then, there he was. It was all you could do not to gasp.

    You would never have recognized him for the man in the photo Diana had shoved into your face last week. Sitting propped up in a large hospital bed, he was covered up to the waist in blankets. His frame, though unmistakably large, was gaunt, and his white tee draped around him like something that used to fit - patches and wires visible across his chest through the cotton fabric. His long arms were thinner than they should have been, ashy, and littered with bruises. His head leaned back against the pillows, he wore a black beanie low on his brow, but not low enough to hide the naked skin where his eyebrows had been. His full lips were chapped and parted as he labored somewhat to breathe. The doctor was speaking to a tall man in a black tee and jeans beside the bed. Namjoon was watching them, until, suddenly, his gaze flicked to you. Your breath caught in your chest. His eyes were unchanged. Something flooded your veins.

    "I need to speak with Namjoon-ssi, please," you said abruptly, turning to the doctor and the man beside him.

They looked at you, quizzically. You cleared your throat to speak again, slower and more firmly.

"Could I be alone with him, for a moment? I need to speak with him before we begin."

The doctor turned to say something to the tall man, but a voice from the hospital bed addressed them in a soft, deep timbre. The tall man glanced at you and then at Namjoon and replied. They held a short exchange before both he and the doctor filed reluctantly out of the room, taking the nurse with them.

Namjoon sat further up in the bed, his face contorting in pain as you approached him. You stood a few feet from where he sat, your hands inexplicably itching to reach out for him. You clasped them behind your back.

    "Hello," he, rasped.

Even the hoarseness couldn't hide the warmth of his voice. You thought his eyes and his voice must be made of the very same stuff. You were suddenly a different kind of nervous. You didn't even register your own initiative to speak as the question came tumbling out.

    "Do you want to live?"

Your soulmate blinked in surprise.

    "What?"

You took a breath and repeated yourself, this time with intention.

    "Do you want to live?" You asked again. "I know there are plenty of people who want you too, but I want to know what you want."

He regarded you in intent silence for a long moment.

    "Yes," he said finally, his cadence thoughtful and deliberate, "Yes, I want to live. I wasn't sure I did, but I do. I do now."

You exhaled a little breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. 

    "Okay, good," you nodded, looking away from his intent gaze as you fought, again, the surging urge to reach for him.

His lips quirked into a little smirk at your reaction.

    "I was going to ask you a question too, but after introductions," those eyes caught yours again, teasingly, and the little smile deepened just a bit, pressing a dimple into his sunken cheek.

The misery he was living in and he was teasing you? You felt something flutter a little in your chest which you willed yourself to ignore.

    "I'm sorry," you bit back a smile, glancing away a bit bashfully, "I just needed to know that you had agency over what was happening here, that it was what you wanted. If no one else was going to give you that choice...well, I was."

He regarded you silently again before addressing you.

    "It's good to meet you, Y/n-ssi. I'm Kim Namjoon."

You couldn't suppress a smirk at his stubbornness, and at the fact that he already knew your name, like you knew his.

    "It's good to meet you, too, Namjoon-ssi," you replied softly.

He suddenly leaned back in the bed, wincing, his chest heaving a bit. You looked over at the heart monitor that beeped beside him to see that his pulse was rising.

    "Should I call in the doctor?" You asked in concern.

He shook his head weakly. 

    "Not yet," he pressed out, with effort. "I...need...to know..."

You stepped closer to hear him.

    "Know what?" He closed his eyes , bringing a hand over his chest as the beeping slowed.

    "You...could...die...trying to..." he broke into a bought of coughs that was obviously painful. Once he had caught his breath, he rasped, "Are you sure, Y/n-ssi?"

    "Yes," you answered without hesitation. "Yes, I'm sure. This is my choice. I'm sure."

He opened his eyes. You held each other in a silent gaze. He looked like he wanted to say something. He didn't. He merely nodded and asked,

    "You ready, then?"

You met his questioning gaze with a wry smile and what you hoped were steady eyes as you answered.

    "Ready as I'll ever be."

    After the staff had returned to the room, the tall man in plainclothes introduced himself as Sejin, Namjoon's manager. He gave you a deep bow, which you returned, thanking you in practiced English for agreeing to bond with the idol - something that made you uncomfortable all the way down to your bones, and which you tried to dismiss without being impolite. The doctor spoke to Namjoon at some length, gesticulating to you several times. Sejin nodded along as the nurse typed notes onto her tablet.

You felt a bit frustrated, being on the outside of what so immediately concerned you. You were on the verge of asking for Matt to be brought in when Namjoon turned to you. 

    "The doctor says that while he understands first touch is an intimate experience, that he and two nurses will need to be present to monitor my vitals. My heart is on the weaker side these days."

He looked almost contrite as he said it and your chest squeezed. You nodded understandingly. He might be your soulmate, but you knew this wasn't a meet-cute. This was clinical. What was about to happen between you was a treatment. The doctor continued, and a nurse came around the bed to where you stood and waited expectantly as Namjoon turned to you, this time with an unmistakably apologetic look on his drawn features.

    "Dr. Na says that if first contact goes smoothly, we'll need to begin treatments aggressively, which means as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. I guess they want us both in just undergarments."

Ah, hence the hospital gown.

You felt heat creep up your neck. Under any other circumstances you would have been upset at the lack of privacy of it all, but these weren't like any circumstances you had ever been prepared to anticipate. You were going to have to figure the boundaries out as you went.

The nurse beside you rolled up a chair for you to sit in beside the bed, facing Namjoon. She untied and tugged the top of your hospital gown down to place a heart monitor on your chest, your soulmate respectfully averting his gaze.

When all the necessary preparations had been made, you found yourself sitting in a swivel chair cranked up to reach the height of the hospital bed, socked feet not touching the ground. You were facing Namjoon, who kept sitting forward, much to the chagrin of the nurses who kept gently but impatiently guiding him back against the pillows. You felt a sick feeling creep into the pit of your stomach as you glanced at the second nurse wheel in a defibrillator. How bad could this possibly be? Would it hurt? You steeled yourself as Namjoon sat forward again, turning up the palm of his large right hand which rested on the covers beside you.

    "It's time," he murmured softly, eyes on you as you gave one more glance to the doctor, who nodded, and giving in to an urge you had kept at bay since you entered the room you slipped your hand into his.

    A jolt shot through your body like an intense electric pulse. It hurt, like relentless aftershocks of overstimulation to sensitive flesh...and yet if felt good. So good. You had instinctively pulled to yank your hand away from the pure surprise of it, but you had tugged yourself back to no avail. You opened your eyes (you hadn't remembered closing them) to see Namjoon, head thrown back against the pillows, lips parted and eyes screwed shut as he clutched your hand in a vice grip. You glanced at the heart monitor spitting out beeps consistent with well over a hundred beats per minute. Was that yours or his? But you couldn't very well hold a coherent thought in your mind as warmth began to flood your body, followed by a tingling sensation that seemed to fizzle up from the base of your spine and trickle down your limbs.

Raising suddenly heavy eyes, you realized that you were swaying a bit on your feet. When did you stand? And you were much, much closer to Namjoon - your hand was curling around the base of his bicep, your elbow in his palm, as you pressed every possible square centimeter of your bare arm to his. His eyes were open now and he was looking at you as his chest rose and fell. You returned his gaze, unfocused, drunk on the sensations spreading through your being.

You blinked as you heard the doctor speak, but neither of you tore your eyes away, and as if in a trace, as the nurses helped you out of your clothes, and you crawled into the bed and slotted yourself against his side, stretching out your right arm to wrap around his torso. Every aspect of the feeling grew impossibly stronger, the pleasure factor so high that it felt somehow wrong to be experiencing this with a total stranger in a hospital room surrounded by others. You felt Namjoon let out a shuddering breath. His arms had snaked around you.

The last thing you remembered before falling into a delirium was the nurse pulling the covers over your bodies.

    When you awoke, or rather, came to, you felt wrong. You rubbed hazy eyes to find yourself on a little cot. Before you could even wonder where you were or how you got there, the events of the previous day came flooding back.

Holy shit, you thought, you were in Korea. You had met your soulmate - and bonded with him. 

When had you even fallen asleep? The last thing you remembered was climbing into Namjoon's bed. Your heartbeat quickened. First touch had been...something else. An image of your soulmate gripping your hand with his head thrown back flashed through your mind.

No, don't, you thought, and pushed yourself to sit up.

In your attempt to move, you quickly realized that the wrongness you felt was that you were incredibly weak. It was a strange sort of weakness, however, one that left you feeling exhausted with every tiny move but wasn't accompanied by any sort of discomfort. In fact, you felt like you were floating on a cloud, if only one you couldn't find the strength to roll off. 

You were back in your hospital gown. There was a small table to your left with a lamp, a little vase of flowers, and white telephone. To your left was a machine much like the one you had seen beside Namjoon's bed beeping away, a little green line spiking and dropping across the monitor. A long curtain stretched across the space in front of you. You needed to pee.

As you moved to get off the cot, a sting of pain shot through your right arm at the inner joint and you realized that you had missed the IV drip beside the heart monitor. Clamping the IV stand you rose precariously on wobbly legs. You shuffled wearily forward, pulling the curtain back to reveal the other half of the room...and your soulmate.

He was sitting in bed, over the covers, in a heather grey tee and navy blue sweats, bare feet crossed at the ankles. He was still wearing the beanie, and his head was dipped down, immersed in the book he was holding open in his lap. The mid-morning sun spilled through the open window, bathing the suite in a pale yellow that blanketed generic seating furniture and a small bookshelf topped with a bonsai tree and painted clay figurine beside the bed, but left the abstract art piece on the opposite wall in relative shadow.

You were about to retreat back behind the curtain when a wheel of your portable IV stand betrayed you with a squeak. You pulled the curtain hurriedly shut, but too late.

    "Hello?" You heard him call softly.

His voice sounded better, you thought. Not nearly as raspy. You must look like shit, you also thought. Oh well, you needed to get past him to look decent anyway. And to pee. And he was going to see you probably every day for the rest of your life, so, bashfulness regarding your morning mug was definitely a waste of emotional energy. You heaved a sigh, and slowly pulled back the curtain, peeking through as you advanced a step.

    "I didn't want to disturb you," you fibbed, clutching the IV stand.

    "You're not disturbing me," he responded, shutting his book.

He was looking at you with a soft expression, reserved, but still warm. He looked a lot better than yesterday, too; it was unmistakable. His skin had lost a great deal of its previously ashy quality and the bruises on his arms had nearly vanished. His lips were no longer chapped, and, you noted, were full and naturally deep in color. His face looked less wane, though still thin, his shirt still hanging loosely over his chest and broad, sloping shoulders.

    "You look a little better," you urged, hoping to justify your prolonged stare.

He smiled. You were quickly reminded like a sock to the gut how pretty his smile was. 

    "I feel better," he concurred, "Thanks to you."

You looked down at your feet awkwardly. You had never been good at receiving praise or gratitude.

    "Oh...I'm glad," you mumbled. 

    "How do you feel?" he asked.

You raised your gaze back up to meet his, a wry smile tugging at your lips. 

    "Probably about as good as I look," you rejoined.

He pulled his smile into a tight line, eyes creasing. You thought maybe that was what he looked like when he was trying not to laugh. Suddenly you felt your bladder demand priority of attention.

    "Well, I'm gonna...get ready. For the day," you motioned, quickly realizing you had nothing to change into, and slipped back into the little room behind the curtain.

Scanning the space, you noted your suitcase and bag against the wall. You filled your bag with the essentials and a change before popping back out into the other half of the room on your way to the bathroom. You noticed out of the corner of your eye that Namjoon glanced at you before looking down at his book again, and you ignored the tight feeling in your chest one more time.

    Your mom had always said that a hot shower could make a person reborn, and by golly you figured she was right. You felt life seeping back into your limbs slowly but surely as the warm water poured over your body. As always, hot water and steam against white tile oiled cogs of your mind.

Clearly, the bond had served Namjoon well. You were anxious to know what a medical assessment would report. Your own exhaustion confused you, however. Wasn't the bond supposed to nourish you, rejuvenate you? When would you stop needing food? How often would you need to practice skinship now that you were bonded? And what would that look like? A thousand questions filled your mind as you massaged your scalp. You made a mental note to write a list of questions for the doctor.

    Once you had finished your morning routine, you felt infinitely more prepared to face the day. You changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt. As you shuffled back toward your room, you noticed Namjoon bent over the bonsai, tiny scissors in hand. A nurse was typing on a tablet on the other side of the bed.

    "Um, Namjoon," you asked, as you paused.

He startled a bit as he looked up at you, dropping the little scissors and cursing under his breath. The nurse peeked over and when she had seemingly assessed that no damage had been done, she smirked.

    "At least no bonsai limbs were lost this time," she murmured.

Namjoon slipped the scissors into a little leather pouch.

    "Hilarious," he deadpanned, then turned his attention back to you, "Sorry, did you ask me something?"

    "Actually," you blinked in surprise, "I was going to ask you to ask the nurse, but I guess I can ask her myself this time."

The nurse smiled at you. 

    "Ganhosanim, this is Y/n-ssi," Namjoon said, addressing the woman. She gave you a bow which you returned.

    "Annyeonghaseyo," she greeted you, "I'm Nurse Cha and I'll be your attending on most days. Please feel free to speak to me in English," she smiled.

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders. While you had been studying Korean furiously ever since your decision had been made, having medical personnel you could communicate with at this stage without having to rely on Namjoon to translate for you was a welcome relief. 

    "If you have a minute, I have some questions? Or, I will, once I write them down. Could I just put my stuff away and come right back?" You asked eagerly. She nodded, still typing away on the tablet. You dropped your bag beside your suitcase, which you tossed on the bed and unzipped to extract a pen and a notebook with three little bees embossed into the cover. You donned your slippers and crossed back over to Namjoon's side. He was sitting on the bed again, and nurse Yun was examining one of his arms. You plopped down in an armchair beside the bookshelf. 

    "Nice bonsai," you remarked, trailing your eyes over the intricate geometric patterns of its shallow stone pot.

    "Nice journal," he replied. "Moleskin?"

You nodded, holding it up to show him the front.

    "It has bees," you said with solemnity, as if the whimsy of the endearing was something to be taken quite seriously, and Namjoon hummed in grave assent. Nurse Cha glanced between you, a smirk at the corner of her mouth.

    "You said you had some questions, Y/n-ssi?" She offered.

    "Yes," you began, scribbling a few down in the pages in your lap before beginning. "Firstly wha- Oh! What happened to me yesterday? Did I pass out?" You interrupted yourself to ask.

    "Yes," she replied. "While the bonding was successful, and the skinship was highly rejuvenating for Namjoon, it appears that you were giving more than you were getting from a physiological standpoint, and while the effect was still probably similar to you on a cellular level, you were disproportionate in your transfer of energy. We've put you on an IV drip for now to ensure you're getting the replenishment your body needs regardless of food intake."

You jotted down a few lines of notes.

    "Okay, makes sense. Now, moving on to the food thing - we're still eating, right?"

Nurse Cha began typing on her tablet as she responded.

    "Yes. However, there is great boidiversity as to when and what people start rejecting as far as food goes. The average point of solid food rejection begins around two weeks after bonding. Generally, bonded individuals are still able to consume water and distilled alcohols, though they become unable to experience taste."

    "Does alcohol have the same...effect?" Namjoon spoke up from the bed.

    "An intensified one, actually," she responded, "Being a bonded mate means rediscovering your tolerance, and caution is of course advised. We've actually taken blood panels to alert us of any food sensitivities you may have. These should be immediately eliminated from your diet, as the rejection symptoms can be more severe in cases of late-stage ingestion with these items. The doctor will be in later to review those results with you."

    "Okay. And how often will we need to practice skinship, and are we going to need to initiate it ourselves or are we going to be on a schedule?"

    "I was wondering about that too," Namjoon said, adjusting his beanie.

    "The doctor will go over that with you as soon as he arrives in a little while as well. I know I'm scheduled to update your charts every six hours, so I'm sure there will be some guidance involved at first."

You quickly glanced up at Namjoon and then down at your lap. A warmth spread through your chest as you tried to keep your eyes on your notes and off of his bare arms. You were having those stupid urges to latch onto him again. Your hand twitched around your pen. You wondered what his thoughts were on your next session.

Just then, Dr. Na entered the room. He greeted both of you warmly and Nurse Cha took over relaying the consultation in English.

The oncologist was very optimistic about the effect of the soulmate bond on Namjoon, saying that his vitals had stabilized, his pain levels were lower than they'd been in weeks and the inflammation in his body had decreased significantly. He stressed that, while these were good signs, they were not a guarantee that the skinship was treating the cancer, and that they would have to take scans after a time to see if the tumors had were in fact shrinking.

He reviewed your blood panel results, letting you know that from that point forward you were to avoid consuming nightshades while communicating to Namjoon that he hadn't tested positive for any food sensitivities. He showed you a chart dictating when and how long you should practice skinship each day, beginning with a session immediately following the consultation. He cautioned you to alert medical staff if during a session you began to feel overly-drain, as they did not want you coming to the point of fainting again. You were removed from your IV drip.

    After the doctor had taken his leave, Nurse Cha fixed you with additional monitors, instructed you both to strip down to your maximum level of comfortability for the session, and departed. Once you were down to bra and panties, you climbed up into the huge hospital bed to join Namjoon, who once again kept his gaze trained anywhere but your side of the bed as you slipped under the covers and pressed yourself into his side.

Suddenly it was as if you had slipped into a warm bath under the influence of champagne. You closed your eyes and sank into the incredible sensation of his touch. His skin was like a warm cup of tea on the coldest day of the year. Like the first refreshing moments of a plunge into cool water at the height of summer. It was everything wonderful all at once, and you were so caught up in the sensation that you were barely cognizant of a tiny moan escaping your lips. 

Horrified, you bit down on your bottom lip and prayed to all that was sacred that Namjoon hadn't noticed. His immediate soft laughter, however, betrayed him, and you felt your face burning with embarrassment - beads of sweat pricking on your forehead as you covered your face with a different kind of groan.

    "Sorry," you murmured, ruefully.

    "Nah, I get it," Namjoon chuckled, his chest rumbling under your cheek. "If it feels as good for you as it does for me, then that's the correct response."

You allowed yourself to giggle a bit in turn.

    "I'm glad it's already helping," you remarked, and you felt him turn his head as if he was looking down at you.

He was silent for a beat before addressing you again.

    "Everything happened so quickly yesterday, I didn't even get a chance to thank you."

    "For what?" you countered, even though you knew exactly where he was headed with this.

    "For leaving your life behind and coming to Korea to give a stranger a chance at his. I'm going to spend the rest of my time making it up to you."

You felt your chest tighten. You pushed yourself up on one arm and turned to face him. The sheet fell down your upper body as you moved, but you were too intent on looking him in the face to notice. 

    "Namjoon, you're not a charity case. I didn't do this so that you would owe me something. This is a choice I made. All mine. So relieve yourself of any debt you may feel you owe me. We're bound by circumstance, but you're a free man in every sense of the word. I won't be a burden you bear any more than you wish to be one to me."

If you had been looking through his eyes, you would have seen yourself, pressed up out of the sheets with all the modesty of a sea nymph, your features glowing with the effects of the bond and fixed with a splendid kind of resoluteness and soft defiance. But, you saw it from your own, taking in the quiet shock on Namjoon's features that slowly morphed into something you couldn't place. Not yet. You didn't know him well enough.

After regarding you blinkingly, he looked at you with earnest eyes and gave a nod.

    "I accept those terms," he assented, and you believed him.

You thought maybe you'd believe anything he said, and, suddenly aware of the bareness of your torso under the intentness of his gaze, you slipped back down against his side.

    "I noticed you dropped the honorifics," he murmured teasingly.

You glanced back up at him.

    "Oh...sorry, I'm not used to it. I can -"

    "It's alright," he interjected, "I think we should be familiar. It will make things easier, right? Only if you want, though," he quickly added.

    "Yeah, no, I agree," you answered, shifting to press your leg more fully against his, and smiling to yourself as you keyed up your next remark.

"And I'm only your noona by a little bit anyway, so no need to call me that..."

This time a loud laugh burst out of him that shook your head enough for you to roll away and shoot him a look as he brushed a hand over his eyes in amusement. You smiled as you took in his dimpled cheeks and crescent eyes, and nearly didn't notice the voice speaking in bemused and startled Korean at the mouth of the hall. It was Namjoon who looked up first.

    "Yah!" He called in indignation and warning as you followed his gaze to catch but a glimpse of two young men, badly repressing snickers as they bolted back down the hall to the entry of the suite. 

Namjoon sighed sharply and turned to you with and apologetic expression.

    "I'm so sorry, those idiots are my friends. They're used to coming and going as they please to visit me - which, obviously now they can't just barge in unannounced."

He slipped out of bed, and you glanced away as he pulled on sweats and a shirt.

"I'll tell them to come back at a better time."

    "No, no!" you protested, "Just let me get decent. I want to meet them."

Namjoon paused as he kicked on his slippers. 

    "You sure?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

    "Yeah, yeah. I know we're still on skinship time, but, maybe we can just...hold hands? I mean, as long as you're okay with it..."

Namjoon's mouth slipped into a wry grin as he glanced down to the other end of the suite. 

    "Yeah, I'm fine with it. I apologize in advance if they can't be."

You gave a confused shrug as Namjoon picked up his phone and crossed into the vestibule area to give you the privacy to change. You pulled your leggings and sweatshirt back on and perched yourself cross-legged on the hospital bed, listening with amused anticipation as Namjoon spoke in exasperated Korean on the other side of the wall. You heard the door and three sets of footsteps accompanied by giggles and shushing, and then your soulmate emerged, all but herding the two young men preceding him into the room.

You immediately recognized the strapping, dark-haired one with the leporine smile as Jungkook, the young man who had accompanied Hybe's representation to visit you on Namjoon's behalf. The other young man you also recognized from internet images as one of the members, though you couldn't recall his name. He was shorter than Jungkook, though not by as much as he should have been due to the significance of his heeled boots. What he lacked in height he made up for in athletic build and voluptuously beautiful facial features. He shook his honey blonde hair out of his eyes, earrings tinkling as he regarded you with a coy smile.

    "Ijjogeun Y/n-ieo. Y/n, this is Jungkook and Jimin," Namjoon said, gesturing to each of the members as they made polite bows. 

    "Annyeonghaseyo," you said, returning their bows deeply, "Mannaseo bangapseumnida - dasi mannaseo bangabseubnida, Jungkook-ssi."

Jungkook flashed a blinding smile, round eyes wide and sparkling.

    "It's good to see you again too, noona," he answered in English. Namjoon's brow creased as he glanced between you and the young man you had been originally introduced to as the maknae of BTS.

    "You've met?" he asked. You nodded.

    "Jungkook was one of the people who came to meet me in the US when your company made the proposition," you explained. "He spoke very, very highly of you. His reference of your character was one of the major contributing factors toward my decision to come."

You smiled softly at Jungkook. Namjoon nodded, brow still drawn, as he pressed his tongue into the side of his cheek, jaw clenched and jutting forward, as he clapped the youngest on the shoulder. You thought Jungkook's eyes were just a bit glassy as the two shared a look that seemed to hold a lifetime of history. Jimin regarded the two with sentimentality before returning his gaze to you, again full of enigmatic mischief. The blonde took a step toward you, then turned on his booted heal, saying something to Namjoon in Korean.

You cocked your head to the side, glancing at your soulmate.

    "He said I look a lot better already," Namjoon said, eyeing Jimin warily as the younger man continued speaking, flashing you a devilish grin. Jungkook pulled his pierced lower lip between his teeth as he glanced between Namjoon and Jimin. You looked again to Namjoon expectantly.

    Awkwardness radiated from him as he deflected saying Jimin was just making fun, and he shot the younger man a look that unmistakably communicated his lack of amusement. Namjoon made another remark in Korean, and joined you back on the bed, hesitating only a moment before he took your hand in his.

You saw his shoulders sag in relief as he breathed a sigh through his nose at the contact. You had to restrain your own reaction, glancing down shyly as to avoid the two pairs of eyes trained in rapt curiosity on you from the end of the bed. Namjoon continued to speak with them, translating between you when your limited Korean wasn't sufficient, and gradually your awkwardness eased in the comfortable presence that emanated between your soulmate and his members.

As the visitors were about to take their leave, Jimin trained you with a newly serious look, leaning against the edge of the bed, and glancing at Namjoon as he spoke in what you could decipher was gratitude. 

    "He says they're all so grateful to you and glad to have you with us," Namjoon translated. You noticed his thumb slide over the back of your hand as he said it. So did Jimin, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth as he eyed where your digits were intertwined.

    "Ah," you said awkwardly, "No thanks necessary, we're in this together, right?"

You pulled your hand from Namjoon's and in an attempt to raise your arm and give him a nonchalant pat on the back, you backhanded him directly in the face. 

Namjoon's hand flew up to his cheek and the two younger members erupted in laughter. You apologized profusely, trying to make sure Namjoon could hear you over Jungkook's wheezing and Jimin's shrieks of what you were pretty sure was "oh shit, there are two of them". When Namjoon had assured you that he was perfectly fine and the other two had composed themselves, you said your goodbyes. As soon as they were out the door, Namjoon was apologizing.

    "It's fine," you smirked with a shrug, "That's friends for you. I would have been concerned if they hadn't poked a little fun. I like them. I want to meet the rest of them."

Namjoon slipped back up onto the bed and intertwined his hand with yours as he glanced down, a pensive look on his face.

    "There's a lot of people you need to meet," he said quietly, thoughtfully.

You studied him as he continued to look down at your joined hands.

"In fact," he continued, "There was someone I was hoping you could meet tomorrow. Someone we should sit down...and talk with."

You nodded, regarding him intently.

"Her name is Kim Hyung-seo," he continued, "She's my fiancée."

AN: Yeah, sorry to drop that at the end and peace out. 😁✌

Tag list: @butterymin @little-dark-empress @aretha170 @kamilamb @jlee97 @thephotoend @callmenoona25

[theidcl]

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ STARZIE is a seven-member fictional coed group that debuted on january 7th, 2024, under stellar entertainment. the coed supergroup was formed through the idol survival show "SHOOTING STARS" which premiered in 2023. the show's purpose was to gather currently active idols and put them up against each other in order to form the ultimate coed group featuring the highest-ranked idols.

the supergroup made their debut shortly into the new year with the mini album "mission one: take off" and promoted their title track "crush", as well as other b-sides from the album. their debut was garnered as both a domestic and international success, boosting STARZIE into the super rookie category very quickly despite only just debuting.

with the group being made up of some of the most popular idols from multiple generations, the public has opened their arms to the group while also throwing harsh criticism their way. many fans are excited to see their favorite idols pursue new activities and release different music alongside other highly popular idols, but due to being a coed group, the public has expressed concern over how scandals and rumors are bound to happen.

˖ ࣪ ˚ . group name ⇁ starzie

˖ ࣪ ˚ . fandom name ⇁ starnautz

˖ ࣪ ˚ . fandom color ⇁ #1ad700 #00a0d7

˖ ࣪ ˚ . company ⇁ stellar entertainment

˖ ࣪ ˚ . debut date ⇁ january 7th, 2024

˖ ࣪ ˚ . debut album ⇁ mission one: take off

˖ ࣪ ˚ . debut song ⇁ crush

˖ ࣪ ˚ . greeting ⇁ "one of a kind! hello, we are starzie!”

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊ MEET THE STARZ!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ELLIOT SON, professionally known as ELLIOT, was born in 1998 in baltimore, maryland, usa. elliot began his training journey at jyp entertainment, where he participated in the reality show 'stray kids', originally making the final lineup before leaving the group before debut and jyp as a whole, stating creative differences. he trained for 4 years before debuting in the boy group embers in 2019, which would disband just a year later. he would soon re-debut in pushing daises.

ELLIOT was a popular idol while on SHOOTING STARS, being a member of the totally spies group during the cover challenge, in which the team placed 2nd in the challenge. during the rewind challenge, elliot was a member of 3rd place team elec6ix. at the end of the show, elliot managed to finish the show in 5th place, making him the second announced member.

˖ ࣪ ˚ . full name ⇁ elliot dowon son

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthday ⇁ february 14th, 1998

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthplace ⇁ baltimore, maryland, usa

˖ ࣪ ˚ . position ⇁ rapper, vocalist

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ranking ⇁ 5th place

˖ ࣪ ˚ . height ⇁ 185cm

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ethnicity ⇁ korean-caucasian

˖ ࣪ ˚ . nationality ⇁ american

˖ ࣪ ˚ . faceclaim ⇁ vernon chwe

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ BAE MINJU, professionally known as MINJU, was born in 1998 in liverpool, england, but she moved to london when she was three years old. every summer, she traveled to korea over the summer to spend time with her grandparents and cousins in busan. growing up, minju was always fond of music and dancing, which led to her dream of being a k-pop idol. minju applied to many agencies such as jyp and cube entertainment, but ultimately made her choice to join source music with a friend of hers in 2010. after training for five years, minju officially debuted as a member of gfriend under source music. after the disbandment of gfriend, she signed a contract with big hit music and made her solo debut on november 11th, 2021. although many had anticipated it, the whole thing became a total failure, and minju was put on hiatus.

MINJU held a fluctuating rank while on SHOOTING STARS, but was always dancing within and around the top seven. during the rewind challenge, minju was a member of 3rd place team elec6ix. in the cover challenge, minju was a part of wonderland, and they placed 1st overall. at the end of the show, minju managed to finish the show in 4th place, making her the third announced member.

˖ ࣪ ˚ . full name ⇁ bae minju

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthday ⇁ march 14th, 1998

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthplace ⇁ liverpool, englad

˖ ࣪ ˚ . position ⇁ vocalist, rapper

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ranking ⇁ 4th place

˖ ࣪ ˚ . height ⇁ 162.5cm

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ethnicity ⇁ korean

˖ ࣪ ˚ . nationality ⇁ british

˖ ࣪ ˚ . faceclaim ⇁ park jiwon

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ CHLOE LEE, professionally known as CHLOE, was born in 1998 in new york, united states. chloe's career began in 2016 after ranking second on the mnet surivival show 'produce 101', securing herself a spot in the temporary girl group, ioi. once ioi disbanded in 2017, chloe debuted in venus as their main vocalist and lead dancer. alongside her success in venus, chloe would also have a flourishing solo career that began in 2019 with the song "rollercoaster" and has been on the rise ever since. chloe is a renowned vocalist and lyricist in the industry, being one the most credited female songwriters in the kpop industry.

CHLOE started the SHOOTING STARS with a bang, quickly securing a spot as a leader in the first group challenge. she was able to pick her teammates during the rewind challenge and ended up picking wisely as her team, the dream, placed first overall. once again placing high enough to be chosen as a leader, during the cover challenge, chloe was in charge of the last place team the zoo. chloe was up the coveted position of first place in the finale but ultimately placed 2nd, making her the sixth announced member of the group.

˖ ࣪ ˚ . full name ⇁ chloe lee

˖ ࣪ ˚ . korean name ⇁ lee chohee

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthday ⇁ june 17th, 1998

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthplace ⇁ new york, united states

˖ ࣪ ˚ . position ⇁ vocalist, dancer

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ranking ⇁ 2nd place

˖ ࣪ ˚ . height ⇁ 152.4cm

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ethnicity ⇁ korean

˖ ࣪ ˚ . nationality ⇁ american

˖ ࣪ ˚ . faceclaim ⇁ han sohee

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ PARK MIKYUNG, professionally known as MIKA, was born in 2001 in gwangju, south korea. after being scouted at her middle school’s talent show, mika auditioned for dsp media and trained for two years before making her debut in april on august 24th, 2015 as the group’s main rapper and main dancer at the young age of 14. she promoted with the group for multiple months before she was announced to be a participant on mnet’s trainee survival show ‘produce 101′. mika made her debut in ioi after finishing the show ranked 5th, and later made her debut in the only subunit of ioi. after the group's disbandment, mika returned to april but quickly announced her departure from both the group and dsp media. signing with angelico entertainment, mika went on to have a successful acting and solo career before debuting in sugar n' spice. mika is considered one of the best producers and lyricists in the industry, going under the pseudonym m.ka.

despite being one of the most popular idols to partake in SHOOTING STARS, MIKA suffered from fluctuating rankings that made her position on debuting unknown. she started off the show strong by being a member of the winning team, the dream, during the rewind challenge. during the next challenge, the cover challenge, mika was instead part of the last place team the zoo. being the first announced member, mika finished the show in 6th place.

˖ ࣪ ˚ . full name ⇁ park mikyung

˖ ࣪ ˚ . english name ⇁ isabella jade park

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthday ⇁ march 26th, 2001

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthplace ⇁ gwangju, south korea

˖ ࣪ ˚ . position ⇁ rapper, dancer, vocalist

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ranking ⇁ 6th place

˖ ࣪ ˚ . height ⇁ 162cm

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ethnicity ⇁ korean

˖ ࣪ ˚ . nationality ⇁ korean

˖ ࣪ ˚ . faceclaim ⇁ yu jimin

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ WANG LILING, professionally known as LILING, was born in 2001 in beijing, china. growing up, she appeared in numerous product commercials in china and was considered a well-known face despite the lack of attention she received from these commercials. liling debuted in august of 2019 with the girl group, hashtag, under the company melody media. when their first mini-album was released, fans suddenly began to favor liling over the other members, gaining her the title of ‘face of the group’. this meant that liling was constantly taking part in solo activities and brand deals. she is currently melody media’s sole representative, despite the rumors of favoritism.

LILING was one of the most popular idols while on SHOOTING STARS, earning her the spot of being the leader of the heart attack group during the rewind challenge, in which the team placed 4th. liling was once again selected as team leader during the cover challenge, where she was in charge of 4th place team timeless. at the end of the show, liling managed to finish the show in 3rd place, making her the fourth announced member. liling was chosen to be starzie's leader after winning multiple challenges and a voting round during their reality show "living with starzie".

˖ ࣪ ˚ . full name ⇁ wang liling

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthday ⇁ july 11th, 2001

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthplace ⇁ beijing, china

˖ ࣪ ˚ . position ⇁ leader, vocalist, dancer

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ranking ⇁ 3rd place

˖ ࣪ ˚ . height ⇁ 160cm

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ethnicity ⇁ chinese

˖ ࣪ ˚ . nationality ⇁ chinese

˖ ࣪ ˚ . faceclaim ⇁ ning yizhuo

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ FINN LEE, professionally known as FINN, was born in 2001 in florida, united states. beginning his career at 15, finn appeared on the angelico survival show "the new wave". finn would quickly become a fan favorite for his dedication, humor, and overall talent. he would end his run on the show, ranking 1st overall despite being one of the youngest there, securing him a spot in the revitalized group, deepdive. deepdive would make their re-debut in 2015 with seven members but would only seem to gain traction in 2020. finn is one of the most sought-after producers in the industry, with over 190 song credits to his name.

FINN started off SHOOTING STARS strong by placing fourth in the pre-voting and securing himself a team leader spot. during the rewind challenge, finn was the leader of the 3rd place team elec6ix. during the next challenge, the cover challenge, finn was a member of the wonderland team, who placed 1st. being considered the most dramatic ranking due to how many people could have taken the spot, finn finished the show ranked 7th, making him the last announced member of starzie.

˖ ࣪ ˚ . full name ⇁ finn lee

˖ ࣪ ˚ . korean name ⇁ lee jungwoo

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthday ⇁ october 10th, 2001

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthplace ⇁ florida, united states

˖ ࣪ ˚ . position ⇁ rapper, vocalist

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ranking ⇁ 7th place

˖ ࣪ ˚ . height ⇁ 183cm

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ethnicity ⇁ korean

˖ ࣪ ˚ . nationality ⇁ american

˖ ࣪ ˚ . faceclaim ⇁ park wonbin

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ OLIVER SONG, professionally known as OLIVER, was born in 2001 in massachusetts, united states. oliver made his debut as the lead guitarist of the idol band plastic flowers under superbloom media in 2018. after their second album, he was promoted to lead singer and has become the most well-known member of the group since his appearance on jtbc’s 'superband' and other variety shows. he would slowly become the most famous artist under superbloom media as well and has produced almost every piece of music released by the label since 2020. oliver made his official solo debut in march 2023 with the lead single "starting line", launching him into further fame as plastic flowers continues to top the charts with each of their releases.

being a previously well-known idol before participating in SHOOTING STARS, OLIVER managed to stay at the top the ranks throughout the show. he started off the show strong by being the leader of the mystery inc team during the rewind challenge, where they placed 2nd. placing first in voting, oliver was once again chosen as a team leader during the cover challenge; his team, wonderland, was able to place 1st. oliver was able to secure his spot as starzie's center after finishing the show ranked 1st place, making him the fifth announced member.

˖ ࣪ ˚ . full name ⇁ oliver song

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthday ⇁ december 12th, 2001

˖ ࣪ ˚ . birthplace ⇁ massachusetts, united states

˖ ࣪ ˚ . position ⇁ vocalist, center, maknae

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ranking ⇁ 1st place

˖ ࣪ ˚ . height ⇁ 178cm

˖ ࣪ ˚ . ethnicity ⇁ korean

˖ ࣪ ˚ . nationality ⇁ american

˖ ࣪ ˚ . faceclaim ⇁ seok matthew

[theerurishipper]

I remember people said the scene in Transmission, where Ladynoir renounce their Miraculous and "seemingly" not thinking about each other are mean to be a plot hole, not character inconsistency.

Bt for me, if the character NOT even make a slight uncomfort gesture/expression when they see Scarabella and Black Minette out there instead of their team mate, then it's not a plot hole, it's character inconsistency.

"Plot hole" excuse only work if Adrinette make any comment/looks surprised/make any reaction upon seeing the new duo but the aired time won't let the show do more than that. But the show doesn't let them react negatively which resulting people interpret it as "Yeah I don't care about my team mate, I already got my gf/bf anyway" which is not plot hole at all.

It's 100% character inconsistency. Plot holes are when the plot is wonky, and some logic doesn't logic. When a character acts OOC, it is character inconsistency. Adrien and Marinette have both become wildly OOC since the second Adrienette became canon on this show. They don't care about superheroing anymore, they don't care about each other as Ladybug and Chat Noir anymore. Outside of like, one line about "I hope Ladybug/Chat Noir are okay" (which is quickly overshadowed by some Adrienette, cause we sure do need more of that when we're talking about the late Ladynoir), they just don't give a fuck.

Actually, this isn't even character inconsistency anymore, this is a whole character overhaul a la whatever happened to Felix Fathom. Cause Adrienette only works if you change significant aspects of their characters. What about Chat Noir meaning freedom and a means of escape for Adrien, what about Ladybug being the narrative opposite of his abusive father who gives him unconditional love and acceptance? Fuck that, what he really needs is to start centering his identity around his classmate (with whom he isn't even that close because she thinks he's perfect) and defining himself based on her needs. And what of Chat Noir being the only one who can understand Marinette's struggles? Chat Noir being her special partner whom she can always lean on? Nah, fuck that shit lmao, here's Marinette trying to tell Adrien something he already knows and Marinette trying to hold Adrien's hand even though she's done that before without a problem!

Anyway, like I was saying, they had to change their characters up so that Adrienette could make sense, because it sure wouldn't make sense if it became canon in the show that devoted the bulk of its development to Ladynoir, now would it? So that's why we get episodes like Determination, where Adrien is suddenly head over heels for Marinette out of fucking nowhere, right after the Jubilation dream sequence where they had those cabbage patch kids, and Ladybug initiated a kiss even though they realized this was a dream, and they were clearly having some complicated feelings about the whole thing at the end of the episode. Cause fuck Ladynoir, amirite? Like, why would we waste time on the relationship we spent 5 seasons developing when we could focus on some cookie cutter high school romance with retcons galore and multiple, I tell you, multiple scenes featuring Marinette suddenly having the inability to do things she's done before with no problem, and apparently, it's all Chloe's fault, like what a fucking shocker, who could have seen that coming.

And lets not get into the actual plot holes in Transmission too, cause those also exist? How does Adrien Agreste know and proudly state Scarabella's name when no civilian knows she exists? How does this not make Marinette question why he knows? Why does Marinette expect that someone else becoming Ladybug means she's free when she's still the Guardian? Make it make sense, please.

Anyway, that's all I got. I'm sorry for using your ask as a venting post, anon. I just rewatched Gamer today, and god, Adrienette are so cute and adorable in Season 1. Like, they actually have chemistry and fun interactions and it's the lucky charm debut episode! I will never forgive this show for taking that Adrienette away from me and replacing it with... whatever Season 5 coughed up.

Thank you for your ask!

[technicianuprisingau]

Kirbtober 2024 Companion Pieces - Week Three

A companion lore piece to the ongoing Kirbtober, using the list by @paintpanic. You can see the full art collection for this week here.

Day 14: Miracle

About time we discuss the Hypernova ability in full detail.

In this AU, the Miracle Fruit is used more as a slight power booster. To other beings they grant a bump on all stats with no cosmetic changes (except glowing, colorful eyes), but to puffballs, oddly, that's a different story. This is why the Hypernova ability is indeed an ability, not a state - they change their appearance entirely when touching one.

Hypernova ability is no longer stuck to just "big ass inhale" because screw you, we can be a little creative than that. See those wisps-like things? They are called 'seeds' (I should've shown them as proper seeds but look I'm tired) and each of them creates a specific boost.

In fact, this ability's entire gimmick is boosting an aspect of themselves or allies. There are 4 aspects each user can amplify, albeit they can only amplify one at a time, depending on the seed color they pick:

Strength [magenta]

Sturdiness/Defense [blue]

Speed [yellow]

Personal Aspect (depends on user's bonded ability and the most mastered/favored technique of said user's bonded ability - pure puffballs who don't attune to any ability gets a huge inhale boost by default) [black]

Currently, at least for Kirby, he can only boost himself. He's not mastering it entirely yet, and it's not helped by the fact he doesn't attune himself permanently to it. Bonding with the ability can unlock neat things such as being able to boost two or more aspects at once at the cost of energy increase or being able to boost more than one person at a time.

And yes, the colors are a CMYK joke. Let me have this I learned graphic design.

Day 15: Cutscene Redraw

Learner grasping at straws to find an easy cutscene to draw moment. Seriously, had I have far more energy and time and persistent, I would've drawn the concept for Robobot Armor's activation scene but... *looks at how painful drawing this bastard is* No. Just. No.

Anyways, did you know that Kirby keeps the Rainbow Sword and some legendary final weapons inside the Fountain of Dreams. No, I will not explain further for now. Good luck guessing how and why.

Day 16: Overgrown

Another Hypernova ability-related picture? Anyways.

You may notice that Kirby here lacks a scarf. That's because the scarf was given to him 2 months before events of Planet Robobot, which happens a year after Triple Deluxe. Also, yes, that is a young Sectonia in her young royal dress. She was a decent princess actually, even when she made a second identity as Joronia so she can escape the castle and all...

It's just a shame that once she became queen and the mirror got involved, things got messy... and Kirby was, unfortunately, predestined to kill her. This too, was a long story.

Day 17: Galaxy

You know how Kirby has these starry-like eyes in Star Allies? Well, here in this AU it's… not something all puffballs have. In fact, most if not all puffballs have plain eyes. Either glowing or normal. Kirby's eyes ARE normal… but actually, whenever he feels happy, content, or just really high, good emotions in general, the blue part of his eyes has this whole galaxy/star look to it.

Apparently, this is also a trait that a certain lost legendary family has - apparently, their family were given these eyes, heriditary since birth, as a 'blessing' from the stars themselves for charting them as they were once astronomers. So maybe they are connected? Or is that family not the only one? There are seriously a lot of mystery about those…

Day 18: Mirror

Rare gijinka entry, this time, because I am paying my dues for @somethinginworl's gikabi server. You may remember Seikyo - yes, that is their name - from a past story... yeah, that's the gijinka being featured here. Due to some weird Mirror World rules (and the fact that Seikyo is, well, created not by the mirror specifically, it's by Shadow Kirby), you can consider them a weird outlier... or a mirror of the rest of Team Starstruck that isn't Kirby. Weird how there is no mirror of those two, eh?

The actual gijinka design doesn't look like this, they just... dressed, for the occasion. Don't worry about it!

Day 19: AU/Parallel

Not really something lore intensive or anything but... this is just a really fun bonus. I try to find mutuals who I remember to have Kirby AUs, and then draw their Kirbies just hanging out here, carrying their fav drinks and eating a full pan of strawberry shortcake which they demolished by the time this pic is captured. Madmans.

From left to right we have:

Astral Reiteration AU, a twist on Star Allies lore with big angsty lore and a lot of creative liberty by @george228732;

NextGen AU, pretty much a future AU where Kirby became the king of Dreamland by @itsquakey;

...you know what this one is, by me;

And finally, SkyArc AU, which is "what if Dreamland is a bunch of floating islands and everything takes place up up in the sky?" by @autumnleafdraws.

I was racing against time to add AR!Kirby to the mix LMAO. I just love all these little goobers.

While I can't speak for the rest of the Kirbies... Here's a little lore something for TU!Kirby, the usual: this little guy loves milk coffee! He prefers it like that compared to his Meta Knight who prefers it extra black. He keeps both ratios balanced most of the time though.

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: April 9, 1986

Lyrics:

Once upon a time

Once when you were mine

I remember skies

Reflected in your eyes

I wonder where you are

I wonder if you think about me

Once upon a time

In your wildest dreams

Once the world was new

Our bodies felt the morning dew

That greets the brand-new day

We couldn't tear ourselves away

I wonder if you care

I wonder if you still remember

Once upon a time

In your wildest dreams

And when the music plays

And when the words are touched with sorrow

When the music plays

I hear the sound I had to follow

Once upon a time

Once beneath the stars

The universe was ours

Love was all we knew

And all I knew was you

I wonder if you know

I wonder if you think about it

Once upon a time

In your wildest dreams

And when the music plays

And when the words are touched with sorrow

When the music plays

And when the music plays

I hear the sound I had to follow

Once upon a time

Once upon a time

Once when you were mine

I remember skies

Mirrored in your eyes

I wonder where you are

I wonder if you think about me

Once upon a time

In your wildest dreams

Songwriter: Justin Hayward

In your wildest dreams

In your wildest dreams

In your wildest dreams

SongFacts:

"Your Wildest Dreams" is a 1986 single by the progressive rock band the Moody Blues, written by Justin Hayward. The song was first released as a single, and later released on the Moody Blues' 1986 album The Other Side of Life.

Written by Hayward as a lookback toward his first love, the song features a synth-pop style that marked a stylistic departure from the band's standard lush pop sound. When released as a single, "Your Wildest Dreams" became the band's second biggest US hit, reaching number nine on the American charts.

Moody Blues singer and guitarist Justin Hayward was inspired to write "Your Wildest Dreams" after reminiscing about his first love. Of the song's lyrics, he stated, "For me, wanting to know about the first girl you ever fell in love with, really fell in love with and broke her heart, you always want to know, I wonder what happened. I wonder where they are. Hop in to that time machine." According to Hayward, the song set off a "personal journey" to delve into his past, which he characterized as "fantastic, amazing, and disturbing."

Hayward has since noted the universal nature of the song's lyrics. He explained, "I thought 'Wildest Dreams' would be a throwaway thing that people wouldn't really take much notice of lyrically. But I found out that it was a common experience and desire by a lot of people. So that was very revealing."

A music video for "Your Wildest Dreams" was produced and was directed by Brian Grant. It depicts Hayward and an unnamed woman throughout his career, showing how their relationship drifted apart as the band's success grew. Both are shown moving on while also wondering about each other and what might have been throughout the years, culminating her attending one of their performances. She tries to meet him backstage but is unsuccessful, as Hayward is ushered away before they can reunite. This storyline would later be continued in the music video for "I Know You're Out There Somewhere". The video received a Billboard Video of the Year award and saw heavy rotation on MTV. The actress in the video is Janet Spencer-Turner. In flashback scenes, the young Moody Blues are represented in the video by the British band Mood Six. The video was recognized as the "best overall video" at the Billboard Video Music Conference held in Los Angeles in November 1986. Grant was awarded the top director honor.

Hayward recalled that, initially, the band was meant to play themselves throughout the whole video, but their age prevented this. He explained, "[Grant] was like, 'It can't be you starring in the video, it's too personal and you're too old.' We still looked all right as 40-year-olds, but Brian was like, 'We need younger people for you all.

[redpandaramblings]

Conseggquences Part 2 (Kinktober Day 31)

Dragon Bakugou x Reader

CW: Smut, Not SFW, Egg Laying, Adult Situations, Mild Hypnosis/Mind Control, Dub Con due to altered mental state.

Greetings on this very, very, very late kinktober post. It was supposed to be done first in October, then for Easter, but well, now here it is. Some have asked for it, and I hope you enjoy!

It’s been a learning experience, you thought moodily as you rubbed your swollen belly.  You’d been trapped in the dragon, Bakugou’s lair for a month now.  It’s not like you could leave anyways.  Even without how the amulet had altered your body, there was no way you could escape with the heavy clutch of eggs currently residing in your womb.  You had wondered if removing the amulet would reverse its effects on you, but you didn’t dare find out until these eggs were out of you.  You tried not to think about that too hard.  Partly because you didn’t want to guess the number or size of the eggs that resided within you, and partly because you didn’t want the amulet to react.

It had taken a week after your capture for you to begin to figure out the pattern.  Every time you felt extreme negative emotions, the amulet warmed, and your thoughts became calm and fuzzy.  Unnerved about your new tail and wings?  Warmth from the amulet that seemed to invade your brain.  Your thoughts had gone from frustration to calm.  Being a dragon was natural.  It was easy to control your tail and wings.  They were a part of you after all, and it felt so good.

Yeah, it had taken longer than you’d like to admit to figure out that the amulet could affect your mindset as well as your body, though unlike the physical changes, the fuzzy feeling of the forced mental calm didn’t last long, thankfully.  So it was just a matter of staying relatively relaxed and trying to figure out what to do about your situation.

Honestly, things weren’t that bad.  Yes, you had been changed into a dragon.  Yes, you apparently were going to be mother to some hatchlings.  And yes, for now you were still trapped in this cavern.  But you were surrounded by more comforts and opulence than you had ever dreamed of before.  Your nest was lined with finer fabrics than you’d find in palaces.  You had been concerned that Bakugou would expect you to eat raw rabbits whole, but had been pleasantly surprised when he had served you delicate, deliciously cooked meals.  You had asked him where he had gotten it, and he had beamed with pride before sweeping you into his arms and carrying you to the kitchen to show off one of his favorite parts of his hoard.  He had put you down in a comfortable chair while he walked around the room, pulling out small containers of exotic spices and explaining which were his favorite. That was another thing you were coming to terms with.  This dragon, this Bakugou was… not entirely what you expected.  He could change his size at will, but often remained smaller and with more human features.  You asked him why and he had answered “Because my mate prefers it.”  He had a foul temper.  When he was in a mood he would snarl and huff, smoke billowing from his nostrils.  Yet, he never took his temper out on you.  At most he would snap at you a little that he wasn’t in the mood for your questions.  He would huff his way out of the cavern, navigating the maze of passages you hadn’t had the chance to explore yet.  But when he would return hours later, he would come and curl himself around you, murmuring an apology.  He was arrogant and boastful, but generous.  Proud, but clingy.  He seemed to always want to touch you.  Not just for pleasure, but you would pull you into his lap and simply hold you, eyes closed and his nose in your hair.  He seemed… Very lonely.  You really didn’t know how to feel about him.

Well, you thought as you watched him approach you with a tray of food to nibble on, you supposed you had some time to figure that out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke from your slumber to discomfort.  You couldn’t quite put your finger on it until a second contraction rippled through you.  Oh.

“Oh fuck.”

You hadn’t thought you had spoken that last bit aloud until you felt stirring behind you.  “Treasure?”  Bakugou’s sleep rough voice asked, as he tried to wrap an arm around you.  You hissed a breath, batting him away.  He sat up more with a grumble, ready to scold you until he got a good look at you.  His eyes darted from your pained face, to your awkward position, to your belly and back again.  His eyes widened.  “Oh.”  He whispered, sitting up to rest on his heels.  You whimpered at him.  “I’m not ready for this.”

“I don’t think the eggs care, Precious.”  He murmured as he brushed a stay hair from your face.  “It will be alright.  I’m right here.  Let me and the amulet help.”

You hardly hesitated before nodding.

Bakugou helped you sit while he rearranged the cushions and blankets of the nest.  “They’ll get ruined.”  You protest weakly.

“They’re just things.”  He replied curtly.  “They can be replaced.  My mate’s comfort is more important.”  Your heart fluttered, but the next wave of pain didn’t give you time to dwell on it.  Soon, Bakugou was easing you back onto the pillows.  You only half paid attention to him gently encouraging to get in whatever position felt right.  You started to disrobe and he quickly helped you until you were bare.  The contractions were coming faster, but with them was also coming the warm fuzzy brained feeling of the amulet working to calm you.  For once you welcomed the feeling.  The pain became a background noise to the rest of the sensations you were experiencing.  Yes, your thoughts whispered to you.  This was good.  You finally got to lay the clutch you and your mate had been waiting for.  You made a noise that was more moan than groan as another contraction pulsed through you.  Bakugou smirked, rubbing your leg in a soothing manner.

“There, Treasure.  That’s my good girl.  Don’t fight it.”

You nodded, slightly dazed.  You absolutely weren’t going to fight this.  You weren’t scared anymore.  And the pain, while still there, was being overshadowed by how good and right this felt.  You keened and held your arms out for your mate.  He chuckled softly before leaning down to kiss you.  The kiss started heated, a desperate meeting of tongues, teeth bumping until you found a rhythm.  Slowly Bakugou gentled the kiss, moving slower, and more tenderly.  He eased and nipped at your lip before pulling away.  You tried to chase his lips, but he put a hand on your shoulder.

“Let me check how you’re doing, Precious.  I need to take care of you.”

You whined, too gone for words, but nodded.  He ran a hand down you, tweaking a nipple and causing your whole body to jerk.  His hands continued down, down, until he reached your most sensitive area.  He stroked the area around your clit and you gasped, hips shuddering.  It had never felt so intense.  So intense it burned.  So good, but also much too much.  You wanted to lean into it and hump his hand like a shameless whore, but you wanted to pull away for his touch that was too intense and too much.  It was so hot and and tense and painful and so fucking amazing.  His large, firm hand on your hip stilled your movements.  You stared at him with wide eyes and begged.  

“Please!  Please, I need…” “Shhhh.  It’s okay.  I’ll take care of you.”

He looked at you as he carefully brushed his fingers over your sex.  

“You’ll be ready soon, Treasure.  And then our eggs will be here, isn’t that wonderful?”

You nodded, panting.  It was wonderful.  Your fuzzy mind couldn’t think of anything more wonderful at the moment.  He smiled down at you and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before turning back to the task at hand.

His fingers stroked your puffy lips, each touch almost burning with intensity.  “Gonna make this good for you, Precious,” he murmured as he ran a single finger over your clit.  You gasped, jolting.  He stroked again with a smirk as you whimpered.  “Have a few more minutes, so let’s get you nice and relaxed.”  You moaned as he got to work, gently rubbing your opening while tweaking your nipples.  It was too much and not enough.  All you could do was moan and croon at your mate, such a good mate, taking such good care of you.  Your mind felt warm and fuzzy and you were happy to give into the feelings and emotions.  You raised your hips to rub more firmly against Bakugou’s hand, and he let you, increasing his own pace and pressure until you were shaking and panting.  He kept his pace steady. Your hand shot out to grab his free hand, and he intertwined your fingers.  “That’s it, Precious.  Let go.”  And so you did, with a gasp and a shudder.  Bakugou’s touch stayed steady through your orgasm, his fingers not leaving you until you collapsed back into the nest, panting.  He brushed his mouth to yours before he pulled back and maneuvered you into spreading your legs.

He touched gently and you sucked in a breath with a hiss.  The pain was more intense now, mixing with the pleasurable feelings equally.  Bakugou kissed your knee.  “It’s time for our eggs.  You need to start pushing, Treasure.  You can do it.”

You weren’t half as confident as he seemed to be, but the tightening of your abdomen rather clearly indicated that you weren’t going to get much choice in the matter.  You groaned as you felt the eggs shift inside you.  It was so strange, but at the same time felt right.  Your belly squeezed, and as it did you pushed.  You gasped and moaned, half in pain, half in pleasure.  You had never been stretched like this before, and you had only just begun.  Your hands gripped the blankets underneath you, as you pushed again with a whine.  The fuzziness in your brain helped cut the pain, but it did nothing to ease the pure intensity.  Your nerves were singing.  All it would take is just one touch…

And Bakugou was more than happy to provide that touch.  He thumbed over your clit and you saw stars.  You screamed as you came, the tightening of your muscles pushing the egg down further.  There was no relief, the curve of the egg nudging against your g spot.  You moaned as you tried to gather more energy to push again.  Your mate wasn’t helping matters, as his hands roamed your body.  The touch was meant to comfort, and it did, but it was also arousing you more by the second.  You squirmed, not sure if you wanted to lean into the sensation or pull away.  You couldn’t focus enough to make up your mind as you were once again consumed with the need to push.  And so push again you did, the egg sliding further down.

“I can see it, Treasure.  Just a few more pushes and it will be out.  You’re doing so well for me.  Such a good mate.”  Bakugou crooned, stroking over your opening where the egg was just starting to peek out.  You whined, blood rushing to your cheeks as you nodded weakly.  Your breath was coming in ragged gasps as you tried to collect yourself for the last few pushes.  Your next push rang another orgasm out of you as the largest part of the egg slid past your g spot.  Your opening was stretched tighter than it ever had been.  Bakugou crooned encouragement.  And then with one more push, there it was.  In a daze you marveled at the egg your mate cradled in his hands.  Orange and gold, larger than you had anticipated.  Bakugou gently tucked it into the other side of the nest.

“You did so well, Precious.  Look at what you made.”

“What we made.”  You murmured back.  You were rewarded by seeing a flush creep up your mate’s neck until his ears were bright red.  He nodded, keeping his eyes on the egg a few minutes more before turning back towards you.  “We’re not done yet, Treasure.  Need to get the rest of that clutch out of you.”

You groaned, staring down at your still large belly, feeling as eggs continued to shift inside you, making their way down.  It was going to be a long night.  But as you gazed at your mate, you didn’t think it was just the amulet that was making you feel like everything would be alright.

The second egg came quicker than the first, and the third quicker than the second.  You were grateful, because even though the last few were easier, you still were exhausted and covered with sweat by the end.  Though some of that might have also been the orgasms that had continuously been rung from your overstimulated body.  The warm fuzzy feeling of the amulet was starting to fade, and you were rapidly becoming aware of just how tired and sore you were.  You turned your head to watch as Bakugou gathered and tended to the eggs.  There were five total, all similar, with just enough variation in color to tell them apart.  He had moved them to a new area, building up a nest with sand.  You could tell he was telling you why, but you were too tired to pay attention to the words he was saying.  Instead you let the drone of his low voice lull you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The following days had been… strange.  Or maybe strange in how they weren’t strange.  Bakugou had cared for you and the eggs while you healed, which had only taken a few days.  He spent much more time in his full dragon form, curled protectively around you and the nest of eggs.  He hardly let you get up, so you spent a lot of time talking.  He explained what he knew about what the eggs needed.  The warmth of a dragon’s body, the occasional flames of the fire, gentle turning, and so much more.  You asked how he knew so much, and he told you about how things used to be.  How the area used to be home to a large flight of dragons that had protected the land and its inhabitants.  He talked about his mother, who was larger and fiercer than himself, his father who was calmer but could grumble like the thunder in the sky when he chose.  He told stories about the trouble he and his friends used to get into, and how the older dragons used to chew them out.  For the most part, you simply listened, but eventually one question had to be asked.

“Then… What happened?”  You asked quietly.  “Why were you here alone?”

Bakugou was silent for a time.  Just when you thought he wasn’t going to answer, he spoke again.

“There were some dragons who were… destructive.  We didn’t take the treat seriously until it was too late.  The humans had been turned against dragonkind.  Though they were smaller, they were clever.  They came after us with weapons and magic in great force.  They weren’t interested in anything we tried to tell them.  For a while we tried to hold our ground, to keep our land.  It didn’t work.  I was injured badly in the fights and fled into the caverns to recover.  By the time I was healed, everyone was gone.  Humans, dragons, everyone.  Nothing left but scorched earth.  I chose to wait here, to see if anyone would return, but no one ever has.  Now, there’s only me.”

Your heart ached for him and the weary loneliness in his voice.  You curled up against him and for the first time while clear headed, pressed a few soft kisses to the parts of him you could reach.  He gave a surprised huff before nuzzling you with his large head.  The two of you were quiet the rest of the evening, just taking comfort in each other’s presence.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had a problem.

You had found the way out.

You hadn’t even been looking for it.  Not really.  You had been walking the caverns while Bakugou had slept, curled around your eggs.  There wasn’t much else to do.  You had read his small collection of books, and you knew better than to set foot in his kitchen without him.  So, you had crept out to explore a bit.  You had wandered aimlessly, mentally keeping track of your turns.  A smell you couldn’t quite place had wafted through the air, and you had followed the scent, not really thinking.  You weren’t expecting to round a corner and suddenly be greeted with sunshine, rustling grass, tall trees, and delicate wildflowers.

You were out.  For the first time in months, you were out.  A laugh escaped you before you clamped a hand over your mouth to prevent making more noise.  You were out!  And the dragon who had kept you here was still slumbering, unaware that you were out.  You looked around wildly.  The area wasn’t anything you had seen before.  But that didn’t matter much.  If you could just figure out what direction was what, you could…  You could…

Your thoughts stalled and you reached up to fiddle with the comfortable weight of the amulet around your neck.  For the first time, you reached up and slipped the leather strap over your head.  It dangled from your fingers heavily.  You wanted to be absolutely certain that your next few thoughts were your own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugou awoke slowly, with a small inkling that something wasn’t right.  He blinked slowly, looking around before he began stretching.  He didn’t want to injure his mate or their eggs, after all.  His mate was not in their nest, which wasn’t unusual.  He nosed the eggs, rumbling out a low pleased sound.  His eggs.  If his friends could only see him now…

He blew out a low stream of fire, making sure each egg was nice and toasty warm before he stretched and shifted into his smaller and more human form.  He glanced around the cavern, frowning when he could not immediately spot his mate.  He had grown used to finding her reading.  He made a mental note to see if he could sneak into the city and procure more books for her.  His mate deserved spoiling after all.  And right now, he was going to spoil her with some food.  If he could figure out where she had gotten to, that is.

Bakugou poked his head into the kitchen, nothing.  He checked the bathing chambers, without success.  His brow furrowed as he went and poked around the silks and furs or the hoard, checking to see if she had curled up somewhere.  “Treasure?” he called quietly at first.  He raised his volume as his search continued to be fruitless, his panic rising.  “Y/N?  ANSWER ME!”  He was met only with his own echo.

Surely she couldn’t have…  Not after all this time.  He thought they were…  He thought…

With a roar, he surged out of the cavern, growing as he raced forward.  He guts twisted as his thoughts swirled.  Not again.  He couldn’t be alone again.  Please, he…  Bakugou violently shoved those thoughts down, trying his best to only focus on his rage.  He was going to find her.  He was going to drag her back and chain her to the fucking wall if he had to.  She is HIS and she would damn well learn that!

Bakugou burst out into the sunlight, growling as he took ragged breaths.  He needed to catch her scent, to find the little fool before some humans did.  He swung his enormous head from side to side and suddenly stilled.

There you were.  You were sprawled out, asleep on a rock.  You were laying on your stomach, your wings stretched out, soaking up the sun.  The amulet lay on the rock beside you.  Bakugou cautiously moved closer.

The tremors of the ground caused you to stir, and you fluttered your wings before you stretched, sitting up with a yawn.  You blinked up at the massive dragon towering over you and smiled softly.

“Hello, Love.  I’m sorry I worried you, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

You reached out your arms to him, making grabbing motions.  Bakugou didn’t hesitate a second before shrinking and changing just enough so that he could swing you into his arms, holding you tightly enough that it was just on the edge of being painful.  You hugged him in return, nuzzling his neck and pressing kisses there.  The two of you would need to have a long conversation later, curled against each other.  But for now, it was time for your mate to take you home.

[con-fection]

violence and intimacy are the only universal languages | BUCKY BARNES x READER | 18+ oneshot

synopsis: In which Bucky Barnes fucks John Walker’s girlfriend, who turns out not to be John Walker’s girlfriend at all. 

[Alternative synopsis: Bucky happens to meet you, John Walker's girlfriend, and you're nothing like he expects you to be. He's anticipating a woman that's arrogant, mindless and fake, following after Walker like a lost puppy, a woman who puts on a front to the whole world, a terrible person hiding behind the girl-next-door facade. You're nothing like that - you're soft, intriguing and absolutely lovely, everything that's good in the world. And he's very much attracted to you, desperate to show John who you really belong to.]

Content warnings: 18+ This is SMUT. Contains sex/explicit language/,masturbation. 

THIS IS SET DURING EPISODE 2 AND WILL CONTAIN SOME SPOILERS AS IT USES SOME DIALOGUE FROM THE SHOW :) IT’S ALSO TOLD FROM BUCKY’S POV :)

Word count: 17K

John Walker is absolutely insufferable.

He is a man high off his own arrogance, regarding himself as the ultimate authority, and relegating every other member of this planet to being below him. He is a bastardisation of everything that vibranium shield stood for. John doesn't have bravery, but he has pride in spades, which is more than good enough for everybody around him.

Captain America had been so deeply beloved that his loss left a crippling gape in the very heart of the American dream. It was a space that required filling - and so, in the absence of Steve Rogers, the apparent next best thing was located.

But Walker wasn't the next best after a man like Steve Rogers. They may vaguely resemble one another, in their facial features, icy blue eyes and broad, towering stature, but John fails to measure up in each and every way that matters. He fundamentally lacks the most important qualities that Steve had in abundance.

Steve Rogers had been a heart-wrenchingly good man, burdened with a righteous sense of justice, a strong moral compass and compassion. His life had been far from easy, wrought with losses that left him fractured into pieces of himself. He was loyal to a fault - willing to wage a war against the United States' government to try to clear the name of a comrade so close he would have died for him a thousand times over. John would dance to whatever tune the government gave him, so long as it resulted in his name being glorified.

John Walker knows nothing of that sacrifice. Every alleged 'brave' act comes from his warped sense of reality, one that has given him the impression he simply cannot die, that he can't be wrong in any way. 

Each time he jumped on top of a grenade, or put himself in the line of fire, he came out unscathed, and so he did it again and again and again, revelling in the praise he recieved afterwards, and the eventual mantle that was bestowed upon him.

Steve had never once come out of a single fight uninjured. 

That was part of the mysticism, of his heroism. He would be hurt time and time again. And yet, he would never fold. He didn't bend or break under the pressure, under the pain. He didn't so much as waver in the face of all of it. his devotion to doing what was good and what was right always prevailed, irrespective of how many bones he may break or how much blood he may lose.

Despite the fact that John Walker, the second Captain America, lacked any of the characteristics of his predecessor, he became America's sweetheart. People were desperate to have somebody fill the space that Steve Rogers had left, and to the public, it seemed like John Walker was perfect.

He gave flawless interviews, where he came across not as an arrogant, self-serving puppet of the state, but as a humble, bashful, honest man that represented the very soul of America. Watching him talk was reminiscent of his predecessor, and of course, each public appearance had been carefully orchestrated so that would be the case. Every word that spilled from his mouth was premeditated, designed specifically with the intent to appeal to the populus.

John Walker got to parade around wearing stars and stripes, cradling a shield that he was very much undeserving of wielding. And, he got to do all of this accompanied by two people. 

The first was Lemar Hoskins, the Battlestar. Like Walker, he too had served in the armed forces, and was to be considered a decently skilled fighter, though he failed to measure up to the likes of either Bucky or Sam.

...and then there was you.

Bucky found John Walker to be absolutely insufferable, a blight on Steve's legacy, and some tiny, bitter sliver of that hatred was reserved for you, too.

The new Captain America served the country with his best friend Battlestar and his lover, you.

You weren't like them. You weren't some jacked-up soldier fresh out of the army who had kissed enough ass and earnt enough medals to be made into a hero. Instead, you were practically just the eye candy. America's darling, hanging off the arm of their beloved hero. There was something magnetising about you that made people just love you instantaneously. It was a raw appeal that nobody was safe from.

Initially, Bucky had regarded you as an odd choice. You weren't even a superhero. You didn't take up a stupid, convoluted mantle like 'Battlestar' had. Rather simply, you were just there, tagging along, looking pretty and people adored you for it.

 There was something very intriguing to the people of America about their new Captain America and his sweetheart - you, a stunning supermodel-type with a dazzling mind and a blinding smile. It was easy for them to project onto you two, the perfect superhero couple who had a fairytale romance.

Bucky utterly detested John Walker and his lost-puppy sidekick, Battlestar.

Some tiny sliver of that malice had initially been generalised to you, too. It was hard not to feel slightly bitter as he saw the two of you on TV, giving interview after interview, cuddled up to each other. It was all so terribly fake, utter bullshit that people eagerly lapped up because it was the version of reality that they desperately wanted to believe in.

 It had to be fake - nobody is simply that charismatic, especially not when they're holding hands with John Walker. There was something about the way they, they being your PR team, had styled you in a few of the earlier interviews that gave him the distinct impression that they wanted people to be reminded of Natasha Romanoff, minus the bloody past.

For a while, for your first few public appearances, you had been relegated to wearing dark clothes and leathers that made you seem every bit a femme fatale, though any semblance of danger was nullified by your friendly smile. 

It also seemed like that route had been abandoned, and now you tended to appear wearing lighter clothes, whites and creams that were more innocent, like your PR team had doubled back on itself and decided to switch from the 'whore' to the 'virgin'. You seemed more genuine like that, in florals and paler colours.

Bucky would be lying if he said he had never watched any of your interviews. It had merely been a simple fascination, a way to satisfy the nagging feeling of curiosity that threatened to consume him. They were interesting, and he consumed them with an almost ravenous hunger. Simple curiosity, that was all. That was all that he would let it be.

That interview that John had given at his old high school had just been the beginning, his very debut to the American people. Since then, there had been a few more, some featuring Battlestar, who would sit obediently at his side, and others featuring you.

You would curl up next to him, eagerly pressing yourself into John's side, smiling widely as you began the interview. There was a slightly angelic quality about you, a veil of innocence around you, your lilting voice like a siren's call, and your bright, doe eyes. With a well practiced ease, you would entwine your fingers with John's and sweetly tell him, looking at your lover intensely, that he was the best thing that ever happened to you.

It was fascinating to watch, to see just what kind of image your PR team could put across. You seemed every bit like the all-american girl, like the unattainable girl-next-door who would go to church every sunday and would be an inspiration to girls across the country. 

Despite the innocent-seeming way in which you were deliberately styled, you never once came across as naive. Instead, there was never any vapid or vain qualities to you. It was like you just didn't know how pretty you were, or the effect you could have on people.

As nice as you may have come across in all of those interviews, every bit the picture-perfect media darling, Bucky knew it was all a farce. John had managed to seem like a decent, determined man who was down to earth and wanted nothing more than to provide inspiration to Americans, no, to the whole world. But all of those things about John simply were untrue.

 Every interaction he had with the public had been carefully created to construct an image of him that incited adoration from the public. There was no reason whatsoever why you wouldn't be the same.

In fact, Bucky found it more likely than not that you were a complete inversion of that sweet, charming woman you appeared to be on TV. It left him with a sour taste in his mouth and biting back at bile rising in his throat. It was nauseatingly fake, all masquerading around as good and just using Steve's emblem.

It wasn't until he met you that the malice rescinded.

His escapade with Sam to see Isaiah had ultimately concluded with handcuffs being wrapped around his wrists and a visit to the local police station. Bucky had been taken into some tiny, isolated cell with boring blank walls that are comprised of chipped bricks covered poorly by cracking blue and white paint, constantly escorted and monitored by police officers, who were buzzing dually with excitement and tension at having both the recently-pardoned Winter Soldier in detention, and avenger the Falcon stood outside in the hall, demanding answers.

Doctor Christina Raynor had strolled into the precinct with both weariness and disappointment in her eyes. She walked almost like a woman defeated, one hand clasping the strap of her handbag and the other falling aimlessly at her side. 

Immediately, she gravitated towards Sam, who was seated rigidly in some tiny, uncomfortable plastic chair amongst a myriad of members of the public, people who were also waiting for news about their friends or family who had been arrested.

Clamoring to put on the most polite smile she could, Doctor Raynor introduced herself to Sam, barely managing to get in a complete sentence before she's interrupted.

Swiftly following the arrival of the Doctor is the entrance of John Walker. John strides into the precinct dressed in the Captain America garb, shield positioned on his back. There's something terribly strategic about the decision to be constantly wearing the suit. Perhaps it's to offer a sense of security, or maybe it's because without it John has no authority to operate on. Either way, his mere appearance results in a horde of frenzied police officers trailing after him, desperate for a selfie or an autograph, something that John mindlessly indulges them in, smiling the whole time. Sam's face instantly sours as John enters, his eyebrows tugging down into a frown.

John Walker simply saunters in, a falsely cherubic smile on his face as he stares down at Christina. "Bucky's not going to be following a strict schedule any longer."

Doctor Raynor's previously jovial attitude towards John's presence dissipates, quickly replaced by confusion. "We haven't finished our work." She protests, setting her jaw. "Who authorised this?"

There's a note of challenge in her voice as she presses John for an answer. She's the professional - she's very much the one capable of understanding Bucky's mind, and yet John doesn't take her concern into account. He doesn't even look phased by it. He's completely unbothered by any opposition thrown his way - it had never mattered to him before, and it had no reason to bother him now.

"I did," John says, pointing to himself.

Sam and Christina both stare him down, equally perturbed. They exchange a brief glance. Doctor Raynor's concerned in a professional capacity - not only is Barnes her patient, and it is her prerogative to help him take control of his mind and heal, but she is also commanded by the state to oversee his psychiatric care. 

Responsibility for him falls onto her - she's the professional. Christina is the doctor, the one who understands the human mind, and John very much is not. Sam, on the other hand, is personally concerned. As much as he pretends he despises Bucky, he does care, albeit begrudgingly. He wouldn't be here if he didn't.

A tiny beep goes off, signifying that a door is being opened. Bucky is walked in by two police officers, looking mildly agitated for one second, and completely numb the next, all emotion dropping from his face to put a cool, unfeeling visage into place. It's a mask that gives him obscurity, that allows him to distance himself from the mere possibility of being vulnerable.

Christina forces the two of them into some botched attempt at therapy, forcing them to look into each others eyes and get far closer than either of them are comfortable with whilst she presides over them, poking, prodding, inquiring. 

It's a demand of some emotional vulnerability that Bucky simply does not want to produce. It's not exactly heart-wrenching but it does make him feel robbed, like something had been taken from him against his will. It didn't feel like healing, like what therapy was meant to be. It felt difficult. It felt like a quiet rage building in his gut that he desperately wants to keep under wraps, lest he lash out at somebody.

It leaves Bucky feeling stripped raw when they finally leave the police station.

By the time Bucky and Sam step out onto the streets the sun has already set. The sky is dark, a deep navy blue that's mostly covered by thick dark clouds that besiege the atmosphere. The whole street is lit by lights that have been left on in people's windows, or blinkering blue lamps that run along the outer wall of the police station.

A blaring, almost comically loud beeping noise disrupts the fragile silence of the night. Lined up outside of the station are a series of police cars, all emblazoned with white lettering reading 'BALTIMORE POLICE DEPARTMENT'. 

The sirens of one of the police cars is going off wildly, the noise being one disruption and the blue and red flashing lights emitting from the roof of the car being another. It's an annoyance, and creates a false sense of urgency. Those sirens are normally used when somebody's life is at risk and members of the police force are going to respond. In this situation, there's no rush, no hurry, there's no crime.

Leaned up against the car, grinning wildly, is John Walker, still dressed as Captain America, all dolled up in navy blue and red, a silver 'A' on his breast.

 When he sees that he's successfully captured Sam and Bucky's attention, which he garners from the fact that both of their heads whip towards him, attracted by both the loud noise and the bright lights, he turns off the siren, restoring the tentative peace to the darkened streets.

This time, though, Walker's not alone. 

Next to him, propped up against the hood of the car is Battlestar, also dressed head-to-toe in his tactical gear, arms folded over his chest and a stoic expression on his face. There's something about him that just lacks any individuality. John masqueraded as somebody else, somebody whose mantle he had no right to use, and he's always constantly accompanied by a pale imitation of a comrade.

As likely as it is that Walker and Battlestar have engaged in combat together, they're not comrades, not in the way Bucky and Steve were. He and Steve had been willing to do anything for each other - endure any pain, run from the forces of the state if they had to, even die for one another.

 Walker didn't seem like the type to lay down his life for somebody else out of a genuine heart-felt devotion to them.

And then, stood a few feet away from both Walker and his loyal sidekick is you - the lover. There's a decent amount of distance between you and them, separated from one another by enough space that it quite literally looks like you're desperate to avoid Walker's presence. You huddle over by the wall of the precinct, jaw set like you were irritated by the ear-splitting sound of the siren, though you don't voice a complaint. Unlike the two men, you're not dressed like you're headed out to battle, like you're some kind of protector. No, you're dressed in some pale, flouncy sundress that grazes your thighs, and you're shivering in the night air. Of course you are - it's freezing.

Bucky has to bite back a sneer just at the sight of the three of you, a vile, acrid remark just on the tip of his tongue. He has just spent the best part of his day in some cramped cell that reminds him all too much of a HYDRA facility, and then being interrogated by his own therapist, who is desperate to push him into emotional vulnerability all in the name of progress. He isn't in the mood to play happy families, and especially not with the man now wielding Steve's shield.

"Gentlemen!" John calls out, waving his hands in the air as if Bucky and Sam hadn't already started their stride towards him, matching expressions of disdain on their faces. "Good to see you again. Have I introduced you to my girl yet? No?"

It, of course, was a rhetorical question. The two of them had only ever seen you in snapshots of public appearances that you had made at John's side. You weren't actively accompanying Captain America or Battlestar on any of their missions, and as far as Bucky is aware, there are no plans for you to do so. You're not a soldier. You're not built for battle - you're softer. More gentle. You're not the state's attempt at creating a superhero. Allegedly, you're just a regular girl - pretty and smart and charismatic, but otherwise perfectly regular - who just so happens to be dating John Walker, the new Captain America.

John doesn't wait for a response from Bucky or Sam, but he does gesture to you, beckoning you over to him by crooking two of his fingers.

You approach him, your dress ruffled by the wind. In that instant Bucky thinks that the two of you actually do seem nothing like how you do on those televised interviews - his prediction had been correct. The persona was lovely, enchanting even, but it was just that. A persona, an act for your public image. There's something almost mechanical about the way you approach John, your hands folded across your chest in an unsuccessful attempt to shield yourself from the cold. It's all too robotic. It's not effortless or affectionate. You don't look remotely comfortable, but you slide up next to Walker and Hoskins regardless. Clearly, Battlestar isn't the only one who follows Walker's commands like an obedient dog.

You slot yourself in between Battlestar and John, a grimace passing over your face as you press yourself into his side. It's odd, exceptionally so, for Bucky to see this - god, you look reluctant to accept some modicum of warmth from your own boyfriend, who you'd proclaimed publically that you loved more than anything. It's almost like you resent his touch.

And oh, that's nice. It's almost cathartic seeing somebody meant to love and adore John avoid his touch like he's got some contagious flesh-eating disease.

There's a great deal of recognition in your eyes as you look at Bucky and Sam. It's likely you'd already been made familiar with them as a result of Walker's fevered desperation to unite their forces. 

Bucky's looking at you intently, just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to open your mouth and prove him right - for you to prove that you were just as fake as Walker and Hoskins. It almost seemed inevitable, really. It's all too easy to seem good, sweet and polite on those well-orchestrated interviews. But real life is a completely different matter all together.

Bucky's well versed in being able to tell when people are lying, easily spotting their little tells, locating them in the flutter of a limb, the arch of an eyebrow or the twitch of an eye. It'll be a matter of moments until he spots yours. Any act was doomed to fail around him. Everybody gives themselves away somehow.

You introduce yourself, stating your name and giving them a shy wave. "It's nice to meet the two of you." You say sweetly, a smile lighting up your face.

Bucky's eyes widen involuntarily. Oh. It was one thing seeing that enchantment on TV, and another seeing it just feet away from him. There was something absolutely enrapturing about the silky quality of your voice, and the way your eyes sparkled even in the dim light.

 He hadn't expected you to actually be...pleasant. It was all supposed to be this fake persona, and yet, he can practically sense the genuity on you. You don't twitch like some little rabbit, or stumble over your words. There's no sweat beading on your brow, and you're not avoiding eye-contact. If anything, you're welcoming it.

There was no fucking way. No fucking way at all that you could actually be as nice as you were in those interviews and be with John Walker of all people. You should be horrible simply by being associated with the man.

"Well, now that we're all acquainted we can move onto our first order of business." John says, not even glancing at you. His gaze is focused solely on Sam and Bucky, steely and deceptive, completely dismissive of how utterly lovely you look.

Bucky's having a hard time even looking at John, not when you're right there, not too far away, looking absolutely angelic. There was no way it was some act, right? That facade had fallen through for both John and his stoic sidekick the minute they opened their mouths, but when it came to you... the complete opposite was true. Sam had definitely remarked on his staring problem more than once, and Bucky was very much hoping that in the dark you wouldn't be able to tell that he was looking at you in something akin to awe and unrepentant curiosity. He was looking at you in both fascination and scrutiny, staring intently like he was about to authenticate a work of art.

His deep rooted dislike of both John Walker and Battlestar was still very much present, but he was currently experiencing some emotional turbulence over his deep lack of hatred for you. It simply seemed to have evaporated the second you smiled at him. Which was...concerning to say the least. Shouldn't he hate you? Shouldn't your very presence have stoked that spark of malice?

"Look, if we divide ourselves we don't stand a chance. You guys know that." John says. He's all charismatic and confident, self-assured in a way that comes across as mildly condescending. It's a pale, cheap imitation of Steve's ability to rouse even the most slovenly of men and turn them into righteous soldiers.

"So what do you got?" Sam asks tiredly.

John immediately begins his speech, eagerly describing the plight of Karli Morgenthau, and how her journey around the globe is being aided and abetted by sympathisers who want to see the world return to the way it had been during the years of the blip. These sympathisers had much preferred it when half the world had been reduced to ash and something akin to anarchy had been allowed to prevail. 

Whole governments had collapsed in on themselves, and often, borders ceased to exist. It was complete free movement - there was a distinct lack of separation between different human factions, like all of humanity had been united by that grave event that took half of the planet.

Bucky had no idea what that world had been like. He'd only seen the shell of it, the hellscape that was left once the other fifty percent of earth's inhabitants returned to life.

Battlestar makes a few brief interjections, explaining a few minor aspects of the tale - the geotagging, that this threat is most likely operating out of eastern europe, and that Karli has stolen the medicine to take it to one of the camps.

 They don't tend to be sanitary places. Disease runs rampant there, and nobody tends to really care about those who fall sick and succumb to their illness. Of course they need medicine - there's probably hundreds of people who are in the throes of sickness, vomiting their own guts out, their wounds crusted over with coagulated blood, infected and festering.

"Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since the blip. So, I guess you'll have to look real hard," Bucky says, shrugging with a sort of apathy. It's rather vindicating to watch the way John's lip curls up in disdain.

"Well I guess it's good we have-" John begins, his jaw set and his tone confrontational, dripping with very thinly veiled rage.

You sigh, a tiny little breathless sound that makes Bucky freeze up slightly. It sounded, for a lack of a better word, rather nice. Melodic, even. "John, calm down." You tell him, not entirely unkindly, but not sweetly, either. 

There's some kind of quality to your voice when you speak to John like you're negotiating for hostages, not like you're having a conversation with your lover. It's curious, but Bucky tries not to attach too much meaning to it.  

Bucky gives you a stiff sort of nod, and you reward him with a smile, your lips curving upwards. "Where is she now? Do you know?" He says, softer than he probably would have if you hadn't been there.

"No. We don't know, Bucky." John's voice is a near yell. He shifts agitatedly, gesticulating wildly, tossing his arms about and shoving you slightly, letting you nearly collide with Battlestar, who is forced to grasp your arm to keep you upright. Battlestar's hand curves around your upper arm, pulling you back until you're steady on your feet. "But it's only a matter of time before we find out."

Relatively quickly, Battlestar's hand drops from your arm, and you give him a whisper of thanks before turning to give John a glare. He hadn't even so much as muttered an apology. He was completely focused on Bucky, the two locking stares in some kind of silent battle, one of wills.

"Things are really intense for you, aren't they, Walker?" Bucky can't fucking resist agitating him, letting the taunt roll off his tongue easily, not even bothering to resist grinning when your lips quirk upwards. Oh yes, you think he's funny - he can see it in the way you press a hand to your lips in a successful attempt to quell a rising peal of laughter.

"Walker's right." Sam is the one to turn to Bucky and snap at him. He tries to diffuse the situation, glancing between you, Bucky and John like he was watching something that had the potential to go very wrong. "It is imperative that we find and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and authorisations you have to get. We're free agents. More flexible. It wouldn't make sense for us to work together."

Tentatively, you set a hand on John's shoulder, feeling the coarse, kevlar-esque material of the suit beneath the tips of your fingers as he turns rigid, looking at Bucky and Sam coldly, all pretences of being nice completely gone, having simply evaporated into the cold night air. "Mr. Wilson isn't wrong."

Like Sam, you seem to have moved on to an attempt to prevent the escalating tensions from reaching their head. You try your best to soothe John, and his shoulders do sag fractionally, like he's just been reminded of your presence. There's something about the way that Walker looks at you that's utterly unappreciative. Perhaps John doesn't want to be grounded - if his will is being resisted then he'd rather be aggressive than diplomatic.

Sam scoffs at the name, "You don't have to call me that. In fact, please don't call me that."

"It's polite isn't it?" You say, smiling, even as John ruthlessly shucks your hand from his shoulder, dismissive of your touch. He gives you an irritated kind of look, a silent admonishment of you challenging his authority. It's not the kind of look that equal partners give each other, and your ensuing glare isn't, either.

"Suppose so," Sam shrugs, his lips quirking up in amusement.

"Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes aren't obligated to help," You tell John softly, seemingly speaking through gritted teeth. "Clearly, we all want the same things - to get that medicine back and bring Karli to justice. But, if you're not all going to be able to work cohesively on a team and get the job done, it may be best to work separately. It gives you all the opportunity to handle things the way you want to. This should be about doing the right thing and accomplishing the mission, not about who's calling the shots."

John nods stiffly, turning to you for a brief moment. There's some kind of red light coming from within one of the nearby buildings, and it's lighting up the dark street in shades of red, crimson light spilling over his cheekbones and dancing across one side of his face. He's the very image of begrudging agreement. "Alright then. Just one piece of advice for you boys. Stay the hell out of my way."

"Gladly." Bucky mutters under his breath, not missing the fact that you catch it and your smile widens.

As Bucky and Sam begin their exit, he can't help but to spare you one last glance over his shoulder. Bucky's eyes quickly roam over your form, as if he's mapping you out, or trying to emblazon the image of you within his mind - bathed in dying red light, still smiling serenely at him even as he's leaving. He really cannot figure you out. 

The line of what's real and what's fake seems awfully blurred when it comes to you. Normally he's excellent at detecting a performance, but when it comes to you, Bucky has no idea whatsoever what is going on. And it's very much intriguing.

John Walker he would have no problem whatsoever in leaving alone.

...but you on the other hand, were a whole different story.

There was some grand, captivating quality that you had in spades that was even more potent in real life than it had been on camera. It was in the way your hair was jostled by the wind, the pale sundress that skirted your soft-looking thighs, the curve of your hips, the way you smiled and that hypnotic twinkle in your eye. 

Walker and Hoskin's lovely personalities had been something of a farce, but yours wasn't. It did, however, make him wonder what somebody like you was doing with them - how you could aid and abet their actions even though it was glaringly obvious you weren't always in concordance with them.

"Man, I do not know what the hell was going on there, but I very much did not like how you were looking at Walker's girl like she was a piece of steak, or something." Sam shudders, muttering quietly once they're out of earshot of Walker and his companions.

"I don't know what you mean." Bucky feigns ignorance, setting his jaw and very much trying to push the phrase 'Walker's girl' from his mind. It just...didn't seem right.

In all of those TV interviews, the two of you had seemed like a perfect couple - you only appeared that way because Walker was plastering on a faux persona. In reality, the two of you seemed fragmented, distant from one another though Walker did have some tiny modicum of respect for you. 

There was nothing about the real, raw interactions between the two of you that indicated any intimacy. It was the complete antithesis of the united front the two of you presented, of the perpetually happy lovers that America adored.

There was just no way it could be true. In fact, it sets off something that's terribly close to jealousy in his gut. Walker's an arrogant prick who carries a shield he has no right to even look at. He especially doesn't deserve you - you with the pretty eyes and an aura about you that screamed 'holy', 'saintly', even.

Yes. That was probably why he disliked it. Because it was probably inaccurate. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way you enchanted him, nothing to do with the sight of your bare legs and absolutely nothing to do with the lovely way you said 'Mr.Barnes.'  It had absolutely nothing to do with that whatsoever.

"No, no." Sam protests. "I've seen you, you know, stare at people before - but god, never like that. Fuck, man."

And it's true. It was obvious to anybody that spent more than thirty seconds with Bucky that he had yet to acclimate and adjust to social scenarios, and that once he was focused on one thing had an abject refusal to move his gaze away from it. Bucky had heard Sam call it both 'creepy' and 'unnerving', and hoped, for some inexplicable reason, that you thought differently. 

After all, your eyes had barely left his. It wasn't staring if both of you were doing it - then it was mutual, some kind of joint focus on one another.

"Like what, Sam?"

Sam just shakes his head, looking disdainful, his nose turned up like he'd just smelled something foul. "Mmhm, like you wanted to do some things to her that, for the sake of my own mental health, I would rather not think about."

Well, technically, he hadn't thought about anything that bad - just your voice, your smile, and the way you might say his name. But, in that instant, Sam's words derail all of those thoughts. Because, really, you had looked so lovely that it would be forgivable to think about you like that.

There was that cute little sundress you were wearing, grazing your thighs whenever you moved or whenever the wind picked up. It's all too easy for him to imagine skirting his fingers up your smooth, soft thighs and let his hands explore you, roaming over your ass and your inner thighs, enjoying the feeling of your skin and the little noises he could provoke from you.

"...stop thinking about it. I can literally hear your thoughts right now." Sam says, grimacing at Bucky's spaced out kind of look - his glazed over eyes and the fingers twitching at his sides. It's all too easy for him to see the gears shifting in Bucky's head, openly reliving the few moments he had seen you.  

"I'm not thinking about it," Bucky outright lies as the two of them continue walking down the street.

"No, you absolutely are thinking about it." Sam objects. "I can sense the impropriety."

"Oh yeah? You can sense it?" Bucky glares at Sam, unable to resist antagonising him. It's safe, reliable even, between the two of them. They'll perpetually annoy one another, being challenging, rude, and utterly impolite, knowing that when it comes down to it, they'll fight side-by-side without objection, trusting each other implicitly. But in these moments when there's no imminent danger, that opposition is welcome. It's routine, even.

"Hell yes, I can sense it."

Bucky just scoffs at him, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. It wasn't really as if Sam was wrong. There was something especially fascinating about Walker's girl - if that's even what you are. He'd known you for a matter of fleeting moments that passed by like dandelion seeds in a breeze. And yet, something about it felt terribly significant. 

He hadn't actually expected that appeal to be real. He anticipated that just like Walker's carefully groomed public image, it would have been falsified.

The only thing that really seemed fake about those interviews was your affection with John. It was non-existent in real life, and for a while, you had avoided touching him, until you had to diffuse the situation. That was very, very curious. Just where had Walker found you? He had to doubt that the relationship was genuine. 

Somebody as nice, as innocent-seeming as you would never go for Walker. Not when Walker's the kind of guy that Steve would have tried to fight as a scrappy teenager, before he even got the serum. The kind of guy who Bucky would inevitably have to knock the lights out of in order to protect Steve. That kind of guy objectively did not belong with someone like you.

Bucky has to shake his head ever so slightly. It's a dangerous line of thinking. God, he doesn't even know you. He's met you once, and you'd exchanged only a few words. Irrespective of how nice you seem, how entrancing you are, he doesn't know you. It hardly matters whether or not your relationship with Walker is genuine. It shouldn't matter to him. It really shouldn't bother him.  

But it does, and that fact alone is almost as bad as the fact that John Walker is the new Captain America. It causes the same bitter feeling to swell in his chest.

Sam and Bucky fall into line next to each other, walking side-by-side, the dull noises of their footsteps hitting the pavement reverberating throughout the streets. There's a comfortable silence between the two of them. Words aren't needed now. They often aren't. For all of their antagonisation, they can understand each other perfectly fine with a single glance. That's what comradery is.

There are neon lights that illuminate the streets in shocking tones of red and turquoise, reflected in stray puddles that pool in the potholes of the roads. The lights seem dulled, boring despite their vividity. He'd seen brightness before. It didn't look like a street sign. It looked like the curve of your smile and the silent rage you directed at John Walker.

---

Bucky's flat is near-barren. 

As much as he hates empty rooms - they remind him of cold cells in underground bases that he wishes more than anything that he could forget - he's also come to the realization that he very much hates rooms that have too much furniture. 

They all feel uncomfortable, unfamiliar, a bastardisation of a normal life that he feels he has no right to live. He's so unused to the feeling of a mattress beneath him that the floor next to his bed is easier for him to sleep on. And he hates that, too. 

The simple inability to slip back into a normal life makes him feel woefully inadequate, like there's still something deeply wrong with him despite the fact that the command words had long since been removed from his mind.

Sam had returned to his own home a while ago, leaving Bucky utterly alone in the flat.

 It's not necessarily loneliness that he feels, but it is a kind of numbness that is close to it - the dulled pain of loss. Perhaps, if everything had gone the way he meant for it to, he would be sharing this place with Steve - Steve who would take a bullet for him, fight any force in this universe or the next for him. Steve who would probably encourage him to sleep in the bed and not on the floor next to it. 

That realisation prompts him to shuck off his leather jacket, toss it into the recesses of his room and try to distract himself.

He runs a hand over his face, closing his eyes and just revelling in the darkness. Mindlessly, he sits down on the very edge of his bed, already knowing that he won't be sleeping there. It seems somewhat pointless to even try. 

Despite the Soldier being gone, there are some effects of his presence that linger. Slowly, he's been getting better, but there are a few traits he doesn't know whether or not he'll ever have the courage to discard. Sleeping on the floor is one of them. That constant need to be vigilant is another. Often it manifests itself as paranoia, and at other times as staring.

Oh god, the staring.

Bucky knew it could be bad sometimes - Sam made remarks about it often enough - but today, he really felt like he couldn't help himself. 

Maybe he shouldn't have stared at you so much. It probably wasn't welcome. In fact, it had been described as 'unnerving' and 'creepy' more than once. But there was just something about you that made him not want to look away.

His eyes flutter open and he lets out a ragged groan of frustration, a low noise that originates at the back of his throat. 

Somehow, every little nagging thought always leads back to you, which is inconvenient to say the least. He does have to keep telling himself that he doesn't know you, mentally repeating those words like a mantra, instructing himself to just leave that train of thought alone completely, and to discard any and every thought that pertains to you. You're with Walker. He doesn't know you - but he could.

Bucky takes in a deep breath, hand digging through the pocket of his trousers, emerging with his phone. The internet was a pretty vast thing that had initially taken quite some getting used to, especially when he was still living in Romania. It had been difficult to become comfortable with the amount that society had progressed whilst he was with HYDRA. 

He still couldn't get used to the music or some of the fashion trends. By the time he got to living in Wakanda, he was more than used to the intricacies of modern day technology, despite the fact that once he came out of cryogenic freezing he lived a fairly simple lifestyle.

He can't really resist searching your name.

 Immediately, article after article pops up, all with headlines about you and Walker. Bucky lets out a minor, quiet noise of discontentment, opting to avoid the articles and instead look at the videos, the interviews that you had given. In most of them, you're accompanied by Walker, and occasionally by Battlestar, too. Bucky absolutely does not want to watch those ones. It feels like John simply sitting next to you is somehow corruptive.

There are a select few interviews where, mercifully, you're by yourself. Some of them are from your earlier days, where you're dressed in black leather, which was absolutely a confusing wardrobe choice. 

Privately, he much prefers you in the sundress and the pale colours. In the one that he chooses to watch, you're dressed in another sundress - this one's a pale sort of pink with tiny, blooming white flowers dotted over it. For some inexplicable reason, Bucky thinks he prefers you like this - innocent, summery, and not a pale imitation of somebody who was meant to be scary - not that you had the potential to make him afraid in the slightest.

You're in some room, sitting in front of a grand, white window, seated on a wicker chair opposite the interviewer. There's a few potted plants dotted around the floor, aloe vera, lavender, a cheese plant and some other flowers that are in full bloom, their soft petals unfurled. You're beaming happily as the interviewer begins, soft sunlight spilling over your profile, warming your skin.

"It's a pleasure to finally have the opportunity to interview you - and you're so kind to let us into your house like this." The interviewer says, looking between your angelic visage and their copious sheets of notes, each one full of questions and follow-up questions that they were desperate to ask you.

Ah. That makes sense - all the plants. You seemed like the type to like them.

"The pleasure's all mine." You say, and yes, there it is. That transfixing look about you that he's slightly hooked on now that he's seen it in real life. It's a bit addictive to watch you, and god, even just thinking that does very much make him feel wrong.

"How about we get started, then?" The interviewer says conversationally. "You know, every single person in America is curious about you. I'm just here to ask the questions on everybody's minds! Just who are you? Come on, tell us about yourself."

You don't flounder. Not even for a second. You're utterly effortless in the interviews just as you had been mere feet away from him. "Well, I'm just your average girl, really. I'm nothing special, I promise you. Honestly, I'm so grateful that everybody loves me so much. I really wasn't expecting it."

Sitting there, a serene expression on your face, you sound utterly bashful, humbled and sweet in a way that wasn't quite the same as it had been in real life.

God, seeing you in real life was different to the interview. You had been, for a lack of a better word, better than how he expected. He'd anticipated meeting female John Walker, arrogant, self-assured and willing to try to strong-arm him into fighting for their team, more like Walker's puppy than your own individual person.

 And you were nothing like that - you'd challenged Walker, hell, you even seemed reluctant to touch the guy at first, and then, you'd laughed and smiled devastatingly sweetly whenever Bucky would agitate him.

" - oh yes, my favourite flowers are - " You're still talking sweetly but he's only capturing fragments of what you're saying.

It's hard to focus on your exact words when you've shifted slightly, and that sundress has slid up your thighs ever so slightly, exposing more of your legs to Bucky's heated gaze.

 Fuck - you don't even realise what you're doing and how it's making him feel. You're just innocently trying to get through an interview, talking about something mundane, like your houseplants, and it has Bucky's imagination running wild.

If Sam were here, he would definitely be sensing impropriety right about now.

Bucky swallows thickly, biting his lower lip in an effort to stifle the ragged breath he's struggling to take. It feels almost like there's no air left in his lungs. It's all too easy for him to picture you, right there in front of him, giving him that lovely saccharine smile, your lips pulled upwards. You'd saunter into his room, sundress skirting against your thighs, and he would be utterly enraptured.

He clears his throat, squeezing his eyes shut for just a fraction of a second. He could practically feel the blood rushing south, pooling downwards until his cock was pitching a tent, straining uncomfortably against his dark jeans. 

Bucky can't even bring himself to feel any shame - he's just chasing a sensation, chasing a fantasy of you as he tugs his jeans down, shucking them off and discarding them, letting them land somewhere near his leather jacket.

With an unsteady breath, he shuffles back awkwardly onto the bed. Without so much as a second thought, he's pulling his boxers down his thighs and resting his flesh hand against his cock. He's beyond hard, steely even, and Bucky has to bite back a groan. Even the touch of his own hand doesn't offer him much relief.

He discards his phone, letting the interview keep playing, just listening to your cadence and the entrancing way you spoke, not really picking up on the words themselves.

It's all too easy to imagine you being here, in that tiny little sundress, stalking towards him. He'd want you to straddle him, your thighs framing his, sundress riding up, exposing more of your legs. He'd push the fabric up, and instruct you to hold it there. 

You'd probably give him something like a shy little nod and that dazzling smile of yours, your hands fisting the fabric and holding it up.

Fuck - it was all just too good to think about.

Bucky's grip on his cock tightens as he slowly strokes himself. He could easily tug the top part of the sundress down, too, to expose your tits. Maybe he'd even play with them for a bit, licking, nipping and sucking until there's a constellation of bruises and bites decorating your decolletage.

You'd probably beg, all whiney and breathy and absolutely desperate for him, struggling to maintain your hold on your dress, your fingers twitching as you pushed your chest towards him. It would be fucking lovely. He would finally pull away, admiring his work before bothering to address your needs. He'd trail his hands up your thighs.

He had to wonder exactly what you were wearing underneath it. White? Black? Lacey? A tiny little thong that rises high on your hips, the kind he can easily rip off with his bare hands or push aside? 

Or fuck, even more addicting, what if you weren't wearing any at all? His fingers would smooth up your thighs as you trembled, meeting your bare cunt.

Bucky doesn't even bother to try to quell the groan that rises up within him at that thought. God, that would be nice. You'd be wet - so wet, dripping, coating his fingers and trickling down your thighs. He'd rest his dark, metal hand on your waist whilst the fingers on his other hand ran eagerly through your folds, teasing your clit as he memorised all of the little sounds he could pull from you before he'd plunge two fingers into you.

You'd cry out, and he'd swallow the sound with his mouth, crushing his lips to yours and letting you gasp into his mouth. When he finally pulls away from you, fingers knuckle deep inside of you, your face would be painted a bright red, and your lips would be swollen as you begged him, fucking begged him to fuck you.

He'd deny you at first, watching you tremble and twitch on his fingers, practically fucking yourself on them.

Bucky would stroke at your clit, tracing tiny circles over it and watching your face contort in pure, unadulterated pleasure. He'd let you get off on his hand first. Would your eyes roll back into your head? Would you scream for him, yelling out his name? Would you get even wetter, impossibly making his fingers even slicker, fucking soaking him? You'd probably seize up, your spine going rigid, your mouth tumbling open and your walls flutter around his finger, convulsing uncontrollably.

And then, only then, would he fuck you.

God, you'd take his cock so well. 

Maybe the stretch of it would be a bit much at first and you'd squirm in his hold, his metal arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you impaled on him. The noises you would make would be utterly lovely - whines and fragments of pleads that never quite get finishes because you keep interrupting yourself with your own moans.

Eventually, he'd have you in his lap, your legs folded over his, one of your hands holding up your sundress so he can see his cock entering you, pushing you open, the other resting on his face. You'd bounce on his cock, whimpering like a kitten, biting at your bottom lip whilst he stared at you in awe.

You would be good - so, so good, tight and hot around him, absolute perfection.

He'd mark your neck up too, so that it'd match your tits, leaving tiny, bloodied indentations of his teeth up the column of your throat, soothing the sting by laving his tongue over them, the taste of your blood blooming on his tongue.

'Walker's girl' his ass.

It wouldn't be John fucking Walker whose name you were crying out. It would be his. It'd be his love bites littering your neck, and it would be his come leaking out from your cunt, trickling down your thighs.

He's relentlessly fucking his fist at this point, grunting and groaning at the mental image of you riding him to completion, snug around his cock, begging for him. There's some deep, nigh unholy pleasure building within him, ripping through him like a hurricane.

"God, fuck -" Bucky comes almost violently with a cry of your name, jerking quickly, hot come spilling over his knuckles. The pearly white beads trail down his hand, oozing onto the bed sheets.

He can still hear that interview playing, your melodic voice grounding him as he comes down from his high. 

You're talking about some sport you had played in high school, and the interviewer is lapping it up, eager for your attention and the exclusive interview. Bucky's chest is heaving, rising and falling heavily as he struggles to catch his breath.

Was it probably wrong to get off whilst thinking about another man's girlfriend? Yes. But, Bucky didn't particularly care, not when he'd just had quite possibly the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life, and especially not when it was 'Walker's girl' he was getting off to. 

Walker probably couldn't make you come if his life depended on it. But Bucky would.

It's definitely strange that he wants you so badly. Maybe he just wants to take something from Walker the way that Walker had taken the mantle of Captain America. 

He didn't really know how he'd react if he ever had to see you again. There's no way he can look at you in any non-sexual capacity, and he can just sense that this won't be the last time he comes whilst thinking about you.

It's probably for the best then, that he'll be staying out of Walker's way. There will be much less temptation on his part to interfere with your relationship. Yes, it's definitely for the best. He's probably just stressed and overworked, and that was the reason he felt the need to fuck his hand whilst thinking. about you. Just stress. And it's not exactly wrong to want to relieve that stress, is it? No. Not at all.

This is perfectly fine, and even if it wasn't, he wouldn't be seeing you again.

---

Just as Bucky had been getting ready to go out for the morning, dressed in jeans and some dark jacket that did a reasonable enough job of hiding the distinctive metal arm, a loud rapping reverberated through his apartment.

Immediately, he's frowning, and some of that old, ever-present paranoia is reawakening, like it's coming out of a coma, its dormancy ending abruptly. He pauses, slowing his gait and balling his hands into fists, bracing himself.

The knock doesn't sound like anybody he knows. It's not Sam - Sam either barges in, makes one single loud bang, or will just yell obscenities until Bucky stumbles out of his flat to meet him. This knock, a gentle rapping, is softer, more polite, and unfamiliar. If he's lucky, it'll have been just somebody who had got the wrong apartment number, or who wasn't yet aware that the previous tenant had moved out. It happened sometimes.

This knock could have a perfectly reasonable explanation behind it - it could be an honest mistake, or some unfortunate door to door salesperson whom he was about to scare off. Still, despite the fact it could be innocuous, it does have him on edge.

Cautiously, Bucky approaches the door, taking in a deep breath as he undoes the latches one by one. Slowly, he opens the door. It feels like ripping off a bandaid. To his surprise, it's neither somebody who's out to hurt him, nor somebody who's got the wrong apartment number.

It's you, standing outside of his door, wearing another one of your pale sundresses and a knitted cardigan, looking like something out of one of his dreams.

So much for not seeing you again.

Maybe he just had exceptionally bad luck, or the universe hated him. That absolutely had to be what it was - some grand, sadistic cosmic being had it out for him and was desperate to make his life hard.

Why the hell were you here? Was Walker sending you to harass him? That would be objectively cruel, and an unfitting punishment just for rejecting the opportunity to work with him. And - how the hell had you found his flat? That absolutely wasn't meant to be information available to anyone.

"Walker's girl?" He says, staring down at you, frowning. 

Bucky doesn't dare call you by your name, not when the last time he said it was when he was coming all over his own hand. He hates the fact that he calls you that, and even more than that, he hates the wince you make. It's perfectly understandable that you don't like being called that, irrespective of whether it's accurate or not. Which he hopes it isn't. And then he resents himself for even being bothered by whether it's true or not. 

He doesn't fucking know you. He shouldn't care.

You remind him of your name - as if he could ever fucking forget it. You brush it off pretty quickly though, smiling up at him. "Mr. Barnes, do you mind if we talk?"

Bucky is very much not enjoying the emotional turmoil you're putting him through. "Sure. Come in. And it's just Bucky."

He most definitely should not be letting you in. That would be a bad decision and he especially didn't want to get ideas about you whilst you were in his flat. And yet, he found himself readily opening the door and welcoming you in, before closing the door after you.  

You make your way into his flat, looking at him gratefully.

"What's the deal with you and Walker?" The words tumble from Bucky's mouth, gruff and awkward, before he can even think to stop them.

A look of mild confusion passes over your face as you blink up at him. "Oh, John? I mean, we're not really a couple."

"I thought not." Bucky says, feigning impassiveness, even though there's absolutely nothing neutral or disinterested about the hopeful feeling that blooms in his stomach.

"Yeah. It was meant to be good for his public image, you know. The all-American guy with the perfect relationship. And I have debt I need to pay off - tuition and all that - and they compensate me for my time." You explain, laughing lightly. It sounds like bells chiming in the wind, and awakens in him some long forgotten memory of watching the sunset. It's reminiscent of something, someplace happier where his head was a whole lot lighter.

Bucky actually feels a genuine bolt of relief skirt down his spine. Of course he had been right. There was no way that Walker could get with somebody as good as you, somebody who seemed very much like an angel put on earth.

Your eyebrows tug slightly downward, "Was it obvious?"

"You looked like you'd rather have been anywhere else."

That prompts a peal of laughter from you, and all traces of concern simply evaporate from your visage, quickly forgotten. "Yeah, I suppose so. John can be...difficult at times. He's very strong-willed and we don't always get along."

"You two seem to get along well enough on camera," Bucky remarks, voice lower than he intended for it to be. Really, he doesn't want this to descend into some kind of interrogation, and he doesn't want to scare you off.

"I'm a decent actress," You say with a shrug. "And we normally do our TV appearances when we're getting along. John's not always easy to get along with, but occasionally we manage to put it all behind us. It may seem scummy, I guess. We are practically lying to everyone, but I do need the money and it's easy work."

It further reassures him - of what, Bucky doesn't quite know, but he doesn't feel half as on edge as he had been earlier.

You're not Walker's. He fucking knew it.

He couldn't possibly even conceive of a universe in which you would ever even consider Walker's advances. That bastard was lucky you even looked in his direction.

"I get that." Bucky says understandingly, a tentative smile playing across his face, his lips quirking upwards.

"I do actually have a reason for being here, Bucky." You say, sighing softly.

Oh. Yes. Of course you did. He'd almost forgotten that you needed a reason to visit - this wasn't a social call, of course it wasn't. The two of you had only ever met once, no matter how well he thought he knew you after having seen what is probably hours worth of footage of you. It's probably not a good thing that he's feeling so familiar with you - no, it's definitely not a good thing that he's feeling so familiar with you. In fact, it's probably very bad, especially with his proclivity for avoiding any form of emotional vulnerability or attachment.

"I...have the clearance to access some information that may benefit you." You say. Right now, you're being the most serious he'd ever seen you. There was a sort of solemn expression about you - your mouth set in a firm line rather than a happy smile - it's bordering on grave, and he's immediately compelled to listen, a frown forming on his face.

"Yes?"

"You and John both want the same thing, but you're not going to work together. I know for a fact you won't, and I really don't blame you. He's planning on going to see Zemo for information about the serum."

Bucky doesn't even tense up at the name. Helmut Zemo is an absolute bastard who had almost ruined his life, in addition to temporarily forcing him into a dangerous headspace, into a part of himself that, at that point, was very much present and very much not under control. 

But now, the codewords are gone. They won't activate shit. Zemo's practically been neutered in that regard. He may not be able to invoke the Winter Soldier, but the mere mention of his name absolutely does invoke some kind of visceral, biblical rage that howls for revenge.

It's the kind of anger of the Old Testament, though Bucky isn't much for religion these days - the kind of anger that is desperate for 'an eye for an eye', to make Zemo hurt just as much as Zemo had hurt him. For retribution.

"We were planning on seeing him, too." Bucky says, a little stiffly, though he retains his composure.

"You'll want to get there before John does. He's planning on telling the guards not to let you in - Zemo will have his visitation rights revoked and you won't even be let on the premises."

Bucky lets out a tiny noise of irritation, a bitter little sound that originates in the very back of his throat. Of course, of fucking course Walker wouldn't be content with just working separately from himself and Sam. 

Rather than just let it be, he'd try to actively obstruct their ability to work on the case - to help people. There was something about Walker's willingness to possibly prevent a breakthrough for the sake of his own ego that left a very bitter taste in Bucky's mouth. It was a complete stain on Steve's legacy.

"You have two days until John and Lemar visit Zemo. They'll probably be alerted when you show up, though, so I suspect you won't have long." You continue.

There's a possibility that you are working with Walker and this is all part of some elaborate scheme to impede his involvement in this. You could be lying through your teeth. 

You had already told him you were a decent actress, and he definitely believed that to be true. Anybody that could be lovesick around John fucking Walker was either delusional or worthy of an oscar. Bucky was inclined to believe you were the latter.

That story about needing money for tuition made sense, and it also seemed reasonable that Walker's PR team would want to give him a girlfriend. A similar kind of thing had happened with Steve back in the forties. He'd been made to do all sorts of stupid campaigns, and a lot of them had involved pretty women like yourself who were willing to act, hell, even sing and dance, for the money.

Bucky wants to believe you're genuine. Surely he'd be able to tell if you're lying - he's good at that, at identifying people's tells and the falsehoods they're spewing.

"Thanks for the heads up." He says somewhat gruffly as he looks down at you.

"Lemar had a lead on the medicine and vaccines, too. But I don't know exactly what he's found." There's something about the way that you sigh that indicates frustration. "It's difficult to get information out of him. He's nice and all, but we're not close enough that he's willing to divulge a lot."

Bucky's slight frown deepens and he steps just a little closer to you, revelling in the fact that you don't stumble back or glance at the door. You're not afraid of him in any capacity.

"You're fishing for information for us? Why?"

That's the one thing he can't work out. Why show up here? Why bother to give him the warning? What could you possibly have to gain from it?

"It's the right thing to do." You say simply, that solemness receding from your pretty face to allow that sweet smile to return. "Whether it be you or John, somebody has to bring these guys down. It's only fair that you both have the same information, and I can get it to you."

How lovely. God, how had you managed to embody the spirit of Captain America more than the man who carried the shield?

"Right, right." Bucky doesn't even have a hard time accepting the answer. He should - he should poke and prod at your motives, but he doesn't want to. He finds that the desire to do good for the world is sufficient enough, especially when it comes to you. Because of course you want to help people, of course you want to help him - as if you hadn't been perfect enough already.

"I'm looking into the camps, too. It's hard to narrow the parameters, though. There's just so many of them." You say, somewhat aghast, like you're disappointed that they even exist in the first place. 

There's a haunted kind of expression in your eyes, like you'd seen too much. And you probably had. Looking into all of those camps, rampant with disease, crime and horrifically painful deaths, couldn't have been easy, especially if you weren't acclimated to something so macabre or devastating.

"Hey," Bucky places a hand on your shoulder - the human hand - and he can feel the soft texture of your knitted cardigan beneath his fingers, as well as the heat radiating from your body. "Thank you. I appreciate it. You're doing the right thing. You're good."

Words of encouragement are somewhat difficult for him to come up with. He has no idea what will reassure you, so he just tells you what he knows to be true and it's enough. It's more than enough judging by the way your eyes light up and you smile at him. There's something almost devastating about that smile, and knowing that he had been the one to cause it.

"Thanks," You say, your voice barely above a whisper, voice a little hoarse. Oh. Oh. Your pupils were blown wide, and you were staring at him intently.

He falters for a fraction of a second, wondering if he'd done something wrong. And then it dawns on him - you'd liked the praise.

You had fucking liked it when he praised you. Well, shit. The rush he got from that realisation alone made him feel nearly high, like his head was in the clouds and he'd just done copious amounts of illegal substances. It was addicting, in short.

It's then and only then that he actually notices just how close the two of you are, and suddenly he's revisiting the thought that maybe letting you into his flat wasn't such a good idea.

 Bucky can very nearly feel your skin beneath his hand. Having you here is such a unique brand of torture - you're exquisitely close, and you're looking at him like whatever it is that's between you, this mad, mutating attraction is reciprocated. It all feels a little too good to be true.

You probably shouldn't be looking at him like that. There was no way that the attraction he felt could be reciprocated. No way whatsoever.

"I should probably give you my number," You say, your voice still a little low - if anything, it's become silkier. Sultry, even, and it has Bucky's head spinning. "I'll send you everything I have."

"Yeah," He says, somewhat breathlessly. It's with a deep reluctance that he drops his hand from your shoulder, already missing the warmth and the closeness. 

He probably shouldn't have touched you in the first place. You were so small next to him, dressed in your pale little sundress, cardigan slipping down one of your arms, pooling at your elbow to reveal a single, unblemished shoulder. There's something almost painfully innocent about you, the complete antithesis to him.

He had been a killer a thousand times over. Bucky had taken more lives than he could even begin to count, and despite his best efforts to reconcile and to make amends for it, his hands were still stained red with blood. They didn't deserve to touch you, no matter how badly he wants to.

Suddenly, you're turning away from him, snatching a piece of paper that had been lying around his flat and scrawling a series of numbers onto the back of it - your phone number. Without so much as a second thought, he's peering over your shoulder as you write them, eyes carefully following every digit that you inscribe.

You whirl around, paper clutched tightly in one hand and settling the other on his chest, fingers ghosting over his shirt. You're so, so close - a mere matter of inches away from him, and your hand is directly over his heart. Hopefully you can't feel the way it beats slightly faster as a result of the contact.

There was a high chance that if it had been anybody else, Bucky would have avoided their touch and shirked the vulnerability. He liked being in control of himself, which often translated in remaining isolated. But he doesn't really want you to take your hand off his chest. He doesn't want that at all. In fact, he'd much prefer it if you touched more of him.

The tension is literally palpable, hanging about the air like a thick fog. No, more like smoke really, with the way your presence threatened to asphyxiate him.

"Bucky," You say, so softly, your voice dripping with reverence. There's just something about the way you whisper his name that's so much better than any fantasy he could ever concoct. He's half-certain that you're going to drop your hand from his chest or shove him away, admonish him for getting too close. But you don't. Your hand remains pressed against him, fingers splayed over his torso.

He can't help but say your name in turn, his voice raspy as he looks down at you. Carefully, he takes the paper with your number on it from your hands and sets it down on one of the countertops. And still, you don't remove your hand from him. You're looking up at him and your eyes are so dark, tumultuous pits of lust that bore right through him.

Bucky leans ever so slightly closer to you, his flesh hand cupping your jaw. His index finger is curled under your chin, and the pad of his thumb is resting on your plump lower lip. In response to his touch, your lips part ever-so-slightly, and he can feel your breath ghosting over his flesh in light, shallow puffs of air.

"Do you want this?" He asks, his voice a low rasp, rough and bordering on ragged. It feels very much like he's entered dangerous territory. This is like playing with fire whilst being desperate to get burnt. He just needs to be sure. He's desperate for that reassurance, for you to explicitly say that he's not crazy or creepy, that this is mutual.

"Yes," You say, lip moving against his thumb as you speak.

In an instant, he's moving his thumb to caress your cheek and then crushing his mouth to yours. There's something utterly greedy about the way he consumes you, teeth smacking together, tongues roving throughout each others mouths, completely plunderous in nature. Because that is what he's doing - consuming you, entirely ravenous in the way his lips press repeatedly against yours.

Your hands become fisted in his shirt and jacket, and his metal arm wraps around your waist, crushing your chest to his, anchoring the two of you together. It seems as if you've gone weak in the knees. You practically crumble against him, pressing yourself into his torso until his metal arm is the only thing that's holding you up.

Oh. This was definitely reciprocated.

There was absolutely no need for him to wallow in guilt or shame or wish not to see you - because you wanted him to. It didn't fucking matter whether or not his hands were stained red, not when all you wanted was for them to touch you.

All too soon, your mouths part slightly and you're panting against one another. Your lips are red, beautifully swollen, and wet with saliva. With a mixture of his and your saliva.

"Tell me to stop," Bucky mumbles heatedly against your lips. "Tell me to stop and I will. I'll never touch you again. I promise."

It's a promise he won't want to keep. Not when he feels like a single kiss has completely fucking ruined him for anybody else.

"What if I don't want you to stop?" You whisper, gazing at him with this blazing fire in your eyes, challenging him.

"Do you want me to keep going?" He asks, and he's afraid of the answer. He has no idea what he wants - he's partially inclined to want to avoid the emotional implications of getting involved with you like this, of succumbing to your allure, but he also very much wants you to say yes, to beg him to touch you like you need nothing else more than you need him.

You tremble against his chest, a soft, keening whine tumbling from your mouth that has Bucky feeling dizzy, like the world had just tilted on its axis without any warning. It's a delightful little noise, melodious and sinful. It was so, so much better than he had imagined. He can barely refrain from rutting against you, high off the sound of your moans.

"Yes." You sound absolutely fucking devastated, pushed into abject neediness. He's reduced you to some kind of desperate mess, clinging to his chest like he's a lifeline, like you're remiss to let go of him.

And fuck, that one simple word is all the confirmation he needs.

 Every single disparaging thought shatters to pieces, demolished by your eager moans. The way your chest wracks with sudden shudders, the way you breathe unevenly, perpetually unable to get enough air in your lungs as he keeps stealing it from you, your dilated pupils and your desire for his touch is all for him. 

It's intoxicating.

Eagerly, he presses his mouth back against yours, revelling in the way you groan into his mouth, your eyes fluttering closed so your lashes can rest against your cheeks. Fisted into his shirt are your hands, bunched up in the fabric, constantly tugging him towards you in eternal desperation for more contact.

In the next moment, he's using the metal arm curved around your waist to hoist you into the air, letting your feet hover above the ground. It's all too easy for him to lift you. 

Your legs had long since turned to jelly, your knees weakened and buckling. Your weight isn't a burden. He could toss a car around if he felt the urge to, which he doesn't. That is absolutely not even close to the urges he's having right now - the urges to make his fantasies a reality, to experience every lewd thought about you that had flitted through his head.

You release a small noise of surprise that Bucky eagerly swallows, biting at your bottom lip and memorising the delightful noises that the action pulled from you.

With his arm anchoring you to his chest, and you quite literally swept off your feet, it's easy for him to maneuver you through his flat, keeping his lips connected to yours as he walks you through to his bedroom.

The only time Bucky's mouth leaves yours is when he relinquishes his steely hold on you, laying you down gently on his bed, letting you rest atop his plain sheets, your sundress riding upwards. 

And even then, he doesn't allow that separation to last long, clambering on top of you and surging forwards, capturing your lips again.

He's practically caging you in with his arms, allowing you no opportunity for escape. 

Your fingers slowly unfurl from their previous position where they're been fisted, harshly gripping the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in what had been a successful effort to bring him closer to you. Now, your hands are wandering, beginning to explore. They roam freely, smoothing over his chest, tracing indecipherable shapes and fragments of words across his torso.

They easily pause at the lapels of his jacket, tugging it off with precision. Bucky has to move his arms slightly to help you divest him of the item of clothing, and he flings it somewhere across the room, not even bothering to check where it's landed. A single item of clothing seems totally irrelevant when you're beneath him, writhing at his touch.

"Please," You say between intense kisses, eyes blown wide with lust. Your pupils have expanded immeasurably, leaving a tiny ring of colour around them. "Off," You demand, tugging at his shirt.

Bucky chuckles, the low noise reverberating throughout his chest, making his torso rumble under your hands. Grinning, he pulls the shirt up and discards that too, leaving himself in just his jeans and you in your pale sundress and knitted cardigan. It's then that he falters, realising you can see the arm - of fucking course you would see the arm. There was no way that you wouldn't. It was just another horror of his existence that couldn't be avoided.  

Strangely, though, you don't look at it in abject horror, reminded of his crimes, of the despicable acts of violence he had committed in the name of HYDRA.

Instead, you look at it reverently, one of your hands coming up to trace the grooves in the arm. 

It was darker than any of his previous ones, a midnight matte black with stunning strips of gold running through the divots between panels. You trace the labyrinth of steady golden lines gently, fingertips tracing over the plates that comprised it. You were just as gentle with it as you were with the rest of him. His breath hitches in a way that is utterly obvious, though you don't outwardly react to it.

Your hand skirts down his metal arm, your fingertips coming to rest against the palm of his hand. The two of you aren't quite holding hands, but you very nearly are. Softly, so devastatingly softly, you tug the dark metal hand towards your face.

And you turn his metal hand over, planting a soft kiss to the centre of his palm before releasing it.

It was rather lovely, really. It made his chest swell up with some emotion that evaded description. Immediately, he's going back to kissing you, licking up into the cavern of your mouth, wordlessly showing you just how much he appreciated the small gesture.

Then, Bucky's mouth begins to traverse away from yours. He plants kisses down the column of your throat, only pausing in his quest to stick his nose into your neck, inhaling strongly. Your skin had a scent - a beautiful, honeyed kind of scent that he could very easily gain an addiction to. Fuck, everything about you was easy to gain an addiction to.

Before long, he's going back to suckling at the skin of your neck, interspersing his licking and sucking with bites that make your spine arch and prompt you to groan loudly. This great expanse of smooth, soft skin is available to him and he intends to take full advantage of it, making your skin bloom like some otherworldly piece of artwork, covered in red and purpled bruises. Interspersed between them were perfect iterations of his teeth, little crimson indentations from his incisors.

There was something absolutely animalistic about marking you up, covering you in aching bruises with his mouth alone. There was something about it that made him feel like he was laying claim to your skin, warding off anybody else who so much as dared to want you, somebody like John fucking Walker.

He probably shouldn't feel thrilled at the prospect of other people seeing you like this, your neck collared with a constellation of bruises and bitemarks that he had put there. Especially if it's one of your PR team, or even Walker himself.

Bucky pulls away from you, admiring the absolute mess he had made of you. Your hair is haloed around you on his bed, your throat is blotched in various shades of red and purple, your lips are swollen, your eyes are blown wide, and your nipples have pebbled against the fabric of your sundress. You look so fucking beautiful.

With some great urgency, Bucky divests you of your knitted cardigan, flinging it away and discarding it with some of his clothes. With his flesh hand, he eagerly tugs down the top-half of your dress, sliding the thin, flimsy little straps down your arms and pulling the fabric over your chest away to expose your breasts to his hungry eyes.

"Fuck," He breathes, shuffling forwards, one shin planted either side of your torso as you lay down, looking up at him in awe.

Bucky lets out a low noise of approval, sliding his hands up to your tits and squeezing them, earning him a strangled sort of noise that rips itself from the back of your throat. He pulls, tugs and pinches, listening intently to the different kinds of moans you reward him with - if he tweaks your nipple just right, you'll give him a breathy cry of his name.

"You like that, hm? You like my hands on your tits?"

"Yes, yes I do," You whimper. The metal hand and the human hand offer very different sensations. The flesh hand is warm, calloused, trembling slightly against your skin. The dark, metal hand with streaks of gold through it is no less dexterous than the organic one. It is, however, slightly colder to the touch, and smoother, comprised of plates of metal that don't have much of a texture. Both make you arch into their touch, perpetually desperate for more.

Bucky really can't help himself. He lowers his head, licking a broad stripe up one of your tits, eagerly mouthing at it whilst he tugs on the nipple of the other one, constantly keeping his mouth occupied. You're wrapping your hands around the back of his head, splaying your fingers over his skull, making desperate little noises as you drag your hands through his short hair.

He has you a squirming, pleading mess beneath him as his tongue roams over your chest, as he alternated between sucking, biting and pinching, watching reddish marks bloom over your torso. He's very much set on making your chest match your neck, painting it with bruises. There's something about this - the marking - that makes him feel absolutely feral, like some kind of rabid animal giving in to its most base urges.

"Please," You're begging for him - fucking begging. When he glances up, he can see your lips trembling, the perspiration beaded at your hairline and your glossy eyes. You look absolutely wrecked, and you sound it, too. Bucky's half tempted to ignore your pleas, but he doesn't want to be cruel. Not with you.

"Please what, doll?" The affectionate word slips from his lips and he hadn't even thought to stop it. "Do you want me to touch you here instead?"

His flesh hand slides down from where it had been cupping your tit, ghosting along your clothed ribs, down the plane of your belly. His touch prompts you to moan, despite the fact his hand isn't making contact with your bare skin. Not yet, at least. It's fascinating how receptive you are - so good for him. 

Bucky keeps going, smoothing his hand down the curve of your hip, tugging your sundress up to expose more of your legs to him. His hand splays over the top of your thigh, thumb resting at the junction of your thighs, concealed by the very edge of your sundress.

You do something that surprises him. With a desperate groan, you reach down and grab his hand, tugging it towards your cunt. "No. I want you to touch me here, instead."

Well, fuck.

The very tips of his fingers meet your panty-clad sex, and immediately Bucky is using his metal arm to yank the bottom part of your sundress upwards, folding it up onto your stomach. Really, it's been reduced to a scrap of white fabric bunched around your waist, having been previously tugged down over your tits.

The panties were lacey. White. With thin, flimsy pieces of lace running up your hips. Bucky takes in a deep breath, staring intently at the slightly translucent patch over your pussy, the delicate fabric saturated, made wet by your liquid arousal. His fingers drift up over it almost in awe. Fuck, you're soaked. Absolutely soaked for him - all for him.  

Bucky's fingers retreat from their position, but only temporarily. He slides your panties over, pushing them to the side so that he can appreciate your cunt. You gasp, your hand flying off his, where you'd previously been guiding his fingers, slapping over your mouth, barely muffling a groan.

With a renewed sense of confidence, Bucky dips his fingers into your folds. They're slippery - slick is seeping out from your neglected cunt, wetting the inside of your thighs, making them fucking gleam. You're soaked, absolutely dripping onto his fingers as he explores the most intimate part of you, slowly dragging his fingers over your clit and then circling them around your hole. You twitch and moan prettily in response to every tiny movement he makes, hypersensitive and desperate.

"Fuck." Bucky chokes out, dipping a single finger inside of you and admiring the way you convulse around him. Tight, hot and wet. His avid imagination and fucking his fist is one thing, but the sensation of you wrapped around his digit is another thing all together. Some stupid fucking fantasy could never compare - why had he even bothered to imagine that it could?

"God, Bucky, please." You whine helplessly, one hand still clamped over your mouth, muffling your words slightly.

Spurred on by your plea, he crooks his finger, pumping it in and out of you a few times before he adds a second one, using it to push against your walls, spreading them slightly in an effort to scissor you open.

"So fucking wet, aren't you?" Bucky's voice is verging on a growl, utterly animalistic as you gush over his fingers. You shuffle slightly, your hips rising and falling in a stunted rhythm. You're trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, desperately chasing an orgasm, your face contorted in pleasure. The fingers splayed over your jaw are twitching. Every single part of you is affected by him, writhing and trembling, perpetually desperate for more.

"Yes - yes," You chant, your voice a dying whisper, almost lost between your moans and whimpers.

"You're dripping," Bucky remarks, watching in fascination as your slick tumbles in steady streams down his fingers, "Fuck. All for me?"

You not emphatically, moving your head up and down, struggling to look him in the eyes, desperate to let your head fall back against the bedsheets. "Yes."

Bucky's thumb rubs harsh, unforgiving circles over your clit, his forefinger and middle fingers rocking into you, stuffed deep inside your cunt, covered in the slick arousal that's practically pouring out of you. You buck wildly against him, crying out in pleasure.

"Please - I'm gonna," You manage to stutter out, working your hips downwards, grinding onto his fingers, chasing your pleasure.

"Come for me, then." Bucky says.

He's incredibly fixated on every single thing about you as you come undone - the way your walls clamp down on his fingers, clenching tightly around the digits, the way your pretty, lust-blown eyes roll back into your skull, and the absolutely angelic noise that the pleasure he and he alone has brought you tears from your throat. Watching you come undone is wonderful. It's some kind of magical sight, made a thousand times better when you moan his name as you reach the apex of your pleasure. It's so fucking gorgeous that it threatens to make him come in his own pants like some rabidly horny teenage boy.

If Bucky hadn't already been uncomfortable, cock straining his jeans, rutting against the denim almost painfully, he would be by now. Especially when you give him that hazy post-orgasm look, a contented sigh leaving you as you finally remove your hand from where it had been clamped over your mouth.

Slowly, he drags his fingers out from inside of you. They're gleaming, coated in your arousal. Without an ounce of hesitation, he brings them to his mouth, eagerly sucking them clean, his tongue darting over every callous, every wrinkle, every crease on those two fingers, chasing your taste, completely ravenous as the flavour of your cunt explodes over his tongue.

He'd fucking ruined himself. There was nobody else after this. They wouldn't be able to compare to you in any way.

You bat your eyelashes at him, biting your already bruised lower lip seductively. Bucky's looming over you, pulling his saliva-soaked fingers from his mouth, the two of you breathing raggedly, panting like dogs.

Wordlessly, you reach forwards and palm his hard cock through his jeans, squeezing him in a way that leaves Bucky groaning, desperate for more.

"You're gonna let me fuck you, doll?"

"God, please." You breathe, eyes darkening almost imperceptibly. If he hadn't been so close to you then he probably wouldn't have caught it.

Eagerly, he undoes his belt, pulling it free from the confining loops of his jeans, and discarding it. Even as he's divesting himself of his remaining clothes, Bucky's eyes are always on you, watching you intently. 

Oh yes, you definitely sparked his staring problem, especially when you're looking at him with hooded eyes, the expression on your face one of pure lust, pure need for him. Quickly, he pulls his jeans down, readily discarding them, along with his boxers.

Bucky's hard, leaking cock slaps up against his stomach. Taking in a weak, ragged breath, you beckon him closer until he's looming over you again, his chest pressed to yours and his cock jutting into your leg.

"Please, Bucky. Don't tease. Just fuck me."

"Oh, gladly," He quips, lips tugging upwards into an infuriating half-smirk.

Your panties are still pushed to the side, allowing him to run his cock through your folds until it's coated in your warm, slippery arousal. He lines the very tip up, teasing you with it for just a moment, revelling in your breathy whimpers and ensuing pleas. The very head of him catches on your entrance, and he uses it as an opportunity to begin to enter you.

His flesh hand is resting on your hip, fingers curling into your side possessively, the black and gold metal arm being utilised in an effort to keep holding himself up. Your hands, gentle and soft, scrabble to find purchase on the plane of his back, nails raking over his skin, leaving tiny red lines in their wake. Fuck. You were marking him up, too.

 He wasn't even bothered by it. If anything, Bucky was pleased - he'd proudly wear whatever marks you gave him. They were little pieces of you, a litany of evidence that you'd touched him - that you had wanted to touch him.

The very head of his cock breaches you, splitting you open. He's thicker than you had anticipated, but the stretch is welcome. He practically burns you as he enters you the first time, stilling half of the way in to allow you a moment to breathe.

Happily, you writhe against his chest. It burns - but oh god it burns so nicely. The wonderful, near-painful intrusion of him is heavenly.

You're panting into the crook of his neck, frenzied breath ghosting against his throat. "More - please, more."

There isn't a single ounce of reluctance within him as he pushes the rest of his cock into you until he's fully seated.

"So fucking tight," Bucky babbles. His chest is trembling slightly, crushed against yours. There's just so much to feel - so many sensations to comprehend and decipher. You're so tight, gripping his cock like a vice, all wet and warm. It feels like fucking paradise - like some slice of heaven that he'd been gifted. Perhaps some cosmic being didn't have it out for him after all. If they did, there was no way they would allow him this.

Your legs shift, wrapping themselves around his waist, coaxing him deeper inside of you. You're moaning directly into Bucky's ear, your breaths fanning across his neck, fingers digging into his back as you cling desperately to him, saying his name like a prayer.

"Please - move." You're begging, on the verge of sobbing, lips pressed up against the column of his neck, mumbling little indecipherable words that all lead back to him fucking you hard.

And he does. Bucky unrelentingly pistons in and out of you, fucking you into the mattress. It's almost aggressive between the two of you. His hips are snapping up against yours, colliding almost violently, whilst your nails are shredding his back, though he barely feels the pain that he should.

You're a fucking mess. If he's destroyed by this, then you absolutely are, too.

Pathetic, mewling whimpers leave your throat, muffled only by the fact that your mouth is pressed into his neck, though your lips will occasionally move against his skin, your mouth falling open in a near-silent gasp as you try to pull air into your lungs. Your tits, marred by bruises and bitemarks that he had put there, are crushed against his chest. Your legs tremble from where they're almost, but not quite, interlocked around his waist, keeping him as close as possible.

He rocks into you, spearing you on his cock, enraptured by the cacophony of reactions he pulls from you.

"Can John do this? Can John fucking Walker make you feel this good?" Bucky's talking incessantly, those words dripping from his mouth before his mind can even register that the thought had ever even flitted through his brain.

He probably shouldn't be thinking about John fucking Walker whilst he's inside you, whilst his cock is nestled deep in your cunt and you're close to coming for a second time. 

But he is. He looks at the vibrant red and purple bruises that litter your neck and torso, the bite marks across your body, the evidence that he's been here with you, the evidence that you had let him touch you, and he can't help but wonder if Walker had ever done this to you.

He can't help but to wonder if Walker had ever taken you like this, like a fucking animal, leaving his own god-awful marks across your throat, fucking into you with one of those sundresses that you wore whilst masquerading around as his girlfriend bunched around your waist.

Bucky really fucking hoped not.

He couldn't conceive of anything that Walker deserved less than you. Walker may not have really been dating you, but he still got to touch you, to put his hands all over you in those stupid interviews, utterly undeserving of that privilege. Walker didn't have any fucking right, any fucking right at all.

You weren't 'Walker's girl'. You didn't belong to John. And for good reason, too. You were so much better than him - the kind of person who was able to look at the mission objectively, put your differences aside, and feed the other team information. All because you wanted to do the right thing.

You gasp against his shoulder, head falling back onto the bed so that you and Bucky can lock eyes as he ruthlessly pounds into you, the obscene sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the room.

"I - fuck - I never fucked John," You say, struggling to even form words.

And god, doesn't that make him glad.

"Yeah?" Bucky challenges you slightly, still grinning as his eyebrows raise a fraction. "And you're not fuckin' gonna."

Walker didn't get to put his filthy paws on you. Bucky wouldn't allow it.

You seize up around his cock, hands grappling at his back, and then sliding over to hold onto his shoulders, the fingers on one of your hands splayed over the seam that ran over his black and golden metal arm. Your fingers gently caress the border between machine and man, gentle, in complete contrast to the way you'd clawed at his back. His blood was probably under your fingernails considering how hard you'd scratched.

"'M so close," You whimper, desperately rolling your hips.

There's something utterly debauched about you. All of that angelisism had easily given way to depravity under his touch. You were practically mewling for him, making these little breathy noises that cause his cock to swell, getting increasingly desperate to climax a second time. That debauchery is located in every single moan that leaves your mouth, in the marks you've scratched into his back and in the way your sundress is bunched around your hips as Bucky fucks you.

"Yeah? Gonna come again?" Bucky asks, breathing raggedly.

He already knows the answer. Of course you're going to come again. He can feel your walls tightening around his cock, constantly fluttering, on the very precipice of your climax. You're close, probably painfully so, and so is he - but he's not gonna come first.

"Mhm," You groan excitedly as Bucky rubs at your clit, sending sparks of pure pleasure racing through your gut.

"Walker couldn't make you come like this," Bucky says more to himself than you, though you seem to really enjoy when he talks, convolusing on his throbbing cock as you desperately chase your high, all whilst he's snapping his hips up into yours, fucking you so hard that at times your eyes will begin to roll back into your skull, and your legs will shake against him. "C'mon, doll. Who are you gonna come for?"

"You. You. You."

"Good girl," He remarks, grinning as you tighten around him. "Fuck, doll. You have the best pussy I've ever fucked - 's mine. Not fucking Walker's. He doesn't get to have you like this. And I do - fuck."

It's then that he spears hard up against something pleasantly devastating inside of you. That sensation, delivered in tandem with Bucky's fingers circling your clit has you coming instantaneously. The barrage of pleasure washes over you like a tsunami, wrenching a cry from within you. You shatter beneath him, falling apart to a thousand pieces, utterly wrecked.

"Bucky," You sob enthusiastically as your orgasm crests, speaking his name over and over again like a prayer, like it's the only word you know.

It was one thing watching you climax on his fingers, and another when it's his cock. It feels otherworldly, watching you come undone as he fucks himself into you. It's probably the best, most arousing thing he's ever seen, you, beneath him, writhing, squirming, calling his name out over and over again.

He doesn't even bother to stave off his own orgasm any longer. It would be impossible of him to even try. If the image of you under him, legs hooked around his waist, trembling from the sheer force of the pleasure he's given you wasn't enough, the fucking heavenly feeling of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock is. You clamp down around him, as tight as a fucking vice.

Bucky's own orgasm barrels into him like a truck. It's a burst of pure, blinding, hot pleasure that rips forth from somewhere in his gut.

It strikes every single nerve ending in his body, and suddenly he's coming, emptying himself inside of you, ropes of his come painting your insides, filling you up.

You both lay there for some time - it could be seconds, or it could be minutes. It's impossible to tell. Time seems hazy when he's with you. He's still laying over you, panting and grinning at the same time. The two of you just smile lazily at each other, completely spent and sated. He shifts most of his weight to be on the metal arm, lest he crush you with his weight.

Eventually, you surrender his hips from your legs, letting him pull out of you and roll onto his back so he can lay next to you whilst you both catch your breath.

Tentatively, you pull the straps of your sundress back up your arms and fix your underwear. Bucky panics internally, quickly turning his head to face you.

"Going somewhere?" He asks, as casually as he could.

"I do have to get back to work," You laugh. It sounds like bells in the wind. "I have an interview tomorrow that I have to prepare for."

Bucky just nods stiffly, trying to quell the internal disappointment rising within him. What the fuck had he been thinking? He shouldn't have touched you in the first place, and now you were probably regretting the fact that you let him fuck you.

"I'll swing by tomorrow with whatever I can find on the medicine," You say, so sweetly. "If that's okay with you?"

"It is, yeah." He says gruffly.

They need the information. The near-devastating disappointment he's feeling right now is irrelevant. Walker and Hoskins have the state's resources at their disposal. 

He and Sam have whatever leads they can scrounge up, and whatever you're willing to give them. Because you're good - so good, and he knows that, but he also feels like he's dying a little bit on the inside because of you.

"Maybe I'll let you take me out to dinner next time."

And Bucky falters, looking at you with wide eyes. "Next time?"

"If you want a next time." You say, avoiding his gaze.

Bucky sits up slightly, cupping your jaw with his hand and gently tilting your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes. Now, you look enraptured by the sight of him. "I do want a next time."

"Good," Your voice is quiet, a mere whisper, talking to him in soft, hushed tones. "Because I want a next time."

He leans in closer to you, giving you every opportunity to stop him as he lowers his lips to yours. You don't. You don't want to stop him, not when you're completely enchanted. 

Bucky hadn't been the only one that felt rather awestruck that day you'd met outside of the police precinct.

Really, you didn't much like your job. It paid the bills, and kept you ahead on your debt payments, but you didn't like it. The men you worked with lacked the heart that Captain America had. 

And sometimes, the weight of pretending got a bit much for you. It had culminated in your guilt, and ultimately you lying in Bucky Barnes' bed, kissing him tenderly.

"So, I'm sending you back to Walker, huh?" Bucky chuckles as the two of you pull away from each other, proudly eyeing the bruises that descend down your neck and below your, now rumpled and creased, sundress. 

He'd be sending you back to John Walker with small brands of possession bitten all over your torso, not to mention the fact that beads of his come were streaking your inner thighs.

Well, that'd probably show Walker that even though he got to publically call you 'his girl', you'd never belong to him in the most intimate of ways.

Bucky very much wanted Walker to see it - to see what he'd done to you. God, he'd pay so much fucking money to see the look on that bastard's face when he realised the woman he flippantly called 'his girl' was fucking somebody else.

 Not just anybody else, no. She was gladly fucking one of the people that Walker hated the most. Bucky can almost envisage the way Walker's jaw would drop and the rage that would blaze in his eyes.

"I'll be back." You laugh. "As if I'd want to stay away."

Even more beautiful than imagining Walker's reaction, though, was the prospect of you coming back again.

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE ELEVEN || NARROW-MINDED

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + nanami kento + ieiri shoko (mention of itadori yuji + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru + roymen sukuna + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda + mahito) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 12 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.0k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : idle transfiguration

↳ next episode : to you, someday

↳ barista’s notes : welcome nanamin kento to the series everyone ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ he’s finally in the series and i am so excited to write about him again since it has been a while ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ i hope you enjoy today’s episode and for the fushiguro x y/n shippers, enjoy this little interaction between them...

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode..

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“No reason, just worried about you,” Fushiguro mentioned, hiding his real intention of why he questioned your wellbeing, as continued to look at what was in front of him to avoid making eye contact with you since he could feel your eyes peering at him with curiosity filling them.

Sighing once again, you slap the back of his head causing him to groan since you put more strength than you intended to. “You shouldn’t worry about me Fushiguro, be selfish,” you commented before walking faster to be ahead of him, leaving him confused about what you had just mentioned to him.

“Be selfish?” Fushiguro muttered in confusion leading you to turn back to look over your shoulder before smiling at him.

“You were going to take me there right?” you asked, as you halted your movement causing the shikigami user to finally catch up to you while you had a lingering question in the back of your mind.

‘What was that dream?’

                                              ꕥ

“Didn’t I say you can head back to the track field, we’re literally a few steps away?” you asked, as you stood in front of the metal door leading inside to the infirmary while looking at your classmate with a fed-up look since he wasn’t listening to you once again.

“I said, I was going to take you here and now I’m going to wait for you here,” Fushiguro mentioned as he processed to lean against the wall, causing you to let out a sigh of frustration since you didn’t have the slightest clue on his sudden behaviour of him keeping an eye on you.

“If you’re still worried about my wellbeing, I’m okay Fushiguro,” you voice out trying to ease his worries, before turning your head to look at the door in front of you as you then entered the infirmary room the second the metal door slid open. “Thank you for waiting for me,” you quietly muttered to the shikigami sorcerer as the entrance that was going to block you both, slowly began to close leaving him on the other side, no knowing what was going on inside of where you were now.

Once you had entered the room, you quickly noticed that Ieiri was there twirling a strand of her brown lock with her ibex finger as she greeted you with a small smile, while another person - who you assumed was another sorcerer - who was beside her sitting on the metal bench while holding the side of his hip to lessen the blood loss from his wound.

From what you could observe, the male that was currently injured right now had bright blonde locks, which was strange since it was rare or uncommon for a Japanese person to have naturally light hair (since it didn’t seem dyed) causing you to assume the man had some European heritage. He also seemed to be on the older side compared to Gojo since he had somewhat of a more mature look to the strongest sorcerer that you had come to know but his outfit consisted of a blue dress-shirt with beige suit trousers as well as the professional dress shoes - what seemed to be missing was a blazer to complete the outfit.

“So you're the daughter that Gojo has been talking about lately,” the man mentioned, causing you to tilt your head in confusion since you had no idea who the man was, but he seemed to know who you were.

“Pardon?” you questioned politely since you were still in a state of perplexion, causing your mentor to giggle slightly before informing you that your teacher has been running around announcing his daughter after “keeping it a secret for 5 years” leading you to turn your head to the side and sigh once again in annoyance since you weren’t surprised that the playful sorcerer was parading your name around the facility but still it seemed a little creepy to you - just imagine him skipping around while telling everyone about you just seemed off...weirdly off.

‘What a drag…’

“Ah! I’ll heal you now since we don’t want to leave the wound open any longer,” you mentioned, as you made your way towards the sorcerer before placing your hands just above his wound while concentrating to allow your negative cursed energy to become positive which became easier over time as you kept practising leading Ieiri to be surprised on how much you had improved for the past few weeks.

“Gojo Y/N correct? I’m Nanami Kento, I would bow to be polite but that’s a bit difficult to do right now,” Nanami introduced himself, causing you to smile slightly before greeting him back.

‘So this is Nanami Kento? Shoko-san wasn’t kidding when she said he was a grade one, he does seem to be extremely skilled’

“Y/N, your theory was right about the technique used on those bodies, Kento mentioned that the technique reshapes the soul rather than the body of what we first thought,” Ieiri revealed to you, leading you to look up at the doctor with widen eyes as you hands managed to continue the healing process of Nanami’s wounds.

“Is there any way to stop the transfiguration of any sorts? Is there some kind of weakness to it?” you questioned, as you turned to the grade one sorcerer, leading him to nod as he turned to look at you.

“The use of cursed energy to protect your body is one way, but it will still cause some damage, besides that’s just a temporary solution since if we get hit more by this special grade curse, then that’s when our soul gets hit no matter how much cursed energy you put to protect yourself,” Nanami explained which lead you to look at him with a deadpan expression before you looked down to think of a solution to avoid any more casualties from this curse.

‘The only thing I can think of is Ryomen Sukuna...but Itadori is dead and there is no way that Sukuna can be inhibiting his body now anyways…my cursed spell could be a way to protect myself if it comes to the day I have to face him’

“Do you have a description of what the curse looked like?” you asked curiously since you didn’t know if you were even allowed to have any information on his mission - but you knew you had a chance since you and Ieiri examined the transfigured bodies from Kinema Cinema.

“The curse was human looking like, had patchwork around his face like it he was sewed together, he can transfigure is own body to how he likes to give him an advantage in battle,” Nanami explained leading a shiver to go up to your spine as you didn’t expect the curse’s description to be so human-like after Sukuna since you were completely used to other curses you had faced in the past, looking like what people feared - like the ocean animals, mountains, volcanos or even nature itself.

Steadily, you moved your hands away before asking Nanami to lift his shirt so you could examine his wound leading Ieiri to observe as well since she needed to make sure that your technique had been perfected as well as to make sure his wound was healed properly.

“Good job, I think you have nearly perfected it,” the doctor stated with a smile, leading you to turn to her with a bright smile on your face as you were delighted to have her approval leading her to mention that she will report your progress to Gojo since he wanted to know how you were doing with your training.

“You don’t call Gojo your father?” Nanami questioned since he had come to know from his senior that you have been his daughter for approximately five years now leading him to question why you didn’t call him as his parental figure position.

“I refuse,” you looked at him with a straight face as a slight hint of a ‘fed-up’ tone could be heard in your speech, leading Nanami to internally find the comment funny.

“Thank you for the treatment, but I must quickly head off to resume work,” Nanami declared as he slowly got up from his seat causing him to be surprised at how much your technique had actually repaired not only his wound by somewhat his whole body as well leaning him to peer at you for a second before walking out to head whatever he needed to be.

“Y/N, you can go now, if I need you, I’ll call you next time okay?” Ieiri stated to you, leading you to nod your head before announcing your departure as you processed to stand in front of the metal door, waiting for it to open as you then walked across the gap once it revealed the other side to you.

“You’re done?” someone asked, causing you to look to the side to notice that Fushiguro was still leading against the wall that he was waiting before you had entered into the infirmary to which you were surprised about since you thought he didn’t have the patience to even wait for you.

“You’re still here? Did you wait long?” you questioned, as you both began to walk back to the track field where Kugisaki and the second-years were waiting for you.

“Not really, it was actually quicker than I thought it was going to be,” Fushiguro mentioned causing you to nod along and you both became silent as you both didn’t know what else to say to each other.

However, that didn’t really bother you right now, what was bothering you was what happened before you even came here.

‘Why? Why was I dreaming that in the first place?’ you thought, as you looked down to the ground as if the answer was there for you to collect. However, you knew you would never get the answer if you didn’t make the effort to find it yourself, yet you didn’t want to.

You didn’t want to know the meaning behind it. You just wanted to forget everything that happened in that dream. 

‘There’s no point in holding on to it, it would never happen’

“You okay?” Fushiguro asked, causing you to snap out of your thoughts before realising the shikigami user was no longer beside you but rather in front of you with a stern look on his face as if he was confronting you for somewhat giving him a white-lie.

‘He’s not going to let that question go huh?’

“I’m okay Fushiguro, how many times I got to answer,” you commented before moving to the side to continue walking, only for the erratic-haired sorcerer to block your pathway once again leading a flame of annoyance to be lit up in your stomach. “What’s wrong?” you asked, as you looked up to meet him eye to eye, only to discover a worried look on his face.

“There’s something bothering you,” Fushiguro muttered causing you to scoff internally before moving to the other side again, only for him to block you once again. 

“Fushiguro, I’m fine, it was just something silly that happened with Gojo-sensei that annoyed me, I’m genuinely fine,” you answered before suddenly grabbing his wrist - catching him by surprise - to pull him towards the direction needed to go back to the track field for training, as you didn’t want a full-blown argument happening between you and him. Also, you weren’t bothered to shout at him since you were still trying to comprehend what you had just experienced.

However, before you could pull Fushiguro further to where you both needed to be, you felt him halt his movement causing you to stagger back slightly since it was really unexpected. Turning your head, you looked at the sorcerer with slight confusion displayed on your face before noticing a hand coming towards you as a small flick made a light impact on your forehead leaving you frozen in shock.

“You can rely on me anytime L/N,” Fushiguro mentioned to you nonchalantly as he retreated his hand back.

“Dear, rely on me a bit more, I’ll always be here with you and sorry for flicking your forehead, does it hurt?” 

“You drag, don’t copy me!” you argued, before slapping his forehead causing him to groan in pain while you continued to pull him along to get back to training.

‘I want to, but I don’t want to be lied to again Fushiguro…’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[cacoetheswriting]

congratulations on your 2K achievement!!! I’ve been binging your Spencer Reid fics all week and can I just say you are the QUEEN of Spencer x pining 🥺🥺🥺 if you’re in the mood to write for him could I request 32 & 37 from the angst prompt list?? I’m ready to cry some more😍😍

thank you so so much 💘 and omg i can't believe you’ve been reading all of them ahh!!! also, jsksjksjssksj to be considered a QUEEN of spencer x pining !?!?!? i’m literally speechless and fucking honoured 🥺😩

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Warnings: a tiny tiny bit of fluff, mainly angst, pining, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, heartbreak, [spoiler] not a happy ending Word Count: 1.2k Prompts: “I love them and they don’t even know I exist.” & “I can’t just delete my feelings because yours aren’t the same.”

A/N: i listened to falling apart by léon on repeat when writing this little blurb, it doesn't necessarily have anything do with the plot but i recommend playing it while reading for extra ✨pain✨

-

“Kid, just go and say hi.” Derek encouraged, his hands landing at the back of his head as he relaxed in his chair.

The sigh that escaped Spencer’s lips was slow, almost as if his brain needed the time to come up with a rebuttal. A good enough reason as to why he shouldn't do the only thing he truly wanted to do.

“What then?” The young doctor questioned, nervously glancing at you from the safety of his own desk. “What do I say after hi?”

Rolling his eyes at the resident genius, Derek chuckled softly. “After you say hi, you make small talk.” He stated calmly, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Spencer contemplated his best friend’s answer. Small talk. He could do small talk if he really put his mind to it, right? After all, he’s done it many times before whenever the team travelled for cases. Granted, it was usually a one-sided conversation which often left the other person feeling very confused, but it was still small talk.

God, this was hopeless. He was hopeless.

“I love them and they don’t even know I exist.” Spencer mumbled while fumbling with the hem of his sweater, his gaze still very much glued to your perfect frame.

Derek scoffed. “Okay Reid, now you’re just being overly dramatic. They know you exist because we've all been working together for a little over two months now.” He leaned forward before continuing, “But, they’re never going to get to know you, and your amazing personality, if you don't talk to them.”

Spencer’s nose twitched briefly. Sometimes he really hated when Derek was right - which, when it came to advice on his non-existent relationship with you, was more often than the brunette doctor cared to admit.

“Now, go say hi or I’ll do it for you.” Derek threatened with a sly smirk.

It was the mental kick Spencer needed, because he quickly sprung up on his feet and with one last encouraging smile from Morgan, he ambled through the bullpen towards you.

Reflecting on it now, it was both the best and worst decision of Spencer’s life.

Best, because as soon the second he approached you, you asked him to join you for lunch. The two of you talked nonstop for the whole hour. The flow from topic to topic was so natural, Spencer completely forgot what he was so apprehensive about.

Best, because after that afternoon, lunches together became a daily occurrence and it wasn't long before they also evolved to other activities. Even outside office hours.

Best, because the more time Spencer spent with you, the more his love for you grew. Which, coincidentally, was also the reason why he considered it to be the worst decision of his life.

You were spending every waking moment together. Sharing secrets, watching random documentaries, carpooling to work, strolling through museums and art galleries. Now that your friendship blossomed and the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm around one another, the young doctor couldn't possibly admit just how strongly he felt about you.

Especially since he knew you didn't feel the same way.

“And then, we shared a dessert. Which I know sounds kind of lame, but I don't know Spence, there was just something so electrifying about the moment. I actually think we might see each other again.” You finished, plopping down next to him on the couch.

A part of your friendship the young doctor didn’t really care for was when you’d show up at his door late at night and ramble on about the latest date you had just come back from. Most dates were luckily a complete disasters, and while you complained, Spencer did his best to fight back a satisfied grin.

Most dates. Not all.

Unfortunately for Spencer, this person you were causally seeing now, seemed to be doing quite well.

“So, if you go out again, it will be your fourth date.” The statement came out more jaundiced than the young doctor intended it to, and he was instantly feeling thankful you didn't seem to notice the odd tone of his voice.

You raised an intrigued brow before letting out a melodic chuckle. “Really? Honestly, I wasn't even counting. I guess when it feels natural, it doesn't matter.” You shrugged your shoulders lightly, ready to move onto another topic.

Spencer however, was fixated on your words - “I guess when it feels natural, it doesn't matter.”.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. The thought of another person giving you what he could only dream to give you made his stomach churn. Jealousy began to stir inside of him. It made the palms of his hands sweat against his jeans. He was suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

“You okay Spence? You look a little pale?” You asked, slowly brining your hand to his forearm. Before you could touch him however, the doctor flinched and jumped to his feet.

“I-I love you, Y/N. I-I... I’m in love with you.” He blurted out, closing his eyes for a split second because he didn’t want to look at you when you said you didn't love him back. He couldn't take that kind of pain.

“Oh, Spencer...”

There was a clear shift in the surrounding energy. No longer free and homey, instead it felt tense as if the slightest movement would shatter the imaginary glass wall currently built between the two of you.

With teary eyes, you stood up and intertwined your fingers with his. The warmth of his touch brought comfort into this heart-rending moment, but was it enough to ensure the two of you would walk out of here still friends?

“I... Spencer, I don’t know what to say.” You breathed with a heavy heart.

“I-I know... Trust me, I know you don't feel the same about me. I just needed to say it because it was eating me alive.” Spencer continued, slowly opening his eyes. When his hazel gaze locked with yours, the butterflies in his stomach erupted all at one before sinking heavily. “I can’t just delete my feelings because yours aren’t the same.” He muttered, a broken look spread across his features.

Lone tears slowly trailed down your cheeks, each droplet representing a different memory you and him shared together. As you silently sobbed, holding onto him with all your might, you searched your mind for the right words. 

Although, deep down you knew nothing could fix this.

After what felt like forever, Spencer freed himself from your grasp. He wiped away his own tears using the sleeve of his sweater and took a singular step back. He averted his gaze, eyes landing on his feet, and you’ve been friends with him long enough to understand what that meant.

Spencer wanted you to leave.

Sniffling, you slowly grabbed your things. You didn't want to argue with him, beg him to let you stay so the two of you could talk this out. You’ve caused him enough pain already.

He met your gaze one last time, just as you opened the door to his apartment. You tried to smile in hopes he would maybe mimic the expression, but the best you could do was purse your lips into a thin line which didn't give either of you much hope for your future.

As you stepped outside the threshold, you felt cold and empty - as if you were leaving a part of you behind. In a way you were. But unknowingly, you were also taking something with you.

Spencer’s broken heart.

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @willowrose99

[nctsjiho]

2 PM Suffering

Click here for Part 2 (there’s also a link at the bottom of the post)

warnings: consumption of alcohol and medication(aspirin), anxiety, stress, insomnia. I do not condone mixing alcohol with medication, it can be very harmful to the body. This story is purely for entertainment only. It’s not super angsty but I do want to warn you in case any of the aforementioned warnings can be triggering to you.

era: April 2021

❀ While the rest of NCT 127 is gone to shoot a schedule JiHo suffers alone in her dorm room, but Xiaojun comes to her rescue

It had been a few weeks since JiHo got withheld from NCT schedules until they could handle all the contractual issues. The initial meeting with the higher-ups in SM had really taken a toll on her mental health. The thought of maybe not being able to return to NCT and maybe even being dropped by SM was something she didn’t want to think about.

JiHo had been in so many meetings with SM, she couldn’t talk about it with the boys, all she could do was watch them continue on as NCT while she was hidden away from the public.

All that stress had caused her to have severe headaches almost daily at this point. She was awake until early in the morning, not being able to sleep, and then falling asleep due to pure exhaustion. And when she woke up only 2 hours after she had fallen asleep the cycle continued. Meeting, individual practise, meeting, yet another meeting, again individual practise, going home, sleep (or at least trying to).

It was currently 2 in the afternoon. She was home alone as all the boys were shooting some kind of top model series for the NCT 127 YouTube channel. Even though today was a day free of meetings for JiHo, she couldn’t help but still feel stressed and anxious. She hadn’t slept for at least 32 hours and the fact that she still couldn’t sleep was stressing her out even more.

She was sat on the floor of her room, relocated after her spot in her bed had became insufferably hot. She reached for the bottle of juice situated on her nightstand. She had bought it 2 days ago at the convenience store on her way back home. At the time she didn’t realise it was alcoholic, but after she had 2 glasses and she felt a comforting buzz in her chest, she knew it wasn’t just regular juice.

When she finished said second glass about an hour ago, she realised how it for some reason calmed her anxiety the tiniest bit. But the tiniest bit felt like such a relief. The lingering headache was the only thing - that’s what she made herself belief at least - that was keeping her from falling asleep.

Unfocused eyes watched how the small white container rolled in her hand. JiHo didn’t belief in medication. Pain relievers, cough syrups, even to anti-depressants, they only worked if you believed they would work. That was her opinion on that, yet at this point she had become so desperate having not slept for such a long period of time. “Just one won’t be that bad right? If they don’t work, then they don’t work.” She tried to convinced herself.

Three whole pills later and another glass of her ‘juice’ and JiHo had grown only more desperate. The headache had subsided for only a few minutes, so when it came back thrice as bad her anxiety had gone through the roof. She threw her head back in agony as her body shook violently.

“JiHo?” A shout came from the front door after it opened. “Taeyong hyung asked Kun ge to come check on you, but he couldn’t so I’m here with food and-” As soon as Xiaojun opened the door of JiHo’s room and saw the state the girl was in, he dropped the food he was holding and rushed over to JiHo. “What’s wrong? JiHo? Talk to me, what happened?”

JiHo’s face was flushed completely red, he hands balled up in fists tangled with her hair and her body was noticeably shaking. Thankfully he hadn’t come in 10 minutes earlier when she was a lot worse, JiHo thought.

Not receiving an answer Xiaojun’s eyes desperately searched the room for JiHo’s phone. Maybe he could reach one of the members, since his phone died just a few minutes before he had gotten to her dorm - he was relieved that he had memorised the passcode to the dorm’s door before it died, what would have happened if he couldn’t go in?

But as Xiaojun’s eyes looked around, his gaze fell on the juice bottle. He had recognised it as something Winwin once brought home to try it with the boys. “Isn’t that alcohol? But you don’t drink...” He could vividly remember JiHo say she didn’t like the taste of most alcohol, but more than that she just chose not to drink as it was something she didn’t feel like doing.

Xiaojun didn’t expect an answer so when it didn’t come he wasn’t surprised. “You drank a lot.” He picked up the bottle to see there was only enough left for half a glass. “JiHo-” “I bought it by mistake. But it’s helping my anxiety.” Xiaojun sighed at the words. He knew vaguely what was going on, but he never knew she was suffering from anxiety because of it. More so, he was sure none of the boys knew, because they wouldn’t have left JiHo alone like this if that was the case. He was aware of how overprotective the boys could be. Doyoung would’ve sent her to stay with WayV or Dream if he knew about this. So clearly he didn’t know.

“You shouldn’t drink like this though-” “What else am I supposed to do. I can barely sleep these days.” It was like she was straining her vocal cords just to speak. It sounded painful and the cough which followed only made it worse. “And these don’t help either.” JiHo mustered up all her strength to lift the almost weightless bottle of aspirin. Xiaojun’s eyes widened and his ja dropped at the sight. “You’ve been drinking and taking medication? You know you shouldn’t be mixing-” “I know. I’ve stopped taking them now, they only make my headache worse.”

The words couldn’t leave his mouth as the words dawned on him. She had stopped taking them. So she had taken more than one? And she had been drinking alcohol. “We might need to go to the hospital-” “No!” JiHo’s sudden grip on Xiaojun’s wrist startled him greatly. Her grip only getting tighter as she leaned in and that’s when Xiaojun finally took in her appearance.

He cheeks were flushed as well as her ears. Her lips were a bit swollen and her eyes bloodshot. The other hand that wasn’t stopping blood circulation towards Xiaojun’s hand was trembling in her lap. “I don’t need to go to the hospital.” She carefully enunciated every word, the look in her eyes almost terrifying the boy. “But let’s at least call Doyoung hyung-” There was no need for JiHo to interject with words to stop him from talking. Her shaking her head aggressively already did the job. “Okay, we won’t call anyone.” He whispered.

Xiaojun watched JiHo as she retracted her hand and brought her knees to her chest, face now hidden behind her hands.

Useless was the best way to describe how Xiaojun was feeling right now. He could only watch as someone, he had learned to care about over the past year and a half, suffer alone. He wished he could take away her pain, that he could make her fall asleep, that he could take away the thoughts that were keeping her awake and were stressing her out. But he couldn’t do anything.

“I brought food.” “I don’t think I can eat. I’ll throw up.”

“Do you want me to bring you some water?” “I already have some on my nightstand.”

“Should I bring you some tea?” “No thank you.”

“What can I do to help?” “Nothing.”

“Should I sing you a song?” “...”

Xiaojun fully expected to get his question shot down again. All his tries in the past 20 minutes were all unsuccessful. But when there was silence from the girl, a little spark of hope filled his heart. There was no “no” coming from her lips. And though he had loved an actual answer, the silence was the best response he had gotten so far.

It stayed quiet for another minute before Xiaojun stood up. He squatted down again to hook one of his arms under JiHo’s legs, and the other supported her back. He lifted the smaller girl up effortlessly and than eased her down onto her bed. He tucked her in with one of her thinner, but not the thinnest, blankets knowing she said she was feeling hot before and then settled down next to her bed.

His head was close to hers. JiHo’s eyes staring directly into his, which almost had him flustered but the situation helped keep his cool. He brought a hand to her hair and tucked it behind her ear as he kept stroking her head. “Close your eyes hmm?” She did as she was told and in a matter of seconds the soft voice of Xiaojun reached her ears.

The song he was singing wasn’t one she was familiar with, but JiHo didn’t care. Xiaojun’s angelic voice seemed to calm down her racing thoughts. Her body visibly relaxed which made the boy smile. His hand continued to stroke the side of JiHo’s head, the sight of her features softening, making his heart melt. Once he finished the song JiHo’s eyes fluttered opened slowly.

It was somewhat disappointing that his singing hadn’t succeeded in making her fall asleep. “Can you stay here for a while?” Xiaojun nodded his head without a second thought causing JiHo to give him a small smile and thank him.

Getting ready to sing another song, Xiaojun halted when JiHo shifted in her bed. She moved away from him before patting the spot next to her. It was an invitation for him to lay next to her. He hesitated for a second, not sure if it was actually okay for him to lay down in the same bed as her. Maybe it was the alcohol lingering in JiHo’s system, but when JiHo patted the spot again he climbed in anyway.

Eyes fixed on the ceiling as the words to ‘For Life’ by EXO left Xiaojun’s lips. He didn’t see, but could sense the girl next to him drifting to sleep. Her breath calmed significantly until she was breathing in a slow steady rhythm. The boy smiled, happy that he ended up being able to help her in some way. But he made a mental note to let Taeyong or Doyoung know about what happened earlier, along with telling them she was suffering from anxiety and insomnia, hoping that maybe the members closer to her were able to keep an eye on her and help her out.

---

Part 2

Side note: Again, I just want to put out there that you should NEVER mix alcohol with medication, please please don’t do it. I don’t condone such a thing, this story is purely fictional, I’m not a doctor so I don’t know in which doses alcohol and aspirin can be harmful to the body, but in general DO NOT mix alcohol with medication. Medication should only be taken as prescribed or as instructed by doctors or the manual (?) that comes with the medication.

[myheroheacanons]

Chapter 23

- You thought you and your best friend were having an outing, but then you bump into your soulmate who broke your heart. Can he atone for what he did? 

Pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

a/n: ummmm I can’t apologize enough for what took so long. I am truly sorry that it took me this long to get myself together and finally finish it. Although I’m sad that enemy is finally over, I’m really excited to start working on my next smau! I hope you all are doing okay, and stay safe!

You wandered around the park, admiring the pretty sunset. Summer was great in the sense that the sunset was so late. It was 8:30 in the evening and the sky was filled with beautiful warm colors. You were walking towards the tree that Todoroki told you he’d meet you at. An odd location to meet if you were honest. A random tree of all places. You spotted the unique features Todoroki described in the text and walked to it. You also didn’t know why he wanted to meet in a park of all places. His explanation was that he was doing something in the city, but couldn’t you just meet in the shop? You decided to stop questioning your friend’s weird logic. You saw someone underneath sitting on a picnic blanket but thought you’d just stand near the tree and not bother them. Until you saw who it was.

Bakugou looked at her and a shocked expression came on his face. You stood there speechless.

“Y/n…” he nearly whispered, looking her over with a soft look in his eyes. He stood up and made his way to her. “Don't,” you said sternly. “What are you doing here?!” the expression on your face changed from confused to furious in seconds. He looked at you, eyes filled with regret and sadness. “I said, what the hell are you doing here?!” you clutched your purse and furrowed your brows. The hurt in your voice was painfully obvious and it stung Bakugou.  “I need to talk to it, but I wanted to do it in person,” Bakugou said, attempting to keep his composure. At that moment you were a ticking time bomb. All the emotions you have been suppressing and hiding now coming to the surface. And as you stared at him, tears began to spill out of your eyes. “Who do you think you are?!” you yelled at him, anger pulsating through your whole body. Bakugou’s eyes widened at your outburst. He watched you with caution and guilt. “Y-you can’t just do that!” you sobbed. Your knees were wobbling, you felt as if you were going to collapse any minute. “Do you know how angry I am at you?! You lead me on and gave me hope that someone truly loves me for once! Then you just rip it all away, and now you want to talk!” you continued. Bakugou heard the hurt in your voice and his guilt grew. It was hurting him too, to see you like that, knowing he caused it. “I know, and I understand if you hate me and never want to see me again,” he said sadly. His voice was unusually quiet. Almost no one ever heard Bakugou speak like that.  “But can you please hear me out…” he said so quietly. You looked at him, eyes filled with tears. In front of you wasn’t the Bakugou that yelled at everyone. The Bakugou that hid his emotions from everyone and everything. In front of you was a vulnerable boy, with all the hurt and sadness spilling out of his body. He was letting you see him in his worst state. He was letting you see him with his walls down. You continued to stare for a couple seconds. “I don’t hate you, dummy,” you said, dropping to sit on the grass. You were also in her most vulnerable state. All the anger and sadness also spills out your body like a waterfall. “Well you probably should,” he said, dropping down next to you.   “Yeah, I know,” you said, giving a weak smile. “But I could never hate you..” you finished with a sigh at the end. You both sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching the sunset. Those beautiful colors that filled the sky reminded you of the boy sitting next to you. “I already said this, but I am so angry at you” you continued. “But I could never hate my soulmate” you muttered as you met Bakugou’s gaze. His eyes filled with surprise for a moment which instantly turned to soft happiness. “I don’t know how I can ever make it up to you. But can I please explain myself, surprisingly I'm not an asshole who did that just cause he was bored” he said as he looked at her with the tiniest bit of hope in his eyes. You snorted quietly reacting to his words. “I’m always willing to listen to you,” you said laying back into the grass, watching as the sky turned dark as the sun went away. “When I was dumb and naive, I met a girl” he started, laying back down to level with you. You turned your head to look at him. He had a sad smile on his face. “At the time, I thought that girl was my soulmate, but in reality, she was my enemy,” he said. You watched as different emotions played on his face. “She seemed like a dream. Beautiful and funny” as he said those words, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. “But then, she cheated on me. Multiple times. And would manipulate and gaslight me.” your eyes widened with surprise when he said that. “She seems like she's a great person,” you said sarcastically. “Yeah, and at the time I thought she was,” he said with sadness in his voice. “But we eventually broke up. And somehow she was an even bigger headache when we weren’t together” he said, continuing to stare at the sky. You leaned in continuing to listen. “She spread lies and rumors the moment we broke up,” he said with a sad look in his eye. “And when I met you, I didn’t….I didn’t want to believe such an angel really came to me” he said. You couldn’t help but have a blush spread across your face. His face was also turning red with embarrassment. Bakugou was never this honest with his feelings. Especially, in front of another person.  “I’m sorry that I hurt you. Believe me, I never meant to” he said giving you the most sincere look. You stared into each other's eyes for a while. His face for once was filled with vulnerability. His sadness and guilt shined through his eyes. “I forgive you, Katsuki,” you said, sitting up and he did the same. His expression was filled with hope. “You really do?” he said in almost a whisper. You saw the guilt and sadness in his eyes slowly melted away and instead became filled with happiness and love. “Yes, you dumb ass,” you gave a weak laugh when you said that.  “Who are you calling dumb ass” he snarled, his ego slowly returning to him. As you guys both looked at each other, eyes filled with pure love, you felt his hands on yours. Your heart fluttered as he leaned his face closer to yours. His eyes fluttered shut and so did yours as your lips connected. His lips were the softest things you ever felt. You put your hand in his hair and pulled it a little which made him kiss you even harder. All the emotions he’s been hiding and suppressing, were all being poured into this kiss. You and him broke apart for air. You looked over his face. You found all his features beautiful, you just loved him so much. “Y/n, I love you” Bakugou muttered out. At that moment, it’s like time stood still. Everything seemed so calm, so happy, and so...good. You were, you were truly happy at that moment. “I love you too, Katsuki,” you said as you leaned into his chest and closed your eyes. His face lit up in a cherry red when the embarrassment reached his brain. “Awww are you embarrassed?” you teased him, which made his face turn even redder. “S-shut up” he muttered covering his face with the back of his hand. You and him stayed like that and watched the stars. You saw people describe online how beautiful and happy they felt when they were finally with their soulmate. When you read those articles you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, yet hopeful. Because maybe in the future, you would finally meet your soulmate. The person that is supposed to be by your side through thick and thin. The person that is meant to love you forever. And at this moment, you knew that you finally felt what you imagined all those years. You closed your eyes and inhaled his sweet scent. You finally found the place that you belong. With Bakugou by your side.

A/n: And now we just have the epilogue left! Let me know what you guys think! Thank you so much for reading and all the support! 

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[nishigo]

growing. // razor headcanons & writing. // chapter three.

a book titled “growing.”

[ c h a p t e r 3 : simple love. ]

the synopsis reads: razor and the dear reader have gotten themselves into quite the mess. miscommunications and raised voices lead to an argument that was more heated than a flaming flower. although healing takes time, could a wound this large be repaired?

authors note: tada! welcome to the last chapter of this short and sweet book that has been created. this one is more stuffed with more fluff than the last and lots of smooches. razor deserves the best, after all. after you finish, put the book back properly on the shelf, okay, traveler? that way it’s easier for people to find it. (or yourself, if you desire.) i, hao, the librarian and timekeeper, thank you in advance. now, have fun with this last chapter of the book. ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

word count: 1,564 words.

tw: lots of fluff. so much so it could give you a toothache. and kisses as well. a bit of crying in the beginning, but that is all.

request status at time of posting: open.

[ chapter one. ] [ chapter two. ] [ chapter three. ] 

in which there is reconciliation and a bright future planned out underneath a doorway, the moon and stars being the only witness.

would you like to read?

＞　行｡ ( y e s )

＞　不行 。( n o )

------

it would be about three days before you happened to enter mondstadt again.

frankly, you were only in the area because you were passing by, and you were trying to do it as quickly as possible.

after lisa would get her plants and such, you were off again to the inn and then to take up another mission granted to you in the morning.

though, despite the mission you ended up taking solo, you couldn’t stop thinking about that terrible night with razor.

you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him again, knowing that most likely, you’d end up in tears again.

you couldn’t have waterfalls pouring out of your eyes in front of someone that meant so much to you.

but fate seemed to be pushing its luck, and the stars were aligning just for the two of you.

you and razor stared at each other for a moment, as if the other was an apparition and they were dreaming. his rough, calloused hands took a hold of one of your own gentle ones.

no, this was real alright.

the two of you were both afraid to make the first move, but once more, razor used his instinct to initiate what he thought was needed.

his strong arms wrapped around your neck, nuzzling into the soft skin.

you felt so warm.

you felt cozy.

you felt like home.

course, you were caught off guard, and as much as your brain told you to pull away, you heard him whisper into your ear.

“i missed you.”

and then the walls came tumbling down.

your previous attitude towards him was diminished, and you were back to where you started.

you were still in love. and now, he knew he was as well.

Razor pulled away, and for the first time, you were able to take in much more detail than what you had initially seen. There were tired bags under his eyes, his face worn out, as if he had not been able to sleep for weeks. His silver hair was a mess under his hood and his voice was much quieter, as if he was stepping on eggshells while determining how to make his next move. You gently reached out, cupping his cheek with that gentle, comforting smile you always wore.

His body shook as he suddenly felt as if his insides were collapsing. He felt his face grow hot with tears that ran down his pale skin, over his scar, and down onto the tiled floor. He felt so guilty for what he had done to you that he was terrified that you would seek vengeance. Or that you would leave. The latter was much more terrifying, as he hated when you were gone for a few days, how could he handle not seeing you for the rest of his life? Seeing your hands raise up, he braced for impact of a harsh hit to the face with his eyes squeezing shut.

“Shhh, Razor...it’s okay.” You murmured softly as he felt two soft hands delicately cup his face. Your thumbs would run along his smooth skin, wiping away the tears that continued to flow down. Your own eyes would water, but by the grace of the stars, you were able to keep somewhat of a composure. He opened his eyes just barely, enough to see you again at least. Confused by the look he was giving you, you began to carefully let go and put your hands down before he grabbed your wrists in a swift motion. Back they went to his face, and back you went to wiping his tears and simply holding his head in the doorway.

“Y/-Y/N. I am s-sorry. I h-hurt you. Didn’t m-mean to, just n-no know what l-love was.” Razor managed to choke out through staggered breaths and hiccups. You kept up your affection, smiling gently as you let one hand go of his cheek.

“Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have run off so fast and had more patience with you. I’m sorry myself.`` To calm him down further, you hesitantly lifted a hand and ran it through his silver locks. Razor froze for a moment, but he relaxed further into your touch as he tilted his head more towards the hand, similar to that of what a cat would do. Silence ran its course as you two slowly began to heal from the wounds of that night.

“I love you.” He stated simply. It almost slipped your mind as you continued to play with his hair and cup his cheek, but you did a double take as you stared at him.

“You...you what?”

“I love you.” Razor repeated again, a bit louder this time in case you couldn’t hear him or something of the sort. You were about to ask him if he was joking, but his face held a serious look to them as it dawned on you. He really meant it. Granted, it was the most simple, basic way to confess feelings back towards a person, but you didn’t mind. It was what made him charming and attractive to you anyways.

“Why do you love me?” Razor paused to think about it, deep in thought as he did his best to string the words Lisa recently taught him together into something worth remembering.

“Simple, love. Love is a person, like how mate is a being. Therefore, you are love. Warm, safe, kind. Easy to be vulnerable and be...Razor. Guard down.” He explained to you with a sweet look on his features. Despite his limited vocabulary, you were deeply touched. He took the time to think and make sure his point was clearly mentioned. Razor grinned happily as he tilted his head at you. The air was light again, the heavy feeling replaced with his heart being ecstatic as he didn’t have to even say anything else. He could feel how happy you became from hearing what he said. It was good he could sense your happiness, because you were left speechless.

“Be my love? Please?” Razor asked quietly as you continued your silent streak. Since you were at a loss for words, and because you knew his love language was physical touch, you decided to show rather than tell. Your hand that was on his cheek trailed down his face and found its place wrapped around his hips. Then, with one swoop, you pulled him in closer to you and gently collided your lips with his.

It was if a supernova had exploded inside of his chest. The feeling was forgein, unfamiliar. Perhaps this technique of two lips put together was a human tradition he had yet to learn. He didn’t know what to do, so he mimicked you a bit. He opened his eyes slightly and then watched as you leaned in. He would then mirror the action for a few seconds before you pulled away. He knew that whatever you had just done to him was a way of saying yes. He just knew, and he loved it. The affection and having your full attention was all he could ever ask for. In fact, Razor found himself wanting more as he cutely pouted.

“More please?” You laughed, covering your mouth a bit as you nodded your head and cupped his cheeks again. You peppered your kisses all over his face: on his forehead, nose, temple, chin, the corners of his lips. Razor huffed adorably as he shook his head, pointing at his lips.

“You miss! I want here, love!” Razor whined, though, his complaining was stopped as you kissed his lips again. He melted in your hold, and there was no better feeling in the whole world. The boy would pull away this time, panting softly as he curiously touched his lips with his hands. It was amazing every time he received them, and he knew that he would never grow tired of them. Perhaps you could give him lessons, he thought. Then he would become an expert! Yes, that sounded like a plan. But that would come at a later date.

For now, he wanted to spend the night with you in his arms again.

------

some extra things i’ve thought of:

he would have totally dragged you into the guest bedroom where he was staying and given you a bunch of grass and flowers he had arranged.

(“give her a gift she will appreciate, something from nature!” was what lisa suggested.)

the roots were still there, along with heaps of dirt, but you found it endearing nonetheless as you laughed and accepted them.

he also got you chocolate covered strawberries! he had made them with klee (a mistake on lisa’s part, she will never let those two in the same room unsupervised again, especially not a kitchen.)

he would make it up to you by practicing how to formulate sentences under the bright sun in wolvendom.

you would reward him with kisses or headpats, so he worked extra hard in order to improve his linguistic skills.

because of being a bit traumatized from being seperated from you for so long, he gets a bit of separation anxiety when you leave him for too long. he’ll do missions or even go shopping with you just to ease himself down.

also hold his hand :(((

or any words of affirmation will do , he loves both when they come from you :))

[imaginedxlan]

Beta (Fred Weasley)

a/n: I had a whole frat boy series for the dolan twins and I cannot stay away, frat boys have my heart, both in real life and in imagines. Everything I do in life is for the chads and brads of the world.

beta theta pi has always been a fraternity you were intimidated by. they’re title as top house has always made you feel too insecure to go anywhere near them, but when your best friend starts dating a beta boy you’re forced to face the top house at their annual spring darty (day party for those who are unware)

disclaimer: hogwarts is basically just one greek row shawties. beta boys are hot, so expect the hottest of hogwarts to be in it.

y/f/n = your friend’s name

warnings: alcohol, sexual allusions, fratboy!fred

_____________

As the weather gets warmer on campus, that can only mean one thing: Darty Season. After suffering through the brutal winter, greek row opens up its lawns and lake front docks to the brothers and sisters of the greek system. Being the undisputed top house, Beta Theta Pi’s spring darties are always the most coveted invite. With their massive backyard and gallons of supplied liquor, theres not a soul on greek row who wouldn’t want a taste of the party of a lifetime. Well, except one.

You never bought into the beta supremacy like all of your sorority sister have. To be quite honest, you’re slightly terrified of the brick faced mansion only a block away from you. You’ve never heard anything that bad about the brothers, just that their looks and entitlement make any girl an easy target for heartache. 

Before you came to college, you had a longterm boyfriend who you agreed to stay with as long as possible, even over long distance. However, the summer before you kissed your hometown goodbye, he decided being tied down wasn’t for him and slept with a girl he met at orientation. He was only away for three days. So you kept your distance from beta and all the boys who had the capacity to make you feel as shattered as you did the July morning your ex boyfriend returned from his trip with a hickey on his neck. 

Your distance suddenly became harder to keep when your best friend, your roommate and sorority sister, shacked up with some beta boy she met in her communications class. You warned her as much as you could, her boyfriend being the blonde rich boy every girl whispered about, but Draco proved you wrong the minute he started begging her to be his girlfriend. 

So here you are, next to y/f/n who’s tucked under Draco’s arm as you walk toward the house thats bursting with sound and alcohol. He insisted on walking the two of you to the house, assuring none of the pledges would look at ‘his girl’ the wrong way. You’ve passed the beta house plenty of times over your past two years at school, never once have you gotten over the sinking feeling in your stomach to ever go in.

“Y/n, relax, we’re not a bunch of cavemen,” Draco speaks up once he notices how you’re holding your arms across your chest. Y/f/n told him about why you were so apprehensive about him, about his fraternity, he promised he’d be with you both the whole day. “Lets get something to drink, loosen you both up a bit.”

He takes you both to where there are pledges handing out cans of seltzers and beer and snags you both white claws before they’re gone. He sticks to his word and hangs around the two of you no matter how many times his brothers come up to him and try to convince him to join in on a game of beer di or chicken in the lake. You start feeling bad for him, y/f/n too, you know you’re holding them back in a sense. You tell both of them you’re okay if they want to hang out with his friends once you spot a couple of other girls in your sorority. 

The minutes feel like hours, while you’re having a fine time with your girl friends, you wish this party would end more than anything. Before you know it, y/f/n is screaming your name from the dock, waving you over. Once you get there she’s dragging you toward the lake, urging you to take off your top and shorts so you could play chicken with her and Draco. You immediately agree until you’re hit with the realization that you needed a fourth in order to play chicken.

Enter Fred Weasley. You’ve seen the twins around campus, everyone talks about them. Six foot something with fiery red hair and gorgeous bodies. You’ve seen their bare torsos on more saturday night snapchat stories than you can count. His baby blue swim hang low on his hips, putting his freckle littered chest and abdomen completely on display.

“Fred,” He says casually, reaching out his hand. “Most people call me Weasley, or Freddie.”

Your breath hitches, his hands are massive. You bite your lip to take his hand in yours, you’ve never actually shaken hands with any guy you’ve met at this school. You reply without meeting his burning gaze, “Y/n.”

All he says is a quiet ‘I know’ almost like you weren’t meant to hear it, before y/f/n is calling from Draco’s shoulders for the two of you to hurry up.  Your stomach turns at the thought of being on top of his shoulders. This won’t be a fair fight, Draco isn’t even six foot and Fred is a giant.

You edge closer to the stairs of the dock, Fred just jumps right in. The water is cold, unsurprisingly. Everything in you is praying that the chill of the water cools the flush that is running across your cheeks. Fred dunks his whole body under the water and feels for your ankles to pull you over his shoulders. The grips his huge hands have on the tops of your thighs makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“You ready?” He asks once you’re steady on his shoulders. You can’t see his face but you wish you could. His messy, wet hair splayed across his forehead must be a sight to for sore eyes. “I’ve got you tight up there, just don’t tip.”

You tell him you’re good before he makes his way over the Draco with y/f/n on top of him. She’s shorter than you, at least half a foot which makes it easier for you to put your hands on her shoulders to gain control. You’re both laughing as you try and push the other over. You’re almost having too much fun to forget that you’re in a bikini on top of arguable the best looking boy in your year in front of a backyard of hundreds of drunk students. Usually you would be more insecure about your current situation, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Eventually y/f/n loses her balance and topples over, bringing Draco down with her. Fred shouts out in celebration once they emerge front the lake. In a swift motion, his slippery hands pull your body off his shoulders to stand in front of him. His hand absentmindedly goes to your waist as he continues to shout at Draco for ‘being such a loser.’

His smile is radiant. It makes you smile with him and laugh with y/f/n as she rings out her hair. For the rest of the day, Fred barely leaves your side, his hand continues to make its way to hold you close to him by your waist. The drunker you get the less you notice it, you actually sort of like it. Any time a drinking game arises, he immediately pulls you along with him. Beer pong, flip cup, rage cage, he’s always planted next to you as you drink the day away. You meet his twin and his other friends who give him a knowing look when they see you practically joined at the hip.

His friend Blaise can’t help but smile your way, a shit eating grin gracing his features. He whispers something in Fred’s ear which makes him laugh a little. His laugh is perfect, you wouldn’t need even alcohol, you could get completely drunk off his features. You like the beta boys, you can’t understand why you were ever scared of them in the first place. George and Oliver talk to you as if you’ve know them for years, chatting about your mutual friends and your hometowns. You feel comfortable with them, it makes you happy.

“S’getting late,” He says, he isn’t slurring but his wobbly stance gives off that he’s clearly drunk. As the sky turns all shades of orange, you realize just how much time you’ve spent with him. You haven’t seen Draco or y/f/n in a while, meaning their probably up in his room. “I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that,” You protest, shaking your head but he stops you. His hand rests on the side of your neck, making you choke on your breath as you meet his eyes. His lazy smile makes your heart race.

“You’re very pretty, you know that?” He drunkenly stumbles over his words. Your heart is hammering against your rig cage, you feel weirdly sober now that he’s staring into your eyes. “Had class with you last semester, couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You continue to shake your head, wondering if this day had just been a wild dream and you were going to wake up in yours and y/f/n’s shared room in your pajamas any second. But his hand travelling up your side pulls you into the realization that this is reality.

“Can I kiss you?”

You don’t reply, you simply lift onto your toes to meet his lips with yours. If you were completely sober, you would never be so bold but everything in you was screaming for his touch. His lips are warm, a completely one-eighty from his cold hands against your skin. The party goes on around you but you feel like time stands still in Fred’s embrace. He pulls away from you for just a second to catch his breathe before leaning down to catch you in another kiss. His hand moves from your waist to the small of your back as the kiss deepens.

You eventually pull from each other, breathless, once you feel beer from various cups splash against your skin as a group of boys huddle next to you to sing out whatever song is playing at the moment. You both laugh as you lean your head against his bare chest, drinking in this moment.

“Come on then,” He says, taking your hand in his. Your head is spinning, not from the alcohol, but from the complete state of bliss you’re in. “I’ll grab you a shirt and get you home.”

You walk back to your house, hand in hand with his tee shirt hanging just above your knees, talking about everything under the sun. While the walk itself is short, the moment seems to last forever. When you each your front lawn, he tugs on your hand to pull you into him once more, feeling his soft lips meet yours. Your heart flutters as you walk toward your front door, turning back to him and he smiles at you, making your heart melt.

“Goodnight, Freddie.” You call out from the opened door. He gives you a small waves and tells you he’ll see you soon. Once the door is shut you close your eyes and can’t help but smile. You squeal, causing the girls in your living room to look out the window and see Fred Weasley with his fingers on his lips and a wide smile. They pull you onto the couch and beg you to tell them all about your day in the background of beta theta pi. You can’t contain your grin as you relay today’s events to your sorority sisters.

Maybe beta isn’t so scary after all.

[taetaespeaches]

“Want me to kiss it better?”

taehyung x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 2.8K

a/n: In honor of Tae’s birthday, let’s find out how our two little soulmates met, shall we? Back in March of 2013, Tae and Peaches/reader met randomly on the street, and well, look at them now. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks so much for reading! :))

p.s. and happiest of birthdays to the absolute love of my life, sir Kim Taehyung. Here’s hoping that the dearest boy has a happy year because he is so deserving of it <3 

“I just got you a coffee,” you teased into the phone, Taehyung groaning on the other end, vocalizing his distaste for the stuff. Giggling at his reaction, you pushed through the café doors, the cold air hitting you with a gush of wind. “I thought you were outside,” you noted, looking down the sidewalk, peering through the crowds of people making their way to work.

“Huh?” He said, trying to pretend he didn’t hear you to cover up the fact that he was late.

“Tae,” you groaned, a passerby looking your way at the mild annoyance in your tone, you immediately shooting them a small smile and a bow. “How far are you?”

“Not far, just wait for me outside,” he told you, his breath becoming a bit bated as he must have started running to make it to you. “Don’t move,” he yelled into the phone, a smile overtaking your face.

“Stop running, you dork,” you giggled. “I’ll be here.”

“Good. Stay put,” he added.

“I just said I’d stay put,” you defended, looking at the two cups in your left hand, trying to figure out how you could take a sip of yours while holding the phone to your ear with your opposite hand. “I wouldn’t have to stay put if my boyfriend would show up on time,” you jokingly complained just before using your hand holding the phone to lower your face mask below your chin.

The man huffed through the phone before letting out a breathless yell. “I’m coming, Peaches,” he shouted. You giggled both at the sound of him but also the image you conjured up in your head of the man zipping through crowds of people, his dark locks flowing as he yelled into a phone.

Leaning down, you tentatively took a sip of your drink, immediately wincing at the hot temperature that startled your tongue, as well as the shockingly sweet taste. Inspecting the drink, you realized it was Tae’s hot chocolate. “I told you to stop running,” you commented into the phone, Taehyung’s breathing being his only response. “Do you want me to hang up so you can have a proper go of it, Usain Bolt?”

“No,” he breathed out. “Stay on the line, I miss you,” he said cutely, you scoffing at the affection.

“You wouldn’t have to miss me if you were on time, my Dearest,” you teased him.

“I’m sorry,” he whined, dragging the word out. “Let me live,” he added in complaint, you smirking.

Watching as people walked by, the sound of your boyfriend’s struggled breathing in your ear, your focus was suddenly pulled down the street when a loud, “Peaches,” rang out in both the phone speaker and the cold winter air.

Several people looked toward the man as he waved at you, slowing to a walk, but he didn’t acknowledge any of them, his adorable gaze set on you. The mask was covering the bottom half of his face but it did little to hide the rectangular smile he was hiding underneath, his happiness showing in his eyes.

Appearing in front of you, you couldn’t help but chuckle at his winded state. “Hi,” he greeted you happily, despite his current breathing troubles, leaning in to kiss your cheek but forgetting about the mask on his face.

“Hi, Dearest,” you giggled, holding out his drink for him. “Be careful,” you pouted as he took the hot chocolate out of your hands. “That burned my tongue.”

Pulling the mask under his chin, he gave you a wide-eyed look. “Want me to kiss it better?” He asked, leaning in to press his lips to yours, you giggling into the affectionate action as you kissed him back.

“You’re ridiculous,” you told him, setting your hand on his abdomen as you held him at a distance. “You’re gonna be photographed kissing me and then we’ll be the couple of the new year,” you pointed out, the man pouting at you.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you held his gaze until he relented and took a drink of his hot chocolate, humming in satisfaction. Swallowing the drink with a gasp of content, he grinned. “You know, this is where we first met.”

“I remember,” you giggled, sliding your hand from the front of his stomach to the side of his abdomen, holding onto his coat.

Looking down to your feet, he nodded. “Your shoes are clean this time,” he commented, you rolling your eyes as you thought back to your first meeting with Taehyung, the hectic morning forever changing your life in the best way you could have ever imagined.

Missing the bus was really just the cherry on top of your shitty morning. Not to mention the iced coffee you bought just minutes prior was knocked out of your hand by a power-walking passerby, the drink falling to the sidewalk and splashing all over your combat boots.

Reaching down to pick up the near empty cup, the busy morning work crowd kicked it all about, causing you to chase it around in a hunched-over position, your gaze darting to trail the object, trying to follow it as it absolutely should be recycled. Finally tracking it down, you grabbed it quickly and stood up, your face immediately heating as you became very aware of all the people who just witnessed you chase down a to-go cup like a fucking dork.

Staring down at your coffee stained shoes, you made your way down the sidewalk, setting the cup in the recycling bin gently, your heart racing at the possibility that you were still being watched by someone. Judged.

All you wanted to do was catch your bus and go to class. It was only the second week of university and there you were, already missing lectures. After a restless night, you thought coffee was necessary for a much-needed caffeine buzz, but the line was so long and you felt awkward leaving the middle of it as your bus quickly approached on its route.

So, you missed it. And now if you went to campus, you would have to walk into that lecture hall and draw all those eyes on you, and that was just something you weren’t too thrilled about that particular morning. Being shy was one thing. You had been reserved your whole life; you knew how to manage your introverted nature. But there were days when you just felt more insecure than most, and it was definitely one of those days.

As you pondered over what to do, whether you should brave the staring eyes and go to class or just call it a day and head back to your apartment, you made eye contact with a young man, seemingly around your age, beaming brightly at you through the flow of people.

Quickly averting your gaze, you grabbed your phone out of your pocket, checking the time but mostly avoiding the man’s stare. He was cute and looked sweet, but he put you on edge. Not in a threatening way, but rather, it felt as though he saw through you. And that was intimidating. You didn’t want to be seen.

Trying to put him out of your mind but failing, you quickly realized that despite the way he looked at you as if he knew all about you, you would probably be seeing the kind face of the stranger in your dreams, forever imprinted in your memory. He was intriguing, which was saying a lot for you as people rarely made an impact on you, especially with just one glance.

But his smile was one of if not the best smiles you’d ever laid eyes on and suddenly, you found yourself sneaking a glance at the man to get one more look. However, when you peered up, he was nowhere to be seen, and weirdly, your heart dropped a bit. You just wanted one last look to ensure the image in your head was an accurate depiction.

Frowning, you scanned the crowd. On the verge of giving up and accepting that he was just a one-glance stranger, or maybe even a figment of your imagination, a voice suddenly greeted you from beside your form, your head darting in the direction, falling upon the adorable man. All he said was “hello,” but the tone of his voice took you by surprise, the timbre much lower than you would have expected from the youthfulness of his features.

“Hi,” you said tentatively, suddenly feeling shy by his presence.

“I like your backpack,” he randomly complimented, your hands instinctively gripping the shoulder straps and tugging it closer to your back. “It’s cute.”

A light, single breathy chuckle left your lips as you craned your neck to look back at the bag. What a strange compliment. “Thank you,” you spoke softly.

The man stayed silent for a moment, his smile wide and pretty as he stared at you. However, his eyes were scanning your features. Curiously. Appreciatively. Almost as if he was taking everything down in his mind so he could remember you for years to come.

“I’m Taehyung,” he told you, reaching his hand out for you to shake. Staring at the limb, feeling too shy to take it, he giggled boyishly. The sound was adorable and you were extremely fond of it instantly. Putting his hand down, he cocked his head at you. “Can I replace your drink?” He asked you, your entire body heating in embarrassment as you realized he witnessed you not only drop the coffee, but watched as you chased it around the sidewalk. “Are you embarrassed?” He asked you with wide innocent eyes, a small bashful smile forming on your lips.

“You could say that,” you said. Or you could say you wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow you whole.

“Don’t be,” he smiled brightly. “It was cute,” he added. The compliment wasn’t spoken as a man trying to flatter you into bed or even on a date, but was rather a genuine thought that popped into his head, so he simply spoke it. His directness, and how unaware he was of it, was intriguing, and you quite liked it.

“It needed to be recycled,” you said softly, your voice quiet, due to the mortification.

Nodding enthusiastically, he beamed. “I know all about recycling, I’ve been doing it since I was born,” he spoke proudly, and though you knew he was joking, he said the comment so seriously it had you nearly bursting out in laughter. Holding it back however, you only gave him the satisfaction of your breathy chuckle.

“I’m sure it was amusing to watch me chase the cup down,” you commented with a smirk.

“I only laughed a little,” he said, lifting his hands up in mock surrender.

“A gentleman,” you teased, surprised by how quickly you were warming up to the stranger. Well, a sort of stranger. You did know his name.

Another youthful giggle left his lips as he nodded in playful confirmation to your statement. “Chivalry is my middle name. Stick by me if you want to be treated like a lady,” he joked.

“And if I don’t want to be treated like a lady?” You playfully retorted, you body heating in embarrassment at your own comment though Taehyung’s eyes sparkling in amusement, his smile only widening even more.

“Too bad,” he replied with a grin. “Now, can I replace your drink?”

“If you insist,” you nodded with a small shy smile, just before holding your hand out and telling him your name. “So you know what to tell them when you order my drink.”

“Right,” he nodded, taking your hand, his palm warm and soft against yours. As cliché as it was to believe it, it felt like his hand was meant to fit with yours. But no, that’s too cheesy. Dropping your hand suddenly, he started toward the café, leaving you standing there watching him. Turning around to face you, he gestured to the establishment. “Coming?”

And strangely, you were. Without a word, you simply walked toward him, and made your way into the café with him, shoulder to shoulder. Little did you know, you would be going with him anywhere and everywhere from that day on. Quite happily.

“And this time I’m buying you a drink,” you smirked. “Oh, how the times have changed.”

“Only because you insisted,” he frowned, the expression making your smile widen.

Bringing your hand toward his face, you booped his nose. “It’s your birthday,” you pointed out with a smile. “And I enjoy treating you,” you informed him. “Plus, I’m not a poor college student anymore, I’m a slightly less poor professional now,” you pretended to gloat, Taehyung giggling as he leaned toward you, pressing a couple quick kisses to your cheek.

“Damn straight you are,” he said proudly. Staring at each other, he watched as your smile gradually fell from your face, his eyebrows pulling together in question and slight concern. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I just-”

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you sighed. Taehyung watched you carefully but patiently, his tongue poking between his lips to wet them.

“About being a professional,” you cocked your head to the side. “What if I told you I’m not happy with my job and it’s not getting better?”

Taehyung’s expression morphed into one of consideration as he peered into your eyes. “I would say you’re young and if you want to try something else, what better time than now?”

“You think?” You asked, appreciating the way his hand found the side of your face, as his thumb gently soothed over your cheek.

“You should enjoy your work,” he told you. “You have too much passion in here,” he tapped against your temple to indicate your mind, “and in here,” he used his other hand that held the drink to poke a finger against your heart, “to not enjoy what you’re doing for a living.”

Giving him a small smile, you nodded slightly. “I’m scared though,” you whispered.

“I know, Peaches,” he told you understandingly. “But that’s ok. It’s ok to be scared.” You nodded quickly in agreement, Tae’s lips quirking up. “What’s not ok is for the most vibrant person I know to be stuck in a job that doesn’t fulfill her,” he added, locking his gaze with yours to ensure you felt how much he meant the words he spoke.

“You’re sweet,” you complimented quietly.

“I just believe in you,” he countered. “And I’ll be here through every step of the way as you’re finding what you truly want to do,” he assured you.

“I know, Dearest,” you nodded.

“You better,” he smirked, just before bringing his lips to yours and kissing you a little too passionately for the public setting. But as your fingers threaded into hair at the back of his head, you lost yourself in the affection, not giving a damn about where you were or who was watching. “I’m going everywhere with you,” he whispered against your mouth when he finally got ahold of himself and pulled back slightly.

“And me you,” you told pressing a quick kiss to his chin. Nuzzling your face against his neck, Taehyung smiled at the small pecks you left to his skin. “Happy birthday, by the way,” you giggled, lifting your head to look at him. “Sorry to be all doom and gloom on your day,” you rolled your eyes at yourself.

“You could never be doom and gloom, Peaches,” he assured you. “And thank you,” he beamed, kissing your forehead quickly. “This will be the only gift I accept today,” he held up his hot chocolate, “So don’t even think about surprising me with anything else.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” you teased. “You think you have a say in how I spoil you?” Glaring at you playfully, you scrunched your nose in response. “You’re really gonna like one of the surprises,” you noted, Taehyung’s eyebrows raising to show his piqued interest. “Want a hint?” You asked, your boyfriend nodding slowly as he wet his lips again. “It’s at my apartment and it involves lace and silk,” you whispered near his ear with a smirk, just before pulling your mask up.

“Well those kinds of surprises are ok,” he teased making you giggle at him.

“Of course they are you horndog,” you joked, Taehyung pulling his mask up as well before wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Only for you,” he continued teasing as you both started walking toward a nearby park to continue your simple date.

As you walked away from the very place you first met Taehyung, who was draped over you affectionately, you mentally thanked the asshat who knocked your coffee out of your hands back in March of 2013. For he changed the entire course of your life. And now you had Taehyung, right beside you everywhere you went. You would always have Taehyung.