#instant motivation with those four words right there

[dramaticpandabear]

To boost morale at The Bear I feel like Richie should just walk into the kitchen one day, say “fuck it, we ball,” and then walk right out

[scryarchives]

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 - 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐲𝐮𝐮𝐣𝐢

after an interview, yuuji can't help the bubbling feeling in his chest.

my masterlist | vogue collab masterlist !

✭ pairings: itadori yuuji x oc actor! au

✭ warning: pining. fluff. actor au.

✭ author’s note: I ADORED WRITING THIS AU SO MUCH FOR THE COLLAB AHHH!!!

✭ word count: 2.9k words

disclaimer: i’m not of japanese descent and am unfamiliar with japanese honorifics, etc. feel free to correct me!

Blinding lights and interviews. Those were the two words Itadori Yuuji thought of whenever he considered his life as an actor. He smiled, sitting on a couch with his three fellow cast members, Fushiguro Megumi, Shu Tsubame and Kugisaki Nobara as the former answered yet another interview question with ease.

Yuuji smiled at every question tossed in his co-star’s way, laughing along when Nobara responded with a silly or funny face at an intrusive question.

He couldn't resist his smile as he sat next to one of his closest friends, Tsubame, as she let out a bubbly laugh along with Nobara in response to a question he zoned out on.

“Itadori Yuuji, you have been picked for the role of the main lead for the popular manga-turned-anime ‘Jujutsu Kaisen’. What are your thoughts on the show so far?” The interviewer leaned closer in curiosity.

The pink-haired teen snapped out of his daze before he hummed in thought, answering with ease with a small laugh escaping his lips, “Well, we did just finish season one, and it was fun but the script really was something. Lots of tears on my part, but I can’t say more than that since I’m not exactly allowed to disclose what’s happened in the plot.”

Megumi nodded in agreement, the interviewer smiling as she pulled out the next question, a wide smile ever-present on her face.

“How do you think each of your characters contrasts with your real personalities?" She asked quickly, her mic in her hands. “And what would the difference be?”

The four teens looked at each other, deciding amongst themselves who would go first, Nobara taking the mic as she began to speak, Tsubame and Yuuji grinning at each other as they did a little rock-paper-scissors match to determine which among the two would go right after Megumi.

Seeing that Tsubame won – Yuuji secretly let her win, but he would never admit to that – the youngest of the four smiled widely as Megumi passed her the mic. Yuuji rested his chin in the palm of his hand, his elbow resting on the armrest of the couch as he watched her speak excitedly.

He zoned out halfway, more interested in her little mannerisms, like the little fidgets of her fingers when she stuttered a little, and in an instant, his hand reached out to hers, rubbing soothing circles on the back of her hand to soothe her nerves.

Tsubame looked lost in thought for a minute before squeezing Yuuji’s hand a little, sending butterflies through his stomach, “I think for me, what I admired most about my character is how different we are, but we both have the same ideals where we would do anything for our family. It’s just that the way we process situations is different if that makes sense – and I admire the way she’s set on achieving her goals, in other words, her motivation.”

The interviewer nodded, making small noises of agreement as she listened, “That’s interesting, now I’ve got to ask, you’ve mentioned how different your character is from your entire personality, what exactly do you mean by that?”

“I wouldn’t say we’re super similar,” Tsubame laughs shyly. “But my character’s more closed off, definitely more guarded than me. Oh, and she’s super stoic but I feel like I’m… I’m more…”

“Bubbly?” Yuuji smiled, finishing her sentence as she nodded with a giggle.

“Yes! Exactly, I’m so much more bubbly than her so it was tough having to keep a straight face on set for long takes.”

“She couldn’t stop smiling, you know?” The pink-haired teen beside her grinned. “And she kept playing Taylor Swift’s ‘New Romantics’ on loop while dancing around on set.”

Tsubame giggles again, Megumi and Nobara smiling over at their young friend who they saw as a little sibling. Megumi laughed a little, “And we had non-stop karaoke sessions off-set, so that was fun.”

“Anyway Yuuji, what do you think was different between you and your character’s personality?” Tsubame hummed in question as the four teens grinned at the memories.

Tsubame gently handed the mic to Yuuji as he hummed in thought at the interviewer’s question, “What differences were there between my role and I? I’d say that he’s a little more hyper than I am, so it’s like I have to boost my energy up just a little bit more to keep up with him. It’s always fun because just being with everyone is enough to excite me.”

His three other friends smiled up at him widely, the four of them glad that they had such a close bond, Nobara laughing as she pointed at Yuuji playfully.

“You’re such a softie, Itadori!” Nobara laughed, leaning over Megumi to lightly punch Yuuji’s arm.

Seeing this, the interviewer grinned, “It seems like you all are close, why don't you describe your off-screen relationships with each other, considering that you all are one friend group in both the show and real life?"

The four of them looked at each other before Yuuji began, “Megumi and I just sort of instantly clicked in a sense? Like he’s my best friend, and I’d trust him with my life. Nobara’s like a ridiculous, but sassy older sister, and Tsubame’s just a really, really sweet person overall.”

“Aw,” Tsubame smiles, squeezing Yuuji’s hand tighter in a comforting manner. “Yuuji’s super sweet too, he’s selling himself short, everybody knows him as the sunshine boy.”

“You both certainly have some chemistry,” The interviewer laughed, Tsubame and Yuuji laughing with pink cheeks as Nobara and Megumi smiled knowingly.

“But I think we can all agree that Tsubame’s like the little sibling we’d protect at all cost,” Nobara shrugs. “We all get along on set, and she pretty much pulls us all together with the copious amounts of energy she has.”

Tsubame smiled with a small shrug, releasing Yuuji’s hand as he chuckled at her reaction. The interviewer smiled at the sight, thanking the four teens, “That concludes today’s interview, but it was wonderful to have you all on set today! ‘Jujutsu Kaisen’ will be streaming on all platforms soon…”

The voice of the interviewer faded away as the four teens waved, the cameras soon cutting, bright lights fading. Tsubame sighed softly in exhaustion, leaning against the couch as Megumi chuckled at her reaction.

“That was tough,” Tsubame laughed a little, Yuuji placing a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

“You did good,” He smiled, Nobara humming as she stood up, pulling her junior up with her.

“Yeah, what Itadori said, now c’mon, let’s get some bubble tea!” Nobara grinned widely, pulling Tsubame along, winking over at Yuuji as soon as Tsubame’s back was turned.

The two girls left the boys behind, Yuuji and Megumi following a fair bit away from the two girls ahead of them.

“So no luck?” Megumi began, snapping Yuuji out of his daze as the four stars walked down the hallways of the broadcast show’s building.

“What? Oh– yeah, no luck so far,” Yuuji shook his head. “How’d you know?”

“You still have that pining look on your face.”

“Oh…”

Yuuji felt his cheeks turn pink, his eyes focused on the floor before they found Tsubame’s figure again as she laughed alongside Nobara. His heart thumped in his chest, and he bit the inside of his cheek nervously with a sheepish smile.

“Am I really that obvious?” He whispered, Megumi giving a face at the boy he so adored.

“The interviewer did say you both have chemistry.”

Yuuji blushes hard with a little smile, “The fans are gonna go wild, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Fantastic…”

“Yuuji!” Tsubame grinned, walking over to her best friend with a little grin. “Whatcha doin’?”

Yuuji’s eyes widened as he felt Tsubame sidle up to him, smiling as she sat beside him on the little couch in their shared hotel room – a temporary fix until they completed their next interview.

“Tsu, hey,” Yuuji grinned softly, scooting over a little to let her sit next to him.

He let her lean closer to him, letting her peer over his shoulder as he scrolled through the instagram app on his phone.

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Just going through the comments on my newest post.”

Instantly, he felt her smaller frame lean more into him as he scrolled, his cheeks heating up the closer she neared him. The smell of her shampoo suddenly smelled strong as lavender, sandalwood and rose scents filled his senses. The pink-haired teen struggled to hold back the urge to just pull her into his arms and smother her face with little pecks.

“Wh– hey is that a picture of me?”

His body tensed the slightest as her big coffee-coloured eyes looked up at him, her eyebrow raised in amusement as she smiled cheekily, spotting her image among his little collage of slides.

He laughed softly, smiling at the picture he snapped of her. It was the three of his closest friends on the beach, but as Nobara and Megumi were far out in the background, the focus on the image was of Tsubame in her white sundress. A matching white sunhat sat on her head as a pink ribbon flowed in the wind, a wide smile on her face as she held the hat down to prevent it from flying away.

Just the sight of her wide smile made a smile of his own grow. There was something about how peaceful and comforted she was to smile so freely that just made his heart beat harder in his chest at the sight of her genuine joy.

“Yeah, of course?” He chuckled, pulling her into a hug. “Why wouldn’t I include my favourite picture of my favourite person here?”

She grinned, and it was enough to make his heart flutter like a wild bird in his chest, aching to break free of its cage of ribs, “D’aw, I’m your favourite person?”

“Obviously, you’re so cute and squishy and perfect to hug,” He laughs, squeezing her tighter as she squeaks a little at the sensation of his arms tightening around her waist, Yuuji gently pulling her onto his lap.

“Please, easy on the ribs, Yuu!” She giggled, “You always hug me so tight.”

He only laughs at her in response, nuzzling his nose into her neck and letting her pick up his phone as she scrolled through the comments. He didn’t care about what she did, as long as she enjoyed herself in his hold.

“Wow… the comments are really piling up,” She whistled softly in amazement, and Yuuji only hummed in acknowledgement, just savouring the moment he had to cuddle her before she pulled away, his feelings as unsaid and unrequited as before.

She continues to scroll through the evergrowing comments, eyes widening at the top comment as she gently brings the phone to his face buried in her neck.

“Yuu, you should read this,” She smiles a little. “People are talking about you, you know?”

Yuuji cracks one eye open, resting his chin on her shoulder as his hazel eyes scan over the little white text as he quickly reads the comment.

“You know, they’re not wrong, we would make an incredibly cute couple,” Yuuji grinned, and the proximity between them caused Tsubame to blush the slightest as she felt his whisper against her cheek.

She giggled softly again, “Yeah? You think so? I’m surprised you’d agree so easily.”

His eyes widened and he couldn’t help the way he felt his heart drop the slightest. Had he been reading the signs wrong? Was his affection truly to be unrequited?

“Why? What’s so surprising about it?” He asked softly, his face leaning closer to hers in genuine curiosity, but he didn’t miss the way her already pink cheeks turned red. It caused his heart to soar with pride and joy to know that he made her blush.

“W-Well, I mean,” She looks away for the briefest second, gently pushing her hair behind her ear, “We didn’t really… I-I mean, we’re not dating, and we’re best friends, Yuu.”

His heart officially dropped to his stomach, his smile disappearing as he whispered a soft, ‘ah’. He loosened his grip around her waist the slightest, but something bubbled up in his chest. The truth of his feelings towards her lingered on his mind, and he didn’t like the way he fidgeted, knowing that he wouldn’t be satisfied until he at least tried to tell her how he felt – it didn’t feel right otherwise.

Gently, he picked up one of her hands, his thumbs gently running over her knuckles as he focused his gaze on her smaller hand in his as he felt his cheeks warm, “Tsubame, there’s… there’s something I want to tell you.”

“What’s up?” Tsubame tilted her head, placing his phone aside as she gave him her full attention.

“Tsubame, this whole process with you, being your colleague, your co-star, your best friend… it’s all been an amazing experience,” He smiles fondly at the memories they’ve shared. “And the more I spend time around you, the more I see the real you, and the more I feel my heart beat faster when you smile, and the more I want to be the reason that little spark appears in your eyes when you look my way.”

His amber eyes met her widened oak ones, his emotion so strong, so present that she couldn’t help the way her breath hitched the slightest. He took her silence as a sign to go on, seeing that her eyes were solely trained on him and not on the way his phone vibrated beside her.

“I know it’s a stupid comment on an instagram post, but I can’t imagine being anywhere but by your side. And if you don’t feel the same, I’ll understand as long as we stay friends… so please, Tsubame, let me just say this that I… I love you.”

Those three words. Those three little words finally escaped his lips, his heart pounding in anticipation, but he could finally breathe, feeling a weight vanish from his chest. He watches every little reaction on the face of the girl he loves, from the way she now breathed softly to the way she looked at him so gently.

“You… you love me?” She whispers, and he nods without any hesitation, now holding both of her hands in his larger ones.

“From the moment I met you, from the moment you smiled at me with that little excited wave of yours. Cupid struck me with its arrow right then and there,” He smiles breathlessly. “Now I need to ask you, and don’t be afraid to speak your mind, please… do you feel the same?”

A heartbeat. Then two. Then–

“Yes.”

Yuuji couldn’t believe his ears, his eyes widening as he saw a smile grow on her soft-pink cheeks. He felt his own cheeks warm as he saw that little shine in her eyes that he adored, even if her dark brown bangs covered most of her left eye.

“Y-You… Did I hear you right?” He whispered softly, his heartbeat picking up. He smiled when he saw her nod, her own gentle smile growing as she blushed at the feeling of his hands holding hers.

“Yes,” She smiles, a giggle growing in her chest, “Yes, Yuuji. I love you, too.”

He smiles wider, pulling her close as he laughs softly, “You mean it? You really mean it?”

“Duh!” She grins, leaning closer to him as she squeezes his hands back, “I really thought I was being obvious ever since our first karaoke…”

“Not one bit. I didn’t have a clue,” He laughs, pulling his hand away to cup her cheek, his forehead resting on hers. “God, we’re blind.”

Tsubame laughs along, her warm cheeks mirroring his own, “The blindest.”

His thumb gently strokes her cheek as he looks at her with the softest glance and touch, as though if he held her any harsher, she would vanish in a cloud of dreams, and he would wake up all alone, without her in his arms.

He lowered his voice, his caramel eyes darting to her upturned lips, and his heart thumped at the thought he had in his head.

“...May I– Tsubame can I kiss you, please?”

Yuuji adored the way her cheeks exploded into a warm shade of red, her smile changing into one of bashfulness. Finally, she whispered back, giving him the pass he so desperately longed for.

“Yes.”

He leaned in just as she leaned up, her lips just softly pressing against his as he felt his chest explode with butterflies. Tsubame smiled widely, her heart beating faster as their lips locked, softly pressed against each other – pure and innocent, just like their moment.

When they finally pulled away, their faces were covered in a scarlet hue, shy smiles and little giggles escaping them as they enjoyed their moment. Tsubame smiled at him lopsidedly, resting her head on his shoulder as he grabbed his phone.

“Say cheese!”

The camera snapped, Tsubame giggling as Yuuji pecked her cheek, the flash flickering on and off as Yuuji grinned at her bubbly laugh. When he lowered his hand, he posted the image on his instagram story, adding a little caption.

“Thanks for the little encouragement!” He hummed, tagging the girl in his arms before posting it.

After a minute or two, a message from Nobara appeared, and it made Yuuji chuckle at it.  It was as if he were hearing her tone through the text, as though she were right there to express her exasperation.

“Finally! It’s about damn time.”

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[fuckyeah-jessicabiel]

Jessica Biel for Vogue, February 2010

The Real Biel

You can learn all sorts of interesting things about a person on a road trip together. For example: Jessica Biel is a very good driver. She is behind the wheel of a Subaru heading north from Vancouver toward Whistler, one of the ski resorts hosting the Olympics this month. Because of record-breaking snow, Biel has decided to ditch the more traditional plans she’d made for our interview and hit the slopes instead. So here we are, side by side, snacking on trail mix and listening to the sound track to Where the Wild Things Are. In the car in front of us is Biel’s assistant and best friend, Lindsay Ratowsky, who is being driven with all of our bags and equipment. Our mini caravan left Vancouver in the late afternoon in a downpour, and now we are driving in the dark in a snowstorm. Wearing jeans and hiking boots, Biel, who grew up in Boulder, Colorado, and has been snowboarding since she was a kid, is utterly in her element. “This is very much a me moment: in the snow, in the Subaru, listening to music,” she says. “I feel really at peace in this environment.”

It’s a far cry from where we were two hours ago, when Biel had 40 pounds of ammo strapped around her waist and an M4 semiautomatic assault rifle hoisted above her right shoulder. We were on the outskirts of Vancouver in an empty warehouse the size of a Walmart, part of the soundstage where she has been filming The A-Team. Paul, a dashing fellow with a British accent whom Biel describes as the “resident badass,” was teaching her the finer points of racking and reloading. After Biel squeezed off several deafening rounds, Paul calculated the number of mistakes she made and then said, “Twenty-four!” She dropped to the floor and gave him two dozen push-ups. It was only then that I noticed that she is as thin as a teenage boy and all muscle. Her usual Jessica Rabbit curves have all but disappeared, the red-carpet Sex Bomb nowhere to be found.

Who is Jessica Biel? Let’s admit it: She is a bit of a cipher. The girls who read the tabloids think of her as Justin Timberlake’s on-again, off-again girlfriend; my aunt Nancy thinks of her as little Mary Camden from the mid-nineties WB series 7th Heaven; and most men under 40 think of her as the smokin’ hottie who let Adam Sandler massage her breasts in I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry. I think it is fair to say that Jessica Biel has not yet experienced a unifying cultural moment. In other words: She can still ride the subway, which, in fact, she tells me she just did the other day. “I talked to a girl who liked my shoes,” she says. “ ‘Oh, those are cute. Where’d you get those?’ ‘I got them at Barneys.’ ‘Are you from New York?’ ‘No, I’m from out of town.’ ‘Oh, cool. Nice to talk to you.’ ‘Nice to talk to you!’ ”

My own expectations were equally off-base; I imagined her as a sort of modern-day Raquel Welch. I thought she would purr. But that notion was shattered the instant I met her. It does not take long to figure out that Jessica Biel is a mellow creature, a young woman who appears to be completely at ease with herself and who meets the world on her own terms. I spent nearly two full days with her, and not once did I see her tense up. This is at least partly due to how she was raised. She describes her parents as hippies. “They are major outdoor people,” she says. “They rafted the Grand Canyon when they were in their 20s. They are an incredible couple.”

Her father, Jon, worked for GE for many years and ran his own business consultancy in Boulder. “He is extremely motivated and ambitious,” she says. “I get those qualities from him.” Her mother, Kim, grew up one of six kids in a small town a few hours southwest of Denver where Jessica and her parents both own cabins on adjoining properties. Her mother’s side of the family is part Native American: Those crazy-high cheekbones are shared by her younger brother, mother, and grandmother. When she tells me that her parents dehydrate their own food, culture their own vegetables, and make their own coconut kefir, I can’t help laughing. “I actually do, too!” she says.

One of the benefits of having hippie parents is that they tend to indulge whimsy. Handbell choir! Jazz and tap class! By the time Biel was in her early teens, she was training as a level-six gymnast and starring in local musicals. One summer she took a commercial-acting class. It led to a talent convention in Los Angeles, which landed her an agent and a scholarship to a kids’ acting school. “I was hooked,” she says. It was around this time that her parents started making sacrifices so she could be in L.A. for pilot season. “It was stressful, for sure: my mom leaving my brother when he was so little for months at a time; my dad having to deal on his own. Sometimes I look back and think, God, you guys were crazy for letting some twelve-year-old do what she wanted. I mean, they did everything for me.”

It paid off. In 1996, when she was fourteen, Biel was cast as the levelheaded eldest daughter, Mary Camden, on the weirdly successful Aaron Spelling series 7th Heaven, a treacly morality lesson dressed up as a weekly family drama about a progressive reverend and his family. It ran for eleven seasons and is—get this—the longest-running family drama in television history. But as the show became a staple in Middle America’s living rooms, Biel blossomed into a knockout and began to chafe at the limitations of playing the same Goody Two-shoes year after year. She wanted out. It is now part of showbiz legend—and one of Biel’s enduring regrets—that just a few weeks shy of her eighteenth birthday, she posed nearly naked for the cover of Gear, a magazine owned by Bob Guccione, Jr., and got her wish. If in the end it turned out to be a savvy move, freeing her from a stultifying character, at the time it infuriated her colleagues. Stephen Collins, her TV dad, called it “child pornography,” and Spelling released her from her contract after the fourth season.

Now, as she is focused, laser-like, on getting us through the storm, she seems thoughtful about the whole episode. “I really wanted to go to college, and it all kind of happened at the same time. I did this photo shoot; the photo shoot came out; it was terribly embarrassing. I had to apologize to everybody, including my parents. It was a big learning experience: learning how to have boundaries and how to say no.”

Not surprisingly, Biel has a lot of empathy for young girls dealing with adolescence in front of an audience. “I have this overwhelming motherly feeling toward them. Just do what you gotta do, girls! Hold it together! I wish everyone would just leave them alone.” Biel has clearly figured out the importance of maintaining some semblance of autonomy in a highly scrutinized life. She likes to drive by herself the eighteen hours from L.A. to Boulder with her dogs—even though everyone tells her it’s dangerous. When I mention that Gwen Stefani wrote the song “Just a Girl” about this very phenomenon—pretty girls being cautioned not to go anywhere alone—Biel says, “Rock on, girl. I feel her pain.”

Suddenly we hit a backup on the highway. There has been an accident. If we have a minor accident, it will add drama to the story, I say. “I was thinking that, too!” she says. “Actually, I was just thinking, Where are my gloves? Because if we crash we’ll have to get out, and we’ll have to be warm.” She laughs. “And then I took it to another level: What if I kill him? My other thought was, At least they would test me for drugs and alcohol and I would be clean. I would not go to jail. But you would be dead, and it would be horrible! There’s no good outcome!” We are laughing when we finally pass the scene of the crime. “What is she doing in a skirt?” says Biel, looking at the woman who has obviously caused this mess. “And high-heeled boots?” She looks over at me and smiles. “We are going to get there alive. I just know it. I have good karma.”

If Jessica Biel seems to live a charmed personal life (rumors of breakups notwithstanding), she hasn’t had such great luck in her career. Not long after we arrive at our hotel, we meet for dinner at the restaurant downstairs. Biel shows up wearing black Frye motorcycle boots, dark-blue jeans that look like leggings, a loose black scoop-neck T-shirt, a droopy red Steven Alan cardigan, and a chunky white Chanel watch. Once again, she winds up in the driver’s seat, engaging our waitress on the wine list and then talking me into ordering a Gewürztraminer. At one point she asks the waitress about the halibut. “Is it still in season? Is it nice?” It’s really nice, says the waitress perfunctorily. “I don’t know if I believe you,” Biel says to her in the most startling, matter-of-fact way. “Talk to me more about it.” The waitress admirably rises to the challenge. Finally convinced, Biel orders the dish (and cleans her plate).

The conversation quickly settles on her vexed post-TV career, which goes like this: ill-conceived remake of famous horror film; tragic Bret Easton Ellis adaptation; even more tragic Kim Basinger vehicle; meaningless third installment of Blade franchise; terrible movie; terrible movie . . . The Illusionist! Starring Edward Norton and Paul Giamatti, it is easily the best film Biel has been in. Though it was not a commercial hit, it is a pleasure to watch, and Biel is believable as a Viennese woman from the turn of the last century. “A lot of times people I work with have said, ‘Oh, this movie is going to be the one,’ and then nothing happens. But with The Illusionist I felt it more than ever, that people really started to see me differently.”

And then there is Biel’s run of bad luck with great directors. Cameron Crowe cast her in Elizabethtown, a film that flopped on a grand scale, and David O. Russell gave her the lead in Nailed, based on Kristin Gore’s novel Sammy’s Hill, about a woman with no health insurance who gets a nail lodged in her head and goes to Washington to fight for justice. “Jess was tired of being cast as merely sultry and was more than ready to throw down for all the weird behavior a nail in the head gives her character,” says Russell. “She auditioned and went for it—she is fearless.” Gore (Al’s daughter), who co-wrote the screenplay with Russell, spent three months with Biel on the set in South Carolina. “I think her range is something that has yet to be discovered by the larger world,” she says. “She also has this preternatural self-assurance.” The production shut down because of money problems with just one thing left to shoot: the scene where Biel gets the nail shot into her head. That was in 2008, and with each passing month it grows ever less likely that her most challenging film work to date will make it to the screen.

Meanwhile, the film industry has gone through a major upheaval since the recession. “The last year in this business has been harsh,” says Biel. “There’s no material. Nobody wants to make dramas. And that’s what we all want to do.” What is getting produced, she says, are “commercial movies—horror movies, big romantic comedies, and action movies. Those can be great, but you don’t want to do only those kinds of films. You can’t live on éclairs alone. You have to have a spinach salad every now and again.”

For now, however, she gorges on éclairs. This month she stars in Valentine’s Day, an ensemble romantic comedy, directed by Garry Marshall, that features a galaxy of A-list stars: Julia Roberts, Jamie Foxx, Anne Hathaway, Jennifer Garner, Patrick Dempsey, and so on. Biel plays a neurotic sports publicist and toxic bachelorette. “I really get to play crazy,” she says gleefully. “A girl who has hit the wall with wanting to find a man. And I get to do some broad comedy; it’s a little Lucille Ball-esque.” And who better than Garry Marshall to direct her? “She was so eager to do physical comedy, in particular, because she knew I worked with Lucy and with my sister on Laverne & Shirley,” Marshall says. “She sings a wild song in the movie; it’s kind of down-and-dirty singing, and it’s really great.”

Biel and Garner became friends on the shoot. “She’s incredibly girly and warm and open—all of the things she seems to buck against when she’s looking at roles,” says Garner. “The first scene that I did with her, she was drunk in the scene. It’s hard to play drunk, not to overdo it. But she did it in such a subtle, real, kind of pathetic but very, very deeply funny way. I was, take one, totally impressed.”

The dearth of good material has pushed Biel to diversify her portfolio, so to speak. Last August, she was cast alongside Brian Stokes Mitchell when the Los Angeles Philharmonic did a three-night concert version of Guys and Dolls at the Hollywood Bowl. Biel took everyone by surprise with what director Richard Jay-Alexander described as her beautiful, “silvery” singing voice. On the last night, she received a rousing standing ovation from 17,000 people. More recently, she landed a part in Lincoln Center Theater’s two-week-long workshop of the musical version of the Pedro Almodóvar classic Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, along with Salma Hayek, who plays the lead. “I think they are going to put it up in the fall,” she says hopefully. “And I think they will approach me again.” A girl can dream, can’t she? As far as Garner is concerned, Biel should: “There’s nothing between her and bigger things except for one job.”

The next morning we wake up to discover that the snow has turned to rain. By the time we arrive at the base of the mountain, there is only one gondola running, and the line stretches all the way through the village. Deflated, we decide to eat breakfast in a honky-tonk saloon that reeks of last night’s beer. Amid the German techno music, the Madonna/Justin Timberlake song “4 Minutes” suddenly blasts over the sound system, and we stare down at our plates awkwardly. Biel looks up at me with a big smile on her face and punctures the silence: “Dance break!” (We had another awkward moment in the car during our drive when Biel was talking about her style. “I like really überfeminine, classic-looking things mixed with something rougher around the edges. I’ve been looking at Rihanna a lot, checking her out. She’s got something going on that I am sort of craving a little bit.” I nearly choked on my trail mix. I could not tell whether this was a Freudian slip, some worrisome Single White Female voodoo, or a calculated little piece of spin designed to show me that she is unthreatened by the rumors that her man has eyes for the diva from Barbados.)

Biel and Timberlake have been an item since 2007 and for a long time looked like a happy couple. Recently, however, they have had to endure all manner of tabloid speculation about their private lives. Biel recently laughed off the rumors to a reporter, saying, “It’s definitely been weird and sort of bizarre to deal with. But you have to have a sense of humor about the whole thing. Honestly, I look at a magazine and they know more than I do.” Last night at dinner I brought it up and was met with steely resolve. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “I don’t feel the need to clear anything up. It’s the most precious thing that I have in my life, and I care about it so much that I don’t care about what anyone says or thinks. I have just not addressed it in any real way, and I’m not going to. It’s mine. And I really like that about it.”

There is something refreshing about a girl with boundaries, someone who has her priorities in order despite the relentlessness of the tabloids and the strangeness of doing drills in some warehouse far away from her own life. And if there is a sense that potentially great things await Jessica Biel—that she has not yet shown us who she is and what she is capable of—it’s hard not to wonder what exactly is holding her back.

One possible answer came up during our dinner, when we were talking about her va-va-voom image—so at odds with how she really is. “When I see myself in pictures with makeup on, even to this day, I think it looks weird. My eyes get squintier and smaller. On the red carpet, I’m playing a character. As soon as I get off that thing I think, Oof, wipe that gloss off. I’m wiping and wiping and pulling my hair out and trying to change my outfit. I’m immediately trying to get comfortable. It’s really a part I play.”

One wonders why she can’t just play herself. In person she projects such a winning and natural beauty. As Jennifer Garner puts it, “She’s not just beautiful, she’s kind of on another level, but there’s an earthiness and a strength to it.” Too much makeup and the wrong dress seem to smother all that, and it’s a disconnect that clearly extends to the roles she chooses.

We eventually make our way up the mountain, and above 1,200 feet, it is snowing: The skiing is sublime. Not surprisingly, Biel is both goofy and confident on her snowboard. Afterward, we head back to the hotel lounge; her assistant, Lindsay, joins us, and Biel orders an old-fashioned. At one point someone took a picture of her on the slopes and she said to me, “Smile for Biel.” Now she explains: “My grandmother, whom we call Biel, thinks it’s very unbecoming of me not to smile for the paparazzi. So every time I see them I think, Smile for Biel!”

This is a reminder of why Jessica Biel is so grounded: Her family keeps her that way. When I point this out, she says, “I might just be way too boring to ever be a really great actress.” Great actresses can live boring lives, I say. It’s great stars who kick dust up everywhere they go.

“I don’t do that,” says Biel. “Maybe I should do a little bit more of that.” She laughs at the thought. “A dust kicker-upper might be kind of fun. . . .”

Lindsay pipes up: “Think of your life if you were like that, though. I would probably hate you. Your boyfriend probably wouldn’t be that into you. You’d be a big bitch.” But it’s clear that Lindsay thinks the world of her boss. “If you met her at a barbecue, you would never know that she was a movie star,” she says. “To her friends, Jess is the most compassionate, caring, kind, loving, wonderful human being that they know.”

“See?” says Biel. “Nothing that interesting!”

[yessadirichards]

Emma Stone wows Venice as sex-mad reanimated corpse

VENICE

With Emma Stone as a sexually voracious reanimated corpse in "Poor Things" and Wes Anderson presenting his take on Roald Dahl, the Venice Film Festival was taken on some wild rides on Friday.

"Poor Things", a hilarious and strongly feminist reworking of Frankenstein, was labelled an "instant classic" by critics.

As Bella, a woman brought back to life with an infant's brain by a mad scientist (played Willem Defoe), it features some of the most explicit sex ever seen in an A-list Hollywood film as her naive character discovers -- and very much enjoys -- her sexuality.

Stone was unable to attend the festival due to the ongoing actors strike in Hollywood, but director Yorgos Lanthimos said she fully embraced the role.

"The character has no shame and Emma had to have no shame about her body, nudity, engaging in those scenes. She understood that right away," he told reporters.

But he said an intimacy coordinator proved very useful.

"In the beginning (they) felt a little threatening to most filmmakers but I think it's like everything: if you work with a good person, it's great and you realise you actually need them," Lanthimos said.

The film brilliantly skewers the way men try and fail to control the innocent Bella -- triggering bursts of spontaneous applause and riotous laughter from the audience in Venice.

Lanthimos is known for visually ingenious and pitch-black comedies, but goes even further here with a steampunk vision of 19th century Europe and surreal touches like the duck-goat and pig-dog that roam the scientist's home.

His previous film "The Favourite", also starring Stone, won the Jury Prize in Venice in 2018 and best actress for Olivia Colman, paving the way to her Oscar triumph.

"Poor Things" is an early favourite among 23 movies competing for the top prize, the Golden Lion, to be awarded on September 9.

The Guardian had one of several five-star reviews and said Stone gives "a hilarious, beyond-next-level performance", while Total Film called it a "funny, sad, bawdy, beautiful concoction that will haunt and provoke in equal measure."

Meanwhile, another indie darling, Wes Anderson, was feted in Venice with a lifetime achievement award and presented "The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar", a 40-minute film based on a short story by beloved children's author Roald Dahl.

The highly theatrical tale is one of four Dahl adaptations the whimsical director has made for Netflix featuring Benedict Cumberbatch, Ben Kingsley and Ralph Fiennes.

The director, who previously adapted Dahl's "Fantastic Mr Fox", said he was strongly against moves to alter the author's books, which have seen words like "fat" and "crazy" removed for "sensitivity" reasons.

"No one who is not an author should be modifying someone's book," Anderson told reporters.

He added: "I understand the motivation for it, but I'm in the school where, when the piece is finished... the audience participates in it, we know it, so when it's done, it's done."

Also premiering on Friday was "The Promised Land" starring Mads Mikkelsen, described by The Hollywood Reporter as a "gripping historical epic" about a low-born soldier seeking to better himself.

Mikkelsen was able to attend the festival for the Danish film, but Venice has lost out on several star appearances due to the actor and writer strike in Hollywood, which is primarily over pay and the potential threat of AI.

Still to come in Venice are new movies by Sofia Coppola ("Priscilla" about Elvis Presley's wife) and David Fincher ("The Killer" starring Michael Fassbender and Tilda Swinton).

There are also out-of-competition premieres for controversial directors Woody Allen ("Coup de Chance") and Roman Polanski ("The Palace").

[jaylaxies]

CAN'T YOU SEE ME?

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader (ft. mingyu from svt)

GENRE/CW: smut, the reader is three years older than heeseung, protected sex, slight cunnilingus and fingering, childhood friends to lovers, angst, fluff, mentions of cheating, mentions of nicknames, mentions of food/eating, mentions of jake, i'm sorry mingyu </3 lmk if i missed something!

WC: 11k words

SYNOPSIS: lee heeseung first met you when he was four. to him, you were the epitome of an angel, the one who was selflessly available for the bambi eyed boy. at the age of ten, he learned that he liked you, wanting you to be his babysitter and no one else. he knew what he felt for you was love by the time you were in your third year of college, him being determined to confess soon, also entering the college as a freshman. but will he be able to win your heart with the entry of your newfound boyfriend?

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi, sweethearts <33 this one is for all the hee noonas out there! it turned out longer than intended aaa i really hope you enjoy reading it! all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated, it keeps me motivated! :3 iloveyou guys, happy reading~ <33

As a seven-year-old, going to school was the most fascinating part of your day, even more so when you got to observe and take in the scenery outside, your curious mind trying to record the weather patterns and asking your teacher about why it changed as per the course of time.

It was a given at how proud your parents were to see your zeal to understand and learn whatever intrigued your mind, their wide smiles while you asked them questions was enough to prove that. Albeit, they did find themselves speechless at certain times, not having the answer with them.

Although, you were genuinely confused to see a big truck parked near the premises of your house as your school bus dropped you back home. The surroundings were scattered with different boxes of all sizes scattered around the front lawn of your neighbouring house, a few strangers carrying those boxes inside.

Your eyes skimmed to your mother, who was gracefully laughing at something another woman had said, you had never seen her before though. At that very moment, you decided you liked that woman for making your mom smile carelessly and you greeted her by bowing down, introducing yourself with a smile that reached your eyes.

“Aren't you a little angel?” the lady smiled at you, taking your small hands and shaking them.

While most adults didn't bother with kids, you were more than ecstatic to have met someone who was keen to know about your hobbies, your mother watching fondly as you replied to her questions with enthusiasm.

Your lips soon turned into a frown as you saw a little figure standing behind Lee, and you gasped when he let out a whine to get her attention, not expecting any noise of such sort. Your mother cooed gently, striking up a conversation with Mrs. Lee again as you observed the boy in front of you.

You weren't sure what intrigued you about him so much. Maybe it was the fact that he had pretty big eyes and a small face with puffed-up cheeks. Adding to that, he held a bambie plushie in his hands — surprisingly resembling his face.

“Won't you introduce yourself, sweetie?” Mrs. Lee asked the little boy, who finally broke eye contact with you to nod at his mother with a gulp.

With his hands outstretched, he spoke up in a sweet voice, “I am Lee Heeseung and I am four.”

At that very instant, the wind blew softly, messing his hair up, which he patted hurriedly before stretching his hand again. His curious eyes fixated on you once more. He looked like a porcelain doll to you with his delicate frame.

You gently held his hand, telling him your name, which he repeated after you in an experimental manner, getting the pronunciation right on the second time with a nod, causing you to clap in delight at the little ball of sunshine.

“Mom look! He looks like Bambi!” you squealed and he looked around, confused at your sudden comment and his lip quivered, thinking that you called him the name of an animal in a funny manner.

Soon, his big eyes were filled with tears as he held on to his mother's leg, complaining that you called him a Bambi.

Never in your life had you been in a situation like this, leaving you clueless as the little boy sniffled in front of you, his mother bending down to wipe his cheeks, which were stained red with his crying.

“I'm sorry—” you softly fiddled with your fingers, feeling guilty for making him cry.

“Oh no, sweetheart! You were just complimenting his eyes, right?” his mother spoke up and you nodded. She gave you a reassuring smile and you noticed how her eyes looked exactly like Heeseung's.

She turned towards the crying boy again, “Did you hear that, Heeseung? She called your eyes pretty! Won't you say thank you to her?”

“She d—didn't make fun of me?” he softly inquired, clutching his plushie tighter.

“Of course not! She said that you have beautiful eyes!” her words made him turn to you.

“I—Thank you,” he softly whispered, tugging on your dress which made you bend down with caution.

He softly pressed his lips on your cheek in a feather-light kiss.

His ministrations made you giggle, and he learned that the situation was back to okay, so he followed your actions and showed you his adorable smile, eyelashes still wet from his crying session earlier.

That concluded your first meeting with Lee Heeseung, an angelic boy who was too sensitive around new people, however, he opened up to you in record time and wished to show you all his toys. Your name was his favourite word to say out loud and he sweetly waited for you to come back from school each day in hopes of playing with you.

To say you were his favourite person to play with would be an understatement, he went as far as giving you the Bambi plushie when he saw your face sporting a sad frown once you had come back from school.

Little Heeseung adored your existence.

You saw him grow up from a four-year-old to a ten-year-old. He was taller and talked a lot more, he didn't carry his plushies around anymore and most importantly, he loved causing trouble.

He had always gotten what he had asked for, kept like a spoiled Bambi prince. And the prince wanted no one else but you to babysit him. Mr and Mrs Lee were both busy in their own fields, business trips being a common venture for them.

However, leaving Heeseung alone was never an option for them. Taking him along wasn't one either with his constant demands and the need for attention, that wasn't something his parents could afford to take care of in the middle of their meetings. Neither was he too keen on the idea of having a complete stranger as his babysitter.

Which left them with his last resort — you.

Ten-year-old Heeseung was the epitome of a good boy when it concerned you, and that made your job of babysitting myriads easier, especially when you got a good amount of cash for it, which you tucked away in your savings safely.

“He's a spawn of satan!” the other babysitter had said, the one who gave up trying to feed him.

“He is?” you asked slowly, “But he's always been so quiet and understanding.”

Which was partially correct since he was on his best behaviour around you.

The babysitter just shook her head, “He threatened to not eat at first and when he got hungry, he took the matter into his own hands and proceeded to open the fridge. In conclusion, it was a disaster.” the sixteen-year-old explained and you wondered if Heeseung was capable of doing so.

Nevertheless, you nodded with a smile and took house keys from her, making your way to his house with your backpack to do homework in the meantime. You didn't understand what the babysitter had said, for, Heeseung happily sat at the dining table and ate his food without a spot of mess around him.

“Hey, Bambi!” you happily spoke up and he smiled when he saw you at his place, patting his hair once you ruffled it before sitting with him.

He told you all about his school stories and secrets, you heard it all attentively and helped him with his homework whilst you were doing your own alongside.

“You know Jake?” he asked, and you nodded with the memory of him mentioning his classmate.

“He likes a girl! Isn't that gross?” he scrunched his nose while solving the math problem in front of him.

“Why is that gross?” you inquired, a small smile on your face as you heard him talk.

“Is it not?” he questioned, tilting his head.

His family loved him, they really did. They were busy individuals still and hence, Heeseung was usually left alone, which is also why he didn't like meeting new people since either. He was curious about everything and somehow believed that you'll be the answer to all his questions.

“It is cute, don't you think? If you like someone then you share all your happiness and sadness with them! It's a happy feeling!” that's all you could tell the ten-year-old, not having faced such a situation before but that's what you had gathered from movies and books to date.

“Oh, it's fine if Jake is happy then,” he muttered, eliciting a laugh out of you.

“Can we have ice cream before mom comes back? Please?” his eyes shone and you pinched his cheek.

You were never the one to go out of your way and break the rules, especially when his mom had strict rules for him, including the one which stated that he will get his share of ice cream only once a week.

His big eyes pleaded in silence and you gave up, it was almost like taking care of your younger sibling as you didn't have any. You swore his eyes lit up at the seraphic treat, jumping with joy when he tasted it for the first time, kissing your knuckles right after as a gesture to say thank you.

Heeseung was perfectly fine to be around which further made you question if the babysitter just wanted a way to get an off for the day. He held your hand the entire walk, it was habitual since he always held his mom's hand, he finished his ice cream while explaining how to play the newest video game his parents got him last week, stating it was the coolest thing ever.

His mother was elated to see him silently reading his course book, sitting alongside you in harmony. She called you her lifesaver and you only shook your head, embarrassed at her usual sense of politeness as she gave you a little box of cookies which she picked up while coming back home, saying good night to you but was stopped.

Heeseung ran towards the door and hugged your taller frame, whining about you having to leave just when he was going to show you his video game and you promised that you'll give him your undivided attention the next time you come over.

“You can stay here for the night! Your house is next to ours anyways!” he proposed.

“I'll be back, yeah?” you sadly said, not having it in you to reject his offer, however, you did have to go back. His whine was loud as you closed the door behind him, chuckling at his usual antics.

That was the day Lee Heeseung had confirmed that you made him happy.

Even his diary was aware of the fact that at the ripe or age of fifteen, both your families had made a plan to go for a day out, the location being an amusement park. It was hard for him to not see you each day since you did spend the majority of your childhood with him. Being eighteen, you were devoted to entrances and college hunting, trying to stay close to your family by opting for the university nearby.

He had been so used to being near you, for, you were always there for him when his parents weren't, as a babysitter, as a friend, and as someone who made him happy.

You always accompanied him while walking back home from school, he treated you with dinners when you were asked to keep a watch on him. Nothing ever changed, he was still that kid who craved your attention.

Seeing you dressed up all pretty was enough to capture his attention for the day, following you around for every ride and activity you had wanted to do for the day as your parents sat down at a restaurant after a few rides themselves, leaving you alone with him.

“So,” he spoke up, voice deeper with the onset of puberty.

You had to look up at how tall he had gotten and you still remember the four-year-old Hee who cried in front of you, the fond memory tugging your lips up.

“So?” you repeated, getting your boba from the stall nearby and getting him his favourite ice cream, who you had memorized by now.

“College soon, huh?

Your eyes gleam and you nod, “I can't wait!”

“Why? Don't you like it here?” he asked with a tinge of hope that you'll stay.

You bit your lip, taking a sip of your boba before laughing softly, “I'm not going anywhere, I got into the HYBE University—”

You weren't even finished with your confession yet and were tackled into a hug, almost making your drink fall off with how close Heeseung held you, “Fuck, I thought you were going to leave!” he spoke up and you smacked his arm.

“Language!”

His actions might have been perceived as goofy for you. However, deep down, he was scared to lose you, the three-year age gap only added to his list of concerns. He knew that whatever he felt for you was something only restricted to you, a giddy feeling he didn't feel around anyone else but you.

An additional aspect that he had been afraid of would be your perception of him. He wondered if you had always ever seen him as a sibling figure, he had wished for it to be something more. Unlike the stupid protagonists in the romance novels — that's what he called them, he was aware of the feelings he harboured for you.

You ruffled his hair, an action which had become your habit now, his hugs always gave you a sense of comfort, something that you happily accepted.

“You look happy,” you pointed it out.

“Well, I wouldn't exactly be happy if my best friend leaves me alone here,” he explained, calling you a friend was the farthest he could go, but he would never refer to you as a sister, ever.

You raised your brow at that statement, “Best friend? What happened to Jake?” you teased lowly.

“You know what I mean!” he rolled his eyes, smiling at the laugh that bloomed out of you. “What are you looking forward to then?” his inquiry made you think for a second, sitting down on the closest bench before you proceed to answer.

“It's going to be a wholly new experience, a refreshing setting maybe? And I'm looking forward to new friendships, and a chance at more, I guess?” you shyly spoke up.

“A boyfriend you mean?” he deadpanned.

He wasn't very keen on knowing your desires anymore, you were never the one to talk about your love life, catching him off guard with your sudden revelation. You craned your head towards him, not noticing the switch in his tone despite the irritation being clear on his face.

“If I get the chance to have one then, yeah?” you smiled and he returned it, but it didn't reach his eyes.

His mood was sour till you got back home, the further plans included your dinner together. It wasn't silent, your parents had a lot to talk about the current political issues, which left you to stay mum and consume your food quietly. Heeseung didn't utter a word throughout the meal, he was deep in thought about something and you furrowed your brows when you saw him mindlessly playing with food.

“A penny for your thoughts?” you broke his session of overthinking ways to not let you get into a relationship, he didn't have any ideas still.

With the conclusion of dinner, your parents had left to sit in the living room, continuing with their discussions from before, leaving you with Heeseung to clear up the table.

“It's nothing.” He dismissed you in a beat.

“Are you sure?” you slowly asked, he was never the one to keep stuff to himself.

You weren't ready for his next action, he wasn't sure how he got enough courage to do so either.

His smirk was cocky as he bent down to your height, his face in close proximity to yours.

“Aw, are you worried about me?” his works were filled with sarcasm.

“Of course! I care for you.” your words were genuine, fingers wrapping around his arm while your eyes bored into his deep brown ones, heart beating faster at the propinquity.

His strong persona faltered at your sincerity, his body automatically engulfing you in a warm hug where he held you with utmost softness. You held him for as long as it took for him to feel okay again without any question, that being the reason why that particular day was counted as one of his favourite days — because your words paired with the look in your eyes told him that deep inside, maybe, just maybe, you held at least a tinge of love for him as he did for you.

Spending time with you was a luxury for him, considering your ever-so-busy schedule, since you had started college. Nevertheless, making time for him was something you were bound to do, the usual movie nights helping you take your mind off the undulated stress you had been harbouring.

One thing Heeseung learned while growing up was that he was more creatively inclined than anything else, studies didn't intrigue him, it was something he was obliged to do, which was great since the guitar was his newfound obsession. Another activity he started to impress you but fell in love with it gradually.

Heeseung took care of you the entirety of your first year in university. Whether it consisted of taking you out for your favourite food or simply accompanying you to the park for a breather, he was present with you at all times.

“You must be cold,” he whispered, fog leaving his mouth as you both wandered around the streets on a winter day.

You turned your head to get a clear sight of him, hair messy and eyes filled with worry, you couldn't believe he was seventeen already, cursing time for passing by this quickly. His nose had turned red with the chilly wind blowing outside and—

“Hey, are you okay?” he snapped you out of your daydream. Blinking twice, you looked down, embarrassed to realize that you were staring at him unconsciously.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” your smile wasn't convincing when you were, indeed, freezing.

Soon, you were wrapped in the warmth of his coat, his scent invading your senses, but you couldn't let him freeze out there.

Instead, you held his hand while dragging him towards the nearest convenience store. He followed you wordlessly, eyes focused on your figure covered with his coat and the sight of his hands in yours, even the cold couldn't stop how warm his heart felt with this setting, even more so when you asked him to sit down, getting his favourite ramen noodles ready and passing it to him.

“You know me so well,” he fondly stated, eyeing the drink you got for him alongside.

“Of course I do! I've been your babysitter for so long!” you spoke up, teasing him, knowing well enough how he doesn't like to be babied anymore.

“God, I'm not a baby anymore!”

The shy blush on the apple of his cheeks said otherwise, which you pinched and he swore even the minute gesture gave him butterflies, especially when you laughed at his flustered state, genuinely content while spending time with him.

“How's college?” he asked.

In all honesty, he wanted to know if you were romantically interested in someone at the college, with your other experiences too, of course.

You fiddled with your fingers for a second, biting your lip before turning to answer, “The usual, assignments are a bother. But yeah! We found this cute cafe nearby and the food was to die for! I'll take you there someday.”

His heartbeat fastened as you initiated the plan to take him out someday. He was definitely getting ahead of himself but he didn't mind it a bit. You could pay him a sliver of attention and that would be enough to send him into a state of frenzy.

And over the span of a year, he noticed you being happier each time you met, which only fuelled his desire to do more, anything to make your happiness tenfold.

Eventually, your daily meet-ups were reduced to weekly and soon, even less. You last properly spent time together on his eighteenth birthday, mostly reminiscing about everything you've done together, all his childhood albums had your pictures, at least one if not more. He was overjoyed to hear that you took a day off just to spend his special day with him, and you knew that you'd do it again in a heartbeat.

But, since then, he'd been indulging himself in studies, “I need to get into a good college as well,” he had stated. You admired how hard he worked. You frowned when he kept ignoring your pleas to know what college he had selected. It only made you wonder if the said boy wanted to travel overseas and study abroad, he would get into a good college with how diligently he worked throughout his last year at school.

However, it didn't stay on your mind for long when you finally caught the attention of the guy who you had been eyeing the first year. Kim Mingyu, the heartthrob, girls (and guys) swooned over him, and you were one of them, you couldn't blame them because Kim Mingyu was an eye candy with a smile that could make anyone crane their necks just to have a glimpse of him.

You were no exception. The expected part in this ordeal would be that he noticed you, and not just in a friendly advancing manner. It was last year when he first learned your name, attention on you when you wore your little skirt to a party where your friend dragged you along. You hated every bit of it, feeling as if it was a mistake that you even agreed to this, until Mingyu came along.

It was a pleasant night, you both sat on the balcony and talked for a few hours. Soon, he found himself around you more, until he finally kissed you very recently, approaching you with a proposal to be his girlfriend. As a twenty-one-year-old who had never been kissed, it felt like something straight out of a fairytale. And he kept you occupied for a good time, not letting intrusive thoughts bother you further.

“So you applied for the same college as her?” Jake asked with an amused smirk.

“Yeah, it's a great college and I had to work my ass off for it, but yes,” Heeseung spoke up, acting nonchalant.

It was a surprise for you, the sole reason why he didn't tell you before even when you asked him with the most adorable pout he had ever seen.

“Dude, you are so whipped!” he laughed at his best friend.

“What do you mean?” Heeseung furrowed his brows, however, his pink ear tips did nothing to hide his feelings.

“What I mean is that, you've been in love with her since forever,” he stated proudly, “And you are not good at hiding it, mate.”

“Since when do you know?” he sighed, hiding his blushing face behind his palm.

“Since you came to me telling me that it's not gross to like a girl, because your babysitter said so.”

Heeseung freely laughed at that. But Jake was right, he had always admired you ever since he was a child, it only bloomed and he only realized that he was in love with you at the age of sixteen.

He swore you grew prettier each time he saw you, as if he was in a trance and he couldn't stop his eyes from fixating on your lips when you talked. He wanted to kiss you.

“Will you tell her you got in?” Jake asked.

“I—yeah, I'm going to her place right after this to show her my acceptance letter,” he smiled softly, knowing that you'd jump and engulf him in a hug right after he breaks the news to you.

Although, what he didn't expect to see was you opening the door with your lipstick smudged and breathing rigged, “Hey, Hee! Did you want something?” you sweetly asked.

A deep voice resounded from inside before Heeseung even got the chance to reply, “Baby, who's there?”

Heeseung felt his heart breaking as a stranger came into view, opening the door fully to reveal a tall guy right behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as you softly giggled.

“Mingyu, meet Heeseung!” you introduced him and he extended his arm out, Hee couldn't help but notice how his muscles flexed with each movement, veins protruding from his arm.

“Hee, this is my boyfriend.” your words were shy, however, you felt something unsettling in the air.

He gulped while introducing himself with a shakey breath, it was like it whole world came crumbling down with how fondly you looked at the guy, he was everything Heeseung wasn't. Naturally, he couldn't stop the tears brimming up his eyes.

“I—I'll come back some o—other time, I'm sorry if I disturbed you—” he swiftly said, leaving your place and sprinting towards his home.

“Heeseung—” you called out his name, concerned and ready to follow him but were stopped.

“Let the kid go, you can meet him later,” Mingyu whispered, kissing your neck again.

You nodded half-heartedly, noticing an envelope on the ground which you picked up before closing the door.

Heeseung knew you weren't his, but that didn't stop him from loving you all this time, he was so sure that it could have worked out after his constant efforts, he couldn't fathom you had a boyfriend and you didn't even bother telling him, did he mean so little to you?

“Fuck,” he cursed the timing, angry tears streaming down his cheeks, his knees giving up as he struggled to hold himself up, curling into a ball and crying into his arms.

“Why can't you see me, y/n?” he whispered, yearning.

Your mind was in a state of anguish after Mingyu left. Opening the letter was the first thing you did in his absence, slightly tearing up at the acceptance letter which Heeseung left on the ground. That's why he was working so hard. That's why he had been keeping his college from you. He wanted to surprise you.

He had come to you with that very motive, and you successfully drove him away.

“Oh Hee,” you softly whispered, making your way to his place, the wind slightly cold as it hit your bare arms which caused you to shiver. You rang the doorbell, hugging yourself while waiting.

You didn't get any reply.

With a sigh, you rang the bell again in hopes of getting an answer, your hand clutching the letter tighter.

After a few minutes of silence, you felt like giving up would be the best option for the night, wondering if he went to bed already, or maybe he went out to meet a friend.

Heeseung stood by his window, watching your drooped figure walking back to your place, eyes teary and he refrained himself to call out your name — he needed time to let this settle in.

You weren't his.

Another doorbell snapped him out of his trance. It wasn't you, but some delivery guy. Heeseung was sure that he had not ordered anything, he took the parcel with a questioning gaze. The delivery man was kind enough to tell him that the order was prepaid and he disappeared soon after handing it over.

The delicious scent of his favourite dish filled his nostrils as soon as he opened up the package, paired with his favourite drink. The sight made him choke up a sob.

No one knew about this except for you.

“Why do you give me hope, y/n?” he whispered to himself, chewing the food softly, cheeks red with how much he had cried in the past few hours.

Nevertheless, he was thankful for your gesture, at least for the night.

He knew that letting his feelings go would be the best idea. However, the idea of leaving you in the hands of a complete stranger, the one he didn't trust a bit was something he couldn't do.

With his thoughts running wild and his head bursting from the headache, he drifted off to the dreamland with the image of you in his mind.

Lee Heeseung was good at maintaining his distance, staying over at Jake's place to prevent running into you at times. You hadn't talked to him ever since that night, and it was killing you inside. You tried to tell Mingyu about this and he brushed it off saying how he's going through puberty right now.

With that being said, you never mentioned Heeseung in front of him, the sentence pissed you off but you stayed mum, not wanting to start an argument.

You did see Heeseung once, calling out his name. His speed was faster though, he got into the car and drove away even before you fully came out in the verandah.

That made you upset beyond words. You were clueless, unable to understand the sudden change in his behaviour, a frown plastered on your face for the rest of the day.

The only place he couldn't avoid you at was the college. It had been three days since Heeseung's semester had started and you failed to see him in all those days. Day four was definitely on your side as you watched the tall boy giggling and talking to some girl, who you assumed was also a fresher.

It seemed like you were the only one he was ignoring. With a gulp and shake of your head, you strided towards him, holding your tote bag tighter before you tapped on his shoulder.

He turned around, his smile dropping in an instant, turning into a frown as he told the girl to go on and that he'll join her in the classroom. You flinched unconsciously when he raised his brows at you.

“Uhm you have a girlfriend already?” you cringed at your choice of words. Way to start the conversation.

He rolled his eyes, taking a step back but you were quick to hold on to his arm, “I'm sorry, please just give me a second.”

You felt small under his gaze, he looked angry. Or disappointed. You weren't sure.

On the other hand, Heeseung was doing his best to not give in, his heart beating erratically when he saw you, your scent filling up his nose, which made him want to hold you.

“Congratulations for getting into the college, Hee! I knew you could do it.” you smiled softly.

“Ah, thanks.” his reply was short, so you proceeded to ask him what you had initially came to inquire.

“Why—” you stopped, taking in a shaky breath, “Why are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?”

He looked down, not being able to bear the look of hurt on your face. Thankfully, he got an excuse to escape.

“Oh look, your boyfriend is coming over,” he said, rolling his eyes and leaving.

Mingyu caught up to you soon, pecking your lips in an instant. Heeseung saw that, and what he felt was a lot worse than what he had expected.

He knew that Mingyu wasn't the one to be trusted. Heeseung was never the kind to judge someone on the basis of their looks. Mingyu was an exception — his fuckboy persona was too strong to ignore, and you were blinded by his charms. It was a hunch at first until he witnessed it with his own eyes.

Heeseung was leaving after his last class for the day, making his way towards the parking lot only to see Mingyu with a girl that wasn't you. They were close, too close and the faint sound of giggling made him see red. He sat down in the car, hitting the wheel.

“Can't you see, y/n? He's just gonna hurt you.” he hoped that somehow you could have seen him, heard him.

Going to Jake was the best option for him at given moment.

“Dude, you have to tell her,” he spoke softly, seeing his friend in distress.

“How? I can't even talk to her without wanting to kiss her, I feel like crying whenever I see her.” his voice came out strained.

“So you're gonna let that asshole hurt her?” Jake's question was blunt as he blinked impassively and he could only shake his head as a no.

He sat unmoving, letting his friend knock some sense into his brain, “Okay, I need a day or two to actually talk to her. I don't think she'll even want to talk to me after how I treated her today.”

“You have to be fast with your apology then. Quit being a kid and get your girl.”

Heeseung groaned, ear tips getting red at the mention of you being his girl, “Not mine—” he started and Jake raised his brows, “—yet.”

With a newfound motivation, he got back home. Not expecting anyone to be standing in front of his place, especially since his parents were out on their business trips, again.

All his confidence went down the drain when he squinted his eyes, getting out of his car to your shivering figure.

You went over to him as quick as you could muster, not giving him a chance to escape. This was too much, you had never felt this alone in your entirety of life. You tried to remind yourself that you had a boyfriend you can go to whenever you wish to seek comfort, but that wasn't the case either since Mingyu informed you about his plans with someone else.

It should have been fine, normal even. It wasn't the case — you cried, holding yourself in hopes of feeling better. You wished you had Heeseung with you then.

You hugged him, voice coming out muffled, “Please don't ignore me, I'll do everything to make it right again, Hee. Please—please just tell me what I did?” you looked at him.

His eyes widened slightly when he noticed that yours were slightly puffed up and red. He couldn't tell you, not right now.

“Why do you care?” he regretted his words as soon as they came out of his mouth. He wasn't supposed to say that.

“What do you mean?” you asked weakly.

“You have a boyfriend to go to,” he hated where this conversation was heading.

“Why do you keep bringing him up, what did he even do?” you were frustrated.

“You say you care about me and don't even bother telling me about getting a boyfriend? Trust me, y/n, he will hurt you.”

You stepped back, the feeling of anger coursing down your veins, “You don't even know him.”

“I know enough.” he replied in a beat, leaving you alone outside to cry.

His own tears slip out once he gets into the comfort of his home, confused about why he made it even harder for you both.

You tried to conceal your disappointment when Mingyu cancelled your date plans the very next day, you didn't bother asking him for a reason, simply saying that you understand. Which left you alone with your intrusive thoughts all over your mind.

You rushed to open the door as the doorbell rang, followed by the shout of your name and you knew it was Heeseung, you'd recognise his voice anywhere.

“Hee,” you whispered, seeing the boy in front of you, his hair was messed up and it clearly showed that he brushed them with just his fingers, eyes going down to his hands which held a small packet of your favourite chips.

“I'm—” he gulped, looking anywhere but at you, “—I've been an ass to you, I'm so fucking sorry, please don't be angry—” he stopped as soon as you threw your hands around his neck, pulling him in a hug, a year escaping your eye which you wiped without him noticing.

“How can I ever be mad at you?” your question made him melt, he felt safe in your arms, hold tightening as he whispered another sorry.

“Are we okay?” he asked cautiously, you hummed softly, his touch bringing a sense of comfort to your mind and body.

“Is everything alright?” you asked after a moment of silence as you both sat down on your bed.

“Y—yeah, I had some personal problems,” he confessed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” your hand itched to hold his.

“I think I'll be fine in a few days,” you nodded, understanding that he didn't wish to talk about it.

“But, what did you mean when you said that Mingyu will hurt me?” you asked, playing with your fingers.

He wasn't sure if it was the right time to tell you, especially when you looked so small and vulnerable in front of him. He called out your name slowly.

“I—I saw him with another girl yesterday.”

You looked at him with a confused face, “Was she tall with long hair?” you asked.

“Yeah, you know her?” he asked, eyes widening.

“She's a close friend of Mingyu. I was bothered at first, but Gyu assured me that it's nothing of that sort, just friendship,” you explained.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, flabbergasted at your native behaviour, at how easily you trusted your said boyfriend. The action luckily went unnoticed by you.

“Hey! You wanna go out?” he asked, switching the conversation and you let out a genuine laugh after god knows how long, his smile mirroring yours.

“Where do we go?” you asked, reaching to stroke his hair as a habit.

The answer, however, was just his smile.

It was as if you had enabled his sudden desire to explore every part of the city — which he had wanted to do from long, he just needed a bit of company for his rendezvous.

And you were here to provide him with just that. Heeseung wasn't accustomed to you having a boyfriend, but he did all he could to spend time with you, it was easy considering how Mingyu was always busy, cancelling the plans with you.

It wasn't a thing to be happy about, seeing the look on your face angered him, but that gave him the opportunity to be the one you'd spend your time with, and maybe, just maybe, you'd realize that he is the one you should be with and not some guy who doesn't bother taking out a few hours of his day to spend them with his girlfriend.

Safe to say, Heeseung never brought up Mingyu's name in front of you, not when he wanted your undivided attention all for himself.

He didn't do anything fancy at first, calling you over his place, letting you sit in between his legs while he went over the controls of the new game he had just purchased, teaching you how to play it. What he didn't know was that your heartbeat was just as fast as his own, the skin touching as he held your hand with the controller, and each move of his sent tingles down your spine.

You knew it wasn't normal for you to be feeling this way, ignorance was the key for you. However, you weren't sure how long it would work, especially when you got into a little argument with Mingyu.

“So you're on talking terms with the kid again?” he was amused, drinking his can of beer when you told him about what you've been up to, since he had been too busy this whole time.

“He's not a kid.” you huffed, “Where were you, it's been a week since I last saw you?” your voice held some sort of sadness.

“Honestly, I wanted to come over but Hoshi came over and dragged me to parties since he was in the town for a week. Sorry, baby.” he came closer, wrapping his arms around you and you couldn't help but notice that they didn't even give you a sliver of comfort that Heeseung provided you with just his existence.

You didn't let him kiss you, excusing yourself as your mom called you right on time, letting you know that she'll be extending her stay at your grandmother's place for a few more weeks. With that, you felt sulky for the whole day. It was crystal clear that Mingyu wasn't as invested in the relationship as he claimed he'd be when he first asked you out.

Walking home was easier while you contemplated your decisions, it was even effortless when you saw the bambi-eyed boy waiting for you outside, you knew you had to come to a conclusion soon.

So simply, you called Mingyu while waving at the smiling boy, he picked up the call after three rings. You inquired if he was sure about your date tomorrow, and he paused for a few seconds, seemingly to come up with an excuse.

“Y/n, I'm so sorry but can we shift it to—”

You scoffed, cutting the call short to save his excuses. Mingyu was never an option, it had always been someone else and you admit that you'd been too blind to see it. With a smile, you approached Hee, pulling him in a hug.

“You look happy,” he smiled, tucking your head under his chin.

“I am happy,” you truthfully admitted out loud and somehow, he could feel that your statement was related to him, making his heart flutter.

“Well, that's a great thing because we're going out,” he announced, ruffling your hair the exact way you did to him out of habit.

“Wait, right now? Where?” you asked, taking a look at your watch which displayed exact nine.

“You'll see, c'mon.” he took your hand as of it was the most natural thing to do, guiding you to his car and your eyes widened, you had never sat with him driving and he sensed your hesitance, pouting a bit, “What is that look for? I'm a great driver!” he huffed out.

“I trust you on that, Hee,” you spoke, your mind trying to comprehend how fast you both grew up, seeing Hee in the driver's seat was mesmerizing, his eyes fixated on the road, lip slightly bitten with concentration and fingers gripping the steering wheel in an attractive manner.

You hoped he didn't pay attention to your eyes practically analyzing his every movement, although he knew exactly what you were up to.

One thought gave rise to the other and soon, you were playing with your rings while looking outside mindlessly, thinking about the things you had to take care of in the upcoming days.

“Your thoughts are loud,” he spoke gently, hand coming down to rest on your thigh in a soft caress, almost like an urge to ask you what you had been thinking about.

“I—I'm sorry,” your face contorting into a wince mixed with a hint of awe.

Heeseung had been good at reading you ever since he was a child, he used to watch you come home from school while he was just four, waiting for you to come home. He'd simply get chocolates for you on the days you looked tired — getting them from his personal goodies stash which he shared with no one else but you.

He had been a darling from the very first day you met him.

“Let's get your mind off things,” he spoke up, parking the car and rushed to your side, opening the door for you.

He sure knew how to lift your spirits up, your lips curling up at the sight of a clean, empty beach wrapped around a blanket of the starry night sky. You walked forward, hair swaying with the light breeze, the rich scent of sand and water filling up your senses.

While you absorbed the view in front of you, Heeseung took this opportunity to get a good look at you. It was hard for him to look elsewhere when you were the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on, he saw your smile and he but his own. It wasn't a foreign feeling for him, but it still scared him to know that you weren't his.

His train of thoughts broke as you held on to his wrist, dragging him closer to the water, feeling the sand on your feet with each step you took and before you knew it, he was chasing you while you ran with the softest giggle.

The old couple passing by the scene smiled fondly when Heeseung caught you in his arms, “Young love,” they spoke with shiny eyes, happy to be witnessing something so pure.

You weren't sad you got caught, in fact, you'll always wish for Heeseung to be the one who catches you.

To Heeseung, you were nothing less than a dream, a happy bundle of joy as you comfortably laid down next to him on the sand, courtesy of the picnic blanket he had kept in the back of his car.

“You see that?” he points at the star which shines the brightest in the sky.

You nod, turning your head to see his face right after.

“That's you.” his hand then shifted to point at the star right next to it, “And next to your star, that's me.”

He turned his head to see you already looking at him. His eyes held all the stars this universe had to offer, skin shining under the moonlight.

You wanted to kiss him.

Your eyes flicked back to see a shooting star, immediately sitting up at the sight.

“Hee! Look, a shooting star!” you cried in delight, never having seen it in real life.

“Quick! Make a wish.” you closed your eyes, joining your hands.

Heeseung followed your actions, making a wish of his own.

“What did you wish for, Bambi?” you asked him softly.

“Well, that's a secret,” he grinned sheepishly, “What did you wish for, y/n?”

You scoffed, “That's a secret.” he pouted again.

You continue to stare at him, eyebrows cocked up until he burst into giggles.

And just like that, the night ended with you both wishing to have each other.

You wasted no time in getting to Mingyu's place the next morning, it was the fastest you had ever driven, the talk being important this time.

“Mingyu, we need to talk.”

He said your name out loud, confusion lacing his voice.

“I—I don't think it's gonna work between us.” your words were clear.

“So you want to break up?” he rolled his eyes with an accusatory tone, continuing further, “Why? Finally running back to that kid?”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you spend all your time with him. Does he fuck you that good?”

“Mingyu, you're crossing the line,” you warned him.

He laughed, “Why? Did I lie? You spend all your time with him anyways, and that kid never once called you noona, always acts like he's the one who's your boyfriend.”

“You're not my boyfriend anymore.” you stepped back, the place too suffocating for you.

“This is exactly why I cheated on you,” he admitted smugly, seeing you pause and stare at him with disbelief. You walked back, grabbing his collar.

“You know what? You're right, he's a million times better than you'll ever be.” your tone was low.

Before he could react, you punched him straight on the jaw, and a slight cut appeared on his cheek as he stumbled back with pain, “And you deserve that.”

You had never been this strongly disgusted with anyone else, tears welling up in your eyes as you sat down and drove back to your place, vision blurry and hands shaky.

It didn't feel real.

You'd admit that Mingyu wasn't that close to you, it was a fairy new relationship of three months but you'd never condone cheating. Adding to it, the false accusations regarding you and Heeseung, that was your breaking point, your blood boiling as you recalled the whole scene from a few minutes back.

With a teary face, you locked the car, getting into the comfort of your home at once, letting out a loud sob as you leaned against the door. You weren't sure if the reason for your crying was because you wasted your time on an asshole or the fact that you could have potentially spent that time with Heeseung instead.

He had warned you.

“Y/n! Open up!” the doorbell rang, Heeseung's voice following the sound.

Weakly standing up, you opened the door for him, his face falling at the sight of you. Red eyes and shaking figure. He wordlessly got in, closing the door and wrapping his arms around you, carrying you towards the couch as you sobbed into his shoulder, his hand caressing your back.

He sat down with you on his lap, “Hey, tell me what's wrong,” his worried voice made you frown, lip quivering as he put his finger under your chin, his Bambi eyes meeting yours.

“Hee—” you took a shaky breath, “I broke up with him.”

His eyes widened, a mini celebration happening inside him but that wasn't the thing that worried him, your crying state was something he had never witnessed before, especially when you were gasping for air so much.

“Shh, it's okay. I came as soon as I saw you from the window. Would you tell me what happened, angel?” the nickname would have made you smile had the situation been different.

“I went to his place, I couldn't be with him anymore, n—not when I liked someone else.” your words made him wonder if you were talking about him, that statement got his hopes up.

“And then he accused me of cheating. It would have been fine, but then he dragged you into this mess and admitted that he cheated just because he fucking thought that I did it,” you ranted, angry tears leaving your eyes.

Heeseung tightened his grip on your waist, “He what?” his voice was awfully low, giving you shivers.

His eyes weren't the usual soft ones, you could see how he was holding back a lot of words but you managed to hear a few faint sentences saying, “Fuck, I'll kill that asshole.”

You held on to him tighter, grabbing his attention, “He's the most stupid man to have ever let go of you I swear,” he whispered, kissing your temple, “Baby,” he made you look at him, your heart fluttering now that you had stopped crying, “You're safe here, I won't let anyone hurt you, yeah?” you nodded slowly, his words wrapping you in a protective blanket of comfort, the kind that only Lee Heeseung could provide.

He didn't leave your side for the whole day, ordered your favourite food and made sure you ate well, you noticed how he was a lot more affectionate, kissing your cheek, similar to how he used to do as kids. You felt shy around him.

The only thing that kept bugging the said boy was that he wanted to know what you meant when you said you liked someone else. He had your favourite food memorized, he made sure to place the order for your favourite chocolates and everything else you would need for your comfort.

You were beyond grateful, although you also wished to tell him that he was the only person you needed, and nothing more. You stare at him as he helps you with your night routine, insisting on applying moisturizer on your face. It's hard to focus on anything else but his breath fanning your face, summoning all the willpower you have to not kiss his pouty lips.

“You're taking care of me as if I'm the baby here,” you teased lightly.

“You've taken care of me your whole life, it's about time you rest and let me take care of you, y/n.” his tone was authoritative, a hint of teasing laced it.

“I see you're a big boy now,” you laughed softly and he came closer.

“Bigger than you think,” he spoke near the shell of your ear, your eyes widening at the sexual undertone, which left as soon as you saw a goofy smile adorning his face. Maybe he didn't mean it that way. You gulped, cheeks heating up as he cupped your cheeks.

“Feel better?”

“Hm, sorry you had to see me like this, Hee,” you smiled sadly.

“Hey, I'm here for you. Always.”

“Will you—” you licked your lips, looking away, “—stay the night? I mean, of course, you don't have to do it but yeah I still wanted to ask for the sake of—” he found your rambling cute, praying that you don't see how blush crept up his neck.

“I will.” he caressed your cheek, “You deserve the whole world,” he cooed at your smiley face, taking in your drowsy appearance.

“Come, let's get you to bed.”

He too settled in, getting his sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt for the night. He was staying with you after all.

“Hee?” you called out his name, the room dark and perfect for you to sleep in, his hand holding yours as your bodies maintained a fair distance for the sake of your sanity.

He hummed at the sound of his name.

“Why don't you call me noona?” your question threw him off guard as you remembered what Mingyu had said. It was true that Heeseung had never addressed you as noona before despite having a solid three years of age gap.

He turned towards you, watching your figure as his eyes adjusted to the dim environment of your room, his body still processing your scent on the pillows and the warmth of your body radiating close to him.

“I don't see you as a noona.” your eyebrows cocked up at that.

“What do you see me as then?” you whispered, asking him the question slowly so as to not disturb the peace in your room.

“Can't tell you just yet,” he mumbled. He wanted to tell you, he just didn't want to pressure you with his feelings right when you got out of a relationship, a relationship which didn't end well. “Why, do you wanna be called noona?”

“No!” you said in a beat.

“Are you sure?” you were sure his eyebrows were wiggling with this question.

“Heeseung—” you started but were pulled into his chest, your back against his chest as you let out a strangled gasp. His grip only got stronger as he whispered near your neck, tickling you in the process, “Sleep, noona.”

Only you knew how grateful you were for the lights being off, preventing the Bambi boy from seeing you smile like a maniac at the name. It wasn't a strange feeling anymore, it being pretty evident that you were crushing on a guy who was younger than you.

And you didn't regret it for a second.

It was afternoon when you woke up, the bed being empty and you wondered where Heeseung had gone, a tiny frown settling on your face.

You wanted to see his face the first thing in the morning.

Regardless, you got up and got yourself cleaned, getting into the shower to get rid of the bitter memories from yesterday. The shower was one of the places where you let your imagination run wild, pondering about a certain Lee Heeseung as you applied your favourite lychee body wash on your loofah, scrubbing your body gently — which again reminded you of how gentle he was while touching your face yesterday, how possessively he held you the whole night, as if you were his favourite soft toy to cuddle.

You wondered if that's what being with him would feel like, that if he'd accept you despite the age gap.

With a sigh, you got out of the shower, opting to wear your comfiest pair of shorts and a t-shirt, striding towards the kitchen to fend for your hungry self, only to find the tall boy making his way into your home, your eyes sparkling at the sight of him.

“Where did you go?” you lamented, and he held up a box of your favourite assorted doughnuts, making you gasp. Although it was the least of your worries when you noticed his bruising knuckles.

“How—” you asked, holding his hand and inspecting the wound, eyes widening at the blood.

He bit his lip, looking elsewhere before replying, “I might have paid a little visit to Mingyu,” you blinked one, and twice, making him sit on the couch and grabbing your first-aid kid from the kitchen, softly cleaning it with cotton and alcohol.

He hissed with pain, “Shh. Relax, baby.” he stilled at the name, gulping down the urge to pull you in his lap and smash his lips onto yours, confessing right after. He successfully refrained from doing so.

You cradled his face in your hands, “You don't need to hurt yourself for me, Hee,” you whispered.

“I'd do it a million times if it means that you'll be okay.” he pulled you in his lap, your hand holding on to his shoulder for support.

“Don't say that,” your voice came out breathy, heart beating out of your chest with how earnest his stare was.

“Why not?” his voice came out equally low, head tilting at the question.

“Because, then I won't be able to stop myself anymore.” your eyes settle on his lips, which were slightly parted.

“Stop yourself—from what?” he asked with a pensive expression, his body being hyper-aware of everything. The scent of your perfume took over his mind, a damn smile curling up his lips as if he had figured out what your answer was.

“From—” you averted your eyes, his finger under your chin making you look into his eyes again, closer than before, the tip of your noses almost brushing.

“From?” he urged softly.

“From kissing you,” you admitted with equal gentleness, cheeks on fire while you waited for him to speak something, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach.

“You don't have to stop.” he spoke after a second of silence.

“What—” your question is answered by his lips being pressed against yours in a feather-light kiss.

You had never been kissed like this before, soft, tender and full of what you'd call ‘love’, his big hand cupping your cheek, caressing it with the pad of his thumb, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, while you held on to his shoulder, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

Your foreheads touch when you finally break apart from your kiss, your eyes boring into his, “So when you talked about liking another guy yesterday—”

“—that was you.” you confirmed, and his smile grew wider, a soft laugh escaping him before he pulled you into his embrace and yet another kiss.

“Fuck, I've wanted you for so long,” he confessed, giggling at your widened eyes.

“How long?” you genuinely asked.

“Ever since you called me Bambi when I was four,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Did you ever think about me being older than you then?” you snuggled deeper into his hold, asking him the question that had bothering you from long.

“It doesn't matter, it never mattered. I just want you, y/n. I tried to get over you when you got a boyfriend but I couldn't, I didn't want to.”

And that's when you knew you wanted him for life.

“I'm sorry you had to wait for so long, baby.”

“You're worth the wait,” he smiled and hid your face in his neck.

He grunts in surprise, feeling your soft brush against his neck, your name leaving his mouth in a manner which sent a shiver down your spine. “Fuck, sorry,” you panicked, not wanting him to feel uncomfortable around you.

“No, oh god no, I want you, y/n.” he spoke, placing a kiss on your temple, “I just, am trying to refrain myself from doing something cause you just came out of a relationship.”

“Hee, you don't have to stop, I'm yours.”

“Yeah? All mine?”

“All yours, baby.” you giggled, shifting to get comfortable as you two lie down, exchanging kisses with giggles and soft smiles.

“This feels like a dream,” he breathed out.

“Does that mean you see me in your dreams often?” you teased.

He huffed, “Of course I do!”

You tilted your head with curiosity, “Oh? What do you dream about?”

He pulled you flesh against his chest, whispering in your ear, “Making love to you.”

With one smile, he ran away with you chasing him, flustered with the sudden revelation. He pinned you against the wall as soon as you entered your bedroom.

“Hey,” he smiled.

“Hey,” you bit your lower lip.

His arm winded around your waist tighter as he softly helped you lie down on your bed, kissing the shell of your ear, “Let me make love to you, noona.”

Oh, you were fucked.

How could you say no to him, especially when he requests for it ever so softy, doe eyes staring into your own eyes, searching for any hint of discomfort or hesitance.

You blink out of your reverie, whispering out a soft yes, gasping when he places the softest kisses on your clavicle, fingers intertwined with yours as he whispers your name, “Tell me if it gets too much for you,” he whispered in the expanse of your skin.

The gentle kisses down your throat to your chest do nothing to stop soft sighs from leaving your mouth. “So pretty,” he had called you pretty a lot of times, but it never once felt like this.

He made you feel pretty.

Each touch felt like a sensation of appreciation towards your body, each kiss delivering unsaid confessions out loud.

His name rolled off your tongue effortlessly, tightening your hold on his fingers, never wanting to let go of him. He gently tugged at the corner of your t-shirt, glancing at you, asking wordlessly and you nod as he helped you up slightly to remove the piece of clothing. He gulped, seeing you bare in front of him, you helpfully removing your bra for him.

“I could stare at you the whole day.”

He worshipped every inch of you, caressing your waist as he started sucking on your tits, back arching with ecstasy, “you sound so pretty, noona,” he rubs his nose against yours, your heartbeat rising as he rubbed your thighs in a gentle caress, squeezing it right after.

You whine, tugging on his t-shirt, and he immediately got rid of it as you pulled him in, lips on his neck while he continued to touch every inch of you.

“Please, Hee—” you whispered, fingers holding on to his nape as you felt wetness pooling in your panties.

He didn't wait for a second to undress you fully, him doing the same as he followed your gaze, your eyes fixated on his torso, wanting to kiss him all over. You rubbed your hands on his faint abs, his hard-on pressing on your inner thighs, “Wanna taste you,” he whispered and you closed your eyes, overwhelmed when his lips touched your wet core, licking your slit while the tip of his nose brushed against your clit, making you squirm around.

He hummed at the taste of you, head spiralling at the sight of you being so vulnerable in front of him, heart full at the sight of your trust in him, he only licked more, pecking your inner thighs and inserting a finger to prep you for him.

“Such sweet noises. You're doing so good, baby.”

His words calmed you, your eyes never leaving his as he looked at you, lips coated with your juices.

“Can't wait more,” you gasped out his name.

“Fuck, I won't last long if you keep calling my name like that,” he got up, and you whined at the loss of contact.

You told him where you kept the condom, him hurriedly getting one and putting it on as you watched the boy fondly despite the heated feeling you had down your core.

He pumped his cock a few times before, he positioned himself in front of you, tip prodding your entrance, coming in contact with your wetness.

“Tell me you want it.” his forehead rested against yours.

“Want you, so much.”

He pulled you in a deep kiss, pushing himself inside, groaning into your mouth at the feeling of your warm walls wrapping around him so well.

You squirm with the stretch, toes curled with how thick he was, adjusting to his size as you wrapped your legs around his torso, asking him to continue.

His thrusts were languid and deep, successful in eliciting breathy moans out of you, swearing that it was the prettiest sound he had ever heard.

“So perfect,” you spoke, nibbling on his lower lip.

The feeling was intimate and something along the lines of what you'd consider as perfect. Soft giggles leaving your mouth as you got lost in the essence of each other, faint touches everywhere, lips red and slightly swollen with your kissing sessions, heart full and warm.

He made you weak in the knees.

His hair bounced as he continued to thrust into you, sloppier than before as he felt his orgasm building up, he knew you were close with how your legs shook slightly, his soft pad of thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

“Hee, I'm close,” you sighed and he kissed your cheek.

“I know, baby. You did so well, cum for me now.” he urged gently, pressing his lips to take in all your moans as you reached your state of euphoria, him twitching a couple of times before he filled up the condom too, embracing you as he stayed inside for a while. Both of you breathing deeply, holding on to each other.

“I love you.”

You opened your eyes, only to see him smiling at you, staring at you with nothing but adoration.

Instead of answering, you asked him a question.

“What did you wish for on the shooting star?” your voice was low.

“You.” his cheeks were red, and you smiled.

You had never been so sure of anything else in life and you had to voice it out. His eyes tearing up at your confession when you said—

“I'm in love with you, Heeseung.”

And you knew you would love him for the entirety of your life.

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[wkemeup]

Eclipse

summary: When a mission leaves you empty and broken, Bucky is determined to heal the wounds that linger deeper than the cuts on the surface.  pairing: bucky x reader word count: 8.4k warnings: canon level violence, hurt!reader, PTSD, dissociative episode, nightmares, a rapid switch from sweet/fluffy to pain, angst with a happy ending 

An eclipse finds its home in the darkness Thriving as it suffocates the sun and shadows her light In its passage she lays in wait Waiting— for the moon to give way and grant her morning

Bucky thinks he’s found heaven when he lays with you under the cover of thin, linen sheets; the soft, white of the fabric touching over curves and edges of exposed bodies, peaks and dips, like snowcaps nestled upon the crest of mountaintops. Lying flushed with heat, hearts beating a little faster, breaths a little labored, Bucky reaches out and traces the lines of your face.  

The tip of his finger brushes over your nose, slips down along your jaw, touches the sun kissed stream of light against your cheek as it seeps in through the sheet thrown over your heads. You giggle as he pulls you in for a kiss, chaste and sweet, his hand curling into the hairs at the nape of your neck and he tugs you closer. It’s the most beautiful sound in the world, the way you laugh to his lips, muffled in his kiss but still uncontained.  

Hidden under sheets, shared breaths between you in your own little world, Bucky decides he will be content if he stays here forever.

“I won’t be gone long, you know,” you tell him as you press lightly on his chest, just enough to get draw his attention away from the trail of kisses along your cheekbone and down your jawline. He pouts playfully at you, but you soothe your hand along his shoulder, recognizing the shift in energy as his eyes flicker a shade of hesitancy. “I’ll can handle myself.”

“It’s not that,” he replies quietly, voice soft, barely a whisper, as his smile begins to fall. It’s subtle, but you notice.  

“Then what?”

Bucky shrugs, swallowing back the anxiety that begins to pool deep into his stomach every time you leave on assignment. But he pushes out a smile, one you do not question, and he leans in to kiss the button of your nose.  

“I’ll just miss you, is all.”

You grin and it lights up wide across your face. The cast of sunshine behind you as it filters in through the sheets tossed over your body drapes down like a halo, an illumination of an angel, and Bucky commits the image to memory. Stored to a safe place in the back of his mind for the dark nights alone in this room. He’ll find you those moments, even when you’re miles away.  

“You’re a sap, Bucky Barnes,” you laugh, ruffling his hair as you toss the sheet up from over your faces and take in a deep breath of fresh air. It’s brighter in the room than you realized and you squint your eyes, tucking your face to the crook of Bucky’s neck to shield yourself from the sun.  

“Only for you, sweetheart.” He tries to ignore the bright red flicker of the clock beside you as he crawls out from under the safety of the bedsheets, the fantasy fractured by the reminder of your impending assignment; four weeks in a classified location, entirely on your own.  

A smile presses tight to his lips as you steal a glance back at him full of bright eyes and sunshine.

He does his best to swallow the anxiety though it churns like blades through his stomach.  

***

Bucky paces back and forth in his room, stealing looks at his phone as it sits face up on the bedside table. He taps the screen every few seconds, as soon as it dares to fade to black, so he can see your face again; the picture of you laughing behind an ice cream bar melting down your hand. A shimmering red bow and mouse ears on the top of your head from your trip to Disney last spring. He can still smell the melted vanilla and hardened chocolate when he looks at it and he tries hard to focus on the memory, but he knows it’s an excuse to make sure he doesn’t miss your call.

Tap.

Still nothing.

You’ve been gone over a week now and though he does his best to busy himself with time spent sparring with Sam in the gym, running out along the lake behind the compound, cleaning the kitchen until the stench of bleach burns up to the floor above him, you’re still at the forefront of his mind.  

He knows you’re safe. He knows that you can protect yourself and that you were capable of solo missions long before Bucky came crash-landing into your life, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying. It doesn’t stop the incessant twitching in his hands as he curls them to fists, doesn’t stop the frantic pacing and the wear he drives into the carpet, doesn’t stop the panic that skips the beat of his heart when it’s two minutes past check-in and you haven’t called.  

“Stop it,” he grumbles to himself, “she’s fine. Stop worrying. She’s fine.”

Another glance back at the phone. Tap-tap on the screen until it lights up with your smile. Nothing.  

Three minutes past check-in.  

He has half a mind to track down Fury himself when suddenly, the phone rings.

A ringtone you’d changed early in your relationship - a synthetic, almost electric, instrumental of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You right when the music starts to pick up and the trumpets are blaring and it throws him straight into overdrive.  

Bucky lunges it at, hands fumbling for the phone but it falls to the floor in his hurry. He hits his shoulder against the edge of the nightstand with a loud thump and collapses down to the carpet as the phone bounces down under the bed.  

“God-fuckin’-- ugh!”

He grips tight to the phone by the chime of ‘I love you, baby!’ and quickly brings it to his ear. He’s out of breath but he stills himself, takes a moment before he says anything and he hopes his voice is calmer than the rush in his chest.  

“Hi.”  

You snicker on the other end of the line and he knows in an instant he’s been busted. “Thought I told you not to wait by the phone, Buck.”

“I wasn’t.” A full faced lie. He grimaces as it comes out.  

“Sure, you weren’t,” you drawl, a laugh tucked sweetly into the hum of your voice.  

Bucky can hear floorboards squeaking faintly through the speaker between your breaths. Old wood, the whistle of the wind in the distance; a motel built in the early sixties with poor insulation and cracking foundations. He wonders where you are or if the image of you pacing amongst faded shades of burnt orange and green curtains, of once brightly colored comforters and pealing wallpaper only exists in his imagination.  

“You okay?” he asks first because he needs the confirmation. Despite hearing the even tones in your breath, the sweet laughter in your voice, he needs to hear you say it.  

“Always am, honey,” you respond lightly and Bucky lets himself take in a deep breath before you add, “I miss you though. It’s awfully cold here and I could really use a super soldier to keep me warm.”

It makes him smile; the first one that pushes up into his cheeks without force since you left. God, he misses you.  

“Don’t go calling Steve now, okay?” he teases, the anxiety draining from his body in gentle waves, cast out by the flow of ocean water through his bloodstream in the sound of your voice and the image of your smile as you tug your lower lip between your teeth.  

“Never. I prefer my men one-armed and dangerous.”

Bucky laughs as he sinks down further onto the floor, the carpet rubbing against his tailbone though he doesn’t mind. He’s grinning, listening to the sound of your voice as you tell him about how much you’re craving popcorn and chocolate chip movie nights and he feels like you’re sitting right next to him. He can see the creases in your smile, the lines by your eyes, the faint markings of old scars on your skin. He hears your voice and it reminds him of home.  

“It’s beautiful here, Buck,” you sigh and he wonders if you’re staring out a window to mountains or ocean or tundra. “I wish you could see it.”

“Where is ‘here’ again?”

You giggle and—God—it's the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, even crackled and broken through the speakers of an old satellite phone miles away. “Nice try, baby.”  

The timer on his watch starts to ding and his heart clenches.  

“Time’s up, huh?” you whine playfully, but he can hear the disappointment in your voice. It’s never long enough, these three minutes that Steve allows for you, but he’ll take seconds if he can get them. Just long enough to calm his nerves, to give you the motivation to keep going on your own, without the possibility of the call being traced.  

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs, clenching at his hand. He brushes closed knuckles against his forehead, presses deep into his temples because he can already feel the pit in his stomach forming again. “Stay safe, alright? Come home to me.”

He pictures your smile, the soft edges and the curve of your lips.  

“Always do, don’t I?”

You do. He knows this.  

But his mind is cruel and it wonders when the day will come when you won’t.

***

“I’ll raise a Kit-Kat,” Bucky concedes nearly two weeks later with a tired huff, tossing a chocolate bar to the center of the table to accompany a handful of M&M’s and mini-Twix. It knocks over Natasha’s carefully constructed tower of Milkyways and she shoots him a warning glare.  

To his right, Sam snickers under his breath, a laugh too confident for a man with a dwindling stash of chocolate in front of him to the mountain sitting beside Natasha. He hides his face behind the fan of cards, but Bucky can still see the crease in his brow, the pinch of lines together at the center that tell him Sam is bluffing. Natasha is as stone cold as he would expect and he has no interest in challenging her resolve, so he decides to weed out Wilson first.  

“When’s your girl getting back, Barnes? Think you might need her around to console you after I obliterate your snack drawer,” Sam taunts, changing the subject abruptly. Another tell of his.

“End of the week, I think,” Bucky replies with a shrug, playing it off casually because he knows Sam is trying to throw him off his game.  

“As if you aren't counting down the seconds.” Natasha scoffs, a smirk pushing at pursed lips.  

“You're an absolute goner for her, you know that don’t you?” Sam says as he pushes a few more M&M’s to the center. Brightly colored pile at the center and he plops one from his own stash into his mouth.  

Bucky, meanwhile, chews on the inside of his cheek, avoiding Sam’s wandering eyes because he knows it’s true. You’ve only been together a little under a year, but he’s spent twice that loving you from a careful distance, just out of fingertip’s reach until he’d come back from a mission with one too many bullet wounds in his body and he couldn’t take the tension between you anymore.  

He could still picture the smile on your face as he told you, the way your eyes lit up and you jumped into his arms; IV drips and wires to machines and all. The press of warm lips to his cheek, his temples, his nose, his mouth. Sun streaming in through the window and casting a halo behind your hair. 

“Yeah, I know.”  

“Atta boy.” Sam nudges Bucky’s arm, grinning wildly.  

They turn to Natasha as she nods in approval before setting her cards down on the table with the kind of look in her eyes that tells Bucky the game was over before it even began. Royal Flush.  

“Not again!” Sam whines, slumping down into his chair.  

“It’s starting to feel cruel playing with the two of you.” Natasha reaches into the center and gathers the mountain of chocolate to drag it towards her towering pile. She starts to unravel a mini-Twix, keeping a taunting eye on Sam as he glares back at her. The chocolate passes behind parted lips and she bites down with a contented hum.  

Sam rolls his eyes. “You owe us drinks, ma’am.” He gestures to his empty glass.

Natasha smirks, conceding easily as she stands to grab their glasses. She turns to Bucky. “You want a refill, Barnes?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

As Natasha makes her way back to the kitchen, Sam sneaks a few M&M’s from her pile and quickly plops them into his mouth with a cautious glance over his shoulder. Bucky begins to shuffle the cards and he can feel the burn of Sam’s stare even before he opens his mouth.  

“What do you want, Wilson?”

“When’s Y/n coming back? For real.”

Bucky glances up. Sam’s arms are stretched out along the backs of the empty chairs beside him. He’s relaxed into his position, chewing on the stolen chocolates as he raises an eyebrow.  

“End of the week... like I said.”

Sam leans in closer. “That a question?”

“No,” Bucky retorts shortly, though Sam clearly isn’t buying it. He exhales a tense breath as he bridges the deck. “She’s supposed to call tonight. Longest stretch without a checkpoint since she left.”

Sam nods. “What about the three minute calls?”

“Last one was four days ago. Same day she checked in with Fury.”

“You worried?”

Bucky slices the deck. Shuffles it for the fifth time. Bridge. Repeat. “Course not. I’m sure she’s fine. I’m not worried at all.”

“You sure?” Sam chuckles, leaning back into his chair with another quick grab of a few stray green M&M’s.  

“Fuck off, Wilson.”

That gets Sam laughing. He reaches across the table and snatches the cards out of Bucky’s hands before he can shuffle for a seventh time. He flashes Bucky a smile, dimples into his cheeks and all.  

“I’m dealing this round.”

Bucky nods, letting the tension slip easily from his muscles. He pushes out a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

But then, a glass shatters behind him and Bucky jolts up to his feet.  

“Nat? Are you--”

He freezes in an instant, tension burning through him like marble; the full force of a train straight to his chest and knocking the wind from his body, fracturing the stone to pieces around him.  

Natasha stands just a few paces ahead of him, her hands clasped at her mouth in an array of shock and horror, glass shattered at her feet. Ice along wooden floors and the smell of vodka burning into the air.  

Bucky almost doesn’t recognize you. There’s a slump in your shoulders, a far off look in your eye like you can’t quite focus on what’s in front of you, and a knife in your hand that won’t stop shaking.  

But that’s not the worst of it.  

You’re covered in blood. Deep red seeping into your hair, sticking thick and wet to your face and down your neck; trails of it along your cheeks like raindrops against a windowpane. It soaks into what remains of your suit, ripped and torn, exposed skin stained with grim and dirt. You look like something out of a horror movie.  

“Oh God,” Sam mutters out, pulling Bucky from his trance.  

He wants to sprint, wants to scream for help and sound every alarm he can find, but instead, Bucky only manages broken exhale as he slowly walks towards you. He moves with cautious steps, a hand out towards you defensively, like he’s approaching a frightened animal. It’s what you used to do when the line between him and the Soldier blurred, how you’d seek him out amongst the trauma and distortion and bring him back home.  

“Y/n?” he calls gently and finds his voice rough in his throat.  

You don’t respond, don’t even look at him as he stands within a foot of your reach. Nat and Sam are close behind, but they hold their distance.  

“Sweetheart, what happened?” Bucky asks as evenly as he can manage, eyes glancing down over your body in search of injuries. There’s too much blood and he doesn’t know how much of it is your own. He wants to tug you into his arms, tell you that he’s got you, that you’re safe now, but for the first time since Shuri removed the triggers from his head, he’s afraid to touch you.  

Your lips part, a few short blinks of your lashes, and you mumble out, “I came to find you.”

Your voice doesn’t sound like your own. It’s too flat, too void of emotion, and it rips Bucky right to his core. It’s a defense mechanism, he knows that. You’re still in there somewhere, he just needs to get you through this first.  

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he tells you, trying his luck as he sets a hand on your back. You don’t flinch, but you don’t lean into him either. He shares a worried glance with Sam and Natasha before he turns back to you, pushing out a smile. “You did good.”

“How did she get all the way here from the Hanger without anyone stopping her?” Sam questions, eyes trailing over the mess of blood in your wake, footprints following you from the staircase by the elevator.

“She’s covered in blood and God knows what else,” Natasha whispers back. “They were probably afraid of what might happen if they did.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from you, vision tunneling on the mess of blood rooted in your hair and the stains of red on your face, your chest, your hands. Natasha and Sam’s voices become muffled beside him as he slides his hand down your back and gently lays it over your grip, still shaking as you hold onto the heel of the knife as if your fist had molded to stone around it. The tremors stop as he holds your hand.  

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers, impossibly soft that not even Nat or Sam hear him, “I need you to give me the knife, alright? You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

It takes a moment, but your grip on the knife slacks. It falls to Bucky’s palm and he gently guides it out of your reach and hands it over to Natasha. He doesn’t know what happened, but he knows what you’ve done for him when the Soldier has taken over his mind, when he didn’t feel like himself and needed reminded who he was, where the ground was solid under his feet.  

He knows what he needs to do.

“Nat,” he starts, but she’s already a step ahead of him.  

“I’ll go find Steve,” she says, like she can read his mind. “I’ll tell him what happened, see what he knows about her assignment that would have led to this.”

Bucky swallows back the bile in his throat and he nods. “Sam--”

“I’ll sweep the jet, see what I can find,” Sam replies quickly. He sets a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, gives it a slight squeeze, and pushed out a tight-lipped smile. He was your friend long before he was Bucky's. The determination reads in his eyes.  

"Thank you,” Bucky whispers.  

Sam and Natasha disappear down the hallway and then, Bucky is left alone with you. He’s suddenly made aware of how harsh your breathing sounds, like you’re gasping in air through a straw. You stare beyond his shoulders, though he can tell you’re not looking at anything at all. You’re existing. It’s all your mind can cope with.  

“Love?” Bucky calls, willing his voice stronger than it is. “Can you come with me?”

You don’t respond. Bucky clenches his jaw and tries again.  

“I’m going to take you to our room, alright?”  

He thinks it’s better not to present you with choices. It never worked well with him when he got this like; too much stimulation. He knows you’ll resist him if you need to. He slips his hand along your back to guide you towards the bedroom and you take a step as he does.  

You’re limping, he notices, as you cross the threshold into the bedroom. He tries to push his mind away from what caused such an injury, what could have possibly happened to result in the amount of blood drenched over you.  

That’s Sam and Natasha’s job. Bucky’s only concern is you right now, in this moment, bringing you home, making you feel safe. He guides you to the bathroom.  

“I’m going to start the water, okay?” Bucky tells you. You used to do the same for him, telling him what you were doing step by step in an effort to orient him. It grounded him back to his reality, brought him down from the plane of existence above his own head.  

The room starts to fill with steam, enough to fog the mirrors, and Bucky tugs his shirt over his head. He removes his sweatpants, but he resolves to leave his boxers on.  

“Sweetheart?”

You look in his direction and Bucky can’t help the wash of relief as it floods through him. You don’t smile and it’s almost as if you’re looking straight through him, but it’s something. Progress.  

He extends a hand to you, waiting patiently. Though you do not take it, you step a take closer to him, then past him as you walk into the shower fully clothed in your tattered suit. Bucky steps in behind and closes the glass door.

There’s enough room inside that he can stand comfortably behind you as you approach the stream of water. You stare at it for a moment before you reach out and let the water fall over your hand. You watch as the water around the drain begins to turn a dark red.  

“I’m going to wash this off. Is that okay, honey?” Bucky reaches steadily for the loofa behind you, though he pauses as he feels the texture of the sponge: exfoliating mesh. It’ll be too much for you in this state. He resolves for the body wash squeezed into his empty palm.  

“You let me know if you need a break.”  

Still, there’s no response.  

Bucky pushes back the burning lump in his throat and gingerly reaches towards you. He places a soap lathered palm against your shoulder and finds your muscles so tense they could have been made of steel or the vibranium seared into his own arm. You stare at his chest as if you could see through to his heart, maybe beyond that to the shower wall behind him, as he begins to peel the dried blood and grim from your skin.  

The water at his feet becomes muddied and red, the water slipping down your legs tainted by the aftermath of violence laid upon your body. He’s careful to only use his flesh hand as he washes you, something softer and kinder than the harsh touch of metal.  

You start to relax the more he works, your rigid stance easing as the blood cleans from your body. Your suit is still plastered to your skin, ripped and torn and cut open, and Bucky knows he needs to get this off of you. There’s blood behind the fabric, seeped behind the open slashes.  

He thinks of the softest clothes he has to dress you in when you’re clean and dry, something too big for your frame that smelled of fresh laundry or maybe the sweatshirt draped over the chair – the one you liked to wear when he was out on missions because it smelled like him. He just wants you to feel safe, to feel warm and protected.  

But he needs to get you out of this suit first.  

He reaches for the zipper at your chest and the next thing he knows, he’s pressed up against the shower wall, his head pulsing at the impact as you grip tight to his wrist. You’re panting, eyes unfocused at the center of his chest.  

He lets you hold him there. He doesn’t try to resist though he knows with his strength he could easily overpower you.  

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Bucky,” he tries, his voice soft against the fall of water behind you. “I’m not going to hurt you, love.”

You don’t move, but your breaths start to come in a little more even. Your grip falters on his wrist though you don’t let go. His heart feels like it’s shattering inside his chest, stray shards embedding themselves into his stomach, his ribs, his lungs.

“Honey, look at me,” he pleads. “You’re safe now. You’re home. Let me take care of you.”

It takes a moment, but your eyes begin to trail up his collarbone, hesitant sweeps along his neck, his jaw, and then – his eyes. The hard resolve upon your features begins to crumble. Your lip quivers, your hand gripped tight around his wrist slacking in the tremors, tears burn into your eyes and Bucky doesn’t waste a moment before he gathers you into his arms, presses you tight to his chest and encases you against him.  

It's like something finally clicks, a floodgate burst open, because you’re clutching onto him like a lifeline. He can feel the sob as it travels up your spine and shakes your body as you cry. He’s grateful for the mist of the shower that hide his own tears as he rubs gentle circles along your back, easing you the best he can. It’s torture seeing you like this and feeling so powerless to help.  

He doesn’t know how long he stands there with you, but eventually, you stop crying. The exhaustion begins to take hold and your legs begin to shake under you, too weak to hold yourself up.  

“I’m going to take your suit off, okay? You’ll be more comfortable without it,” Bucky says, gesturing to the zipper. You follow his gaze in understanding and then, you nod.  

The suit already clings tight to your skin without the added pressure of the sticky residue of blood drenched into the fabric and the soak of water from the shower. He slides the zipper down to your navel and slowly peels what's left of the sleeves off your shoulders.  

There’s cuts and slashes underneath, wounds where blades had cut through your suit and nicked your skin. They’re superficial, better than they could have been if not for the suit taking the brunt of the attack, but they’re still painful to look at.

Bucky helps you step out of the suit and he leaves it in the corner of the shower. He glances at your underwear and you slide it down your hips without question.  

“Can I wash your hair, honey? Please?”

You nod and Bucky works quickly. You’re starting to shiver as the water loses its heat, so you stand a little closer to him, seeking out his warmth. It removes just an ounce of the boulder sitting upon his chest.  

When he’s finished, the water at the drain is clear again. The fresh scars upon your body and the distant look in your eye the only evidence remaining of what happened.  

Bucky reaches around you to turn off the water. He pulls a towel from the rack and begins to gently pat it over your skin until you’re dry. Then, he scrunches out as much of the water as he can from your hair, before he leaves the towel resting on your shoulders to soak up the rest.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you as he finished drying himself off. “I’m going to go grab some clothes for you.”

He doesn’t even make it a step out of the bathroom before your hand is on his wrist again. He stills, looking back at you. Your eyes fall to the floor.  

Bucky swallows back the burn in his throat as he nods. “Okay. Okay, honey. Can you come with me?”

You nod.  

By the time you’re dressed in a fresh pair of his boxers and the t-shirt he slept in the previous night, you can hardly keep your eyes open. He wonders how long it’s been since you slept, if maybe it was since the evening he spoke to you four days prior. You sway on your feet as Bucky guides you to the bed.  

He lays you down, pulls the covers up to your chest and quickly rushes around to the other side of the bed to crawl in beside you. You come into his arms, curling up against his chest, and Bucky tries to pretend for a moment that this is just another night, that you just returned from a successful mission and there’s a relief in holding you again.

But he can’t shake the crippling dread as it burns into his skin. Even as your breaths fall even and you slack into his arms, Bucky stares up at the ceiling, eyes brimming with tears. He doesn’t sleep at all.  

***

A few hours later, the soft tap of a knock draws Bucky from his trance. He blinks a few times, realizing how long he’d been staring up at the ceiling before he lifts his head and finds Steve peering in through the doorway. There’s a solemn look on his face as his eyes flicker towards you.  

Bucky gently slides out from under you, careful to place a pillow under your arm where you’d been laying upon his chest as not to wake you. The bed rises a little as he stands and he takes a moment to brush the hair from your eyes before he makes his way to the door. When he meets Steve in the hallway, he’s careful to leave the door to the bedroom open a crack, just in case.  

“What did you find?” Bucky asks.

Steve sinks down onto the couch. A hand brushes over his face.  

“That bad?” Bucky can already feel the nausea beginning to take hold.  

“We recovered footage from her last know whereabouts – the safe house in Juno,” Steve says. He leans forward to rest his elbows upon his thighs, staring out into the empty space of the kitchen. He sighs. “She was ambushed, Buck. The feed cut out a few minutes into the fight.”

“Who were they?” Bucky chokes out. His throat is made of sandpaper.  

“We don’t know,” Steve admits, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Mercenaries, probably. Could have been hired in retaliation against SHEILD. Her mission was to identify the point of contact for an illegal arms distributor that was shipping assault rifles into Canada and carrying them over the border. She wasn’t supposed to see any action, Bucky. It was a surveillance op.”  

Bucky doesn’t realize how tight his hands are clenched until he looks down to find puncture marks in the palm of his right hand from where his nails buried into his skin. He thinks of the woman who left him behind that morning, with sun kissed skin and a smile so sweet it made his heart melt, who has barely spoken in the hours since returning home, who’s bright eyes have dimmed into something empty and lost.  

He’s missing something, he’s sure of it. Maybe if he could just see the footage for himself, identify the bad guys, track them down... maybe he’ll be able to fix this. He could bring you back, make you smile again. Killing those men who hurt you will be a small consolation prize for his efforts.  

Bucky is determined as he stands. “I want to see it.”

“Absolutely not,” Steve shoots back. Bucky doesn’t even need to clarify before Steve puts an end to it. “What purpose will that serve, Buck? You don’t need to see the tape, okay? Just trust me on this. I’ve got everyone we have analyzing that video frame by frame. If there’s anything on it to lead us to those assholes, we’ll find it.”

“I have to do something, Steve. I can’t just sit here. Not with her like that...” Bucky glances back at the door to the bedroom. He can’t muster the energy to conjure the image of you standing before him drenched in blood that was not your own, a vacant look in your eyes as if you could see straight through him.  

“She needs you here,” Steve argues, rising to his feet. “What do you think will happen when she wakes up and I’ve gotta tell her you’ve run off on some vengeance mission? That you’ve left her alone to face this by herself?”

“That’s not what I’m doing—”

“Yes, it is!” Steve clenches his jaw as his voice echoes into the hall. It’s quiet for a moment and they listen for the bed to squeak, for any sign that you’re awake, but they’re only met with silence, Steve relaxes again. He takes a step forward and places his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. It startles him for a moment, but he can feel the tension as it melts in his muscles. “Just be here for her, man. When there’s something to know, I’ll tell you.”

Bucky keeps his stare on the thin crack in the door, the moonlight peering in from the window and seeping out into the hallway. He listens for the even breaths as you sleep soundly for the first time in days and he knows Steve is right. He doesn’t know if he could leave you like this even if Steve handed him the direct files of every man who laid a hand on you.  

“I should get back to her,” Bucky resolves, offering Steve as much of a grateful smile as he can manage. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but Steve understands. 

***

It takes days before Bucky can get you to leave the bedroom. He’s only been able to get a few words out of you here and there, short answers to direct questions, and you can’t hold his eye for very long, but he takes it as improvement.  

It’s the small steps.

He remembers you saying that when he was at his worst, when he could barely get himself out of bed, when he could hardly touch you without fear of breaking you in half, when the guilt tore and ate through him unchallenged.

So, every time you lift you head when he speaks, when you glance in his direction, when you nod in answer of a question, when you curl against his side and seek out his warmth – it matters. It’s more than what you were able to do the day before and that has meaning.  

When you finally do venture out into the living room, Bucky is sure to keep a hand on you at all times. Whether it’s wrapped up tightly in your own, pressed gently to the small of your back, resting against your thigh, over your shoulders – it helps to ground you, remind you that he’s there. You start to drift off into yourself otherwise.  

Meanwhile, everyone else is walking on eggshells around you.  

Tony turns out of the room before he can even step foot into the kitchen when he sees the back of your head over the couch. Peter is constantly shoveling food into his mouth to keep from his usual rambling one-sided conversations. Steve is deceptively quiet, constantly glancing in your direction as if he’s just waiting for something to set you off. Even Natasha keeps her distance, which surprises him. She stays in the room but she keeps to the corners, observing, like Steve.  

Sam, on the other hand, was never one for subtleties.  

“Hey kiddo!” Sam throws himself onto the couch beside you, bowl of popcorn in his hand as it jumps up into the air before landing back safely in the bowl.  

You flinch at the sudden intrusion next you and Bucky all but stares daggers into Sam for startling you. Bucky was trying to keep your environment as calm as possible as not to set you off into one of those dissociative states again. It could take hours just to get you to acknowledge his voice after that and Bucky can only take that so many times before he’ll simply crumble.  

“You know what I’ve been dying to watch?” Sam says aloud, as if someone is listening to him. He shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

“Sam, no.” Bucky warns as he pulls you closer to his side. That movie has far too much violence, even for an eighties film. He doesn’t know how you’ll react to it.  

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Sam shoots back. He settles into the couch beside you, grinning as he turns in your direction. “Come on, Y/n. It’s been ages since we’ve watched Indie. I know the first is your favorite anyway.”  

Bucky is all but ready to clock Sam ten ways to Sunday when you mutter out a quiet, “okay” and Bucky stills completely. It's the first time you’ve even acknowledged anyone besides Bucky since you came home. He stares at Sam with wide eyes, but Sam doesn’t seem to be surprised at all.  

Instead, Sam simply sinks into the cushions, turns on the movie he must have already lined up in the queue, and leans the bowl of popcorn in your direction. 

Indiana Jones starts his first trek into the cave in search of the Golden Idol and you reach your hand into the bowl. A few bites of popcorn within the first minutes of the movie and it’s more than Bucky has been able to get you to eat without coercion in days. A whisper of a smile crosses your face as Sam almost chokes on the handful he shoved into his mouth.  

Sam Wilson might be a massive pain in Bucky’s ass, but he’s a damn good friend. He’s the only one who hasn’t treated you like you’ve lost your mind. He gives you a sense of normalcy when the floor has been pulled out from under you.  

For that, Bucky owes him everything.  

***

Bucky finds out a week later that there are no bad guys to track down, no one to enact vengeance on for the trauma they’d put you through. There is a reason you came home covered in blood and grime with barely more than a few superficial scratches on your body.  

You’d killed them all.  

“Are you sure?” Bucky asks Steve, hands planted firmly on the conference table. The night sky is littered in cloud covered stars beyond the windows, crickets chirping in the distance. Bucky stares down at the mug shots of a dozen men now presumed dead.  

“We’re sure.” Steve slowly reaches out to gather the images, sliding them back into the file and out of sight. “We’re still working on who sent them but it was probably the arms dealer she was sent to identify. Fury’s sending out a team in the morning to bring him in.”

“That’s... that’s good.” Bucky doesn’t have the strength for revenge anymore. He’s grown tired of carrying it in his chest, on his shoulders, weighing him down as if sinking him to the trenches of an ocean.  

“How’s she doing?” Steve asks, gesturing towards the doorway as they begin to walk back to the elevator.  

“Better,” Bucky replies honestly.  

He’s even seen you crack a smile a few times watching movies with Sam in the living room, maybe even heard a breath of laughter when Sam dropped an entire bowl of popcorn and threw a fit about it.  

You’re talking to Bucky more, asking questions, starting brief conversations outside of the necessary ‘yes’ and ‘no’s, humming to yourself as you shower with Bucky standing just a few feet away. It’s something. Small steps.

“She’s strong, Buck. She’ll get through this.”

Bucky takes a deep breath as the elevator doors chime open. He presses the button for his floor. “I know. I just hate seeing her like this in the meantime.” The elevator reaches his floor and he waits as the doors begin to part. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Steve nods. “You got it, brother.”

Bucky makes his way down the hall from where he’d left you just a few hours earlier. You’d insisted that you’d be alright on your own while he met with Steve. Sam is still sitting on the couch watching Netflix just a few feet outside the bedroom, leaving a blanket of security in Bucky’s absence. He can hear Sam singing along to the theme song as he passes by.  

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face as he approaches the living room, but a sudden, gut wrenching scream stills him in his tracks.  

Sam jumps up from the couch, popcorn spilling to the carpet and Bucky stares back at the cracked door to the bedroom with wide eyes. He exchanges a glance with Sam and as another scream echoes out into the hall in a broken cry, the two of them rush into the room.  

Bucky shoulders his way through the door, breaking the hinges on the top of the frame as he stumbles his way inside. You’re lying on your stomach, arms clutched under the pillow, sweat dampened sheets kicked off down by your feet. You’re whimpering, tear tracks into the pillowcase and your whole body is trembling.  

“Y/n?” Bucky calls as gently as he can, his voice breaking in the effort. He moves closer to the bed, his hand hovering over your shoulder, almost afraid to touch you. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

You cry out again, face contorting in pain as you press your face into the pillow. 

“I should get Cho,” Sam says behind him, starting to inch towards the door, but Bucky barely hears him as he runs into the hallway.  

“Come on, honey,” Bucky tries again. He sinks down to his knees beside the bed. His heart is stammering in his chest. It’s pounding so loudly he’s sure the whole compound can hear it. He feels the tears burn in his eyes as you start to sob. “You’re safe. You’re alright, love. I’m here with you. I’m here, baby.”

Bucky lets his hand ghost over your shoulder and he barely has a chance to react before you jolt upright and there’s a sudden, stinging sensation across his chest. Your eyes are wide, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. It takes a minute before Bucky sees the hilt of the knife gripped tight in your fist.  

“Bucky?” you gasp. “What are you—Oh my God...”  

The knife drops from your hold as your hands clasp against your mouth. It falls at Bucky’s knees. You’re trying to stifle a sob as it threatens to consume you whole and Bucky tries to reach out for you, but you scramble away from him, fearful eyes staring below his collarbone.

Slowly, Bucky follows your gaze to his chest. There he finds that his shirt is torn in a long, pristine cut. Blood begins to soak into the light grey of the fabric from the open wound underneath. The knife you’d held in your hand bares his blood upon the blade.  

“What have I done?!” you cry, shaking your head as you scurry off of the bed and into the corner of the room. You sink to the floor and Bucky shakes himself of his stupor to rush towards you.  

“I’m alright,” he tries to reassure you, though he knows it’s no use. “Baby, I’m fine. It’s nothing. It’ll heal in a few hours. I’m okay.”

“Oh God, Oh God! No... I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to--” Your words are barely distinguishable, slurring together in your slobs, and you can barely catch your breath. You shake your head, fresh tears streaming on your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m-- I’m so s-sorry. I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Bucky coos. He can feel the itch of a tear as it passes his jawline. “Honey, I need you to breathe for me. Please, let me hold you. I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”

But your eyes are glued to the open sliver of his t-shirt, the blood as it soaks into the cotton, and the slash underneath. It only makes you cry more. Its uncontrollable, like you might pass out if you can’t allow yourself to take in enough air, and Bucky feels like he’s reaching out into a fucking void because there’s nothing he can do for you.  

“Sergeant Barnes,” a stern voice calls suddenly from behind him. Helen Cho stands in the doorway with Sam just beyond her shoulder. She steps into the room, uncapping a syringe. “Hold her down.”  

You’re in hysterics as Bucky pulls you into his arms. You don’t resist as you fall against his chest, but he can feel the unease with which you sit in your own body, like your skin is crawling and you’re caged inside of yourself. He knows the feeling well.  

You barely notice as the needle punctures your neck, heavy head falling to rest against Bucky’s shoulder. He eases his left hand down your spine, hoping the chill of the metal will help soothe you as your breaths become more even and the sobs fall weak and far between.  

“I’ve got you, honey,” he whispers. You start to close your eyes, giving into the sedative. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just rest, love. I’ve got you.”

No one relaxes until it’s clear you’re out cold. Sam lets out a heavy sigh from the doorway, slumping into the arch. Helen sinks onto the floor beside Bucky, tossing the syringe into the disposal bag before she rubs a tired hand over her face.  

Bucky feels like he can hardly breathe. He waits until Helen and Sam retire to their own rooms before he allows the lump in his throat to consume him whole, before the tears on his face mirror the watermarked stains on his shirt. He doesn’t move from the floor until sunrise, unwilling to disturb your sleep.  

***

“I don’t know why you haven’t left me yet.”

The words pass your lips and they puncture straight through Bucky’s chest - like a knife embedded through his skin, nicking over bone and tearing through flesh. He feels sick, a wave of nausea crashing through him as he turns to look at you. 

Your eyes are swollen red, lips chewed raw. It only takes a flicker of your gaze to the long faded pink scar across his chest to know what’s on your mind. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Bucky says firmly. 

You shake your head, unconvinced. “I could have killed you.”

“Don’t you go underestimating me, now,” Bucky teases, lighting his voice despite the burning ache he feels in his chest. He smiles at you but you can hardly meet his eye. 

Your legs are swung over the bedside, hands wringing in your lap, reddening the skin. Your breaths are shaken, lower lip trembling, and he knows you’re trying to hold back tears. He can practically feel the lump building in your throat, suffocating you. 

He sighs, sinking down to his knees in front of you. His hands reach out for your own and you flinch at his touch. It takes a moment before you can remind yourself who’s hands are holding you, who’s love you’re surrounded in, and you relax. 

He thinks of the woman who taught him how to love again, who woke him from a decades long nightmare with the sweet touch of her hand and the adoration in her smile. He conjures the image of you he preserved before you left on your last mission, with sun kissed skin and laughter in your chest, as he stares up at the dark circles under your eyes, the frown upon your lips, the aching claws of shame draining you of the light you possessed. 

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He tips a finger under your chin and guides you to meet his eye. He smiles, softening under your gaze. 

“You hold so much space in your heart for compassion and forgiveness,” Bucky eased, stroking his thumbs gently along the backs of your hands. “You never hesitated once to absolve me of my sins as the Winter Soldier. It didn’t matter how may nights I woke up empty, not knowing where or who I was. It didn’t matter how much I thought I was a burden to you and the team, or whether I deemed myself worthy enough to be loved by you. You were patient with me, kind beyond what I ever believed I could deserve. Can you not reserve some of that for yourself, too?”

He watches the sob creep up your spine before it breaks. There’s little more either of you can say and he resides to holding you in his arms, caged protectively against his chest where not even the demons lurking in the back of your mind can find you. 

He knows, eventually, you’ll be okay. You taught him that. Even when the tunnel was its darkest, when he could barely see beyond the tips of his fingers, and the sun was cast over in shadows -- you showed him that as long as he kept walking, he’d find the light again. 

***

“Come on, Y/n, what is the matter with you?”

Bucky hears you grumbling to yourself in the kitchen. He wipes the trail of sweat off his face from his morning run as he approaches the island covered in stray dollops of pancake batter, bottles of maple syrup, and mixing bowls. He smiles as he leans against the counter, waiting for you to notice him.  

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet,” you groan, catching Bucky out of the corner of your eye as you dump a plate full of burnt pancakes into the sink. Your hair a little out of sorts, a bead of sweat dripping down your temple. It’s almost endearing if it wasn’t for how fast your heart was beating. Bucky could hear it down the hall.  

“Missed you.” He shrugs casually, testing a smirk and you started to smile in return; all shy and sweet and full of the woman he adores. He glances to the mess in the kitchen and the smoke piling on the ceiling. “What happened here?”

“Pancakes aren’t my strongest suit.”

Bucky laughs at that. “I can see that.”

You sigh, scratching at the back of your neck. “I just wanted to do something nice for you, Bucky.”

Bucky can feel his heart sinking but he holds the smile to his face. “You do a thousand nice things for me all the time. Just being here is enough for me, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean,” you say under your breath, eyes falling to the floor by his feet. “After everything I put you through since that awful mission-”

“Hey, hey -- Don’t do that.” Bucky crosses the kitchen and places his hands gingerly on your cheeks, guiding your eyes back to his. “You didn’t do anything wrong; you hear me? You survived. You’re still surviving and I’m just... I’m so proud of you, Y/n.”

You part your lips to say more, to argue against him, but it dies on your tongue as Bucky smiles at you as if you hung the moon and the stars and every damn  

“You don’t need to bring me coffee in the morning,” Bucky says before he presses a kiss to your forehead, “or bribe Stark into making new tech for my arm,” then a kiss to your nose, “or make me burnt pancakes to thank me for loving you through this.”  

He pauses as he pulls back. You’re watching him with an expression somewhere between awe and relief, but it’s the warmth of your smile that does him in completely.  

“We take care of each other, okay? That’s what we do,” Bucky says, leaning in to kiss your lips sweetly until he can feel the smile grow against his mouth. He pulls back, chuckling a bit under his breath. “Besides, I’m the last person who is going to be scared away by trauma.”  

You laugh as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling yourself closer to his chest. Engulfed in the sweet smell of maple and butter and batter, Bucky feels a wash of calm for the first time since you left on that mission.  

He thinks you may have finally found your way home.  

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[groovyzombiellama]

You Have No Right 2

Title: You Have No Right 2

Requested? Yes.

Plot: You are rebuilding your life with your children and when Bjorn realises what he lost, he comes over to talk to you.

Words: 1220

Part 1

—***—

It was incredibly difficult at first to live your life without Bjorn. You have spent so long together that you didn’t know how to be alone. He was always someone you could lean on and now it was just you and your kids, who were confused as to why they were no longer seeing their father. All your dreams of a happy family were ruined in an instant by people who you trusted and who were supposed to be there for you and have your back. When you and Bjorn got married, you felt like it was the best day of your life and you only saw a life filled with happiness going forward, only for it to come crashing down. You never thought that one decision could all but ruin your life withing such a short time. You almost felt like you were a completely different person, as if you have aged down to the same age you were when you got married. Except, you had a responsibility as a mother to take care of your children who needed you now more than ever. And you had to get yourself together for them. You were not gonna let what happened between you and Bjorn affect your babies.

You were really grateful to your confidant for coming with you when you left. And for talking you out of going back to Bjorn in the beginning, because for some reason, even if he had caused you so much pain, you still loved him. That amount of love that you had for Bjorn can’t just go away in one night. You realised that you were giving so much love to him, without getting the same amount back. It looked to you like he loved you as much as you loved him, but the look in his eyes when you confronted him in front of everyone was enough to show you that you were the one who loved more in your marriage. Actually, the mere fact that your husband decided to cheat on you, with no true motive, since he didn’t continue seeing Astrid after that, degraded the image you had of him in your eyes. The hardest thing to do was get his icy blue eyes out of your head. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw them, and you saw them the way they once were, looking at you lovingly, as if you were the only woman in the world.

You were going to miss those days, but it was time to look to the future, to make sure your children are not lacking in anything. You were gonna prove it to Bjorn and to anyone else who thinks that you can’t do it, you’re gonna show them that you in fact can. That you are your own person and that you can be successful on your own. You had to explain to your children that you were not gonna be living with their father anymore, and it broke your heart even more over what Bjorn did when you saw the looks in their eyes. You knew they were sad, because they were too young to understand why they were not gonna see their father anymore, after all, they love him and you know he loves them too, even if he might not have love you as much. All three of your children had their father’s eyes, and you knew that no matter how sad and angry you are, you will always see Bjorn when you look into their eyes. You wanted your own children to have their own path, so you did your best not to think of the man who betrayed you so badly.

Regardless of how much it pained you to think about what happened over and over again, you couldn’t help but wonder how Bjorn was doing from time to time. Did he care that you were gone? What was his reaction when he saw that the four of you were gone? Did he een care enough to want to find you? You had no idea what he was doing or how he was feeling, and the fact that you still cared was driving you insane. But you knew that all the years you two spent together can’t be erased just like that, and that a part of you, no matter how big or small, will always care about Bjorn. He did give you your three babies and when you were at the prime of your love, the most beautiful years of your life. So there was no way you could know that Bjorn missed you like hell. He wanted to look for you himself, but he wouldn’t even know where to begin, so instead he gave out orders to his men to track you down. At first he thought it was because you took the children with him and he was prepared to take them back with him.

But the more he was without you, the more he realised that he missed you too and that there was no reason to take the kids away from their mother, when in no way were you a bad mother. In fact he felt stupid for even considering for a second that he would take the kids back with him and not let you see them. It made him stop in his tracks and realise how wrong he was. He let the power he had as king get to him, and he forgot just how much you meant to him. He let himself forget that you are the love of his life and in that moment he felt so ashamed that he let that happen. Instead of fighting for you, he lost you, and he was ready to do anything and everything that it took to get you back in his life. He didn’t mind waiting no matter how much it takes. So when he found you, he took all the precautions to make sure you don’t automatically run away when you see him.

He wanted to be in your life, he regretted what he had done. For the first few times after he found out where you were, he spent time looking at how your life was now, and he was actually happy to see how strong you were and that you were holding your own so well. And for some time he considered weather he should even approach you, but he missed you and the children so much that he decided to try and talk to you. You were a lot stronger than you ever were, so he knew it was possible that you would reject him, but he still had to try, realising that you and your children are the reason he was ever whole. And that without you four, he was the shell of a man that he once was. Even if you rejected him now, he wanted to be part of the lives of his kids and he would wait for however long it takes to get you back too. You were not gonna fall back to him, your value of yourself was higher than ever and you knew that you could hold your own. You were not about to be corrupted that easily and Bjorn was going to see what he lost.

---***---

sorry it took so long, I had to plan it out a bit, hope you like it :)

It’s up to youweather you would take him back and why :)

Tags:  @bjornsholyarmring (original fic request) , @dakotapaigelove

Buy me a coffee?: https://ko-fi.com/groovyzombiellama

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes Imagines - PT 7

Summary: Our mutual friend dropped out of this trip at the last minute, so hi I guess we’re spending the next two weeks together.

Warnings: angst, fluff

Words: 1.6K

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Part five

Part six

Masterlist

Requests are open!

Unexpected

(sorry if this isn’t that great, my motivation hasn’t been the best but I wanted to give you all an update!! I hope you enjoy this part and let me know if I should continue it!! Thanks for the support <3)

- -

The realization has draped sadness over your last day together. 

Today is the last day of this life-changing trip. You’ve been dreading this day. You know that you have to go back home to your lonely apartment and get back to doing your job. You know Bucky has an important job with the rest of the Avengers to get back to.

You stayed in bed extra long this morning. Bathing in the warmth for each other’s bodies. 

“How am I supposed to sleep without you right next to me?” Bucky mumbles against your neck, nuzzling his face closer. 

“You actually enjoy sleeping with me?” You ask surprisingly. 

“What do you mean? Of course I do.” He moves his head to look up at you. “It’s easier with you.” 

You smile from his statement and run a hand through his hair and over his face. 

“Even when I flop around and steal all the blankets?” You whisper and lean closer to his face. 

“We can work on those things.” He teases as you roll your eyes. He laughs and moves to hover over you. 

“No but seriously,” He pauses. “I’ve never been able to sleep through the night without you next to me. You calm me and bring me peace of mind. If I’m being honest, I’m a little scared to sleep by myself now.” Bucky hangs his head slightly and whispers that last part. 

“If you ever need me or ever feel scared, please call me. I hate that you have to deal with those negative thoughts alone. If I could, I’d suffer through them so you wouldn’t have to anymore,” You grab the sides of his face and pull him closer to you. “You’ve suffered enough Bucky and you probably will for a long time, but now you won’t have to do it alone. I’ll always be here for you.” You press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“I love you.” You tell him and a smile instantly takes over his somber expression. 

“That, right there,” His eyes meet yours. “That’s all I’ll ever need.” 

The rest of the morning is spent doing your usual routine, except this time, it’s the last. At least for now. One last dance in that kitchen and eating breakfast while sitting on Bucky’s lap. That’s how you want each and every morning to go for the rest of your life. 

Neither of you are sure when you’ll be able to see each other again. Bucky with his Avenger duties and missions. You with your job and no more vacation days. Let’s not even get into the distance part of the situation. Bucky in New York City and you all the way in Washington. It’s going to be a challenge but Bucky is pretty good at those and you will do anything for him. 

You’ve been packing your stuff in your room while Bucky is doing the same in his. It’s weirdly quiet throughout the cabin. It’s not filled with the usual music and laughter that’s filled this cabin the last two weeks. Somber is the only way to put it now.  

You set your bags down by your door and look across at Bucky’s open door. You lean against the door frame and watch the way he moves around. 

You can’t believe how quickly you’ve fallen for him. You’ve always been a believer that the best kind of love comes when you least expect it. It isn’t when you just pick someone and hope that it all works out. You meet that person by fate and there’s an instant connection. The chemistry between you is so far above anything your able to understand. You talk and start to notice all the little things like the curve of their lips when they smile or the scrunch of their nose when they laugh. You admire the small details about them. The color of their eyes or the freckles scattered throughout their body. It’s not always the pretty stuff either. You get to know and understand the scars, both physically and mentally, that are a part of them. There’s always a single moment, that one life-changing moment, where you understand and realize that you have become the luckiest person in this world to have that person beside you. 

For you, this is that moment. 

You’re eyes follow Bucky’s movements as he walks over to his door and sets his bags down too. He stares at you as he stands in his doorway. You give him a soft smile before walking over to him. He wraps his arms around you and you do the same, holding onto him for dear life. 

“Wish I could just come back with you.” You mumble against his chest. 

“I want that more than anything doll but it’s time to get back to reality.” He whispers against your ear and presses a soft kiss to your head. 

“We better get going before it gets too late.” You reluctantly state, slipping out of his arms. You hear him sigh as you grab your bags. 

You both walk out of the cabin and down the front steps. You unlock your car, taking your bags and putting them in your trunk as Bucky does the same with his car. You shut your trunk and lean up against the side of your car. Bucky slams his trunk and walks over to you. 

You both stand there, holding onto each other in silence. 

“You’ve become the best part of me.” Bucky whispers into your ear. “With no effort at all and without realization, you’ve taught me a lot of things in these couple weeks. Not only about life in general but how it’s okay and how good it feels to completely lose yourself in someone else.” He leans his head back and grabs the sides of your face gently in his hands. 

“Someone so extraordinary,” Bucky presses a kiss to your nose. “Kind,” a kiss to your right cheek. “Beautiful.” a kiss to your left cheek. “Caring.” a kiss to your forehead. 

“Just perfect.” He whispers before pressing a kiss to your lips. 

The kiss didn’t feel like one of those goodbye kisses. No. This one felt intense and passionate and almost like Bucky was trying to entwine your souls together through that kiss. So, whenever you’re apart, your souls will forever be tangled together. 

At least, that’s what it felt like. 

“I know.” You slide your hand up the back of his neck and into his hair, gently stroking it. “It’s a, ‘I’ll see you soon’.” You try to cheer him up a bit with a smile. 

“This isn’t a goodbye.” He states with a heavy breath after he breaks the kiss. 

“I hate this. I hate letting you go. I don’t want to. I wish we could stay here forever. Is that crazy thinking? I don’t know but I don’t care because I love you and you’re so special to me and I want this life with you. I want to make memories together and find random things about each other that make our love grow even stronger. God I’ve never felt like this before. It feels like my heart is trying to make its way out of my chest-”

You grab his face and seal his undying love speech to you with a kiss. A short and sweet one to leave him on his toes. 

“You’ll always have my heart. Wherever you go, I’ll always be there. You never have to worry about that. My heart is and will forever be yours.”

You press another kiss to his lips for a few seconds longer before parting. You smile at him and unwrap your arms from around his neck. He slowly moves away from your body that’s been trapped against your car. 

You go around and open your door, stopping to look over at him again. 

“I love you Bucky. Don’t ever forget that.” You reassure him. He swallows the thump in his throat and shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“I love you Y/N.” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you try your hardest to keep them down. 

“I’ll see you soon.” You smile once more at him. 

“See you soon darling.” 

You get in your car and start it, buckling your seatbelt. You take a deep breath before putting the car in reverse and slowly backing away. As you do that, Bucky appears in your windshield now, watching you drive away. 

You choke back a sob and take deep breaths, feeling your lip quivering. Once you’ve made it down the driveway and onto the road, you take one last look at him. 

His head hangs low as he pushes a hand through his hair and turns to walk to his car. 

You start driving down the dirt road, sobs and sniffles filling the silence in your car. You hear your phone ding and pick up once you come to a stop. 

A sad smile appears on your face seeing that Bucky just sent you a text. You click on the notification and it pops up. 

God, you couldn’t wait for those days. What hurts the most is knowing that he is out there, going through life and making memories that you won’t appear in. You both have different lives to get back to. You want to just quit your job but you know you can’t afford that. 

You send Bucky a text back and set your phone back down. You wipe the tears from your face and take a deep breath before starting on your journey home again. 

Reality sucks. 

This isn’t the end. This isn’t the end. You keep repeating to yourself. 

You’ll see him again. You continue to tell yourself. 

You’ll see him again. 

Right? 

- -

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[firefly-in-darkness]

Life on Hold

Pairing → Bucky Barnes x Reader

Characters → Marvel Characters

Summary → Y/N is pulled out of retirement by Fury, and Bucky is the one to break the news.

Word Count → 2.8k

Prompt → ‘You must be out of your goddamn mind’ for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ Hamilfilm Lyric Challenge 

SSB2021 Square Fill → ‘Where’s the fight?’ - @star-spangled-bingo

Warnings → 18+. Fluff, Angst, Smut. Swearing.

Betas → @daydream3r-xo​ & @fandomfic-galore​ // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → This is my first time taking part in a bingo card and what better way to kick it off than with our boy Bucky and the trifecta of angst, fluff & smut! Hope you enjoy - comments & reblogs are always adored!

Firefly’s Masterlist // Star Spangled Bingo 2021

Fury entered the conference room at Stark Tower with his usually authoritative, no bullshit attitude and the black leather jacket flowing behind him. The Avengers immediately halted their actions; Natasha and Clint gave each other a knowing side-eye, Bucky and Steve placed down their coffees while Wanda, Vision and Bruce stopped their conversation, mid-flow, to turn their attentions to the director.

“Where’s Stark?” Fury looked around for the billionaire, but he was nowhere to be seen.

A voice came through the speakers, “I’m here. Just not here, here.”

Fury turned to the camera in the corner, “Stark, I suggest you get in here now.”

“No can do boss, I’m a little tied up doing good for the community at the moment.” The Iron Man suit’s HUD display appeared in the centre of the room above the table with Stark’s signature smirk, “I’m listening.”

The holographic display changed with the flick of Fury’s hand; Stark’s face appearing in the top right corner while the other information appeared larger. A selection of blueprints for a fortified base, images of various Hydra agents and satellite footage of the surrounding area. Steve flicked through the same information on the tablet in his lap while the rest of the team continued to look at display or Fury for further instruction.

“As you can see, we have collected a lot of information about this particular base. The only problem is that we are struggling to infiltrate it. Our agents have explored every possible way to get inside but it’s becoming more obvious that whatever is happening inside that warehouse is something for the Avengers to deal with.” Fury continued as he walked around the room, hands behind his back.

“What attempts have been made?” Steve asked, the stern tone of Captain America coming through.

The Avengers watched the footage that enlarged in front of Nick Fury; a group of agents moving as one through the dense snow-covered forest until they were repelled back twenty feet.

“That’s the issue. We’ve tried to go through it, over it and under it. We can’t get in so I need the best on this,” Fury pointed at the repeated clip of the soldiers being hit with the force field, “Romanoff, Barton; get reading up on those reports, see if you can find anything that stands out. Maximoff and Vision, start looking into what that force field is and whether you remember it from your Strucker days. Stark, I need you back here for the final briefing by 1800 hours.”

The four Avengers nodded at the director and left the room. Stark disconnected and the hologram disappeared. Bucky remained silent, watching Fury’s every move while Steve reclined in the chair, spinning it towards the director.

“And what about us Sir?” Steve asked, his body tense and irritation not going unnoticed by the remaining attendees.

“I said I needed my best.” Fury pressed his hands against the back of a vacant seat, looking straight to Bucky. “There’s only one person that can help us with this one.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened and he barked in response, “No!”

“He’s right, Buck.” Steve turned to him with a small smile, “we’re going to need all the help we can get. Who knows what’s going on down there?”

“You must be out of your goddamn mind.” Bucky pushed the chair back forcefully and walked to the door, yanking it open. He paused looking back at Steve and Fury, “and I guess, I’m going to be the one to break the news, aren’t I?”

The bell above the door chimed as Bucky entered the florist; he was hit with a multitude of colours and smells that were incredible but the one thing that stood out most to him was the woman tucked between sunflowers and dahlias with an older gentleman. His heart raced at Y/N’s beaming smile as she gathered up the flowers and rang up the cost on the register.

Bucky preoccupied himself with the assortment of blooms and the trinkets scattered around the small shop while she continued to chat with the gentleman, he tried not to listen in to the conversation, but he had to gauge her mood before he approached her, not that she didn’t already know he was there.

“Mr Lee, you cannot make those eyes at me when you’re buying flowers for your wife!” Y/N laughed, “send her my best and that I’ll see her on Sunday for the bake sale.”

“You’ll realise that I’m the one for you sooner or later.” The man waved and passed Bucky, leaving the shop with another jingle of the bell.

Bucky had watched the man leave as he thought of how impressed he was with the way Y/N had settled into this town after a few months. He’d always been impressed with the woman that had managed to retire and find her feet so seamlessly. 

Without turning around, Bucky knew that she was now behind him and her hands would be placed on her hips, a sideways pout on her lips as she waited for him to pay her attention.

“Seeing as we only saw each other on Thursday, Buck, and if someone had died, you’d have called, what could you possibly need on this wonderful Sunday afternoon? Did you miss me that much?” She giggled but then she saw the seriousness in his face once he’d turned around. “Shop closes in an hour; I’ll be up in a bit.”

Bucky felt guilty for dimming the sparkle in Y/N’s eyes. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, she was silent with a blank expression as she unlocked the door leading to her apartment. He’d never experienced the receiving end of the anger that was smothering the atmosphere. Of course, he’d witnessed it aimed at others but never at this level towards himself. 

Y/N kicked off her trainers and untied her apron, slamming it down on the kitchen table. Her fingers clenched around the fabric, and her jaw ticked before she turned to Bucky. He leaned against the door frame and explained how she needed to come out of retirement for a mission, giving her the details about the force field that the SHIELD agents were unable to penetrate.

Bucky waited for Y/N to speak, he learnt long ago that he had to leave her to process whatever it was that was racing through her mind. Y/N had her back to him, one hand gripping the counter and the other holding tightly onto the knife that she’d retrieved to chop vegetables. She turned around and opened her mouth, only for no words to come out and for her to continue preparing dinner. 

The pain and fear that flicked across her features were motivation enough for Bucky to get closer, he strode over and placed his hands on her hips. He felt the tension drop from her body at his touch, a sense of pride swelled as she leant her back into his chest.

“It’s been 113 days since I left. You can’t come here and ask this of me.” Y/N’s voice cracked, and her eyes glossed over as she waved the knife around in front of her, the peppers no longer being diced. 

Bucky’s fingers held her wrist to stop the kitchen utensil from turning into a weapon and rest his chin on her shoulder, “I know doll, but you know why I was sent and not Steve or Fury himself.”

“Yeah, ‘cos they know y’all sweet talk me ‘round.” She scoffed and dropped the knife down with a clatter, turning in his arms to look at him. Her arms wrapped around his neck and fingers threaded through the loose strands while a smirk crept up her face, “and they knew that I wouldn’t castrate you either.”

Bucky chuckled and nudged his nose against hers before their lips lightly brushed one another, a soft peck and Y/N unravelled and continued with prepping the food. Stirring the partly prepared sauce heating on the stove, Bucky watched her form soften but he knew that it would be short-lived.

“Where’s the fight?” She whispered, as if she already knew but didn’t want to believe it.

“Poland.” He slipped back and took a seat at the kitchen table, knowing that she would turn around in an instant with another burst of anger. 

And as if on cue, Y/N threw a tomato at the wall to her left, the juices staining the neutral paint as it slid down. She whirled around and pointed the wooden spoon at him, “I can’t believe those jerks! They don’t even have the balls to talk to me themselves and instead, they send my lovely, innocent and ridiculously handsome boyfriend to woo me into returning to the field.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call myself innocent.” Bucky tried to lighten the mood, but it had the opposite effect.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Y/N paced the length of the kitchen in a few steps before spinning around and walking back again. Defeated with the inevitable of visiting the country she grew up in, she collapsed on Bucky’s lap. “What about my shop? Do they not realise that I have a business to run? I’m not an Avenger, I'm just an ordinary civilian.”

“You’re everything but ordinary.” His arms pulled Y/N closer to him, her head burrowing under his chin, “It’s okay sweetheart, Diane can run the place in your absence, she knows what she’s doing. We’ll be gone a week at most. I made sure to get a month of vacation off afterwards so we can do this place up.”

Y/N’s head snapped up, bashing Bucky’s chin making him bite the inside of his cheek. The blood filled his mouth, but he swallowed it down and cupped her face at the sight of the unshed tears in her eyes.

“Really? Do you mean that? Because being with you for one night every two weeks is horrible.” Her bottom lip poked out and Bucky wobbled it with his index finger.

“Yes, of course, doll.” He smiled and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

“Hold up!” Y/N pulled away from him, her hands pressed firmly into his chest, “you’re sweet talkin’ me, aren’t you?”

“Nothing gets past you.” Bucky’s head fell back as the laughter rumbled through his chest and Y/N stood up. He swatted her butt cheek, “get a move on with dinner, we have to leave in an hour.”

“James Buchanan Barnes!” She spun around, a feigned look of shock and her hand clutched to her chest. Her agape mouth dropped into a smirk as she leant forward, rubbing her nose against his. “If you’re still into this sweet talkin’ thing…” 

Y/N spun on her heel and with a sway of her hips, wandered to the door. She looked back over her shoulder, “well, are you coming or what?”

Bucky was on his feet in seconds, chasing her down the corridor. Giggles filled the apartment as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her into the air. He fell backwards onto the bed, dropping her to his side gracefully. 

Both looked at the other, full of smiles and breathless from the short jog. The contrast of cold metal against Y/N’s warm cheek sent a shiver down her spine, and the way Bucky focused on her lips filled her core with want. The laughter died down and desire took over, as their faces inched closer and until they were ghosting over each other’s lips.

“Thought I had to sweet talk you, doll?” Bucky mumbled against Y/N’s parted mouth; his beard scratched deliciously against her.

In retaliation, she pushed on top of him, straddling his waist and feeling the rough texture of the tactical gear hidden beneath the hoodie, “well, what can I see, could never resist a man in Kevlar.”

Y/N ducked down and pressed a light peck to Bucky’s lips. He immediately took control, his hand holding the back of her head and deepening the kiss while his hardening groin rubbed against her clothed sex.

All thoughts of the mission and Poland disappeared with each item of clothing they discarded. Their minds focused on bringing the other to the edge of ecstasy with every kiss, lick, and stroke. Their bodies hummed with desire and need, entangled together above the sheets.

Bucky pinned Y/N to the bed, holding her hands above her head in his grip while he peppered kisses down her neck, and across her now beautifully exposed body. His hold loosened as he neared her sensitive parts, the mewling sounds above him sent repeated shocks of pleasure to his already stiff member.

Y/N couldn’t handle the wait any longer, her hips tilting up towards in demand of his mouth. It was oh so close but still far away from her bundle of nerves, “please Bucky, I need you.”

Not one to disappoint or let his girl beg for too long, Bucky teased her drenched cunt with his fingertips. She whimpered in response, pride swelled in his chest and pushed him to lick a stripe through her lips, tongue swirling over her clit.

“Fuck” Y/N stuttered out; one hand tugged on his locks while the other palmed her breasts.

Bucky moaned, the vibrations pushing Y/N closer to her orgasm. He continued to eat her cunt with ferocity. Bucky always marvelled at how he’d almost cum from the sounds of her moans and the taste of her pleasure. His cock ached as he rubbed the precum across his tip and gripped his shaft to hold off his orgasm until he felt the friction of her tight cunt, until he was deep inside her.

Kisses lightly pressed along her thighs and her stomach; Bucky didn’t miss a single spot, blemish or scar on her body. Her body glowed in the post-orgasmic haze, her fingers softly stroking through his locks as he hovered above her.

Bucky faltered when he saw her eyes glistened with unshed tears and the tremble of her lip, “Doll, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Oh, sweet man,” Y/N cupped his cheek, his head resting into her palm, “of course not. I’m just scared of going back. Of losing myself to my past. Of losing you.”

Bucky let go of the breath he held, a small piece of him was glad that he hadn’t done anything to hurt the precious person lying beneath him but the rest of him filled with the need to pull her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay. And that is what he did.

He rolled to her side, gathered her up in his hold and pressed soft kisses to the top of her head, “I can’t promise that it won’t be hard. Going back there, to those monsters. But I can promise you that you won’t lose me. I’ll be with you every step of the way, like you have been there for me.”

Y/N clung to Bucky’s waist; her legs entwined with his while she let the tears flow. Her fear subsided with each drop, the caress of Bucky’s fingers along her arm and the sweet nothings he whispered into her ear.

Y/N packed her bag while Bucky returned to the kitchen to fix her something to eat. Even though he had developed incredible hearing, he couldn’t make out the Ukrainian words that she mumbled in between ‘Steve’ and ‘Fury’ or the slams of the bedroom furniture. But what he did know was that they weren’t going to be any terms of endearment to her former superiors.

Minutes later, Y/N had returned with an outfit change and dropped the holdall to her feet. Bucky’s heart thumped against his chest and a blush heated his cheeks as she winked at him. Even after all this time, seeing her in the black uniform always sent his heart racing and Y/N knew exactly how he felt about the uniform.

They ate the meal in silence as Y/N scanned the details on the tablet, both now brought up to speed with the latest developments from Natasha’s intel; alien technology being sold across the black market. What’s new. Bucky rolled his eyes at the information, there was always some bad guy with a bunch of weaponry, that they didn’t understand, trying to use it for evil.

Once again, Y/N disappeared into other parts of the apartment while Bucky loaded his black truck with her holdall and waited for her arrival in the cab. She hopped into the passenger seat and appeared calm, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he should prepare to duck for cover when they arrived at the briefing room.

Luckily for Bucky, Natasha and Clint pulled him aside to go over their new findings. Not so lucky for Steve and Fury, who would have to deal with the wrath of the retired Avenger.

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[whumpmatsus]

I am just absolutely in love with how you write! I think I have a good iromatsu idea; after a prank gone wrong Kara gives Ichi the silent treatment to the extreme; does not talk to him, sit near him, or even stay in the same room when they're alone and even switched sleeping spots. Kara thinks it'll teach Ichi a lesson, but really it devestates Ichi and Kara tries to comfort him now.

aaaa thank you!! everyone is so nice with compliments like that, it motivates me to write more and always puts a smile on my face to hear kind words!!! <3

and ahhh this is definitely a good Iromatsu idea!! it was so much fun to write ;7;

Ichi stop being so emotionally constipated and show your feelings to your brothers, they love you and it'll make you feel better ;w;

-

In hindsight, perhaps Ichimatsu should have known better than to mess with Karamatsu’s guitar.

It would be one thing if he fucked with the leather jacket, or the sunglasses, or one of the tank tops with Karamatsu’s own face on it, because he’s pretty sure Karamatsu has an endless supply of those. His guitar, however, is something which doesn’t have a backup. It’s quite possibly the only thing Karamatsu loves more than himself, though obviously not as much as he loves his brothers.

For some stupid reason, it only hits Ichimatsu after the prank he pulls that this guitar is probably Karamatsu’s sole most important possession.

Of course, by the time it does hit him, the damage has already been done. He thought that the expression on his brother’s face would be over the top, hilarious, and the highlight of his day.

Instead, it’s burned into his brain in the worst way. When Karamatsu saw his younger brother letting the kitten in his lap bat at a ball made of his guitar’s strings, it was as if someone had just shoved a knife in his back.

God, Ichimatsu hates that kind of expression. That betrayed, wounded, raw look.

That hurts. What hurts worse is that for the rest of the day, it’s as if Karamatsu only has four brothers. Ichimatsu tries to apologize, and he’s met with Karamatsu walking out of the room entirely. No matter what he does, Karamatsu doesn’t want to be near him. He goes so far as to eat dinner in the other room with their parents rather than sit around a table with Ichimatsu.

Everyone knows what Ichimatsu did, but none of the others have ever seen Karamatsu quite so upset either. It would be a miracle if they aren’t all pissed at him, too.

The worst blow comes when they’re all getting ready for bed. Ichimatsu is more tired than usual for whatever reason, so he’s prepared to fall asleep the second his head hits the pillow. When he settles into his spot at one end of the futon, he rolls over with the intention of giving Karamatsu a gruff, apologetic hug… only to come face to face with very obviously not Karamatsu.

He hisses something about why the hell Totty is in Karamatsu’s spot, and Totty gives him the explanation that Karamatsu asked to switch tonight. “… But I’ll take the hug, though,” he teases as he cuddles up, so Ichimatsu can’t shove him away or he’ll be an asshole.

Even with the youngest sleeping soundly pressed against him, Ichimatsu barely sleeps a wink himself. He doesn’t like this. Despite the fact that he tries to convince himself he doesn’t give a shit about Karamatsu, the truth is that Karamatsu is still his big brother. The thought of admitting that he loves Karamatsu and thinks he’s cool leaves a horrible taste in his mouth, but…

He doesn’t like this.

He wanted to play a stupid prank and maybe just get on Karamatsu’s nerves a little bit. He never wanted to have Karamatsu so angry with him that he won’t speak to Ichimatsu, that he doesn’t even want to sleepnext to him.

This… hurts.

-

Although Ichimatsu may not sleep much during the night, he refuses to get up in the daytime when everyone else does.

Sometimes that’s not so worrying. The others know Ichimatsu sleeps a lot at odd hours when his depression kicks in, and rather than risk getting growled at, they often just let him sleep. As long as they can get him up in time for lunch, it doesn’t usually affect him too much.

… It’s after 2 P.M. now, though, and even with everyone knowing he’s awake, Ichimatsu won’t get out of bed.

Out of all the brothers, regardless of the fact that Karamatsu has been trying to teach his little brother a lesson, he’s probably the most worried about this. Even though he’s definitely angry about what Ichimatsu did, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to forgive him.

It was heartbreaking to see that Ichimatsu would damage something that means so much to Karamatsu. Even with how much Ichimatsu doesn’t like him, Karamatsu never thought his little brother would intentionally do anything to his guitar.

But… he did notice the look on Ichimatsu’s face every time Karamatsu gave him the cold shoulder. Combined with the fact that Ichimatsu is staying in bed, Karamatsu thinks that maybe he went a bit too far with this punishment.

Ichimatsu doesn’t even lift his head when Karamatsu pokes into their shared bedroom and calls, “Brother?”

So he creeps in a bit more. And more. And more, until he’s standing at the edge of the futon, five empty spaces away from his brother. Most of the time, he’s so good with words… even if he has to plan them out beforehand, or even if they sometimes sound painful.

Now, he doesn’t really know what to say.

“Ichimatsu…” He frowns and traces circles in the carpet with his foot. “It’s nearly three in the afternoon. Aren’t you getting up?”

What he gets in response is a listless shrug. It’s not in typical Ichimatsu fashion, though. “What’s the point? Leave me alone. You haven’t had any problem doing that so far.”

Ouch. Unfortunately, Karamatsu supposes that fair is fair.

He inches forward until he’s not too far, then lowers himself down next to Ichimatsu. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not. And you shouldn’t be. I’m garbage, and what I did was shitty. Shittier than you and your entire wardrobe.” Ichimatsu’s knees come up to his chest, body curling into a tight ball. “I deserve to have you mad at me for the rest of my life. You hate me and I hate myself, too. I’m…”

There’s a weird sound, like Ichimatsu is choking on his own words. “… I’m sorry. Just go away. Don’t bother with me. I’m not worth your time.”

Every word feels like there’s a vise tightening, tightening, tightening, around Karamatsu’s heart. That’s… what?? Ichimatsu really thinks that Karamatsu hates him?

He definitely wouldn’t have expected to see his younger brother so broken up about that fact. Ichimatsu often goes out of his way to avoid Karamatsu’s company, so shouldn’t he be relieved that Karamatsu stopped wanting to be around him?

A quiet moment passes before Karamatsu reaches to drape an arm over Ichimatsu. There’s practically no resistance as he pulls the fourth eldest in against him, gently rubbing his shoulder.

“I don’t hate you,” he murmurs. “It’s… true that I’m upset with you. Or at least I was. This was… I wasn’t going to shut you out forever. To be honest, I thought you would be happy that I wasn’t bothering you anymore. I anticipated that perhaps my silence would make you angry. That you might snap at me after a day or so and tell me you were sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel…”

He shifts his hands around with the intent of trying to move Ichimatsu to face him, but stops cold when his palm meets dampness on his brother’s cheek.

Is Ichimatsu… crying??

Karamatsu freezes at that thought. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Ichimatsu cry since they were kids. Then, he pulls his little brother in closer. There’s no struggling, no protests, just a stifled sob as Ichimatsu ducks his head down.

Karamatsu rests his head against the top of Ichimatsu’s. “… Did my treatment really hurt you that badly? Are you really that anguished by the idea that I would stop wanting anything to do with you?”

There’s no response except a nod, something that Ichimatsu seems to try and stop anyway.

A soft exhale puffs against Ichimatsu’s neck, and the way he stiffens suggests that the sudden warm air sent a shiver up his spine. “I’m… so sorry. I truly didn’t believe it would hurt you so much.”

“You’re still my Karamatsu-nii-san.” The admission is followed by a sniffle as he rubs at his eyes. “Just because I’m trash doesn’t mean I don’t…”

“Ahahah… you love me. That’s it, right?” Karamatsu teases lightly. He tugs his baby brother closer still, and is surprised when Ichimatsu abruptly rolls over to bury his face against Karamatsu’s chest.

Ichimatsu’s skinny arms find their way around Karamatsu’s waist, hugging as tightly as he can bring himself to. He hates it. He hates that Karamatsu is right,and how he can’t even actually say the words himself, and crying, and everything about this. Why is anyone, even his big brother, still bothering with him?

“… Please don’t be mad at me anymore,” he mumbles. That begging voice is so small and barely even sounds like him, even to himself. “I don’t… I don’t like it.”

Karamatsu chuckles and gingerly rubs Ichimatsu’s back. It’s a little sad to consider, but their relationship has become so strained now that they’re adults, to the point that Ichimatsu being so honest about his feelings to anyof his brothers, especially Karamatsu, is rare. It would probably be easier to pull his teeth than to get him to confess that something is wrong until it’s bubbling over and he can’thide it anymore.

He holds Ichimatsu as close as he can, and it feels like Ichimatsu is trying to keep himself tiny and safe inside the embrace. A kiss is pressed to the top of Ichimatsu’s head; a shaky, tearful breath is the instant reaction. “All is forgiven, my brother. I would never dream of truly abandoning you like that. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for upsetting you to such a degree.”

He gives a cautious squeeze, reassured when Ichimatsu squeezes back. “You are one of the most important people in my world, Ichimatsu. You’re my little brother, and I love you very much, and I regret to inform you that there is most likely nothing you can do to ever change that.”

Ichimatsu relaxes, if only slightly. He’ll get up soon, and even though hearing these things isn’t a magic switch that makes him feel better about himself or what he’s done… it’s a comfort. It means that Karamatsu isn’t so angry with him that he’s been disowned.

“If you are ever hurt or insecure about any of that,” Karamatsu hums softly, “all you need to do is come find me and let yourself be held in my arms. I hope you know that.”

… Well.

If he didn’t before, he certainly does now.

[srbachchan]

DAY 4822

Jalsa, Mumbai                  May 11,  2021                 Tue 11:09 PM     

Birthday - EF - Deepa Krishna .. Iris -  Israel .. birthday greetings and the wishes for happiness ever .. be safe and protected .. love from the Ef ❤️

So they said you have written too much in the last few daya and  so there has to be a break .. 

Hence .. 

GN

Amitabh Bachchan 

..... but no the night is not inviting .. it sleeps for a while and wakes up .. and opens the mind and the eye to return .. return to the page of the connect for the four thousand two hundred and twenty second day .. propelling thoughts that awake get to testify information that has been questioned .. the search continues and references made be turned through several pages and pages of writing and the title is unfound ..

.. but .. and we seem to love this word ‘but’ .. but what attracts in the reading are the words of Babuji and his poems yes but descriptions and opinions on various topics and issues .. in his life in his philosophy in his belief .. and they are not put down able .. even at 4:10 of the AM of the next May day 12, it seems like an ordinary beginning ..

the absolute delight in the readings of Babuji’s experiences are so endearing that there is a sense of him sitting before me and narrating in his inimitable express of those personal moments .. vivid descriptions of events and happenings .. opinions that formed in those early years seem eternal in their content and longevity .. they prevail even now, his thoughts on contemporaries, colleagues, adversaries, public presents at kavi sammelans - poetic symposiums and the varied incidents - some humorous some distasteful some controversial , but ever ending in either the realisation of fact or misunderstanding of the people around and the organisers by them to him .. 

.. they bring the India of the time right before you .. a vivid describe of time place thought habit and circumstance , in a most academic manner .. well almost ..

.. the vastness of his knowledge , his writing is a monolithic structure of encyclopaedic value .. and as I sit in the quiet of this 2.0 ‘awakened night’ , I am in the guilt of the lack of research that should and should have been done ..

.. i do keep getting various dissertations on the research done by individuals and the efforts they make .. but I feel they are in need of assistance to carry the baton so to say forward ..

.. my uncertainty in its progress is loaded with the immaturity of my administration of how something so vast can be designed in the manner that brings the true value of its vastness .. and I must admit it is most disturbing and frustrating to sit here surrounded by his works and write about it to no avail ..

.. the world and its life is moving at speeds that cannot be imagined .. and before long all that needed reserve and time and think, shall perhaps soon disappear .. disappear without knowing what has been lost and regretfully forgotten .. 

.. generations change .. their likes and dislikes take on fresher and new horizons .. horizons that could have other eclectic thoughts ideas and paths, which could not be interested in the writings of the past .. 

.. I see it happening in our own world where each generation identifies with the present .. the past is past .. irrelevant and perhaps uninteresting .. many of the greats and their works unrecognised and never given attention to .. the talk of them by some of those that have respect for those early times is heard with an unheard surprise .. and that is as long as it stays .. its back to the present and the stage immediate .. what is today , now this very instant , is the refrain ..

.. but it is generational .. we too were the past generation and thought of the present of the time .. today that is the past and does not have meaning and effect for the ‘now’ .. LIFE .. 

.. but yes values and bearings shall prevail when the environ of the ‘being brought up’ draws their attention to certain givings that we surround ourselves in .. and the hope and prayer is that some of its elixir shall be retained, not just for the present but shall be noticed and passed on to the next .. a receipt of which , an invoice that shall have to be paid in full and final in order that the product is delivered and seen that it works to perfection .. and that AMC signed for its maintenance .. 

I write far too much .. 

And here is what justifies the above .. the extended versions of the Blog which many in the Ef perhaps do not desire .. not for any ulterior motive but length and speed and delivery of the today GEN is ‘say it , be brief, and leave ..’ .. most of the time do not even say it , for, we, they say, have our own version and opinion of it ... 

.. done and over ..

SO .. many observe that the comments when it all started on DAY 1 for several DAYS were in the 500 to over a thousand at times and now rest at the very best to around a meagre 100 .. and the conclusion then that the interest in the Blog has wained away and there is need to stop or disappear .. or search for another .. 

.. there is reason in the thinking .. 

.. why remain .. its the same routine over and over again .. what is so endearing or of interest here which cannot be topped in the T the FB and the INsta .. and the values there are different and greatly more exciting ..

.. the religious aspects on the T and the FB get the numbers .. the young their escapades, clothing and opinions get the millions on the INsta .. 

.. so what is this ‘grey’ doing here  ..?

.. a good question for which I have no answer , except that the connect even with the ONE is the draw that I value .. because that is how it all began .. just the 1 (one) response , which then drew more .. 

It is now past 5 am of the 12th of May and a few yawns appear .. which does not necessarily mean that the bed doth invite .. no .. the yawn is the human mechanism inviting the lack of O2 .. I think ..

.. and I am certain that the many scientific minded shall have a million adverse theories to it .. so let me hear them .. !!! 

Alright just did another .. YAWN .. 

I shall leave and perhaps seek the viewing in the recline of the incredible Formula 1 series , which I have to admit has been made with exceptional skill  .. the shot takings the editing the sheer pace of the series and its visuals ..  actually puts you inside those F1 vehicles of spectacular design and performance .. breathtaking  !

be in peace .. be in safety .. be in precaution .. be not lax in discipline .. be in line of protocol and advice ..

.. and be in the love that I hold you in .. ❤️

Amitabh Bachchan ... 🙏🌹

[datsrightbby]

Marko + David (TLB) x Fem!Reader

Insatiable Habits

Warnings: NSFW/Smut, cursing, voyeurism, threesome

It had started off as subtle teasing at first, the kinda stuff that made you blush. Like, a gloved hand skimming your thigh and creating shapes across the exposed skin, or a lingering kiss on your neck, and the occasional whisper in your ear that had you burning crimson red and burying your face into the crook of his neck. It was the minute his palm went that bit higher on your thigh, the minute his thumb ghosted over your clothed crotch, did you start feeling flustered to the point of rubbing your legs together in need of friction. 

Not often did you and the boys stay back at the cave the whole night, but tonight was one of those rare occurrences when all of you were content staying in. David took full opportunity, of course, and kept you on his lap. The night had just begun to seep into early hours of the morning, which reminded you -

"Don't you guys need...food?" It's not as though you were ignorant to the fact of what they were, it was more so you'd refused to fully wrap your head around the idea that the four guys you met, one now your boyfriend and mate, were violent in any way. Though if you could avoid talking about it, or thinking about it for that matter, then you'd be okay. 

"Dude, I’m starving -" 

" - Yeah we should leave before the sun starts coming up." Marko remarked, putting down his sketch book and standing up to tug his discarded jacket on. You went to move off David, but his hand on your hip kept you in place on top of him, the subtle gesture telling you that he planned on staying with you. The boys gave you both a once over as they headed toward the stairs, smirks decorating their features at the sight. 

"Guess David's passing up tonight for some other kinda food." Paul hollered and Dwayne sent you a wink, which internally made you roll your eyes, but you grinned back at them anyway. Marko had hestitantly headed towards the steps after them, albeit a few strides behind -

"Marko!" There was a pause as Marko's attention turned back around to David, eyes skimming across your figure before focusing intently on the man who's lap you resided. 

"Stay." It wasn't a question, it was a demand, and Marko didn't seem to have much to say about the ordeal. You couldn't pinpoint why David had asked Marko to stay behind as it was implied, from both the endless teasing and staying behind, that the two of you were gonna do a little more than some heavy petting. David reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lighter, lighting it in one attempt and taking a deep intake, exhaling toward the ceiling as to not get smoke all over you. 

Marko had resided back to the couch, while you and David shifted against each other, you placing little kisses on his jaw as he blew smoke toward the ceiling again. 

"Why did you ask Marko to stay behind?" You whispered lowly, hoping he couldn't hear. 

"I have an idea." It was all he said before dipping his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, your head fell back and you let out a low, breathy moan as he rubbed languid circles against you. The cigarette he lit hung loosely from his lips, ash falling onto his lap haphazardly. In the corner you heard Marko shift in place and you panicked, reminding yourself of his presence and trying to pry yourself away from David's fingers, which had now entered you and pumped in and out a few times. There was no reaction from Marko other than staring at the sight in front of him, though you were sure he wasn't expecting to see David’s fingers working sinfully against you when he looked up from his previous activity.

"Relax kitten, I know what I'm doing." You looked up at him in both shock and confusion, but didn't question his motives, he'd never done you any harm before and you trusted David. Perhaps, if you hadn't been so worked up from his endless teasing all night, things would be different under the same circumstance, but that was neither here nor there. Relaxing into his touch, opting to close your eyes and focus on the feelings rather then the wandering eyes, you allowed for the situation to continue.

"Let us hear you -" David's voice growled in your ear and you moaned explicitly, louder than you had expected.

"That's my girl." You whimpered and bucked your hips up into the palm of his hand, knowing he was smirking down at you right now. 

Your arousal laid thick in the air to the vampires, it was sweet and intoxicating, and Marko swallowed thickly at the scent of it. Just when you felt as though your high may have been approaching, David pulled out and sucked on his fingers, licking off any trace you'd left on them. Marko watched you intensely, eyes lingering on any exposed skin they could get too. You felt erotic and filthy, but in the best way possible. The way the two looked at you sent goosebumps flying across your skin, it was as though you were the prey and they were the wolves, every fleck of color in their eyes had turned to black in desire and need, and you knew where this was headed simply by how they stared at you. On somewhat shaky legs you stood from your spot on David's lap, he waved his hand in Marko’s direction as if to tell you to go over to him -

“Remember you’re still mine.” Nodding, you thumbed over his jaw before sauntering over to Marko, who'd watched your every step approach him. In a surge of confidence you placed your hand on his shoulder, laying him back against the couch, sitting on his crotch with your thighs either side of him. You grind against him slightly, noting that his cock was already hard as sin. Marko let you have your fun, looking over to David who only watched while smoking the remains of his smoke, with a nod from his leader he had all the knowledge he needed of the situation. This wasn’t planned, but Marko was aware David knew of his feelings for you and it seemed he was letting him indulge a little. Instantly he had spun you both over, thrusting against you, a moan skipping past your lips. You'd been teased all night, so feeling his erection right where you needed him most, well, it was heavenly almost. 

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this." Marko teased your neck with kisses and nips, his eyes closed and he inhaled your scent; the way your hair smelled, the arousal between your legs, the perfume you wore, you were intoxicating and it's no wonder David could never keep his hands off you. Who could resist you?  

David had long stubbed out the rest of his cigarette as he watched the two of you toy with each other and tease, he watched as Marko whispered dirty things in your ear and how you replied with giggles, and he soon unzipped his fly and freed himself of the restraints his cock was behind, stroking himself at the sight of the two of you. This wasn't just because he knew you found Marko cute, or the fact that he knew Marko had been in love with you since he met you, no, this was David's fantasy too. 

It didn't seem long before Marko had ripped your clothing off of you, you'd responded with as much fervor. His hands roamed every inch of you in eagerness, he relished in the soft curves of your body and the way you shivered beneath him. It seemed too good to be true, having you here now was better than he had ever imagined. Marko kissed down your body, nipping here and there, which caused him to grin up at you every time you jumped. He stared at you for a moment, breath heavy and chest heaving, eyes pleading with you -

“Please let me have a taste?”

You weren’t sure if it was a question for you or David, but you’d instantly whined out a ‘yes’ and he wasted no time working against you. His tongue teased your clit in circular motions and you shook underneath his grip on your thighs, hips moving up against his mouth in need of more friction. The desperateness of the night took over you; David’s consistent teasing since you’d arrived, your forgotten orgasm from David’s fingers, and now Marko’s tongue wickedly lapping against you, you couldn’t help but huff out in neediness. Your head lolled to the side and noted David palming himself through his jeans, it appeared he was enjoying this just as much as you and Marko. A bite on your thigh had your attention back on the curly haired blonde in between your legs in an instant, he grinned and delved further into your wetness, giving you the relief you’d been craving.

“Use your fingers, she likes that.” Per David’s request Marko’s middle and index finger entered you and your head fell back against the couch, hands holding his head in place as his tongue roughly explored every inch of you. You couldn’t help the curse words that slipped, and the slap on your thigh because of it had you whimpering. 

“I - I think I’m gonna cum” Marko only sped up his ministrations, adding another finger inside you, stretching you out, he played with the spot that had you shaking the most until your body was overtook in blissful release. Never once did he stop, even as your hands attempted to tear him off of your spent body, he continued until he was sure the taste of you was burned into his memory. His body moved up you once again, claiming your mouths together in a sloppy kiss, the taste of your arousal still heavy on his tongue. His mouth moved from yours to you ear -

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll feel me inside you for a week.” he whispered so possessively it had you clenching around nothing and praying he’d live up to the promise. The sound that came out of you was borderline pornographic, though you were beyond modesty at this point. Marko lined himself up with your entrance, looking down at you for silent permission, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close, his cock slipping into you with ease and stretching you out deliciously. Between Marko’s moan and your choked sob, you knew you were gonna crave the feeling of him being inside you for weeks after,  he was inside you raw, and he took a moment in awe to rejoice the feeling of you, knowing it was probably the only time he'd ever get to have this experience, and he wasn't about to let this go to waste. He was going to fuck you so good you'd remember it forever, remember him forever. The pace he set was fast with deep, hard thrusts that had you clawing at the couch underneath you to keep you still. Your mouth hung open from the intense feeling of him pounding into you, your lips spewing out a mantra of curses and Marko's name. 

“Do I fuck you good baby?" You moaned louder at his words, trying to find the will in you to focus on anything other than his cock filling you to the brim with every movement of his hips. When you didn't answer him, he opted to slap your thigh, an echo wondering around the cave because of it. 

"Tell me."

"Y-yes - you feel amazing- ugh" 

Your head coaxed to the side, noticing David had now freed himself and was stroking his cock to the same pace Marko fucked you at. "Oh fuck -"

You didn't know who to look at; Marko fucking you into next week, or David getting off to the sight of you being fucked. It was overwhelmingly sexy having the two men desire you so greatly, being shared between them made you feel powerful. 

David watched your thighs flex around Marko’s torso, the way you threw your head back in pure pleasure, how Marko’s cock disappeared between your legs over and over again. He stood and sauntered over to the two of you, placing his cock at the tip of your mouth, asking for entrance into your, all too willing, mouth. You happily accepted and took as much of him as you could fit at once, though David soon had a hand on the back of your head and his hips thrusting his cock into your mouth. All you could do was relax and let him take you, forcing yourself to hold back chokes and spit as he fucked your throat with ease, all while Marko rammed his painfully hard cock into you, your thigh now over his shoulder and the new angle allowing him to be so deep inside you it hurt, in the most pleasurably painful way. It wasn’t long before you felt your second orgasm build up, the aftershocks of the last one still lingering and causing you to tremble against the two men ravishing you, tears spilled from your eyes as Marko fucked you through it. Soon your body was convulsing and shuddering underneath them, David’s cock still deep down your throat, and Marko’s deep inside you. You clung onto Marko’s shoulders for dear life, heat spreading throughout your entire body and turning you numb as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensations, both of them were close, from Marko’s messy pace to David’s twitching cock, you moaned around him to spur him along, while Marko chanted out in whines as his release approached -

“Don’t you dare cum inside her.” Marko did as he was told and pulled out quickly, spilling himself all over your stomach, David soon cumming down your throat and making you deep throat him as you swallowed every last drop, you grabbed his thigh and squeezed, a sign that you needed to stop and relax a minute, which he did immediately, tucking himself back into his pants and leaning down to your eye level. 

“Are you okay kitten?” You nodded, noting how your body ached from the rough actions it had endured. Marko placed a kiss on your cheek, wiping away a few stray tears. “You sure? I can get you anything you need.” You gave him a weak smile and stroked his cheek, trying to reassure him as best you could that you were, indeed, fine, but fucked out. 

The boys helped clean you up and take you over to the make shift nest David had built you a few months prior. Though, one question lingered in your mind. Where does your relationship go from here?

[audreyimagines]

hello hello! this one came to me in the middle of the night and i simply HAD to request it-

so hear me out, teacher Reader. this happens before all the major everything when the members of the server were all little kids (except for like Philza since he’s Wilbur, Tubbo and Tommy’s dad (it’s not canon that Technoblade is Philza’s son so if you want to make him Philza’s son for this headcannon you can :D) and Reader was a traveling teacher who would stay in their client’s house for awhile and take care of/teach the children different subjects before going to the next client and then eventually returning (in a sort of cycle).

like Reader could’ve been the one to teach Technoblade about anarchy, Wilbur the guitar, Tommy sewing (i think i saw a headcannon somewhere that Tommy can sew/sew good enough to mend clothing and i adored it), and Tubbo the basics of potion brewing and gardening/taking care of animals (especially bees).

and maybe Dream invites Reader to the SMP (as after Reader’s teacher days they’ve started doing research into magic other than potion brewing and refined the art of enchantments) and just some fluffy reunions with Tommy, Wilbur, Technoblade and Tubbo after they see Reader on the SMP (and if it’s not too many characters maybe even Philza catching up with Reader in person (they’d probably exchange letters)

this is my first request with specific characters and i think that’s funny-

anyways take your time, have fun and have a lovely day ✨

teachers & tattletales

pairing - SBI FAMILY <333 x gn! reader

notes - this is so cute thank u for requesting!! SO LONG i apologize

word count - 986

——————————————————————————

it felt like so long ago.

you’d started your position as teacher for philza’s children long ago, before any of these wars and traumatic events.

four little brats running around...what a handful.

techno was the oldest, and thankfully he acted like it. you’d have many a night teaching him how to hold his little rubber sword and hit things. it was so only fair after all, the boy whizzed ahead in all of his studies. any book you gave him was read and analyzed in a day. when he got older, sometimes he’d sit on the roof with you, and ask questions about life and get advice. you’d scowled at the idea of heights, but the pink haired boy convinced you, and he easily became like a little brother. eventually, he even helped to take care of the others with you, though you still put him in his place.

wilbur was next, and oh lord was he a lot. the kid was smart, sure, but more street smart. you’d leave the room for them to take a written test and peek back in to see wilbur trading with the others for answers. that resulted in a whole conversation with phil, allowance was lowered and wilbur was furious. you could remember his little scowl so clearly. thank god the boy could be distracted by music. the second you figured it out, you were giving him little guitars and things to drum on. he was cunning too, always talking back and weaseling out of things. most of your attention went towards him.

tommy was loud. very very loud. he’d been the one phil warned you about, but he felt like the easier to you. the boy could stick to a task if you made clear it was important, and all work was done on time. he also loved to sew, and one time you helped tommy make a pillow for phil. all three of you cried. the only time he was unmanageable was when he was with tubbo, but that was expected.

speaking of tubbo, he was actually high maintenance. very polite, very sweet, but god what a head in the clouds. he never got stuff done on time, and you ere constant on his ass. he just didn’t seem to have enough motivation, unless it was gardening. the kid grew like seventeen kinds of veggies, and sometimes you’d eat them for lunch. when you weren’t scolding him and tommy, or having to do makeup work with him, he could be the easiest. those two situations were very common, however.

when you received a letter from dream, after taking years to yourself to practice witchcraft on your own, you were ecstatic.

it read,

dear y/n,

i understand you don’t really know who i am anymore. but i’m in prison, and trying to right some wrongs. if you could come to these coordinates, i think you’d be happy to see the boys you used to teach.

sincerely, dream

of course you set off instantly, reaching phil’s house in a few days. it was just as cold as you remembered, and you pulled your cloak closer to you as you opened the door.

“hello?” phil’s face melted from confusion to recognition and then joy as you hugged him. he pulled you in instantly, sitting down to make you tea and talk all about the years you’d missed.

“do you think i could see the boys?” you asked around the rim of your cup. phil shot up.

“oh my god i’m hogging you, of course!”

first stop was techno’s. the man just stared at you for a minute, taking you in. when he eventually hugged you, it was gentle, like he was afraid he’d break you. you swore you heard him sniffle, but techno denied it for years.

wilbur was next, and he was the same cocky bastard he’d been as a little kid, but taller. he was negotiating something with quackity when he saw you in the distance. wilbur mumbled something quickly to big q and then was bounding to you in an instant.

“long time no see.” he extended a hand.

“wilbur,” you mumbled happily, and the boy scooped you up in a hug. you could almost swear he said “so much longer than thirteen years,” but decided not to press it. instead you focused on the beanie boy in your arms.

phil warned you tommy might be a bit off, though he didn’t explain why. you didn’t ask, it was their own lives. tommy would tell you if he wished. when you reached his house and knocked, the boy who answered looked battered. it broke your heart.

“tommy!” you said. he shrunk back.

“don’t,” his voice was shaky, “don’t mock them.”

“what? tommy it’s- it’s me?”

you held your arms out and gently hugged him. it took a few minutes, but before long tommy was sunk into your embrace, sobbing.

tubbo was a bit less emotional, with you arriving at the giant mansion and just staring. holy.

an enderboy??? half ender??? whatever. someone answered the door, and blinked politely at you.

“can i help you?”

“oh, i’m sorry. i thought this was tubbo’s house.”

the mans face lit up.

“tubbo! someone’s here for you!”

before long the brunette rounded the corner, leading a small pink haired child by the hand. the kid fell, and tubbo scooped him into his arms. his gaze flipped you to you, and his mouth dropped wide open.

“TEACHER!” he was running at you now, quickly handing off the child to the enderman before tackling you with a laugh. once you got up, tubbo took you on a tour around the beautiful gardens he had. it made your heart swell.

after being invited to stay over by his now-introduced husband and child, you made plans with the rest of the family to see them tomorrow, and drifted to sleep, perfectly content.

[bangtans-bubs]

Hii could you do one about how bts would react to our moans being hot or loud (or both) and how turned on they'll be ?? Just discovered your blog, I'm following you ! 🤗

BTS Reaction #3: When you moan loudly + being turned on

a/n: Hey army! To the army that requested this, I hope you like it and thank you for the support 💜! I've been working on a couple requests, so feel free to submit any ideas. To the army that requested the Mafia Min Yoongi, I’M ALMOST DONE, JUST HANG ON A LITTLE LONGER!!!

warning: obv smut ;)

word count: (approx. 220+ per member)

*creds to gif owners

-/-

> Kim Namjoon (RM)

Being turned on: He man spreads quite often when he’s feeling hot to get some space down there. He isn’t very handsy with you because touching you would only tempt him to fuck you against the nearest wall right then and there. He doesn’t allow you to touch him in a provoking manner either and if you do dare try to, the way he glares at you would be enough to halt your actions. He giggles often too, and he tends to blush when you make a dirty remark to him. He may put on an innocent act in front of others, but he’s filthy as fuck when it’s just you and him in a room.

Reaction to your moans: Namjoon has a very deep voice, so when he groans or makes a sound in bed, it almost always overpowers yours. Since he’s always down to do try new things, you suggested that he uses handcuffs on you, and he excitedly agreed to that. He took advantage of the fact that your hands are now restrained and decided to tease you. He would run his long, slender fingers along your wet, aching folds in an attempt to hear you beg. Since you were the only one experiencing physical pleasure, Namjoon was able to clearly hear your heavy moans. The way your hips jerked up when he hit a nerve and the way you moaned his name was enough for him to place his length at your entrance before he began thrusting. His thrusts would be very rough, your moans almost being covered by the sound of his hips making contact with your ass.

> Kim Seokjin 

Being turned on: Jin becomes very handy when he wants you, and the majority of times it doesn’t matter who’s around you both. He has a few ways to grab your attention in public and he’ll desperately try all of them. The first attempt would consist of a message like, “A quickie in 5?” If he sees that you haven’t checked your phone or are ignoring his needs, he’ll use his second tactic. He’ll stare at you from across the room knowing damn well that you sense his gaze on you. If that doesn’t work too, he’ll use his final tactic, which is a tricky one, but knowing him he’ll be pretty slick with it. He’ll walk to where you and the others are standing and would initiate a conversation between all of you. Once he’s done with the small talk, he’ll lean down to whisper, “Be out in 5 minutes.”

When you try to refuse, he’ll let out a dry chuckle before saying, “I wasn’t asking.”

Reaction to your moans: He knows when you’re about to reach your climax by the way you tighten around him, but when he hears you moaning loudly, he’ll have you turned towards him in the missionary position. You’re never really loud in bed either, but your heavy moans had caught Jin off guard, encouraging him to keep going. He’d thrust into you faster to hear another moan slip out of your mouth and that’s what brings him to the edge. Even after you finish, he’d thrust a couple more times to overstimulate you, to try and hear you scream one last time.

> Min Yoongi (Suga) 

Being turned on: He’s well experienced at suppressing his feelings, so it’s hard to tell when he’s feeling freaky. The only way you can notice that he’s bothered is when his tongue constantly darts out to wet his lips, but he does it very slowly while he locks eyes with you. He’d try to keep his growth from peaking by clenching his legs closed or covering himself with the nearest object until he’s calmer. He’d have a certain type of look on his face that yells for you to stop teasing, but his reactions only motivate you to keep going.

Reaction to your moans: He’s used to your nasty talking in bed more than your moans. You assumed her got off a lot faster when he hears you whispering filthy words into his ears, but your assumptions were proved wrong. When you let out a hefty moan against the nape of his neck, he was quick to flip the both of you over, so that you were now straddling his hips, holding onto him for dear life. His consistent thrusts made your legs shake and feeling the way you tightened around his length and hearing the sweet sounds that left your mouth sounded like music to his ears. So, now you’ve realized that your heavy moans can do all kinds of wonders to Suga.

> Jung Hoseok (J-Hope/Hobi)

Being turned on: Hobi is probably the easiest member to read when he’s turned on. Even if his members are trying to have a conversation with him, their voices would be muted to him because he’d be too busy replaying your moans in his head. He’d constantly eye you down in an attempt to send you a sign that he’s needy for your touch. He’s very fidgety as well. He usually bounces his legs up and down or would fidget around with his belt or shirt buttons. The longer he waits, the better the payout for you.

Reaction to your moans: He’d be taken aback by how loudly you cried out his name, but that won’t stop him from licking you clean. He knew how well to use his tongue since he did have to go through some training regarding his tongue movements for rapping. The louder you moaned, the faster his tongue moved. He made sure to touch every part of your aching core and even moaned against it, sending vibrations through your body like electricity. He pulled away to see your reaction more clearly, but to that, you responded with grunts from the loss of touch. That’s when he really goes down on you, adding two of his fingers to thrust into you while his mouth worked at your core. When he wanted to hear you more, he’d remove his lips from your core and begin to pepper sloppy kisses along your inner thighs.

> Park Jimin

Being turned on: His eyes would widen and his pupils would be dilated, a dark colour hue filled with lust. He’s also one to not give a shit about the others surrounding you and is very bold with his actions. He’d walk up to you and start flirting, his teeth teasingly tugging at his plump, lower lips once he finishes his sentence. He’ll get up close and personal, towering over you like a menace in front of the others. He would then walk away from you, most likely to a more private setting, leaving you all hot and bothered. Within seconds, you would find yourself trailing behind him, only to lose sight of him. You’d continue to walk around in search of him, but then, you’d feel a pair of hands pull you into a room by your hips, slamming the door shut behind you.

Reaction to your moans: Even if your mind tells you to be quiet during sex, his actions will make your body say otherwise. He has always loved hearing your sweet sounds, but he never knew you can get louder than you already were. He’d throw his head back in reaction to your loud moan, revealing the soft skin of his neck. Before you can leave a trail of marks on it, he would move away to tease you, knowing that he can get you to moan as loud as before. He thought he had already heard the loudest moan of yours, but hearing the one that just slipped your mouth, only exhilarated him. He took it as a challenge to see how far he can push you before hearing another one of those hefty moans slip.

> Kim Taehyung (V)

Being turned on: He isn’t one to become fidgety or handsy when he’s turned on. It would be hard for him to take his eyes off you because of all the dirty thoughts fogging his mind. If you unintentionally turn him on, he’d pull you to the side for a little fun, having a makeup session being the furthest point. If you tease him on purpose, it won’t take him a second to pull you away to teach you a lesson about teasing in public. A way to quickly catch onto Tae’s intentions would be from the way he gazes into your eyes. He has a habit of lifting his chin a slight bit before he licks his lips, staring down at you. To which he knows makes you weak in the legs.

Reaction to your moans: He has only heard your heavy moans during drunk sex because things tend to get a little wild, but when he heard you let out a loud moan right against his ears, that was it for him. He loves foreplay because that’s where he can tease you the most, but hearing you loudly moan his name made him hard and needy in an instant. He would have you on all fours, gently pressing down on your shoulder blade so that your ass was sticking up. He’d wrap his hands around your neck and would bring you closer to him, wanting to hear how good he’s making you feel.

> Jeon Jungkook 

Being turned on: He’s very subtle and isn’t obvious when he’s feeling heated around others because of your teasing. You both tend to tease each other at a majority of the events you attend together. When you tease him with the intention of breaking his self-control, you’ll see a cheeky smile appear on his face while he runs his tongue along the insides of his left cheek. He’d join you and the others, speaking as if he comes in peace, but this is just an excuse for him to teasingly trail his hand around your waist, pulling you right against him. He knows exactly what to do and say to get your gears turning.

Reaction to your moans: Jungkook usually works your body to the point where he’ll have you screaming and writhing for more, but he has never seen you become this loud. A part of him was worried that your moan was loud because he’s hurting you, but deep down he knew what kind of freak you were. He’d try to note down what he did differently to hear these sounds from you and once he realizes, he won’t do it so often. If pulling your hair, choking you or just getting railed real hard is what made you moan so loud, he’ll keep those tricks in hand to use at the very end. He also knows that overstimulating you would cause you to moan his name out loud, which is another reason why he waits to use your weakness against you till the end.

*requests are open

[bluegarners]

For the bingo card, I'd like to request the "tortured for information" square with Dick being the one who's tortured (sorry Dick alskjda). You can include any other batfam member(s) that you want, I'm not picky 😁.

Oooo, that’s a good one! I was super excited to see your request, I hope this does the prompt right~ @hood-ex

Tortured for Information

The room they’re being contained in is small, perhaps eight foot by eight, and the ceiling barely crests at seven. It’s cramped and hot, the stone bricks that surround them leaving no room for air ventilation or any sort of moisture except their own sweat. They know there’s a door somewhere off to the right, but the enclosing darkness leaves most of it to the imagination. Pitch black inks the area, not a single source of light filtering through its void. They only know there’s a door in the darkness because there used to be four of them where three now sit in anticipation. A few inches rest between each of the three remaining figures, all trying their best to breathe through the heat and not inhale the stench of their own gross fluids.

Time is hard to tell in the dark, minds so used to constant movement that stillness is unexpected and dangerous. What they do know is that, before there were just three, they awoke one by one, feeling out for one another in the darkness, checking supplies (they had none), and trying their best to figure out how to escape. The door was the obvious solution at first, the largest of them using his shoulder as a battering ram against the heavy wood. There’s no give, no weakness, and the eldest stops the biggest before there’s unnecessary hurt inflicted. There are no hinges or door knobs or anything obvious through the touch of careful fingers, so other than hopelessly banging against the door, there’s no way to open it.

All of them were still on the cusp of disoriented when they realized there’s no air flow and that, if they’re as trapped as they believe themselves to be, conserving oxygen was the next priority after a failed escape. Suggestions of being underground were thrown around, all failing to recall how they ended up in the small room in the first place or who took them. The underground theory is plausible, being that there’s no light, but the sweltering heat doesn’t match the coolness of deep earth. Being in a basement was also likely, but seeing as their prison isn’t much of a room for a house or other building also leaves the hypothesis flimsy. They compared notes from what they could remember.

“Patrol,” Tim started, a small voice in the black, “in the West portion of Gotham. I was alone though.”

“Spoiler accompanied me in the South,” Damian said.

“Last I remembered, I was in the Cave with B,” Dick chimed in. “We were going over logs. Hood?”

“Drunk,” was the muttered reply. “Still nursing a headache actually so if you guys could shut up and think, that’d be great.”

They’re still on rickety terms with the estranged brother. Things have gotten better over the years, but the progress only graduated from ‘shoot on sight’ to ‘stay the hell away’. Progress is progress though. They’re getting there, slowly, and one day Alfred will coax him into a Manor dinner.

Silence fell on them, more out of nothing else to say rather than to comply with the command, and the only sound was their breaths filtering through the stagnant air. The heat isn’t unbearable. No, far from it, they’ve all endured worse, but the closeness of their bodies provided little relief. There’s hardly enough room to stand and take a few steps before accidentally smashing someone’s hand and soon enough, agitation was brewing. Britsling words, huffs, tuts, an occasional snap; none of them did well in dark, small, and claustrophobic situations.

The hard part about residing in shadow is that one cannot tell when eyes are open or closed, seeing darkness or dreaming in black. When Jason awakes for the second time, a fierce pounding building behind his ears, he realizes that someone is missing. Someone is gone from their eight by eight confinement. A stutter of breath is absent among the shallow patterns. His fingers fumble loosely against the hard flooring, rough in texture and covered in cracks and pebbles, until he finds a body.

He shakes them. “Wake up. Wake up now.”

It’s Damian. He’s up and alert in an instant, grasping at Jason’s wrist in a move meant to harm the older man. It merely pinches him. “What’s going on?” the boy hisses, grip frightfully tight.

Jason ignores him. Feels around for another body. His hand barely moves a foot before he feels something loose and soft. He tugs at it and a startled yell answers. “What the hell?” Tim growls, low enough to be a whisper but quick enough to be panicked.

A snake of oil and water falls into his stomach as Jason confirms it. It twists around in his gut even as he crawls over to where he thinks the door is, slamming a fist into it over and over again as he feels his own panic settle coolly into his feet. They took him. Dick is gone.

That was, in their best estimate, an hour ago. Now they all sit within reaching distance, careful to watch for the signs of induced slumber, periodically calling out to reassure one another. Tim thinks it was gas. Damian thinks drugs. Jason doesn’t know what to think, just that it happened and now Nightwing is gone. He does not voice his more sinister thoughts aloud on what happened to the man in blue, what might be happening right now, but he does not console the younger vigilantes. Order would dictate that it was now his job to look after them, as the second eldest, but he’s been on his own for years and doesn’t know how to.

Dick is gone and they can only sit and wait.

~oOo~

The vapor takes him last. He’s wedged himself into a corner, straining his eyes to make out even an outline of his brothers, when he hears a body slump to the floor, followed by two after. The noise is alarming because, well, those were bodies hitting the stone floor, his brothers, and Dick prepares himself for something as he holds his breath, clasping a hand over his nose.

The door suddenly opens and white light pours into the small room like an ocean hell bent on taking everything with it. It washes over everything, and for a moment, Dick is completely blinded and overwhelmed with the sudden contrast. Just as quickly as the light burst in, there are hands scraping and clawing against his shoulders and Dick is tempted to shout, but the vapors have finally reached his lungs and he feels the lull of sleep drag at his insides until his eyes weigh a thousand pounds and he is forced to close them.

When he blinks them open, he has to bite back a scream because there’s a masked face in front of him, a ghastly brown mask with gaping holes that peer into the depths. Dick is more than a little startled but finds it within himself to evaluate. His mask is still firmly in place, he can feel the spirit gum sucking at his skin, and he is still fully garbed in his Nightwing suit. A quick glance is easy enough to prove he is no longer in that dark prison he and his brothers had been held in, and another glance confirms that he is the only one out.

His brothers are still trapped.

He, too, is trapped, secured against what feels like a metal cot with leather and metal chains and straps tying his feet and arms to the corners of the cot. The masked face moves away from him, decidedly once it's confirmed he is in fact awake, and retreats back. Dick strains to see where they go but they disappear out his peripherals and is instead replaced with the sight of an old woman, gray, almost silver, hair falling in front of her eyes. There’s bright pink lipstick on her mouth, a dull blue shimmer shade smearing her eyelids, and a coral pink blush struggling to lift up the saggy flesh in what might be an attempt at youth. She smiles down at him. Her teeth are plastic.

“Good evening, Nightwing,” she simpers, reaching out a gnarled hand to stroke at his face. “Did you sleep well?”

Dick says nothing, trying to piece together the woman’s motives. He doesn’t recognize her. She’s new. But old. Perhaps an underground leader then. The masked person from earlier would indicate some sort of dramatic cult. Dick doesn’t know if the concealment of their identity means they intend to release him later, or if the showing of the old woman’s face is a move of power, as if to say that they have the means to keep him stationary and have little fear in doing so. The woman could be anyone from a simple grandmother to an “immortal” mortal, striving for some elixir of youth like the League of Assassins. Really, this could be anything. They, whoever it was that took Dick and his brothers, were clearly very capable.

Just as Dick begins to consider the idea of magic being involved, the old woman snaps her fingers and the wooden face from earlier reappears. The blow is quick, a metal stick coming down to strike at his abdomen, and Dick has little time to brace as metal meets his thin flesh and pain lights a fire inside his stomach. He bites back a scream.

“Now, you listen here young man,” the woman berates, a shaking finger pointing accusingly at him. “When you are asked a question, you answer. Where are your manners?”

Dick is too busy catching his breath to form a coherent response, and the woman snaps her fingers again, another blow striking at his stomach again. Dick relaxes as fully as he can despite the panic that’s quickly taking hold of his limbs, and the metal collides with his side this time with bruising force against one of his kidneys. A huff of hurt escapes his mouth and Dick instinctually begins to curl up into himself, only stopped by the straps that hold him down.

“Do you understand?” the old woman asks, raising her hand threateningly as if to snap again.

“Yes,” Dick wheezes out, breathing through the pain. “Yes, I get it.”

She drops her hand, a pleased and rather pleasant smile marring her face once more. “Good. Lovely. I’m sure you have many questions, Nightwing, but I am not obliged to answer any. However, I want you to answer some questions for me. How does that sound?”

Dick isn’t sure if a head nod is enough to placate her inquiry, so he manages another verbal affirmation.

“Excellent,” the old woman crows. “I’ll begin then. Oh drat, I almost forgot. You arrived with your brothers, yes?”

Dick feels the blood in his face drain. She notices.

“Oh, not to worry!” she reassures, a wrinkled hand coming up to pat his cheek. “No harm will come to them. I would never hurt a child, Nightwing, no sir. Family is very important after all. That’s why you’re here! So, to make sure that you answer truthfully, I would like to propose a bargain.”

“Bargain?” Dick questions. His side winces, still struggling to adapt to the injuries. He’ll have to deal with it later. Later.

“Quite so,” the woman agrees. “If you answer my questions with complete honesty, and I mean that young man, I will grant a few privileges to your brothers. I don’t like shutting them away in their room, but I know otherwise they wouldn’t behave. You can help them though. Here, I’ll show you.”

A screen flickers to life above his head, a monitor illuminating the ceiling.

“If you answer my question, I will turn on one light for them,” the woman says, shakily motioning to the pitch black screen. “That is how this will work. I will tell you what privileges can be earned for your brothers, and then ask you a question. Answering truthfully is the only way to give them those rewards though. Do you understand?”

“And if I don’t?” Dick questions back, the situation finally settling into his head. Rule number something that Bruce had always instilled in him was to never bargain with your captor, especially when others were involved. Innocents.

“Then I snap my fingers,” the woman responds coldly, “and Burtrum will do his best to force the truth out of you.”

Burtrum. The hulking figure in the wooden mask. Burtrum. Okay. Okay. Not the weirdest but- okay, fine. Burtrum.

“We’ll start easy, just so you understand that I am truthful in my promises. Are you ready, Nightwing?”

He can say no. He can say no and get beaten for it, but if he says no, then there’s the chance that his brothers will suffer for it. The old woman promised not to hurt them, she said she wouldn’t hurt children, but he can’t take anything she says as absolute fact. If he says yes, that he’s willing to answer her, there’s no telling what kind of questions she might want to pry an answer for out of him. She could ask about anything: identities, the Justice League, the Titans, Batman, codes, locations, anything. And if he doesn’t answer the way she wants, he’ll get beaten for it. Tortured, more like it, and he really doesn’t want to put himself through that if he doesn’t have to.

“I don’t know how you were raised, but I don’t accept silence as an answer. You will use your words.”

Tell that to Bruce, Dick thinks ruefully, mulling over his options once again. “Fine,” he settles on, “I’m ready.”

“Splendid. Burtrum, do please fetch me a chair. My knees are brittle and it’s cold in here.”

The massive figure of Burtrum, dear lord that sounds like a name Alfred would know somehow, lumbers away and Dick, admittedly, feels a little tension ease out of him now that the immediate threat is gone. Well, the immediate physical threat.

“Now, I promised you that I would turn a light on for your brothers. I understand that children can be afraid of the dark, and it is not my intention to frighten them like this. So, tell me, Nightwing, what is your favorite color?”

“My favorite color?” he repeats back dumbly.

“Yes, indeed. Answer that and I will lighten the room. It’s not a trick question. Everyone’s got a favorite color.”

Dick can’t think of how his favorite color might be used against someone, and he certainly doesn’t use it as his own password or anything, so he says, “I like blue.”

The old woman laughs, a vibrant blue fingernail tapping against the emblem spread across his chest. “I do as well,” she titters excitedly. “Lapis is such a beautiful color, wouldn’t you agree? Such a darling, delicate shade.”

Dick doesn’t know if it’s a question he actually has to answer, it seems rhetorical, but he doesn’t want to take any chances. The fewer bruises, the better as always. “Yeah, it’s-”

“As promised,” the old woman interrupts, talking over him, “I will turn on the light. I am an honest person, Nightwing, so I hope this show of good faith will inspire you.”

Immediately, Dick’s eyes snap to the screen above him, holding his breath in anticipation as he stares into the darkness. A few seconds later and a calm yellow washes over the dark screen, the slumped figures of his brothers finally in view. It appears to be a live feed, something Dick had originally been worried about, but as he sees Jason stand up at the new lightness and Tim’s head whipping around in astonishment, Dick feels his heart sigh.

Burtrum re-enters the room, rumbling with a newer heaviness in his arms as he carries a padded wooden chair. He gently places it onto the ground and the old woman sinks into it with a gratefulness that reminds Dick that this is literally an old woman he’s dealing with. Not some crime lord, not some super villain, not some drugged out meta human. She is, quite literally, just an eighty something year old lady with a singular, large butler like henchman at her service. It all feels quite ridiculous now that he thinks about it, and for a moment, Dick wonders if he’s hallucinating or dreaming.

The smarting ache in his stomach reminds him that, no, neither of those things are true and this is truly a dangerous situation with so many unknown variables. He needs to be careful. Needs to be smart about things.

“Now that we have established my honesty, it is time to establish yours. Let’s begin, shall we?”

~oOo~

The darkness retreats suddenly and unexpectedly. Damian does not jolt, any Robin to a respectable Batman never jolts, but he will admit the sudden brightness leaves him feeling antsy. The lights meant a few things. One, someone was watching them. Two, the room was far more complex than a few bricks and an immovable door. Three, something was going to happen soon with this new development or something already did.

Todd is swearing left and right, making for the door again. Drake is peering around the room skeptically, angling his head this way and that in an attempt to understand the new light sources. And he? Damian is staring a hole into the rough ground, thinking hard. About what, he can’t quite put to words, but somehow, the light does not comfort him. It only reassures him that there was something, rather someone, crucial missing from this entire situation, the darkness having hidden that blatant fact beforehand.

The illumination does not heat the room any further than it already feels, but Damian supposes time will change that. By itself, even before the brightness, the small prison was near sweltering and Damian could feel the back of his suit becoming soaked in his own sweat. Perhaps three hours, maybe a bit more, has passed since the first time they awoke to be trapped in this confinement. Dehydration was inevitable. Escape, by all means, was still a quandary that would not be answered for the foreseeable future. There was no telling if anyone was looking for them currently, no way to communicate a location with all of their materials stripped from their persons, and being trapped inside such a tiny space with two of his least favorite people in the world only worsened that fact.

To top it all off, Richard was still gone. Still missing. Captured. Elsewhere.

The heat must be making him light headed because suddenly his neck feels too weak to support his thoughts. He rests his face in between his knees and continues to think. There is little else to do.

~oOo~

“I have a list of necessities here. Every question you answer is one of them given to your brothers. When I have run through the entire list, of which there are only three elements, I will have Burtrum deliver the items you answered to. Is that clear, Nightwing?”

It’s insane is what it is, is all Dick can think, but his voice says otherwise. “Crystal.”

“We’ll start with hygiene. How often do you patrol in Bludhaven?”

“Whenever I have time to.”

The old woman frowns and taps two fingers against the metal cot. Burtrum and his dark brown mask loom forward and Dick can feel hands rest against his ankles. Dick has the sudden realization that his boots are gone. He has nothing but thick socks and a few band-aids on his feet.

“Do not be coy, young man,” the woman carps. “Answer properly. A schedule will do.”

Will giving away specific days be too much? Yes, likely so. Though it’s true he patrols whenever he has time to, those are for extra patrols when he has the opportunity to do so with a friend or fellow vigilante. Every second month on the third Tuesday, he patrols in Gotham with Batman and Robin. On a ‘regular’ schedule, he takes every chance he can get to go out on the streets of Bludhaven. Even then, if someone watches closely enough, he does have a pattern in the how/when/where he patrols. It’s a bit too far reaching to truly connect dots, but he can’t be sure. He also had to consider that there was hygiene on the line, whatever that meant. It could be a bathroom, a shower, medical supplies, medication. It could be many things, so was he willing to pass over that for his brothers? No, not truly, but he doesn’t really know how far he can push vagueness in order to appease the lady.

He’s taking too long. The grip around his ankles is tightening and though he’s almost sure Burtrum isn’t a meta-human, he certainly looks strong enough to do some serious damage.

“I don’t have a schedule but-”

The twists are sudden, efficient and ruthless, and the sickening snap that echoes in Dick’s ears takes a moment to register. Adrenaline keeps his brain from processing the sight of both of his feet and the tops of his toes pointing straight at him, but the bulge that shines through his socks is enough to jerk his thoughts to a screeching halt. Then the pain comes. It’s blinding. Bones grinding against each other, snapped unnaturally and grating against his muscles, creating a euphoria of fire and cold, cold ice that spreads to the very tips of his toenails. On instinct, he flails and immediately, immensely, regrets it as tears spring into his eyes and his lips contort in a half snarl, half gag of anguish.

“Your brothers have lost toilet privileges,” the old woman mutters unkindly, dull eyes unfeeling for his pain, “and Burtrum has done exactly as I warned. You are a selfish man, Nightwing. Selfish and unwise. I pray this has been a lesson for you on the consequences of being dishonest.”

Dick can hardly hear her over the roar of blood in his ears, heart beating faster and faster as the pain only continues to torment him. It’s crazy, he knows he can’t actually feel the bones touching one another, it’s not something he’s aware of on a daily basis, but right now it feels like his bones are singing and his nerves are their opera house. A raging cacophony of violence and crackling misery. He sucks in a breath. Slowly pushes it out. Repeats. In. Out. In. Out.

“Let’s try again. Water, three twelve ounce bottles. Do you work with the BPD often?”

Even in his agony induced haze, Dick understands that this is something he must answer. Water is important, essential, and he doesn’t know how much longer they’ll be captured here. The offer of water is much too tempting to pass up and he knows that the room the others are cornered in is already hot. Dehydration would take hold of them soon and he only has the flimsy word of his captor that his brothers will not be harmed. He has to have some trust that the bottles of water will remain un-tampered with.

“No,” he manages, words thick like sludge on his tongue, “not officially. Sometimes, I’ll help them with drug factions or serial killers.” Dick closes his eyes and breathes deeply again. Speaking is difficult when he wants to bite through his lip to distract himself from his broken bones. “I don’t have a working relationship like Batman does with the GCPD.”

The old woman hums, clapping her hands together. “I am happy you’ve come to your senses. Your honesty has earned your brothers some water.”

She reaches out to brush some of the sweat slicked strands of hair from his face, cooing in an odd motherly way. He hates the tenderness in her touch, as if she hadn’t just ordered someone to break his ankles. This woman wasn’t just dangerous, she was psychotic. Unpredictable. To further worsen a bad situation, he still can’t figure out what the purpose in all of this was. What the ultimate goal is. She seems interested in him, Nightwing, rather than his secret identity. She’s neglected to pry about Batman, of which all villains do when they’ve got a bird in their grasps, and the soothing motions of her hands juxtapose her violence.

Dick’s head is spinning from it all, the fire licking at his feet worsening the vertigo. He doesn’t understand anything at all and the circulation in his legs is thrumming in the worst way. His feet will turn blue soon, but before that, the flesh will balloon into something almost unrecognizable with the swelling that is sure to come. How long does it take for ankles to heal? Two months? Three? That’s ignoring physical therapy and if all goes according to plan. The breaks look bad, not exactly clean, and Dick is scaring himself with the possibility of never walking properly again.

“Let’s proceed with the final item on the necessities list. Three granola bars, all high in calorie. A real treat with chocolate chips, ho ho. I know children just love sweet things.”

He’s tempted to drown her out, just focus solely on the monitor still hanging over his head and watch his brothers, but once again he evaluates that food is indeed essential too and that he still doesn’t know when rescue or escape will be. His best estimate on timing is that they’ve been captured for the better part of four, maybe five hours. Possibly more. They’re nearing the timing in which someone will notice all four of them gone. Help will come soon, but he’s got to compensate for that large if in all of this. If help arrives. If they escape. Those snacks could end up being a saving grace depending on all of those ifs.

“What do you know about the Anaconda Killer?”

The moniker is familiar. An early 2000s serial killer in Bludhaven that strangled his victims after kidnapping and holding them for a week. Most of his victims were young girls, high-schoolers and undergraduates in college, and all were blonde with blue eyes. The killer was never caught and it haunts the BPD as their first major cold case, a total of seven known victims staining the profiles.

He tells her as much, paraphrasing, and she frowns. For a moment, Dick fears that he wasn’t specific enough despite his little knowledge on the subject. His eyes dart to Burtrum, still stationary at his feet and mask staring at nothing and everything, and Dick waits for confirmation as the old woman closes her eyes.

“You worked on the case?” she asks slowly, hands crawling up to rest lightly against the metal cot. “You know of the victims?”

“Yes,” he answers, careful to keep his tone steady. A jolt of doubt strikes through him though as the old woman’s eyes snap open, a feverish excitement taking hold of her.

“Oh that’s good,” she whispers. “Very, very good.”

~oOo~

They pass out for the third time.

Knocked out is probably the more correct term, but Tim can’t find it within himself to actually care because that was the third fucking time. He can’t figure out how they do it. He’s almost completely sure it’s some sort of gas agent that leaks in through the bricks, but he can’t find any gaps or seams where the gas would invade from. He’s looked, double checked, and he can’t find any discrepancies between the bricks and stones. It’s driving him crazy because if it’s that easy to take them out, why hasn’t anything been done to them yet?

And furthermore, why leave water and food in its place?

He’s holding one of the bottled waters in his hands, inspecting the seal to make absolutely certain it hasn’t been opened. Tim knows there are other ways to tamper with water other than actually unscrewing the cap, but honestly he feels a little desperate for a bit of relief for his thirst. He’s sweat through his uniform, having unclasped his cape about an hour into their confinement. He’s sure his face is a little clammy looking and breathing through his nose feels like he’s sucking in sand, so the water was like some sort of hallucination when he first saw it. The others weren’t sure what to make of it at first either, Damian suspicious that it was poisoned and Jason not really giving a fuck.

Tim’s thirst is winning over his skepticism though, the more he turns the bottle around in his hands, the more appealing the slosh of water looks. “They wouldn’t give this to us just to poison us,” he suggests, trying to reason his way into feeling less guilty about drinking. “It just wouldn’t make sense. Why give us drugged food and water when they’ve already shown they can do that with the air? It would be-”

“Holy shit, just shut up and drink it,” Jason mutters, uncapping his own bottle and taking a large swig. Both of the younger boys turn to him with large eyes, clearly watching to see if there are any immediate, negative side effects. Jason will admit he’s a little nervous to find out as well but his defiance on the subject merely just makes him take another sip.

Ten minutes go by and Tim’s tongue is feeling tacky and borderline dry. He gives in and drinks half of the bottle, swishing the lukewarm water around in his mouth. It’s a huge relief.

“Imbeciles,” Damian says, watching with ill-concealed fascination and disgust. “You are both foolish to accept that from the enemy.”

“Maybe,” Jason tosses back, lying down. His feet almost touch the other side. “Or maybe not. It could be from Nightwing.”

Damian's head snaps up. “What do you mean by that?”

Jason hums. “Well he was taken, what, a few hours ago?”

“Four.”

“Yeah? Huh, no shit. Either way, that leaves time for negotiations. A deal. Goldie just loves making deals.”

“You’re implying that Nightwing is speaking with the enemy about our treatment?” Damian says slowly.

“Speaking, screaming, dying, who knows. But sure. He’s talking to them about our treatment.”

Tim throws a small glare to Jason’s slouched form, irritated that he’s being so casual in such a potentially dangerous situation. A small part is also starting to get more worried though because the older man does make a point. Dick is probably speaking with their captors but it’s a far reach to say it’s voluntary. There’s about a seventy-three percent chance Dick is being tortured at the moment, tortured for information or otherwise. In terms of stubbornness and resistance to torture, Dick was only second to Bruce when it came to that sort of thing, be it threat of pain or mental anguish. His eldest brother has a hard head and an even tougher mindset, but his weak spot is his heart.

If Tim and the others were being used as bargaining chips, well, there wasn’t much Dick wouldn’t agree to. Suddenly, the bottle of water doesn’t feel so much like relief as it does guilt.

~oOo~

“We’re moving on from necessities,” the old woman proclaims, anticipation now tainting her voice. “I have no intention of keeping you and your brothers here forever; children should be allowed to frolic and such. So, Nightwing, this is your chance to earn them their freedom.”

He’s never been offered something like this before. Typically, the go-to style of his torturers always involved a threat of ‘You tell me what I wanna know and I won’t kill you and your loved ones,’ or ‘You’ll eventually talk if I keep you here long enough,’. Dick can’t remember a time where he’s been offered his freedom in exchange for information. It’s just not how these things work.

“I am willing to give your brothers their supplies back as a first exchange, excluding their weapons of course. Such a prize, however, can only be earned through truth and if you lie, I will know and your punishment for lying will be severe. I do not like hurting you, you know,” the woman simpers, “but I will order Burtrum to do so. This is very important to me. Do you understand?”

The stakes are climbing higher and higher with each minute that ticks by. Dick can’t really feel his feet much, only if he chooses to think about it or if he attempts to move anything below the knee, and the pulsating in his stomach isn’t a fantastic sign. He hadn’t originally thought the blows were enough to cause actual harm, maybe a few dark, dark bruises to show for them, but the sharp pin pricks in his side where he had been struck in the kidney doesn’t feel right. Internal bleeding is something that crosses his mind, the symptoms of numbness and a faint migraine building, but Dick forces himself to categorize and shelve the pain. Now isn’t the time. It’s really not the time.

“Yes,” he says stiffly, feeling his tongue scrape against the roof of his mouth. “I understand.”

“Splendid. Who is the Anaconda Killer?”

And wow, that’s a loaded question to start off the promise of liberty with. “The BPD never caught-”

“I don’t care,” the woman snaps, leaning forward. Her breath smells like old soup. “Tell me who the killer is.”

Dick swallows. Takes a breath and releases it. Eyes Burtrum, who is still hovering by his feet. Trails his eyes back to bright lipstick and shimmer eye shadow.

“Kennedy Giavich,” Dick says, unsure if he really should be giving out the name of a civilian that has never been charged. “My investigations pointed to him being the killer but there wasn’t any conclusive evidence.”

The old woman taps a fingernail against the cot and Burtrum moves forward, placing a single meaty hand on top of Dick’s mangled feet. Slowly, languidly, the man pushes against the soles of his feet and Dick sucks in a quick breath, screwing his eyes shut. The pain, like the first time, is laced with fire and ice and Dick is starting to come to terms with the fact that he’s going to have nerve damage if this keeps up. Never mind having to stay off his feet for a couple months, he’s never going to have proper feeling in his toes again.

“Who is Kennedy Giavich?” the old woman presses, leering further into Dick’s face.

In. Out. In. Out.

The woman taps her finger again and the pressure releases, the small scream Dick had been holding back dissipating as well. “Who is Kennedy?” she repeats.

“H-He’s a security guard,” Dick manages to wheeze out, still trying to catch his breath. “Works at a communal library. It’s where he sought out his victims. He, mgh, quit last year though. Brown hair, brown eyes, large build.”

“What else?”

“I tailed him for a couple months but he didn’t have any new victims. He lives near the library he worked at and hasn’t gotten another job since. That’s all I know.”

The old woman eyes him, pressing her lips together in what might be a scowl. She regards Dick with an air of suspicion, as if she could somehow read his mind to discern if he was telling the truth or not. He is, seeing as he really hasn’t done much follow up on Giavich in the past few months. A mistake, possibly, on his part but a cold case is cold, and Dick leaves it at that. Especially when there are more active and pressing things to attend to with the little time he has.

Reaching a decision, she raises a wrinkled hand and waves it behind her, signaling Burtrum to leave the room. Dick’s eyes travel upwards to the screen again, watching with a sick feeling in his stomach as one by one his brothers succumb to whatever invisible agent leaks into their small room. A minute later, the thick wooden door creaks open slightly, Burtrum out of sight of the ceiling camera, and a few utility belts are thrown in. The door shuts quickly, presumably some sort of locking mechanism closing it completely, and Dick abruptly doesn’t feel as bad giving away a supposedly innocent civilian’s name. Hopefully, with their tech back, his brothers will find away to escape and get out of whatever hole they’ve been trapped in.

“You said that he hasn’t taken any victims in recent times,” the old woman says quietly, hands folded into her lap. “That he’s been inactive?”

Dick nods. The sick in his stomach is starting to roll around a bit more violently, nausea taking hold. Burtrum re-enters the room holding something in his left hand, but Dick can’t tell what it is, the large figure just out of his peripheral vision. He swallows at the silence that follows his entrance, the air thick with tension. Dick holds his breath.

The old woman snaps her fingers and Burtrum descends upon him.

The blows are rapid and without prejudice, slamming into every available surface that isn’t obstructed by the straps that hold him down. It’s so fast, so savage, that Dick can’t follow the movements and prepare accordingly, the flash of a weapon and it’s strike zone too much for his pain muddled mind to physically follow. One barely glances against his feet but even that is enough to send his brain into a shock, white fire lacing up his legs and to the tip of his nose. It’s bruising, crushing force, each impact enough to completely paralyze him for a few precious milliseconds. His arms are jerking in their restraints, knees bumping against each other on reflex, and there might be a sound escaping his jaw each time a blow connects, but he can’t be sure because everything is happening much too fast and his lungs are gasping for air that escapes him.

All the while, as Burtrum continues to pummel him and break his bones and bleed him dry, the old woman is muttering, gazing at the beat-down with angered, uninterested eyes and a frown cold enough to freeze the sun.

It’s all Dick can do but try and relax, there’s no point in defending himself like this, but his instincts are going hay-wire. He wants to clench and retaliate, snatch the weapon out of those ruthless hands, but Dick’s own hands are secured tightly. He can feel the marks pulling at the skin of his wrists, indenting and leaving bright red and raw flesh behind in his frenzy. Desperately, his eyes once again travel to the screen above him, his brothers’ forms still and un-moving. The sight brings little comfort, a small and irrational portion of his head screaming that they’re dead, that the old woman killed them, that Dick killed them, that he’s going to die to-

The beating stops. The old woman has a frail hand resting against Burtrum’s huge arm. She’s staring right at him.

“That was unfair of me,” she says. “I should have warned you again.”

Blood dribbles past his lips, saliva and bile sliding out as well and leaking onto the cool metal.

“I told you at the start that I wouldn’t tolerate lies.”

Something shifts inside Dick’s chest. He thinks a rib might’ve been broken. Or maybe that’s his clavicle. Sternum. Something. It hurts. It hurts.

“That Burtrum would extract the truth if necessary. Really this shouldn’t have come as a surprise, Nightwing.”

Breathing is difficult. His stomach spasms with each inhale and exhale. It’s slow and pained. Thoughts are difficult too. His eyes remain fixed on the dull monitor. Jason is moving. Reaching for his empty holsters. Tim is shifting. Damian remains still.

A gentle hand guides his chin away from the screen.

“Don’t lie to me,” the old woman whispers. There are tears in her eyes. “I told you that this was very important to me. Would you like to know why? Why I do this?”

Dick doesn’t have the strength to say yes or no. Doesn’t have the will to nod his head or turn it away. He can only stare through the lens of his mask.

“He has my grand-daughter,” she admits, voice trembling. Her fingers tap a frantic rhythm against his chin and blood flicks in their dance across his face. “I just know it. And I know you must know it too. You live in Bludhaven, don’t you? You work with the police there. Surely you must know? You’ve told me as much, so surely… Surely you know where she is?”

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t.

The tapping stops and fingernails dig into the sides of his jaw, shaking him. It jars something in his mouth and he coughs, spittle flying out and something hard dislodging. He’s lost a tooth then it would seem.

“Her name is Maria Dunken,” the old woman tells him, looking, searching, for anything like recognition in Dick’s bloody face. “She has blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s only sixteen. Please, you must know what he did to her. Where she is. Answer me! Tell me!”

Dick feels himself drifting, mind floating somewhere between coherence and dizziness. He can’t feel his feet anymore, his heart is beating beating beating, and there’s a dark fuzz building at the edges of his vision.

The old woman releases his face, pulling instead at the heavy arm of Burtrum. “This,” she says almost breathless, the panic building in her voice, “This is her uncle. Don’t you see? You must, you must know where she is. We are her family. Family is important, I know you understand this. See, look at your brothers! You do this for them, don’t you?”

Yes, Dick thinks, a mist falling over his sight. Always.

“I, we both, would do anything for our families. This was my last hope, Nightwing. My last resort. I tried so hard to get the police involved but no one would answer. Do you know how long I searched for you though? How long would you have ignored my grand-daughter if I had not brought you here? How long?”

Dick doesn’t know. The room is getting darker. He can feel his shoulders sagging against the cold table, muscles trembling and collapsing.

“Sorry,” he rasps, because that sounds like the right thing to say. He is sorry about Maria Dunken and her poor grandma. He is sorry he didn’t stick with Kennedy Giavich longer. He is sorry he ever got into this situation. He’s paying the price for it now.

The old woman laughs wetly, Burtrum jerking in her grasp. “All will be forgiven if you tell me where Maria is. Everything will be okay. Just tell me. Please.”

Dick’s eyes are drifting back to the monitor, it’s dull glow all he can focus on. Its bright edges are just enough to chase away the luring darkness that’s clouding his eyesight. Jason is up, pacing, pounding against the door. Tim is picking through his belt, nimble fingers taking stock. Damian is staring right at him. Straight at the camera. Dick feels a smile tugging at his sore features. He doesn’t remember the last time Damian ever looked so small. He’s grown up, hasn’t he?

“Nightwing?” a voice calls to him, distracting him. “Where is she?”

Slowly, Dick glances back over to the petite and frail woman and her hulking figure of a son. They make a funny picture, contrasting spectacularly against each other, but their faces, even if one is covered, are filled with a dangerous kind of hope. Thrill. Expectance.

Suddenly, a headline crosses to the forefront of Dick’s mind. Two weeks ago, a body was found in an alleyway, stuffed underneath piles of garbage. It was a young girl, a Jane Doe, and she had blonde hair and blue eyes. She was strangled to death. Even now, the details are barely there, the news a similar story to all the other tragedies that happen and continue to happen. But still. Grandmother and son look at him, his bruised and broken body, and think he has the answers they seek.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“She’s dead.”

Dick blinks and finds he doesn’t have the strength to open his eyes again.

~oOo~

Jason is about to punch the door for the fifth time when he hears something click on the other side.

Tim is trying to figure out how to get his communicator to work with little reception when he sees Jason take a step back from the door.

Damian is still staring at the weird indent in the ceiling when he realizes neither of the other occupants are moving.

They all stare at the heavy door as Jason carefully edges towards it, pressing a hand against the far side. There is little resistance and the obstruction that had trapped them for so long swings open. White light pours in and they have to squint against its brilliance. An empty hall reveals itself past the frame, and through the hall is another open door, the sounds of the city filtering beyond it. 

Jason is the first to move, taking a step out of the small room that smelled of sweat and old heat. Tim follows, gathering his emptied belt and peering into the white expanse. Damian trails after, suspicion the only thing keeping him from fleeing out into the streets. No one stops them as they walk down the long, clean hallway. There are no doors, no windows, no other exits other than straight ahead and when they step out into the damp and smog filled air of Gotham, life dances before them.

They are free.

They are free and are forced to wonder: At what cost?

[literaryfic]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong/Hong Cha Young Characters: Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joo Hyeong Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, vincenzo leaves, set five years after he left sk, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, vincenzo and cha-young are exes, they were in a relationship before, Fake/Pretend Relationship, jealous!vincenzo, Jealousy

THANK YOU SO MUCH TO @trynatalktou FOR BEING THE BEST BETA I COULD’VE ASKED FOR. THIS CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO HER!

Summary: Time stops, or so it seems. Vincenzo is petrified, beautiful statue of a man turned into stone. Her eyes follow the high bridge of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw and the curves of his slender hands gripping the coffee mug. Ah, she thinks. This is how Pygmalion fell in love with Galatea.

listen to this spotify playlist while reading if you want to suffer

Cha-young doesn’t dream that night; she barely sleeps 5 hours before she finds herself knocking on Vincenzo’s door at 6 am. She can’t help it, being in a room just underneath his, so close after all those years apart. Yet, she doesn’t want to show him mercy. She’s here to torment him, the way his absence had tormented her for years. Maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly, maybe she probably shouldn’t seek him out first, or at all. 

In reality, Cha-young knows damn well that she’s trying to find an excuse to be with him, not that she would ever admit it to anyone. 

So there she is, pounding on his door at 6 in the morning. He stands there, wearing one of his expensive pyjama sets, dark circles sitting under his eyes. She can’t quite tell if she’d woken him up or if he hadn’t slept yet.

“Did you even love me?”, she greets him. Good morning is overrated anyway. 

He sighs, letting her through. “You know that.” 

“No, I don’t. I don’t know anything anymore, Vincenzo.”

She stops in her tracks, the world suddenly spinning around her. He’s standing behind her, a mere arm length away. She’s stuck in his gravitational pull, a planet orbiting around its sun. The sharp sensation of her nails digging into her palms is enough to get her moving. She sits on the couch, the same one she’d sat in just a few hours ago. 

“I did. I do.” He clears his throat, looking away. “Love you, I mean.” 

She nibbles on her lower lip, trying (and failing miserably) to ignore his use of the present tense. He loves her, still. She shakes her head. 

“Well, you seemed to be living well without me.”, her expression turns sour. Was it love to hope he’d grieved her loss as much as she had grieved his? 

Vincenzo finally settles in the chair facing her, running a hand through his hair. “There was a point where I wasn’t sure… I wasn’t sure if I would make it.” He winces. “During that time, my only salvation was knowing each day brought me closer to death.” He looks at her, gaze so intense it pierces right through her heart. 

She scoffs, “And I’m the dramatic one, huh?” 

That gets a laugh out of him, and suddenly they’re back where they first started, complicit smiles and knowing looks - them against the world. 

“Coffee?” he asks, eager to keep up the pleasant atmosphere. There’s still a lot that needs to be said, but she relaxes her shoulders, welcoming the lighter turn their conversation is taking. 

“Yes, please.” 

He busies himself with the instant coffee, that same yellow brand he’d gotten hooked up on while they worked together. “So what have you been up to, exactly?” 

“Jipuragi Law Firm just opened a new office in Busan, things are going well. It’s nice, we get to help people who need it. Probably not as exciting as being in a mafia war or whatever.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he gives her a cup of coffee and sits down next to her on the couch. There’s a safe distance between them, but there’s no point trying to shush the deafening beat of her heart. “Your father would be proud of you, Cha-young-ah.”

“You think?”, she sips on her coffee. She looks up from her mug, only to find him examining her face. His lips curl in a soft grin, and Cha-young thinks that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if she kissed it. 

The loud ringtone startles her out of the daydream, and she’s not sure if she’s supposed to be annoyed or thankful. She picks up the phone. “Mmh. Okay. See you soon,” she drags out the last word, using the endearing tone she reserved for those closest to her. Mr. Kwon, her assistant, was asking her to eat breakfast with the team. 

“I have to go.”, she tells him, getting up from the couch. 

He takes her mug from her, “I didn’t realise you were here with someone.” 

She hears it loud and clear, in the way he fakes nonchalance and keeps his voice cautious. He’s asking her if she’s with someone and part of her wants to reassure him that No. There is no one else beside you. But then she thinks of the countless times where she’d cried herself to sleep, memories of them echoing into her mind and his absence carving a hole into her heart, and she can’t help herself. He had wounded her fatally and it was her turn to injure him. 

“Mmh.”, she’s not lying, technically. She’s there with someone, with people actually, just not in the way he means. 

Time stops, or so it seems.Vincenzo is petrified, beautiful statue of a man turned into stone. Her eyes follow the high bridge of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw and the curves of his slender hands gripping the coffee mug. Ah, she thinks. This is how Pygmalion fell in love with Galatea. 

The empty mug drops to the ground and the spell is broken. Brought back to life, Vincenzo collects the shattered pieces of the cup, and of his heart, too. “Is he a good person?”. Unlike me, he means. 

Cha-young has to remind herself that he deserves this, that this is his fault. “Mmh”, she repeats. “He is.” 

He’s back to the coffee station, his back to her. “I’m happy for you.”, his voice is tight. 

“Thank you.”, she’s almost at the door when she stops. “Maybe...Maybe we could be friends.”

He turns around, finally facing her. The distance between them, from one side of the room to the other, feels insurmountable. 

“Perhaps. If that’s okay with you.”, he answers. 

She doesn’t know what to say, so she stays silent. Is it possible for them to be anything else other than a tragic ending? 

“Perhaps. If that’s okay with you.”, he answers. 

She doesn’t know what to say, so she stays silent for a while. Would it ever be possible for them to be anything other than a tragic ending? 

She finally settles on a simple, “See you around.” An open ending, then. 

She’s cursing herself out the moment she leaves the room. What was she thinking? Cha-young had just lied to Vincenzo about being on holiday with her imaginary boyfriend. No, she corrects herself, she had simply misled him and he should’ve known better. 

She could picture it already; his aggravating smirk, raised eyebrows and insufferable “Oh, is that so?”, after she’d have to inevitably come clean. If only she hadn’t been so impulsive. Vincenzo would figure out her motivations the moment she’d admit to the lie; she wanted to see him jealous, to make him think she was doing better without him, that she was over him. He would see through the façade she had worked hard to maintain. 

Flushing at the thought of the colossal humiliation she would suffer, Cha-young scolds herself. Focus. This was a war that she needed to win. Like a general preparing for battle, she squares her shoulders and summons her most loyal soldier.

“Hey, it’s me. I have a favour to ask. Can you be my boyfriend for the next two weeks?” 

<>

At 37 years old, Kwon Ji-hwan considered himself to be a resilient man with a good head on his shoulders. In the four years he has been working for Ms. Hong, carrying out tasks outside of his job description was far from rare. Those included, but were certainly not limited to: picking her up after she’d drunk too much, infiltrating a yoga class to seduce a corrupt official’s wife, impersonating a law enforcement officer and hijacking an ambulance. In Ms. Hong’s vocabulary, a “favour” almost always meant something illegal. Despite her… methods, Ji-hwan enjoyed working for her greatly. The hours might have been long but the satisfaction of winning against the odds of powerful corporations made up for it. Also, the pay was really good. Still, as used to her antics as he was, he would’ve never expected her to ask something so absurd of him. 

Sitting there, in Ms. Hong’s hotel room (which, by the way, was way nicer than the regular ones she’d gotten for her employees), Ji-hwan cannot believe what he’s hearing. 

“Let me get this right,” he says, adjusting his glasses with his index finger. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend in front of your ex, who you’re obviously still in love with even though it’s been FIVE years—” 

“Yah!” 

“—because you want to make him jealous. Did I miss anything?” 

“That pretty much covers it.”, his boss replies, not even bothering to look ashamed. He looks at her, shaking his head. “So, will you do it?” 

He sighs, “What did this guy do to you for you to be so hung up on him after all this time?” 

He was not expecting the sorrow on her face as she answered, “He was there for me during the worst times of my life. We went through hell and back for each other. And then, one day, he left without saying anything.” 

“Wait, just like that? He didn’t even break up with you?” Ji-hwan raises his eyebrows. 

“Nope”, she accentuates the ‘P’. “He simply wrote ‘Live well.’ on a napkin and I never heard of him again. Until now.”

He scratches the top of his head, “What a fucking jerk.” She laughs, it’s rare to hear Ji-hwan swear. Finally, he rolls his eyes. “Fine, I’m in.”

“Yes, I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She’s doing her little victory dance now, shaking her hips in the least graceful way possible. Like every time his boss convinces him to blur the line of what is morally acceptable, Ji-hwan is regretting this already.

“If I said no, you would have threatened to fire me anyway.” 

“You know it.”