#sorry to the 5sos followers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heecyon · 2 years ago

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑; 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 —volume one

pairing: ceo!park jongseong x brother's best friend!fem!reader

genre: arranged/forced marriage, accidental pregnancy, brother's best friend, slight age gap (reader's 22 and jay's 24), angst, fluff and second chance love.

warning(s): grammar mistakes, curse words, nicknames, arranged marriage, suggestive scenes, mentions/allusions to sex, toxic/abusive mother, verbal abuse, vomiting, mentions of food, accidental pregnancy, sort of toxic relationship between jay and reader.

word count: 14.0k words

summary: Just a year ago, you were forced to marry Park Jongseong, CEO of the Southern Branch, part of the vary famous Park Enterprises. It was all for the sake of your family, a marriage for the benefit of gaining more traction as a company. Jongseong was attentive, caring, sometimes even sweet, but your relationship was more about sex than it was about the marriage itself. At some point, everything got bad, and it was just mere sexual intimacy that anything else, and just when you were close to ending things...you found out you were pregnant.

playlist • backburner by niki • common by zayn • dos mil 16 by bad bunny • used to this by camila cabello • astronomy by conan gray • lovers by anna of the north • lover of mine by 5sos • this love by taylor swift • julia by lauv •

volume two

CEOs & ARRANGEMENTS MASTERLIST

taglist (open): @iloveoceaneyesss @abdiitcryy @chimajeyn @sjakewrld @loves0ft @duolingofanaccount @ufoundme @sunghoons-mole @tobiosbbyghorl @dasa3040 @monkeybabyzz @snowysung @wonyofanclub @prdxinvade @dearhee @zhrtics @woinswoo @rerequire @in2jhae @darkreymbow @ahnneyong @uuwonniee @hueningluvbotsworld @iwuvjay @zen003xx @pshchives

author's note: So sorry for the delay, I'm still not done with volume two, and I wanted to have ready before publishing volume one, but I'm very impatient. The story is so long (it's 39k long at this point) that I had to divide it in two parts. I'm really anxious, because I don't know if this is good... but here you go. Also, the story is narrated mostly on the MCs views, not in first person, but mostly in the ambience that she is around.

PROLOGUE; And for once, I don't care about what you want. As long as we keep talking

It wasn't that the hospital bed was uncomfortable. It's the ambience, the situation that you just got into that made you uncomfortable.

Jongseong wasn't showing any type of expression, he was just standing, staring at the floor, maybe at his feet. You swore that his soul was wandering somewhere around the room.

You should've ended things sooner.

Maybe it was your fault, somehow.

ACT ONE; I can't lie, it feels nice that you're calling. You sound sad and alone, and you're stalling

Ever since you had memory, Sunghoon has been your best friend. You were both polar opposites, but somehow you still got along perfectly. While Sunghoon was way more reserved, introverted and shy, you were outgoing, talkative and extroverted. Wherever Hoon went, you would follow him as well, as a baby chick following her mother.

And of course you weren't a stranger to Sunghoon's family. The Parks were very well-known around the continent, but it wasn't because of that. Your parents knew very well the five-membered family. As well, you were born in an old money family, from a very old business in the country. They had a very good friendship with The Parks, and that's how you met Sunghoon.

You would always visit the mansion with a huge smile on your face.

"Do you want more donuts, Bellie?" Hoonie asked, his cutesy twelve-year old face, stuffed with the strawberry jam-filled dessert. You held back a giggle, trying hard not to laugh. "Yes, obviously." Soon, you grabbed a donut from the counter. It had a delicious vanilla frosting, but on the inside it contained a nutella filling.

Bellie, Belle.

Those were the nicknames that the family gave you, well… Jay gave you that nickname. It started when you started dressing up as Belle from 'The Beauty and The Beast' every single halloween. Jay kept the name to joke around with you, but it soon became a way that they called you to express how dearly they loved you.

When you played around with dolls, it was a completely different story. With your friends, you used to play with baby dolls, pretending to be mother's taking care of their children.

But some of them didn't truly believe the name that you gave to your "baby".

"What's her name again?" The four year old in front of you asked. She didn't understand what you were saying.

While your friends gave their "babies" names like: Areum, Young-sun, and Lily. You, on the other hand, gave your "child" the following name…

"Noa, her name is Noa."

The kids looked at you weirdly, it wasn't a name that you usually heard, but you had always liked it.

Your parents had taken you on a business trip to Japan, alongside your older sister. They took you both to their offices in the country, where other kids would wait for their parents.

You were left alone, your sister leaving you behind to play with other children. You tried to play around with other kids, but they seemed to ignore, find you annoying, even, because of your chatty attitude.

The only kid who did not ignore you was a girl two years older than you, she was obviously smaller, but she was educated and sweet, and with the knowledge that she had, she held your hand taking you somewhere else to play.

"Play hide and seek?" Those were her first words towards you. "Of course!"

You were only happy that you got to play with somebody, that somebody was not ignoring. You just played around with her, both of your tiny legs looking for places to hide around the building.

And when the end of the day came, and you were being scolded by your mother to hurry up, you finally asked her:

"What's your name?" You said grabbing your glitter backpack.

"My name… is Noa."

The name sounded beautiful to you, something that you'd never heard before. And you remembered her, because she was the only kid who did not blatantly ignore you.

"Daddy, what does Noa mean?"

Your father had complete knowledge of that foreign language, within seconds he had answered your questions.

"It's a really nice name, it means 'from love' in japanese. Why do you ask?"

"I met a girl today, she was named that way, and I thought that the name was pretty."

That was the origin of that name that caused your friends to turn their heads, with time they got used to it, but they always found it curious.

As you were both enjoying your dessert, a presence came into the room. "I thought I told you to leave me one of those." You both turned around to see his older brother.

You were four years old when you first met Jay. Sunghoon had become your play partner and the rest of the kids were on a trip to the United States.

They had finally come back home and at first you weren't that interested, but when you first saw Jay coming through the entrance door, your heart gained experience for what a palpitation was, at least that's what your younger self thinks. For you, he was the most handsome boy you had ever seen, that childhood love that every girl would like to have for themselves.

"Sorry, they were way too delicious, they might have gone to waste." You said with a smirk on your lips. Nearly shoving the donut to his face.

Jay rolled his eyes, a small laugh coming out of his mouth.

"You are something else, if you continue like this you might as well just corrupt my brother with your silly personality."

"I'm sorry, but my personality is not silly." You got up from the seat, standing up in front of him.

For him, you could be a beautiful ray of sunshine one day, and the other you could be a huge gremlin, there was no in between.

"Sometimes it can be… you don't need to get so mad just because somebody finds you cute most of the time." "But I thought-"

He said lowering down his eyebrow, his hands laying on top of your shoulders. Jay sometimes made you feel things that you simply couldn't explain. You weren't in love with him, you just found him very attractive, and handsome…If someone would've told you would be feeling this way towards a boy, you were pretty sure that you wouldn't be friends with Sunghoon if it was because of that.

"When I say silly…I mean cute. Don't really want another cute person close to me, except you."

A sudden flush took over your cheeks, and till this day you are way too sure that something inside of him lighted up, right inside his soul.

But that wasn't the first close encounter you had with Jay.

Sometimes, things got way too intimate.

People knew you in high school as the witty, and silly girl, a ray of sunshine that illuminated the beautiful light blue sky. You made friends very easily, and were actually a good student.

You still hung out with Sunghoon during the school breaks, but because you were in different classes, you didn't see each other as much at school…but you did at home.

Still, the both of you tried your best to see each other at school.

It was one of those days where you waited for Sunghoon at lunch hour, the rest of the Parks were in the same class as Hoon. So, it wasn't a surprise for them that you were waiting for their youngest brother.

Even though you felt fazed at the moment, going back to what happened that morning. You had a small problem with one of your classes, chemistry to be exact.

It wasn't your forte, but you always gave your all, even though sometimes you felt a little bit lazy.

When your mother received your report card, a few days ago, she just focused on the B- that you had gotten in that class.

Among the various 'As' that you'd gotten, she only focused on that class. She scolded you, not only that… She yelled at you.

"Such a disappointment! How are you going to take care of a business with these horrible grades?!" She pressed her hand on your arm, as you looked at your sister, she gave you back a look of pity.

"Eunji, you don't have to be that way, it's just a grade, she does great in every single other class." "If you keep justifying her, she'll stay behind her sister and will continue to be a failure."

It wasn't like you weren't used to being called that way, it didn't bother you anymore, other than that it just made you realize that you would prove your mother wrong no matter what, you would be nothing like her.

"Hey, Sunghoon isn't done yet. You'll have to wait for a little while." Jay said getting close to you at the doorway

You still didn't understand why he never wore his uniform correctly. His school jacket was on, with the unbuttoned school shirt underneath.

And for some reason, he always wore a rock band t-shirt underneath his outfit.

By that time, Jay's hair was cut short. Bangs hanging on his forehead. Which was a problem, because for you… He looked hot. Jay was a good student, but with his image it didn't seem like it.

Girls were always trying to get his attention, as well as his brothers'. It was reasonable, they were incredibly handsome, but for you, Jay was something else.

"Yeah, I don't really mind." You responded, shrugging your shoulders

Jay examined you from head to toe. The way you looked down at your feet, the way your dark bangs covered your face, the way your skin glistened close to the sun and how your pink tinted lips would perfectly fit on his.

He also noticed your scent, a scent of cinnamon and vanilla glaze. It just made him more attracted to you.

Jongseong let a finger get close to your face, he then used three of his digits to move a piece of hair from your face placing it behind your ear. It felt like a light brush against your skin.

"You had a hair sticking out." The boy said with confidence. Your scent makes its way into his nostrils, as if you were tempting him into kissing you. He wondered what your lips tasted like? Did they taste exactly how you smelled like? Sweet and yummy?

On the other hand, your heart was beating irrationally, and soon you felt like your stomach was pressing against your ribs. Why was Jay making you feel such things?

"I can take you somewhere else, that way you won't miss your lunch." Jongseong's voice took you out of your trance in a complete surprise.

"And where would you take me?" You asked suddenly, gaining confidence.

"I know a place." He said getting closer to your body. You felt yourself heat up on the inside. "What about Sunghoon?" You came up with an excuse.

Jay looked back into the classroom. A focused Sunghoon getting in his view, still invested in his notebook.

"He won't mind." The boy said looking back at you, a smirk adorning his lips. "But-"

"Trust me, Y/N. Let's go." He held a grip on your arm, carefully guiding you to wherever he was taking you.

He somehow managed to take you to a place outside of the school territory. It was a burger place, decorated with hanging plants, cacti on the floor and white long couches that sat around the restaurant.

Jay guided you towards one of the couches, a table in front of you.

You both proceeded to order from the menu. Shy to order anything without having your wallet in hand, just having a few dollars in your pockets, Jay said the following. "Don't worry, order anything you want. Lunch is on me."

You nervously shook your head. "No, no. I'll pay for my own food." "It's alright, I'll pay for you. I don't mind." He smiled.

In the end, both of you ordered what caught your interest from the menu. And when it arrived, you were ready to devour. You know those delicious hamburgers with a juicy patty and that magnificent melted cheese? Well, that's what you were devouring, including those delicious cheese balls that you always liked.

"Can I have some?" Jay asked, pointing at the basket full of the delightful appetizers.

"Well… Let me think about it." You said while grabbing a cheese ball. A hum escaped your lips as you pretended to think about giving him the snack. "Ok, you can have it."

Jay happily grabbed the cheese ball from your hand, and just as he cheerily ate the snack you giggled underneath your breath. For you, he looked cute. And you continue to enjoy your lunch together, sometimes the silence that you would be in after a conversation, would be comfortable and warming.

Sometimes you didn't notice how he would stare at you in awe, as if he was seeing a hidden wonder from the world.

And then you asked him something, "Have you thought about what your grandfather told Sunghoon?" The inquiry you made had caused Jay to get out of his trance. He looked at you with strange eyes, as if he was thinking about what he wanted to answer.

His grandfather had always been skeptical, also a little bit stressful. When the boys were just little kids, he kept talking about how they had to continue the family business. They were just five at the moment, and they didn't understand what he meant. But as they grew older they soon got a hold of the situation.

'Park Enterprises' has been a family business since 1962, exactly founded by Mr. Park, it started as a small office, a business to start technological advancements. Soon, the company grew to be huge, having three different branches in South Korea.

SPE, or The Southern Branch, is the one in charge of the Nanotechnological Advancements. NPE, also called The Northern Branch, is the one who takes care of the Communicative Technological Advancements. Meanwhile WPE, or The Western Branch, is the one in charge of Healthcare Technological Advancements.

The enterprise had become an empire that had spread around the world. With different sucursals in Italy, U.S, even some countries of Latin America. It was clear that it was a very successful business, a well known name that was stuck to the public's mouth.

No matter what happened, the brothers saw this business as their future responsibility. They wanted to make their family proud, and they were ready for whatever they had to do for the family business, even if it was not what they wanted.

"If my family thinks that it's for the best, then I'll do whatever they want me to do." You looked at him, raising your eyebrows with curiosity and surprise. You always say Jay as a man that was stubborn and obstinate, if he didn't like something he would say it, and he wasn't someone to give in easily.

So, you scoffed. "That sounds so weird coming from you." He raised his head looking at you. Jay knew that somehow you were right. He didn't want to be brainwashed by his family, but that business was his family's pride and joy. He wasn't ready to let them down.

"What do you mean?" Jongseong pretended to be clueless. A sigh escaped your lips.

"Jay, you can't have kids when you are just 17." You stated calmly. "You also can't get married at your age, you are too young."

It wasn't that you were saying it just because of Jay. You were saying that to yourself too. The reason why you had met 'The Park Family' in the first place was because you came from an old money family.

Your family owned a business, 'Baezen Corp'. An investment company that has been led by your family from various decades and generations. Your older sister was the first in line to take charge of the president position in the company, meanwhile your family still analyzed what position you would have under the business (if that's what you wanted), as you were still young and they still wanted to check if you were perfect for the family business… and with the way that your mother saw you, you found it a little far away.

"They didn't say when they plan to engage me with someone." He muttered under his breath.

You slightly shook your head in disappointment, trying your best to alleviate the bad energy that you had just provoked.

"Also, do you even have an idea of who you want to marry? What exactly do you look for in a girl?"

Jay, then raised his head to look at you. He parted his lips getting ready to start talking, as if he already planned what to say even before you asked the question.

"I'm looking for a girl that is sweet, a girl that looks like an exact representation of the moon, but that her personality is just like the very rays of the sun falling into the ocean waves." He proceeded to stare at you, looking deeply into your eyes, as if he could read your soul. Jay's cat eyes shone from enchantment, anticipation, almost as if he was under a spell.

A spell that you might have put on him, his gaze was enough to make your heart race, and to make your fingers tingle from excitement.

"I want a girl who is intelligent and has a passion for learning. A girl that smells like cinnamon spice and vanilla. I'm looking for a girl whose lips will taste just like an exquisite dessert. And lastly, her eyes have to shine like the moon reflects itself on the water when she looks at what she loves and desires… Just like you, right now."

His last words made you blink in shock, you hadn't noticed how hard you were staring at him. But it seemed that at some point you might have been under the spell that he had been just a few seconds before.

"Sorry, it's just that your description sounded so poetic, I didn't know you could be so romantic." "There are some things that you don't know about me." He smiled.

You cleared your throat before proceeding. "Where have you seen a girl like that, anyway?"

You saw the boy get closer to you, moving his seat right beside you. Then, he moved his hand close to your locks, moving them away from your face.

"It might surprise you, but I'm staring at her right now."

That was the moment that your breath got stuck somewhere around your respiratory system. As if you had forgotten all of a sudden how to breathe.

You had expected Jay to tell you all those things. Yes, he was a tease sometimes, but never intimate with his words.

"Jay."

For a second your lips parted, and you felt that you were getting closer to each other, as if your lips were to touch at any time. The boy creeped a hand down to your neck, causing small tickles on your skin. His eyes were now dazed, left with nothing but a small glimmer.

And then the phone rang, Jay's phone to be exact.

You both backed away quickly, and you nervously passed your hands on your skirt, as if you were trying to keep it clean.

"I-It's Sunghoon, we better hurry. Class is about to start." This time he didn't look at you. It was like he was ashamed or was simply just shying away from you.

"Yeah, you are right."

It wasn't a few hours later, when you were at their house that things got intense. You had asked Hoon to help you with some homework, but he told you something that you weren't expecting.

"I don't really remember any of this, but you can ask Jay for some help."

And that's how you ended up at their study room, with Jay right beside you, giving a quick eye to your chemistry book, before turning to the next page.

How was it that he smelled so good? Just like amber and citrus, a small touch of wood but also warm.

How was it that he caused you to want to crawl out of your skin? The fact that he wasn't bothered to help even though he had better things to do, was causing a small race in your heart.

"It isn't that hard, it's actually quite easy. You just have to identify the components and use the formula. The formula is not that hard either- Bae, are you listening?" He waved his hand in front of you, causing you to wake up from your trance.

"I thought I lost you there." You looked directly at his lips, the mark at the middle of the skin calling your attention. It was as if they were calling you, calling your lips. You wanted to kiss him.

You inhaled deeply, getting ready for what you were going to say.

"Can you finish what you started?" Jay looked at you confused. "What do you mean?"

It was now you, who got close to him. Your hand making itself comfortable at his cheeks, the naughty of your thumb rubbing the end of his sharp jaw.

"Can you finish what you started? Please." You said with a little plea in your voice, like your body was desperate for his lips.

Jay looked hesitant, but he didn't waste a second to pull the same move that he did at the restaurant. His fingers guiding themselves to your hair, and softly caressing it in a comforting way.

"If we kiss then, I don't think I will be able to stop." "Then don't, just stop until you've finished what you provoked in me."

And that's when it happened, when the soft flesh touched yours, how you felt them pressing against your upper lip. He then moved them trying to start a monotonous movement. You felt his hands then at the bottom of your hips, your skirt being the only thing that stopped them from touching your skin.

You both felt as if you were running out of air, so you slowly disconnected your lips from the other.

Your hand was still stuck to his jaw, and you stayed like that until you came out from your dazy phase.

"I-I have to go back home." You stood up from the sofa, grabbing your stuff and letting your feet lead you to the door.

A while after that, both you and Jay pretended that nothing ever happened, and getting close to each other caused certain things on your skin, you were way too nervous to be around each other.

The Park Brothers graduated high school and that just meant that they were a step closer to getting what their family wanted.

You followed their steps two years later, and even though they were occupied with college, they still had some time to enjoy with you. It wasn't the same as it was before, but it was still fun and joyful.

But, it wasn't until you were twenty-one that something happened. It wasn't disheartening, it was just weird and obviously unexpected. You knew that you had feelings for Jay, you couldn't deny it. It was the butterflies and pixie dust that you felt every time you were with him.

"Unnie? Is something going on?" You asked as you walked into the backyard. Your parents were sitting across the huge table that decorated the garden. Your sister, Juni stayed at a distance, like she was trying to keep the situation from getting more awkward. She wanted to be there, but not didn't really want to invade your space.

"Mom and Dad have something to tell you. We thought that it would be better if we stayed here so you could take fresh air." Juni softly grabbed your arm guiding you towards a chair that was just in front of your parents seat.

You adjusted the skirt of your dress, and then noticed the serious expression on their faces. Mr. Bae and Mrs. Gwan, two successful business leaders that were well respected by the public. These were their faces when they had a critical meeting, when they needed to be direct and strict towards some clients.

"Is something wrong?"

And that was the same expression that they taught you just by doing it themselves. Something that no client wanted to see, neither any single worker and worse, their own daughters.

"Dear, you know how important Baezen Corp is to us. It's been an essential part of our family for a long time, and the thing is that joining our hands with other companies wouldn't be a bad idea, especially if it means for the future of the business."

You frowned at your father's words. Not because you found it weird, but because you already knew all those things.

"I know, father. You've been telling me that ever since I have memory, but it terrifies me what you want to tell me."

Your parents glanced at each other. Getting ready to tell you the news.

"Darling, your sister is soon becoming the president of Baezen Corp. and that means that she is going to need a vice-president by her side to help her manage the company. And you've proven to us that you deserve that spot." Your jaw fell in surprise, you never thought that you would be vice-president for Baezen Corp. You thought that you weren't good enough, but your parents have now proved you wrong.

"Is it really? I can't believe this. Thank you so much, I promise that I won't fail you." You stood up from happiness, but your sister put her hands on your shoulders for you to sit back down.

"That's not all we have to say, dear. There's more to communicate, and we don't know how you'll react." The smile from your face fell.

"How I'll react? How I'll react to what?"

Juni gave them a short glance before they continued speaking.

Your mother cleared her throat. "Y/N, we've been talking a lot with The Park Family, about how we want our business to grow and how we want it to last for many years."

"And we thought that it would be better if we join our businesses to make a new branch, where the next generation of our family will be in charge. So, not only are our companies joining together, but also our families."

This was the moment where you knew what they were talking about, this wasn't about you taking the position of Baezen's future vice-president. This was about your family making sure that you kept on for various generations. That was when your father spoke up again.

"Dear, you are getting married to Park Jongseong."

There was a huge fog that fulfilled your mind, and it felt like the world was moving all of the sudden. You weren't ready to get married, and it wasn't because of Jay, it was just that you wanted to get married in your own will, with somebody you loved and that loved you back.

Your body went numb and you felt your legs shutting their nerves down, as if you had gone paralyzed by the shock.

"Y/N, you got to understand that it's all for a major good." The voice of your mother sounded so distant and incoherent, as if you were underneath the water. You could feel your sister's hand across your shoulders, soothing you into a state that was supposed to be calm, but instead you just felt confused and lost.

You didn't want to get married.

You could not get married.

Because…

Jay didn't love you.

At least, that's what you feared...

ACT TWO; And whether we're free-willed or predestined, clearly I've not learned my lesson, even now. Hope he doesn't strike me down.

For the following week, you were dazed, nervous and stressed. Your special task was to maintain a peace of mind that you simply didn't have at that moment.

It was as if your brain was on fire, you were full of a million questions that weren't being answered for you.

Did Jay know any of this?

Was he in the same state as you were?

Did he approve any of it?

Did he hate you?

The less that you wanted was Jay to hate you, you wanted the exact opposite. But you didn't want to force him to love you.

At the moment, you were at one of the tables from a luxurious hotel. It was a company party… Park Enterprises' party, to be exact.

You felt embarrassed to be there, but your mom's tightening grip kept you in that place, her fingers hurting the delicate skin of your arm.

How red would it be after that…

Your entire family was there, not only because they were friends, but because your engagement had a lot to do with it.

Hands went to a glass of wine that had been given to you by one of the waiters, you drank a few sips, enjoying the taste of grapefruit and kiwi that the alcoholic drink contained.

The clinking of a spoon against a wine glass was heard across the room. The Parks had rented the whole building just for this event, and even though it didn't seem pleasing for the management, it was beneficial for the hotel owners.

"Dear guests, I hope you are having a pleasing evening. Thanks for coming to the celebration of Park Enterprises' 60th anniversary." Mrs. Park wore a long black dress, it had small pieces of diamonds decorating the torso of the clothing, she wore long sleeves and her jet black hair was down.

She looked so young and happy, like she had just found a lucky charm for a special collection. She looked… Proud.

"But, we are not only here for that. We are here also, to celebrate something really important."

"Soon next year, our son, Park Jongseong will become the chief executive officer of Park Enterprises' Southern Branch." Those sudden words made your heart leap up to your throat. Jay was finally taking his family's footsteps and for some reason that got you scared. That could mean that you both wouldn't spend as much time together as a couple. You would be vice-president of Baezen Corp. and Jay would lead the Southern Branch as its CEO.

People clapped from joy, or maybe compromise, you could care less, but being at the party just made you wish for some fresh air.

Maybe it was because you couldn't keep your eyes away from Jay, he looked so elegant with his tux, not only that, but he also looked hot.

You walked away from the room, going towards the pool area, the water being an artificial blue, looking just like a blue flame. The area was big and nice, with a clear view towards the city lights of Seoul and its buildings. There were various pool beds, big and round with white sheets, but gray borders. You sat on one of them, right below a louvered roof that was connected to a wall.

The thought of Jay being your soon-to-be- husband was terrifying, not because you were marrying him, but because the thought of him hating you because of it was eating you alive.

But there was another thought on your mind. Your first kiss. It was with Jay, he was your first kiss, and for you, the fire that was coming up inside your body that day was coming back the moment you saw him with that tux, he looked so professional and mysterious, as if his aura was different.

Jay had always been confident, but this time it was different, he looked… powerful. Ready for everything and anything.

You caressed your exposed leg, eyeing the soft fabric of your white, short dress. You kicked off your heels, feeling them press against your ankle.

The water from the pool was moving, but in a calm way, you tried concentrating on it, trying to forget about everything that was going on. For one night you just wanted to relax and forget.

A shriek escaped your lips when you felt contact within your skin. It was a hand, and when you turned around, you fell deeply into that familiar and deep gaze.

"Why aren't you at the party?" You brushed Jay's hand off from your shoulder. "I needed some fresh air, it was a little bit suffocating in there."

Jongseong passed a hand through his hair, keeping it away from his face. "Are you okay? Be honest with me, Y/N."

No, you weren't okay, there was something strange building up inside you, the fingerprints of your hands wanted to touch him so bad, it was a necessity at that point.

"I'm okay, it's just… you know, things have been weird recently and it can be kinda overwhelming."

Jay knew that there was something that you weren't telling him, you were hiding something, and deep inside him, he wanted to uncover it and at the same time he wanted to kiss you so profoundly that you would both forget your names.

"You are lying, baby." He grabbed your chin, making you look at him. Jay needed you so bad, he was done hard for you, head over heels.

You inhaled before answering again. "I don't want to be your wife if you don't love me."

"This isn't about love, Y/N. This is about our families… but that doesn't mean that I don't feel something for you right now." Jay looked at your lips, they were glossy and red.

Beautiful, he thought.

"Do you love me, Ms. Bae?" You feared what would happen if you answered that question truthfully, and Jay did too.

"I don't, Mr. Park." You lied with an awkward smirk, you shamelessly lied, and somewhere inside him, Jay knew that you were lying.

And Jay swore that his heart shattered when he heard those words come out of your mouth. So, he came up with the next question.

"Do you lust for me, Ms. Bae?" His eyes turned dark with curiosity.

"I do, Mr. Park." You whispered underneath your breath. Your face being inches from touching. "Do you lust for me, Mr. Park?" You said feeling his lips almost brush yours.

"You already know the answer to that." And with that, he kissed you. And he did roughly, it was so rough that you grabbed his hair as your lips crashed against each other.

His hands moved towards your hips as they did the first time. He didn't want to ruin this, you didn't want to ruin this.

You loved each other and you knew it, but your biggest fear, for the both of you, was that your arranged marriage would kill off that passionate love that you felt ever since you were teens.

You both knew you lied, but it was better to know that lie than knowing the truth and then it being shattered.

And when he laid you on that bed, you both knew that this was the start of something new.

A beautiful and lustful lie.

ACT THREE; After everything you put me through, I somehow still believe in you.

Your heart was about to break through your chest, all because what was happening at the moment was completely unbelievable. When you were little, you always had this fantasy that you would get married to Jay, your parents always said it as a joke and to play around with you, but you never thought that it would actually become a real thing.

Because right now, you had Jay dressed up as a groom in front of you, his hair back, only a few strands in front of his face.

The way his warm hands held your cold ones, and the way you felt your heart fluttering because he was right there, in just a few minutes Jay was going to be all yours, your husband.

It was just the way that you felt your feet go numb by knowing that he was about to say his vows to you.

He looked so unreal and so elegant, but if you could be inside his mind in that instant you would've been overwhelmed by how overestimated Jay's brain was at the moment.

Jongseong thought you looked so beautiful, and the way you pressed your lips in nervousness was heartwarming. He knew that at heart he wanted to be with you, so bad. He'd never had such strong feelings for anyone before, in his entire life.

Seeing you right now, Jay realized how bad he wanted things to work out, how bad he wanted you to be his wife. But he was afraid, he was afraid to grow attached to you, because he was afraid that after this you would both end up heartbroken.

"I, Jay, take you, Y/N, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. I will love and honor you all the days of my life." He meant that last part, with his whole heart he meant it, how could he not love you.

But how can you love someone and also be afraid of loving them?

"I, Y/N, take you, Jay, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. I will love and honor you all the days of my life."

Your parents were watching, both of your families were watching how their kids were fearful to love somebody with such passion. How could you be able to survive something like this? Pretend you both didn't love each other just for the mere fact of fear.

The ring exchange was just around the corner and everything just felt more surreal, as if you were stuck in a dream, a dream that was magical, but also painful.

The rings were presented to you, Jay grabbing yours, a beautiful ring with a shining heart-shaped diamond on its center.

You swore you saw his hand change, but he was shaking in anticipation, in amusement. Jay held back a chuckle, trying to keep it cool, but he gave a quick glance to you with a nervous smile, lips sealed together.

"With this ring I, Jay, take you, Y/N, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us." Jongseong slides the ring on your finger, feeling the cold sensation of the sacred ring in your digit.

You gave him a warm smile, a smile that he dearly loved ever since he was a kid.

"With this ring I, Y/N, take you, Jay, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us." Now the both of you had a ring in your fingers that joined you together, you were now one and only one.

You could daydream a life with Jay, but you couldn't envision it in your day to day life. Not because you didn't desire it, because it all felt so unreal.

You were now getting married to somebody whom you were afraid to admit that you loved. And he was feeling exactly the same.

The both gave each other a glance, your eyes connected, not being able to pull them apart from the other.

"By the power vested in me by the state, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now seal your union and the promises you've made to each other this day with a kiss."

You looked at each other for a moment, this was it, you were now sealed by sacred union.

"May I?" Jay whispered.

You nodded your head with a shy smile on your lips. "You may"

The feeling of Jay's soft lips on top of yours was warm, candid, and sweet. Cheers from people could be heard from behind you…

From now on, you were husband and wife.

"This place is really nice, it's really pretty."

You had arrived at a hotel in Bali, something that your parents had planned, which was not a surprise. The flight was quiet and peaceful, Jay fell asleep on your shoulder, which caused your stomach to do weird tricks in you, you were more than nervous.

"I want to get to the pool first." Jay said placing your bags at a corner of a room. You felt his presence coming closer to you, his warmth betrayed him completely.

"So, can I call you Mrs. Park now? It has a nice ring to it." He placed his head near the crook of your neck, causing your skin to go ticklish that it made you shrugged. "Somebody's sensitive." Jay got away from your neck, but before getting away could do that, he placed a quick peck on your skin, which caused your cheeks to redden.

"And also shy."

He propped himself on the bed, his back resting against the bed frame. Jay took off his black leather jacket, letting it fall beside him.

You walked up to him, setting yourself on the large queen bed, sitting right beside him. "Can't believe I'm married to you." Jay murmured.

"Is that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing?" You asked him with curiosity, he could feel your gaze on him. "I don't know, you'll have to figure it out." He turned his to the side to look at you, raised eyebrows, cocky expression. "You are such a tease." You whispered.

Something overpowered you, as you let your legs guide you to where your soul wanted to go. You found yourself resting on top of Jay, on his lap, your eyes looking at his lips and then looking at his sharp cat eyes.

You felt his hands naughtly making themselves comfortable on your hips, the right one rubbing your lower back, he roughly pulled you closer to him and you grabbed his shoulders adjusting your body to his figure.

"I want you to kiss me right now." His smirk was such a provocative point and the way he missed the taste of your lips made him want you closer to him. "I was already thinking about that."

He pulled you closer to him, your lips sealed against the other as he tasted your lips and the vanilla flavor they had. He continued to caress your hips in a caring manner and you finished the night with the both of you feeling the warmth of each other's skin as you hugged the other.

The sun fell through the window as you blinked trying to keep the sleep away, you got up to the bathroom just to wash your face and do your skin care before finally washing your teeth.

You heard the water running and knew that Jay was getting ready for work.

"Good morning!" You said with your mouth full of toothpaste foam. "Good Morning!" Jay responded as he washed away his soap.

You continued with your routine as the morning went on, you cooked breakfast and prepared Jay's lunch bag.

"Belle I'm leaving!" You heard his voice soon, noticing that he was already by the exit. "Wait, your lunch bag." You sprinted towards him.

"Thanks." You saw his sweet smile, being completely grateful for your efforts and your food.

He loved when you did that, when you cooked for him, but he preferred when he cooked for you, he loved doing things for you and it was slowly becoming a habit of his.

"See you at night." Jay pulled you closer to give you a quick peck in your lips, before caressing your cheek.

You saw him go away and you stayed at the frame of the door as you heard the engine go off and him driving away.

With that, you got ready yourself and packed your stuff to get ready to work. That was the way that you started your day ever since you got married, and you definitely liked it.

"Thanks as always, Heeseung."

You had gotten off from your car, whose driver was your secretary, Heeseung. He was new to the business, but he was organized and really respectful. He parked your car at the covered parking lot of the company.

The small sound of your sneakers pierced through the walls of the underground lot. You had Heeseung behind you, who wore a dark suit with a blue-patterned tie.

You walked right through the glass double doors that guided to the building offices, you checked yourself through the glass, making sure that your outfit was well arranged.

A satin primrose dress was adjusted to your body, but it kept itself away from your shoulders, a similar colored belt defined your waist, a pair of beige shorts hugged your thighs and a pair of platform sneakers covered your feet.

"Heeseung, please contact President Bae. We have a meeting with the council, do you think you can remind her of it?" The young man agreed, quickly taking out his phone to contact your sister.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Bae!"

"Good morning, Mrs." A pair of coworkers greeted you after they heard you walk through the doors.

You greeted back with a warm smile as you led yourself to your office. Heeseung opened the other set of glass doors for you, and then you left your bag on the desk to sit on the soft white leather chair.

It annoyed you that your mother had called just to tell you that she thought that your work could be better, that she was disappointed with your levels of work. Even though you slept late most of the time to make up for what your sister missed, and taking care of the arrivals of new clients.

Throughout the rest of your day, you checked the work of the staff and completed the work that your sister couldn't do at the time, you scheduled some meetings and at some point of the day you received a visit from a dear friend of yours.

"How's my Bellie doing?" Hoon was always occupied, ever since he took charge of The Northern Branch he was always taking care of something in the company building, not only that but, also overseas, it was like he lived farther away than before. He was always somewhere far, like the U.S, Europe, even other countries of Asia.

"Sunghoon, it's good to see you." You got up from your desk to hug him. He'd recently been in Los Angeles, to make a deal with a communication company for a further partnership. "I was just walking around the area, decided to pay you a visit." He ruffled your hair making it a small mess

You both sat down at one of the tables in your office, you offered an ice coffee with a dessert.

"I thought you would have a girlfriend already, you know, have settled down." "You know that I don't really want a relationship right now." Sunghoon had always been like that, he had always thought that he needed some time for himself before getting into a relationship. He felt bad for rejecting various girls, he wasn't capable of breaking their heart, but he wasn't gonna force himself into a partnership either.

"How's married life going?"

He bit down the glazed donut with strawberry jam filling, it reminded him of his childhood years and how much fun he had during those.

"Everything is going great, though I believe that we can improve some things."

You remembered how things were a few months ago, and how you had been feeling since.

The fact that your parents planned a honeymoon after your wedding was just perfect for you.

Jay was excited that day and you were more than him. After all, you were finally married, which sounded so weird to say out loud.

You spent a lot of time together, but back at home it wasn't any different. You stuck to each other for everything. If Jay was cooking, you were there, if you were working at the home office, he was there.

And the intimacy… was the way to compensate for the words that you feared to say.

But, you sometimes doubted if what you felt was lust, or if it was love. You knew there was love, but there was always some fear to express it. And that wasn't really healthy.

You thought that if you just kept it there, you would both be perfect as it was. You didn't want to ruin anything, because then…there was no turning back, there was no fixing anything.

And you didn't want to lose Jay, and he didn't want to lose you.

So, if that meant being inside each other's backburner, then you would do anything to keep him.

Sometimes it was sad, you wanted to hear Jay saying "I love you." You wanted to scream those words out loud.

A time later after having a conversation with Sunghoon, he left.

You got out of work, bring various documents with you. Waving goodbye to your co-workers, you got your phone out to contact Heeseung.

Your white nails clicked against the back of your cellphone. The fake gems in your fingernails shined because of the sun reflecting on them.

The phone rang a few times, but then it sent you to voicemail. You rang it a few more times, waiting for Heeseung to pick up, but he never did. So you called Haewon instead.

"Hey, Haewonie! Have you seen Heeseung? He isn't picking up my calls."

"Sorry dear, I haven't. He went out in a hurry a few hours ago, so I haven't seen him since." You then thanked her and hung up quickly.

A thought came into your mind.

Jay has picked you up before, but you didn't wanna bother him. It was wednesday, so I went out of work early that day.

You gave it a second thought before finally calling him.

You waited a few rings, before you finally heard his voice. "Hello?"

A sigh from relief came out of your throat. "Hey! How's everything going?" You asked, trying to be polite.

"I'm good, a little bit tired, but I'm heading back home. Are you there already?" A finger unconsciously rolled one of your locks, you continued playing with your hair as you enjoyed the sound of your husband's voice.

"About that… You think you can pick me up from the office? I don't know where Heeseung is, so I was wondering if-"

"I'll be there in a minute."

He interrupted you all of the sudden, making you smile warmly.

You waited a few minutes outside of the building, before seeing the characteristic car that was always parked in your house's driveway.

The windows lowered down, showing a Jay that was adjusting his blazer, unbuttoning his piece of clothing revealing his white shirt.

In your eyes, he looked handsome, like always, and you kept on wondering, how was it that you got married to such an attractive man. You forced yourself to get out of your mind maze, and then let your feet guide you to the car, straight up opening the door.

"Thanks for picking me up. Don't know what happened to Heeseung, he was supposed to be here." You murmured looking at your phone. "You don't need to thank me, I'm your husband after all, I'm supposed to take care of you." You shook your head in negation.

"You can't be taking care of me all the time. I can take care of myself." Jay squeezed your thigh and then proceeded to rub his hand against it, but you put your small hand on top of his and he took it as an opportunity to grab it and rub his thumb on the skin.

"I ordered some burgers, they come with cheeseballs if you were going to ask." He looks at you for a quick second before turning back to the street.

When you reached home, you got some comfy clothing and quickly sprinted into the kitchen to hunt down your food.

It wasn't surprising that Jay was there, he was taking out the plates from the pantry and he placed them on the aisle of the kitchen. You then sat on top of it, which was a common occurrence.

Jay turned back to the aisle to see you sitting on it. He liked the view, you were wearing his oversized t-shirt with a pair of shorts, it made you look cute, but he always thought you looked cute, he always thought you were beautiful.

"Alright, there's your food, young lady." He pointed at the plate. "Cheeseburger with extra cheese, french fries and with your favorite, cheeseballs."

"Thank you, young man." You bowed how you could with your position, but you then grabbed his hands and put them around your waist. "I should give you a kiss to repay you." You softly place your lips below his, all with the usual sweetness that you carried around with you.

"You should be careful, miss, or I will die from how cute you are." You felt your heart beat stronger than before, leaving a little blush in your cheeks. You turned away trying not to get disheartened.

Don't get too attached!

And when you and Jay acted as a couple, sometimes you wished that was your normal.

With that, the weeks passed and even though it seemed like you were newlywed, you soon turned one year of marriage, and obviously, Jay's family was already asking for a grandchild, his grandfather to be exact.

You visit often, with Jay or without him. You saw him as your own grandfather, he could be grumpy sometimes, but you quickly got why Jay was so sweet and caring towards you.

His grandfather was exactly the same.

You knew where he got it from.

"Shouldn't you be resting, papa?" You played your hands on his shoulders. "I have way too much energy to be in bed, darling."

"Shouldn't your husband be here with you, instead of you being here following me around." Jay chuckled, coming right to your side. "It's just that Y/N sneaks away from me, it doesn't mean that I don't want to be with her." Jay's fingers softly traced your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

"She's so sneaky that she's cute at this point." You could feel his breath right at your neck, tingles spreading through your body. "So cute that you seem heavenly to me." A blush went across your cheeks and your ears. You looked at him right in the eyes, his gaze was penetrative but it shone when he saw you, like little sparkles that flew around his orbs.

"When are you two planning on giving me a grandchild?"

You felt a shock of electricity attack your heart, it hit so hard that it made your heart beat like crazy, and for Jay it wasn't any different.

"We are still not thinking about that, we are trying to enjoy what we have right now."

"Then enjoy it quickly, I'm pretty sure that you two will have a little one running around our family house in no time."

And with that, things became a little bit uncomfortable on the way back home, you both stayed quiet for a while.

That was until…

"Do you wish to have children, Belle?" The question took you out of your thoughts, but it didn't surprise you after what had happened but at the family house.

"I-I mean, if you don't want to have children it's fine, I'll be fine with whatever you want."

His words stroke your heart, he wasn't forcing you to have kids just for his family's sake. He was dealing to go with whatever you wanted to go with.

And that's what moved your heart.

"Jay… I do want children, it's just- we just got married, we just turned a year and maybe we just need more time just for us."

Jongseong nodded at your words, and his hand stroked your naked thigh, sometimes reaching the fabric of your dress, but with your finger you tickled his knuckles causing him to chuckle.

He pulled the car towards the sideway, the tigles that he provoked on your thighs were starting to go through your body, his hands moved from your thigh to the flesh of your neck, he softly shifted you towards him, being careful with your spine.

Jay's breath could be felt on top of your lips, he leaned closer finally closing the space between you, he moved his lips with a soft pace, until you fought with his to make the movement rougher and passionate. The butterflies that were accumulating inside your stomach were too much to bear, so parted your lips from his, just to move your legs in a way that you would be on top of him, both legs on his side.

After that, you kissed him again, your tasty lips being his temptation and his sweet dream. Jay's hand caressed your waist, making you fully sit down on top of him.

And with that you both started that night with a passionate fire.

Maybe something within you made things uncomfortable between the two of you, because after that, Jay started to realize that maybe you would never have a normal marriage, you both knew about it, but throughout this time, he just became more subconscious about the topic.

Your footsteps could be heard from downstairs, even though you were barefooted. A black blazer staring at you from the living room, resting at the sofa… Beside it were a few oversized sweatshirts that you wore all the time.

The smell of sweet honey and orange juice could be smelled around the house. Jay likes that smell, it was his second favorite, right after your scent and the taste of your lips, that cinnamon scent.

Even though he could feel the smell of his breakfast go through his nostrils, he was actually in a hurry, he'd actually been in a hurry since a month ago. You hadn't had the time to speak to him a lot like before and that saddened you, really deeply.

You heard the sound of his shoes through the stairs as you packed his lunch bag. It contained pancakes covered in honey and caramel, and his lunch, which was pasta salad.

Jay was already near the exit, with his bag already packed, so you sprinted with his lunch bag in your hands.

"Jay, here's your food." You said with a smile, but his face didn't express the same, it was as if he was bored, mad to say the least.

"Yeah, thanks." He grabbed the bag and opened the door in a hurry. "I'll see you at night." And with that, he left. You heard the sound of the car engine turning on, and then it drove through the streets.

"See you at night."

You whisper sounds depressive, it even caused you to feel dizzy.

He didn't even say goodbye, he didn't kiss your cheek as he always did… That's how it had been a few weeks ago.

And you wondered why you expected it to be different. You thought about that moment in the morning the whole day, even in the office, you couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Has Jay not answered your calls?" Your friend, Haewon was right behind you as you dialed your husband's number for the fourth time.

"No, he's being really busy these days." You rubbed your forehead in a little bit of stress. Recently, you felt really tired, dizzy, nauseous even. You knew that an upcoming deal with a foreign company was coming up, and you were stressed out, so that could be provoking your symptoms. "You've been busy and you still bother to call, you should talk to him. Didn't you say that he was really distant recently."

Actually, you were both distant, work had a lot to do, but also the fact that you couldn't take it anymore. Even when you acted like a couple, not being able to express the love you had for each other was a real deal breaker.

The days that you felt like telling him how much you missed him, you stayed away. The days he felt like telling you how beautiful you were, he looked away. The days where you felt like finally telling each other how much you loved the other, you both parted away.

You weren't ready to be fond of him, yet. Even though you already had strong feelings for him. What if something happened and you ended up heartbroken? You weren't a conventional couple, you were arranged married, and your fears were so big that you were incapable of getting too comfortable with him.

The sound of the telephone hanging was just the thing you needed. The way your mom called once again was not a surprise to you, but it was still tiring.

"How can you be so incompetent, so stupid?!"

"You are such a failure, I don't know how you still work here?"

"Such a high position in the company and you're still a fucking idiot!"

"You look really pale, Y/N. Do you need me to bring you something to eat, drink?" "Do you think you can bring me a peppermint lemonade, Haewonie?" She nodded as you muttered a 'thank you'.

The sound of your fingers touching the keyboard was enough to cause you a big headache. You knew you could continue at home, but things were too tense there for you to peacefully work at any space of the house.

"Here's your lemonade." "Thanks, Haewon." Your hand grabbed the lemonade, taking a quick sip, enjoying the flavor of sweet peppermint, but sour lemons.

"With Hanni and Isa we are going to a brand new restaurant that they opened last week. We heard that they have great caviar and side dishes. You should come with us, have a girl's night, get your mind free from work and from everything going on at home."

You thought about it, and it sounded really fun, but the least that you wanted was to go out and then remember that you had a lot of work to do.

"I would love to, but I have a lot of papers to check on, and I need to get everything ready for the next meeting. You know that I would go if I could." "Yeah, don't worry about it. I'll make sure that next time you are completely free so we can all be together."

You nodded, thanking her for being understanding.

By the end of the day, you drove your car towards your home, with eyes heavy and a tremendous nausea that was also brought to you with dizziness.

You pulled the car away from the road as you felt a curious vile rise up your throat wanting to escape your mouth.

The car door was flung open with desperation, your feet touched the grass as you felt the vile free itself out of your mouth and go straight into the natural floor.

You gagged as you felt how the remains of your food choked you. You felt as if the air was being cut out for you and that you would stop breathing at any moment.

As you finished, you let out a sharp breath and wiped your mouth with the end of your sleeve.

A few tears fell down your cheeks and blurred your view. The thought of sitting right beside your car became true, you let your legs rest on the ground and the back of your head felt the cold material of the vehicle.

It was such a weird feeling, you'd never thrown up before ever since you were eight years old. You started to analyze how your health had deteriorated a few weeks ago, you thought it was just a bug, or maybe it was just the huge amount of work that was causing problems on your body.

You kept on saying that you needed to rest and that you would do it, but that never happened and you always postponed it.

With the little strength that you had, you managed to get to your car and let your head fall against the driver seat. You felt a little bit relieved as you felt the nausea wave get out of your body.

It took you about fifteen minutes to take a turn back home. You drove back slowly, trying your best to prevent your stomach from getting upset.

When you reached home, you noticed that Jay's car wasn't there yet, which meant that he wasn't back home.

You felt your muscles relaxed as you felt the water coming from the shower fall into your shoulders. You got into a comfy pink sweater and a pair of shorts that made your skin fuzzy. And you combed your wet hair feeling a sudden pressure at the side of your head.

The fingertips of your hands applied some weight into your head trying to stop the possible migraine that was bothering your tired body.

You went through the night trying to distract yourself from the discomfort that you felt the whole day. Even let your phone ring a few times trying to call Jay, but he never actually answered.

You didn't feel that much appetite, so you avoided making dinner for yourself and just focused on your husband's.

But you waited for him to get home, and even though the time passed he still wasn't there with you. And that was maddening, because the only thing that you wanted was him to be there.

The clock was pointing at 11:46, and just by then Jongseong was arriving. The sound of the door closing woke you up, you had fallen asleep on the couch.

At least my headache's gone.

Jay noticed that the lights were on, he knew that you were waiting for him. He didn't want you to do that, you had enough at work and you needed to rest. At least, one of you had to be well-rested.

You rubbed your eyes in an attempt to draw the sleepiness away from your body. The numb feeling, soon running away from your limbs.

He reached the living room, the first thing he saw was your exhausted figure. Jay wondered why you were still awake… Did you wait for him?

"Hey, why are you still up?" Jay put his bag down beside one of the sofas.

Even the question was maddening. He was back at home so late and you waited for him even though you had been so distant.

"I was waiting for you to arrive."

Jay sighed with disappointment. "You shouldn't be waiting for me." He blurted out, which kind of confused you. "Why?"

He smirked in annoyance, he wasn't annoyed at you, or maybe he was.

Jay wanted you to admit that you loved him, just as much as you wanted him to do the same for you. He wanted to break the cycle of lies, he wanted to stop pretending that he didn't love you. Why did you both have to lie to each other?

Because it was so obvious that you couldn't tolerate it anymore.

"Y/N, why are you acting like you actually care about me?"

You furrowed your brows in confusion, also in annoyance… How could he say that? And why would he believe that?

Hadn't you shown how much you cared for him?! Wasn't all you had done for him enough?

You couldn't believe what he was saying.

"What are you saying? Have I actually not shown how much I care about you?!" You kept your voice at a normal level, you tried not to raise your voice, you tried your best to take the situation away from the worst. "Stop lying, Belle! We know that we are both liars in this situation!"

"And that's what maddens me, because we fake every single thing as if our marriage came out of a normal situation."

Your breath shrieked in despair, as your heart continued to crumble as if it was a piece of paper that you could ruin. Why are you doing this to me? That was the only thought that could go through your mind.

Tears threatened to escape your eyes, you looked to the side trying to prevent them from going any further.

Jay just stepped up closer to you, his own heart breaking as well, just as it was beating against his chest.

He was nervous...

He was scared.

All because he felt that things were falling apart.

"You said that you didn't want to get married to me if I didn't love you… But you are still here."

Jay's hand was placed on your chin, his whispers were enough to break you, to tear you apart in a million pieces.

"I asked you if you loved me… you said no, but you never asked if I loved you." You tried to hold in your sobs, but your shaky breaths betrayed you.

Something inside you was falling apart in rage. Where was all of this coming from?

Why was he telling you all of this? Why now?

"You've already proven me why I shouldn't have asked…" You spat your words in fury. "You are asking me if I actually care about you, but…"

"Have you ever actually cared about me?"

You grabbed his hand and slowly got it away from your chin. If you ever feared about being heartbroken, now you are more afraid about what would happen next instead of what would happen in the moment.

"Y/N." Just hearing your name slip out of his tongue shattered your heart into pieces. He was heartbroken as well, he was hurt and he was more than afraid, he was terrified.

He was disappointed with himself.

"Get your shit together, Jay."

The remainder of the night was tense, it was quiet and a little bit disturbing. Jay couldn't sleep, he knew that he'd messed up and he fully understood why you were mad at the moment.

He completely let himself go because of the hardship that he was feeling. Jay hated it, he despised that he knew that you loved him, but you wouldn't say, and he also despised the fact that he knew how much he loved you but he wouldn't say anything.

Was this how it was going to be forever?

Pretending that you didn't have feelings for the other just because you didn't want to get hurt. For some reason, that decision was the best that you could ever take, at least that's what you both thought.

Nobody will get hurt if something happens.

That's just bullshit!

As he wrecked his head with thoughts, you laid on the sofa, with a navy blue blanket covering your body. The least that you wanted was to sleep in the same bed as Jay, you didn't need that at the moment.

Throughout the night, you thought about your relationship with Jay. You've known each other ever since you were kids, and you love him with your whole heart, he made you feel things that you never thought that you could feel, the thought of marrying him was far from your mind, but when your families engaged you, something inside of you thought that you could make things work, you wanted a future with him, but at the same time you feared that loving him would break you at some point, all because it wasn't at your own will and it wasn't that you married at each other because of love.

The problem was, that if you kept up pretending you didn't love him, you would just hurt each other, and it was already happening.

You didn't notice at what time the morning came, your body shut down the moment that those thoughts hit your head. The sound of the air conditioner going off got to your senses, you pulled the blanket off your body, and your neck was stiffened from the uncomfortable position that you slept on.

The cold floor sent shivers down your spine as your feet made contact with the tiles, you got up, walking immediately towards the bathroom near the living room. You walked quickly trying your best to avoid Jay, but also trying your best to keep the vile that was rising up your throat.

You reached the bathroom, hitting your knees with the cold tiles as you threw up inside the bowl, something that you found impossible because your stomach was empty.

A huff escaped your mouth, you cleaned your lips with the back of your forearm, getting up with weak legs to walk towards the sink. A sudden but quick ring consumed your ears, and it left as fast as it came, your senses were altered, almost distressed.

You didn't understand a single thing of what was happening with your body, but your mind always came up with the same answer.

It's just stress, you thought, you brushed your teeth. Your limbs were wobbly, almost numb… But you still made your way to the kitchen after you finished washing your mouth.

The feeling that somebody was close to you, came in. Your heart leaped when you saw Jay in the kitchen, his almost tan skin came across your mind, he always had that scent every time he was close.

He always smelled elegant, luxurious, even mysterious sometimes.

It felt like a temptation being so close to him. And the way you sat on the counter chair was not helping, you bounced your barefoot leg as you looked at the material of the kitchen aisle, not wanting to look at him.

But still, you could feel the heat of his skin near you.

"Drink some water, you need to stay hydrated if you are losing fluids." He left a glass of water beside your arm, on the counter. You didn't even dare to look at him, but by the sound of the furniture moving, you could see what he was going to do. "Do you have a stomach bug or something? Have you gotten that chec-"

"I don't know why you're asking me this? I thought you didn't care." You raised your head to look at him, his sharp eyes looking into yours, making you want to look away.

"Y/N, I didn't mean to make you feel that way. You know that I do care about you." He said trying to get a hold of your arm, but you pulled away from him.

Deep down you knew that he did, he cared and he cared more than what he showed you, but you couldn't be like this anymore, continuing a lie that would only hurt the both of you.

"Something inside of me tells me that you do. But you are so distant, and we keep on lying to each other as if that is going to solve anything, and we both know that isn't doing anything anymore." Jay sat straight after hearing your words.

"Jay… I, Why do I keep feeling like this isn't working out?." Jay stood up from his seat, he was impressed with your words, words that he didn't want to hear. "W-What do you mean?"

"We are hurting each other and that's the least that I want, and I know you feel the same… But we are so blinded by each others' company that we haven't noticed that we truly aren't doing anything for our relationship, and that says a lot." "I thought that maybe we could make it work, but I feel like I'm in the wrong, here."

Were you saying that you wanted to be away from him? Was he truly hurting you that bad?

Jay's mind was completely wrecked, he clenched his jaw trying to keep away his tears, just as you… he wanted to make things work, because he truly did see a future by your side.

You were all he wanted.

He was all you wanted.

But if that was what you wished, then he wasn't going to say otherwise, because that's how much he loved you.

"Maybe you are right, maybe this isn't working out, because I really don't wanna hurt you and I know that you don't want to hurt me."

Your heart broke, because you truly weren't expecting him to agree with you, you wanted him to fight for you and finally tell you how much he loved you, but your mind knew that he was going to agree with you.

"Being together just feels wrong at this point."

"But what if we make it work out." He said hopeful. "I don't know, Jay."

Your heart hit your chest with intensity, you were still hoping that things would get better, but at that point it just felt something completely impossible.

To be clear, you had to continue with your day as if nothing happened, pretending that your relationship wasn't crumbling down and your heart wasn't shattered into a million pieces.

Heeseung kept looking at your saddened expression, knowing that you were down, and he kept an eye on you throughout the ride to the office.

He asked a few times if you were okay, but you always responded with a smile, repeating that you were fine.

Even Juni noticed your state, you felt numb and confused, if you truly loved someone how could you suggest such thing. Maybe it was because you simply couldn't tolerate the fact that you were being lied to.

In comparison to you, Jay was stressed. He didn't want things to go this way, you were everything that he dreamed of, and ever since he was a kid, he imagined a future with you. Yes, he was in a relationship with you, but it wasn't what he had always wished for.

He wanted to be one of the reasons you smiled, not one of the reasons why you hurt. Jay couldn't concentrate on his work, and he couldn't stop thinking about how hungry he was. Shit, he truly did miss your cooking!

You placed a foot on your doorstep and you felt the need to throw up, it was becoming a normal occurrence, it had happened twice at work, and that was the second time you did it at home ever since the morning.

The sink water was heavy for your stomach, but really cool and nice for your face, you washed it a few times, before finally heading out of the bathroom and getting into some comfier clothes.

It felt so nice when you got off your pleaded skirt and your white shirt, your tennis shoes were also a little bit tight, but you didn't pay that much attention to it.

Just when you were rising up your shorts, the bedroom door opened, revealing a tired Jay, trying to take off his tie. He turned his head to the right out of impression, feeling a little bit nervous .

Embarrassed, you quickly pulled your shorts up, lowering your head in a timid manner, before heading towards the door. "Sorry, I shouldn't even be ashamed, but this is very uncomfortable."

"Don't be sorry, I should've knocked." You brushed his fingers in reassurance. "None of us should be sorry, we've seen each other naked, anyways." You mentioned the last thing, in an attempt to make things better.

Jay looked in your way, just as you started to let go of your shyness. You noticed how his tie was hanging lower, and some of the buttons of his shirt were open, showing a little bit of his chest and the marks of his clavicles. He saw your black hair covering some parts of your arms, tank top that showed a slight part of your abdomen, and the cotton gray shorts that covered your thighs.

His skin looked beautiful with the dim warm light of your bedroom, and his fingers slightly brushed with your skin. You didn't notice that you were so close to him, how his gaze softened when he looked into your eyes and you noticed the little line at the middle of his lower lip, you always liked it, he had it since he was in high school.

Jay felt the blood rushed through his veins as he felt you closer to him. You could only think that if those were going to be the last days that you spent together as a "normal" couple, you should at least be able to feel his skin a few more times.

"Why do I keep feeling that this is wrong?" He murmured, as you got so close that you could feel his warmth breath. "At least, if I'm going to hurt while we are together, I wanna do it right." You whispered in his ear, looking at him once again. "I don't want you to hurt, Belle." His hand caressed your cheek, pretty fingers lingering on your skin. "But I want you to love my body, as if you just hurt me."

There had always been a difference between lust and love, even though you both didn't express the love for the other, you always felt a feeling of lust towards him, just like he did for you.

Maybe your relationship wasn't working out, but you felt a magnetic reaction towards him, something that made you look his way even if things were going wrong.

That was the lustful feeling that consumed your body.

"...At least just tonight, Jay." You whispered, knowing deep down that if you had sex with him that night, it would become a cycle until you finally came to a conclusion of what you wanted to do with your relationship. Your breath was hitched, as the air going through your lungs was heavy and slow. "You sure that's what you want?"

You felt his lips brush against your forehead, his palm making contact with your wrist.

"Yes."

His lips kissed your forehead, just for him to go down and focus on your neck, he gave tender kisses on that area of your skin, sometimes he sucked the points that he knew were sensitive.

You could only grab the ends of his hair as you felt those nice sensations, and how some of your senses started to blur a little.

Sometimes, your tummy felt butterflies flying around as he kept a hand on your neck, now paying full attention to the soft flesh of your lips, kissing them hard, leaving them red and kinda swollen.

You leaned on a wall, letting all of the feelings come to you, his kisses, how his hand was grabbing your neck, while the other kept itself on your waist.

Your tricky hands grabbed his tie, looking into his eyes knowing very well that his heart had just skipped a beat just like yours already did. You somehow undid his tie, throwing it to the side, and then proceeded to unbutton the rest of his shirt, leaving the top of his chest uncovered, his pretty skin glowing because of the beads of sweat.

"You are going to be the end of me, Belle." Jay whispered, kissing you once again, keeping his hand in your neck, as you placed yours on his shoulders, slowly taking his blazer off, letting it fall on the floor.

That night, you knew that this was going to be a common occurrence until one of you had to break off the relationship.

Because the morning after that, Jay offered to take you to your office, just for you to hook up in the car before he finally drove you off to your workplace.

When you arrived back home, you would both make out as if it was the last time that you would see the other.

You hurt most of the time, feeling that this was the most that you could have with, sexual intimacy just to compensate for the hurt that you felt, and the sadness that would consume you.

For the next few weeks, this was your new normal, you would both have a few words before you finally had intimacy. And clearly, to be honest, Jay's heart ached with sorrow, but also passion.

How was it that you could make your intimacy work, but not your relationship?

That's what he always wondered for the past few weeks.

A few days before your family reunion, you arrived home late, and you noticed that Jay was there already, his car parked on the sideway.

When you entered the house, you took off your shoes at the entrance. You brushed your hands with your skirt, because of how could it was outside, you threw up on your way back to your house, so the air had definitely affected a little bit of your body

Then, you heard it.

"I really don't want to get a divorce, but I feel like this isn't working out."

Jay wanted to say how much it hurt him that he could feel your body with every single touch, but not your heart.

"Y/N said she knew things weren't working out, and I know she's hurting because of me, and that's the opposite that I want for her."

"I want her to be happy and to not stick to a relationship that will only burn us down."

You didn't know what was worse, the fact that your relationship was now based on just sex, because you wanted a part of him to be with you, or was it the fact that Jay wanted you away from his life completely.

What hurt more was the fact that he mostly was doing it because of you, and you weren't going to beg for him to stay, because you knew that you needed to be apart.

"You want a divorce?"

Jay heard your fragile voice coming from the living room, he knew there was no turning back now.

He hung up the phone, surprised by you and your sorrowful expression.

"Y/N…"

"You don't have to say anything, I understand." You would be lying if you said that your heart wasn't shattered, and that there weren't tears slipping down your cheeks.

Until then, you would love your bodies, as if you had just hurt the other.

That's what you thought it would be.

Because you both just did.

2K notes · View notes

hischierdevils · 2 years ago

Text

Teeth | N.H.

note: inspired by the song Teeth by 5sos. I’ve been working on this one for a while and I’m still not happy with it but here you go.

summary: you get a little attitude with nico but he puts you in your place

warnings: s m u t, spanking, slight captain kink

wc: 2.1k

Something in the way you're looking through my eyes

Don't know if I'm gonna make it out alive

Nico had just gotten home from a roadie earlier in the day and you were excited to finally have him all to yourself. When you got home, he told you that Jack had invited the two of you to dinner. While you loved Nico’s teammates, you were a little upset. Jack had just seen Nico for ten days in a row. Why couldn’t you have him to yourself for a night?

As you and Nico took the elevator in your building down to Jack’s floor you stuck tightly to his side, unable to keep your hands off of him for even a moment. He grins when you stand on your tiptoes to ask for yet another kiss. “You gotta behave yourself, baby.” He warns before giving into your demand.

“I am behaving.” You pout as he pulls away from you. “We’d be naked in our bed right now if I wasn’t.” Nico bites his lip as he shakes his head at you. Unimpressed with your idea of behaving but slightly turned on anyway.

You’re surprised when a blonde girl opens Jack’s door after you knock. She introduces herself as she lets you and Nico in, making polite conversation as you follow her to the kitchen. Dawson and his girlfriend are also in the kitchen talking with Jack. “Are we babysitting now?” You grumble to Nico as you attach yourself to him by wrapping your arms around his waist.

He wraps a heavy arm around your shoulders and kisses your forehead. “Don’t be a brat, y/n.” Nico mumble’s back.

You roll your eyes at him. “Fine.”

Nico flashes you a look, warning you to check your attitude before you all take your seats at the table. The look makes you squeeze your thighs together as flames erupt in your belly. He hasn’t seen you in a week and he’d rather spend time with his teammates than have alone time?

The six of you sit at the table, passing the food around as the guys take turns telling funny stories from their trip. The two other girls at the table seem familiar with each other and quietly chat to one another. “Y/n?” Jack’s date calls your name and you realize you’ve been staring at Nico.

“Sorry, what?” You turn your attention to the blonde girl, trying to remember if you saw her before tonight. You feel slightly guilty for not remembering her name but Nico looks so good in his dress shirt. How are you supposed to think about anything else?

The girl giggles. “I asked you how you deal with Nico being away for weeks at a time.”

You glance at Nico who’s looking at you like he also wants to know the answer. “Lot’s of phone sex.” You say with a smirk.

The girl's face turns red as Dawson and Jack howl with laughter. Nico places his hand on your thigh underneath the table and squeezes, digging his fingernails into your skin through your leggings.

“Is that why you never go out with us?” Jack asks after he takes a deep breath. Dawson wipes a tear from his eye and takes a sip of his beer.

“I go to dinner with you all the time.” Nico scoffs.

Dawson starts giggling again. “But you gotta run back to the hotel for dessert, eh?”

Nico nudges your knee with his underneath the table as he moves his hand higher up your thigh. “I love my girl.” He leans over to kiss your temple. “Look what you started you little brat.” He whispers for just you to hear.

The look on his face lets you know that you’re getting punished for that when you get home and your body shivers with anticipation.

You barely touch the dinner that Jack’s new girlfriend made. The pasta is delicious, but your stomach is in knots as Nico continues massaging your thigh. He eventually gets close enough that his pinky rubs up against your clothed heat and it makes you jump. Reaching for your wine glass, you take a deep gulp as Nico smirks at the blush on your cheeks.

“Are you alright, love?” There’s a twinkle in his eye as Nico questions you. He’s enjoying this.

You tug at the hem of the sweatshirt you’re wearing, which also happens to be his. “Yeah, it’s just a little hot in here.”

His eyes darken as he watches you take another sip of wine, your tongue darting out to catch the last sweet drops on the rim. The rest of the table chats animatedly, unaware of the silent conversation you and Nico are having.

Fight so dirty, but you love so sweet

Talk so pretty, but your heart got teeth

When it’s time for you to leave, you practically jump out of your seat. Nico says goodbye to Jack and his girlfriend, thanking them for dinner as you wonder what’s in store for you once you make it back to your own apartment.

You end up riding the elevator with Dawson and his date down to your floor. You stand next to Nico’s side without touching him but your body is so aware of him that you can tell every time he shifts his weight or fidgets.

“Have a good night you two.” Dawson smirks at the two of you as the door to the elevator opens on your floor. You politely say your goodbyes before following Nico to your door.

As soon as he gets the door open, he’s pulling you inside and pressing his mouth to yours. You kiss him back eagerly as he guides you backwards so you’re pressed against the wall of the entryway. Your body becomes putty underneath his touch as his right hand fists the hair at the nape of your neck and his left hand slides underneath the sweatshirt you're wearing.

He bites your bottom lip as his calloused fingers graze over the soft skin on your stomach moving up to cup your breasts over your bra. “You were a little brat tonight y/n.” He comments before lowering his head down to your neck and sucking a hickey into your delicate skin. “What am I going to do with you?”

You palm him over his jeans and smile when it elicits a moan to fall from his lips. “I guess you’ll have to punish me.” You whisper as you kiss his jaw.

He picks you up before you can say anything else, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bedroom. As soon as he sets you on your feet he’s pulling your leggings down your legs. “Teasing me all night like you won’t have any consequences.” He mutters as you step out of your pants.

You give him a sly smile before taking his sweatshirt off your body, revealing the matching bra and panty set you had put on just for him. “You’re the one who delayed my plans, Captain.”

He sits down on the edge of the bed. Biting his lip as he takes in the sight of you. His gaze is so intense that you’re practically dripping from arousal before he even touches you. “Come here.” He demands after what feels like an eternity.

You walk over to him slowly and when you’re finally within reaching distance, he throws you over his lap so your ass is in the air. He’s still wearing his clothes, and his jeans rub against your bra, giving your sensitive nipples some delicious friction. You whine as he slowly brings his hand up your leg and over your ass before resting it on the small of your back. He uses his other hand to gather all of your hair in a makeshift ponytail so he can see your face.

“I think thirteen is a fair number, don’t you, love?” His voice is deep and you can tell that he’s just as turned on as you are.

“Yes.” You breathe as you shake your ass, begging him to do something.

He digs his fingers into your ass cheek, causing you to jump. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Captain.” You stutter.

He massages your ass cheek before pulling your underwear down. “I want you to count, pretty girl. Ready?” His hand slaps your ass before you can respond and you jump a little in his lap. The slight sting mixes with pleasure and your body begins to shake with a need for relief. “Count.” He reminds you.

“One.” His palm hits your other cheek before the word is even fully out of your mouth. “Two.”

He goes on, alternating ass cheeks until you reach ten. You’ve been squirming in his lap so he pauses to check on you. “What do you need, love?”

You can feel his erection in his jeans and you’re dying to get your mouth on it. “I need it harder, Captain.”

This time when his palm comes down his fingers hit your soaked hole. You bite his jean clad thigh to keep from crying out. “Is that what you want, baby?” He asks as he spanks you again, his fingers sliding inside of you easily before he removes them. “You’re just dying for me to touch you aren’t you?”

“Nico…”

The final time his hand comes down, he slides two fingers inside of you as he unclips your bra with his other hand. As soon as your breasts are free, he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers as he works his other hand inside of you. “This is all you wanted, isn't it baby? You wanted me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Nico…please…” You’re a moaning mess in his lap as he expertly fingers you, adding a third finger to give you more friction. “I want you inside me.” You groan.

He lets go of your nipple and moves his hand to your clit. You moan as he begins to rub circles on it and you bite down on his thigh again. “Be a good girl and cum for me.” He applies more pressure to your clit and you’re seeing stars in no time, orgasming as he holds you in his lap.

Late night devil, put your hands on me

And never, never, never ever let go

“So perfect and good for me, baby.” Nico praises you as he brushes your hair out of your face and pulls you up so you’re sitting in his lap. “You did so well.”

You kiss him until you’re both breathless and then stand on shaking legs. “It’s my turn to make you feel good.” You pull at his belt and he stands up quickly, helping you to get him out of his jeans and boxers.

You sink to your knees before him once his erection is free and take his large cock in your hand. The tip is already shining with pre-cum and you lick it up with your tongue before pulling him into your mouth. “Fuck.” He mutters as he tangles his hands in your hair.

You hum in satisfaction causing the vibrations to travel along his thick member. He pushes into your mouth until you gag and then pulls out. “Mmmm I’ve wanted to do this all night.” You admit as you wipe the drool off of your chin. You go to reach for him again but he steps back out of your reach.

“I’m not going to last baby and I want to be inside you.” He tells you as he moves the pillows and sits down on the bed with his back pressed against the headboard. “Come ride me.”

You don’t have to be told twice, scrambling quickly to get on the bed and swing your leg over him. You bend down to kiss him as you trail your fingers down his chest before gripping the base of his cock so you can sink down on top of him. You both moan as he stretches you, filling you up completely. “I’ve missed you being inside of me.” You whisper as you start to bounce up and down.

He brings his hands to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tries to slow your movements. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You run your hands through his hair tugging softly at the roots as you grind down on him. He lets out a string of curses in German letting you know he’s not going to last long.

You press your forehead to his as you pick up the pace. He wraps his arms around your torso, holding you flush to his chest as you grind against him, bringing yourself close to the edge again. “You feel so good, baby. So good for me.” He kisses you again and the praise is all you need to come undone around him.

He tightens his arms around you as he thrusts up into you. “Open your eyes, love. I want you to look at me.” His forehead is still pressed to yours and he looks into your eyes as his thrusts become erratic. “Fuck, y/n.” He stills as he reaches his orgasm, coating your womb with his cum.

Once you’re both spent, you rest your head on his shoulder. You try to move your leg so you can get off of him but he quickly grips the back of your knee, keeping you in place. “I want to hold you.” He murmurs before kissing your cheek.

“Okay.” You give him a lazy smile before relaxing into him. Cuddling with Nico is easily your favorite thing in the world.

Tag list: @mikayladavis @cammie1634 @cellythefloshie @nowandkei @hughesmedicine @huggy-hischier4394

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #nico hischier x y/n #smut #nico hischier smut #my writing

607 notes · View notes

campbyler · 8 months ago

Note

What are Mike and Will’s top three artists? (Idk if you’ve mentioned it before sorryy)

oooh i don’t think we’ve named specific favorites for them before!! i don’t know if we’ll be able to just name Three (edit: coming back to proofread after typing out this ask. i did not just name Three), bc to me acswy mike and will both have pretty varied music tastes — i think they’d both listen to a lot of different genres and artists, especially music that their friends/family/assorted loved ones introduce them to that might not be something they’d usually go for.

mike: we did mention in ch2 that mike has a demon days poster above his bed in the blue cabin, and while i don’t think gorillaz is one of his Favorite groups by any means, i do think he 1. listens to them a lot while driving specifically and 2. just reallyyyy loves their album art. to me mike is also such a pop punk enjoyer, so i think some of his go-tos include bands like all time low and paramore and blink-182, probably with a little midwest emo thrown in bc the boy did literallyyyyy grow up in indiana. i do also think he has a soft spot for feel-good pop, especially boyband music like 1D and BTR, and i think 5sos is not technically a boyband (or that they don’t like to be called one? iirc? maybe?) but i think he would listen to them quite a bit as well! really and truly i think mike would just like a little bit of everything, and his fav artists probably rotate a lot depending on his mood.

will: always a jeff buckley enthusiast across universes to meeeee, and the clear answers here are also the cure/the clash and other oldies rock OBVIOUSLYYYY but i think he would also totally dabble in typical 2020s Male Manipulator Music lol with likeeeee peach pit and the backseat lovers and the strokes especially. i think he’d also be into midwest emo (cannot escape his fate), and maybe also deftones and ptv a little bit (<- self indulgent and me projecting but i am not sorry). i think he also has a soft spot for pop, but not really in the same way mike does — for example, el definitely makes him listen to a lot of carly rae jepsen and the like when they’re together, and he also has a lot of good memories of listening to older pop songs with his mom when he was younger! like. he hits shuffle on his liked songs and it’s destiny’s child followed by radiohead followed by jenny by studio killers. he contains multitudes i’m afraid

#jenny by studio killers is a very special will song to me. if you guys care. i’ll scream it until i’m blue in the face #i also rec’d a fic on my main blog that basically cemented will as a sufjan stevens enjoyer for me for life #likeeee that is my canon now. sorry #anyways i’m so sorry i know you asked for Three and i just word vomited at you #but i just am so insane about them #and their music.#i have a lot of thoughts #asks #acswy reference

57 notes · View notes

paintyoureyeswithavividmind · 1 year ago

Text

close to home | chapter forty seven

plot: the reader arrives at the Kingdom

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,502 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd A/N: thank you for reading!!! I'm going to Boston this weekend to see 5sos and won't be home till Monday, so I won't be updating again until early next week--sorry lovelies!! Gonna try and update twice today if I can

When the horse led you through the gates of the Kingdom, you truly did feel like you were entering one. You felt more level-headed when they’d given you food and water on the ride back.

There were people around, and you tried to take in as much as possible. Gardens and schoolchildren were sitting outside. There was a choir singing somewhere. And there was laughter. So much laughter.

When you saw Morgan standing with a blond haired boy, you wanted to cry at the familiar sight. You climbed off the horse and set Tora down before running to Morgan.

“(Y/N),” Morgan laughed when you crushed him into a hug. You were never particularly close to him, but he was a part of your group and your family.

“Dianne said Daryl was here and supposed to stay here. Where is he?” You asked desperately as you pulled away from the hug.

But the look on his face was enough to tell you he wasn’t here. “He left this morning. I’m sorry. “

You laughed, though, for the first time in a while. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He got out. He went to Hilltop, right?”

Morgan nodded and smiled at you. “Yes. Come on, we need to have the doctor look at you. And you will need to meet the King.”

You looked at Morgan in confusion as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “The who?”

***

After getting an all-clear from the Kingdom’s doctor, and scarfing down as much food as you and Tora possibly could, Morgan led you to where the King was. You learned his name was Ezekiel, and he was a bit out there.

But Morgan vouched for him, so you followed him into the ‘throne room’ with Tora by your side. When you walked into the room, your eyes widened, and you grabbed Morgan’s arm at the sight of a tiger.

“What the fuck?” You breathed out.

“Fair maiden,” King Ezekiel shouted, “I am honored to have you a guest in our fair Kingdom. I welcome you. And your furry beast.”

You glanced at Tora, and started jogging up to catch her before she ventured too close to an animal that could kill her in a second. “I uh, um, thank you, sir. Your honor. King.” You stumbled over your words.

“Our dear friends from the great Alexandria told me of your situation, and what happened. Although the Kingdom did not play a part in your troubles, you have its sorrow and thought.” King Ezekiel said.

“Thank you,” You said, running your hand through Tora’s fur and trying to keep her settled. “I like your tiger.”

King Ezekiel smiled, “Her name is Shiva. And yours?”

“This is Tora; she’s been with me since before. Shiva?”

“The same as you,” The king said. He stood up and quietly told the man to his right something. You assumed it was to put Shiva somewhere because the man took the chains and led the big cat out of the room.

Then he gracefully jumped from the stage and approached you. You got a better look at his face and admired it for a moment as he scratched Tora behind the ear. “I invite you and Tora to spend the eve with us here at the Kingdom. I can imagine you must want to get to the Hilltop as quick as you can. But I insist you take the night to recover.”

You glanced at Morgan, and he nodded, so you did as well. You were almost friends. You knew it. You knew in your bones that you didn’t have anything to fear from the Kingdom or its people. Morgan was here; he obviously liked it here. You were with friends. And that made you smile the biggest smile. “We can stay.”

***

King Ezekiel requested your presence after Morgan settled you in a room across from his. You opted to leave Tora in the room for a little while because you weren’t sure where the tiger was and didn’t want to risk it.

Dianne came by with the message from the King, and she also brought you a fresh set of clothes. You’d never been more thankful when she told you to wash up first and brought you to the showers.

So now, twenty minutes later, you were dressed in a black tank top and a flannel, leggings, and a near pair boots.They were used, but it made it better, because they were already worn in.

The King sat across from you, and Morgan and a guy named Jerry sat with you.

“Tell me, miss (Y/N), how you came to be with your group? I would love to know your tale.”

You didn’t have any hesitation about telling him. Aside from the fact that you already considered him a friend, you felt like you could trust him and this place. So you told him about your life before and after the world's end. You told him about the prison after it ended and watched their horrified expression as you told them about Terminus.

You didn’t tell them about the people you lost because even though it’s been some time, all the wounds reopened when discussed.

And then, finally, you told them about Alexandria, how you got there, and what happened afterward.

Your story took you through dinner, an assortment of chicken, and the freshest vegetables you’ve had in a long time. It was mouth-watering. You made sure to fold plenty of the chicken into a napkin, so you could take it to Tora.

“Your journey is of greatness, and I am honored to have such a warrior amongst us,” The King said.

“Do you like cobbler?” Jerry asked you.

“Jerry,” The King said.

Their exchange made you laugh, and you looked at Jerry, “Yes, I do.”

***

You sat with the King, Morgan, and Jerry for quite some time before the King suggested he give you a tour. You weren’t sure there was a point to it because you would be leaving in the morning, but you accepted because he made you feel like a friend. And with Sherry gone and not seeing your family in weeks, you desperately needed it.

King Ezekiel showed you around the Kingdom, with Jerry and Morgan following closely behind. He pointed out the gardens, the apartments where most everyone resided. He should you the wells for water, in case you needed some, and the training ground for their ‘royal army’. You could see how proud he was. You believed him to be an accomplished leader.

The sun was nearly set when the tour ended outside the building you would be staying in. You thanked both Jerry and the King profusely.

“In the morn, I will have Dianne pack your supplies for the road and give you a weapon. I cannot, in good conscience, let you go out without one.” King Ezekiel said. “And, of course, my people know the way to the Hilltop. I will have a map provided and see if they can get you a car.”

“I don’t know how to repay you for this, but thank you, King Ezekiel.” You told him.

He and Jerry bid their goodnights, and you and Morgan entered the building.

“I feel like I’m in a fairytale here,” You playfully joked. “But I actually like it. It’s fun.”

“Many people do, I think that’s why they go along with it,” Morgan told you as you walked.

When you got to the doors, you looked at Morgan. “Rick was here to get them to fight, wasn’t he? And the King said no?”

Morgan nodded, and you could see the contemplation on his face. “The Hilltop stands with Alexandria. Rick asked me to talk to the King about joining, but…”

You nodded, knowing how he felt about killing. “I think he will. He just needs to be pushed. Goodnight, Morgan. I’ll see you in the morning.”

***

Dianne brought you a bag with more than enough supplies in the morning. Enough to last you for at least a week. You made her take a decent amount of it back. You couldn’t take advantage of their hospitality like that.

You met with the King for one last meal together, and while he tried to persuade him to stay, you wouldn’t budge. So he led you to the front gate, where a few guards were waiting. They succeeded in bringing you a car.

“Thank you, King Ezekiel. Really.” You said. “I don’t think I’ve met someone like you for a long while. I really hope I get to see you again.” You told him.

The King smiled and bid his goodbye, and you gave Morgan and even Jerry a hug. Then you and Tora climbed into the car. With one last look in the rearview mirror, you left the Kingdom, and headed towards home.

#daryl x y/n #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd #daryl twd #daryl x you

183 notes · View notes

yxngbxkkie · 2 years ago

Text

art exhibits (h.h)

the song tears! by 5sos really help me finish this angsty fic for hyunjinnie 🤭 i hope you guys like it!

"Do you like art?" Ji-hun asks you, snapping you from your daze. You hum and glance towards the taller man. He smiles softly at you while taking your hand in his. "Do you want to go check it out?"

"We don't have to," you mumble, your gaze moving towards the art show that's currently happening. "I know art isn't your thing."

You try to continue walking when your date pulls you back, causing you to stumble. "Oh, come on. We've done the hobbies I like for the past two dates. It's your turn," he winks playfully before tugging you along.

A sigh leaves your lips as you follow him into the museum. You didn't know whose art was being showcased, but you couldn't care less. Art is art.

The two of you slowly walk around the first floor, spending at least five minutes at each art piece. "This is gorgeous," you whisper, taking in the woodsy scenery that's painted.

"Who's the artist?" Ji-hun whispers as well, his lips near your ear.

Your eyes shift to the name plate that sits underneath the canvas, your heart skipping a beat. Hwang Hyunjin. You swallow thickly and look back at the guy you're "seeing." "Can we go?" You ask him, not wanting to run into your ex-boyfriend.

Ji-hun furrows his brows and prevents you from walking towards the exit. "What? How come?" He asks, noticing the sudden change in your mood. "What happened?"

"I-"

"Y/N?" A familiar voice cuts you off, causing your back to stiffen.

You clear your throat and you turn to face Hyunjin. "Hi," you shyly greet him.

His brown eyes move from you to the man standing behind you. "Who's this?" Hyunjin asks, glancing down at your conjoined hands. "Your boyfriend?"

"Nothing's official. We've been on a couple of dates," you say vaguely, tucking some hair behind your ear.

"I'm sorry," Ji-hun interrupts, capturing your attention. "Who is this guy?"

Your ex-boyfriend holds a hand out to your date, a fake smile on his lips. "My name is Hwang. An old friend of Y/N's," he says with gritted teeth.

"We should get going," you pipe up, feeling the need to get out of here. "Congratulations on the art exhibit. You finally made it."

You bow your head slightly before pulling Ji-hun out of the museum. Hyunjin watches you leave, his heart sinking into his stomach.

"Was that Y/N?" Yongbok asks the brunette, looking up at him.

"Yeah, it was."The two don't say anything else to each other before Hyunjin walks away. Yongbok frowns, noticing the heartbroken look on his friend's face.

He walks out of the museum, hoping to catch up with you. Yongbok stands on his toes, looking over the sea of people that are walking along the sidewalk.

"Y/N!" He spots you and calls out your name, raising his hand. Your eyes meet him for a split second before he rushes over to you.

You're saying goodbye to the man beside you when he makes it to you. "Yongbok, what are you doing here?" You ask him, your fingers playing with your purse.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

"It was Ji-hun's idea. I-I didn't know it was Hyunjin's art exhibit," you tell him the truth.

Yongbok watches as your eyes keep glancing towards the art museum. "Did you want to go back inside?" He asks you with a small smile.

"I don't know what I want, to be honest," you whisper loud enough for him to hear. "I didn't think we'd be broken up when he finally achieved his dream."

The black-haired man rests a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. "I know that you guys aren't together anymore, but I think he'd appreciate you being there. You were his muse," he reminds you, offering you a small smile.

You nod your head as you think about all the times you spent in his studio with him. "You're right, Bbogi. Can you come with me?" You ask him, your fingers grabbing a hold of his shirt. "Just until I can muster up the courage to face him alone."

"Of course. You know we're always here for you," he smiles at you and he brings his hand to your hair, petting it lightly.

You wrap your arm around his waist as Yongbok drapes his over your shoulder. The two of you walk back into the museum and you notice Hyunjin standing with Bang Chan, a smile on his lips.

Chan nudges Hyunjin and motions towards you. His eyes meet yours and your heart starts beating fast. "I'll be right back," he mumbles to the older member before taking a sip of the champagne in his hand.

"I know you still love him and I believe he still loves you too. Talk to him," Yongbok whispers into your ear, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

You nod your head and take a deep breath. You meet Hyunjin halfway, grabbing a glass of champagne along the way. "You came back," he mumbles.

"I couldn't miss your art exhibit could I. Not after everything you went through to make it happen," you say with a tight-lipped smile.

"I'm glad you're here," Hyunjin sighs, his free hand reaching out to grab yours. "This wouldn't be possible without you."

You shake your head, a light laugh coming from your lips. "It would. You're an incredible artist, Hyunjin," you correct him, glancing down at your conjoined hands.

He squeezes your hand, his gaze moving to the floor. "Can we talk? Alone?" He whispers before looking around, noticing other people's eyes on you.

"Y-Yeah."

Hyunjin laces your fingers together, leading you away from the crowd of people. The two of you enter an empty space before the tall man in front of you turns to face you.

"So, you're dating now?" He starts off, causing you to let out a sigh.

"Is this what you wanted to talk about?" You ask him, not really wanting to go into this topic.

He drops your hand and begins to pace in front of you. "Do you know how much it hurt? Seeing you with another guy at my art exhibit?" He asks with furrowed brows, a frown on his plump lips.

"Jinn-" you cut yourself off and clear your throat. "Hyunjin, I didn't know it was yours. He just asked me if I liked art and I tried to get him to do something else."

Hyunjin sits down on the bench before dropping his head into his hands. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him. You start to feel your chest clench as you always hated seeing him like this.

You slowly walk over to him before combing your fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you," you whisper, tears brimming your eyes.

He nuzzles his head in your hands and he takes deep breaths. "I hate that you left. Why did you leave?" He sobs, lifting his head to look at you.

Tears stream down your cheeks, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I-I thought you'd be better off without me…" you trail off, gently biting your lip.

"Do you really believe that?" He questions, wiping the tears from his face. "You're the only one I want, Y/N. Now until forever."

You stop a sob from leaving your lips and avoid making eye contact with him. Forever? Hyunjin stands up from the bench, placing his hands on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

"Do you still love me?"

"Of course," you answer without hesitation, leaning into his touch. There's no going back now… You think to yourself as Hyunjin rests his forehead on yours. "You're the first guy I fell in love with."

He strokes your cheeks, a pleasant sigh coming from his lips. "Let me be the last guy you fall in love with," he pleads, moving to press kisses on your face.

You dip your head, your hands grabbing a hold of the blazer he's wearing. "I'm going to be honest," you mumble, finally meeting his eyes. "There's nobody that could replace you."

Hyunjin smiles down at you before pulling your face closer to his, his lips finding yours. Butterflies swarm around your stomach as you kiss him back. The kiss doesn't last long, and the brunette moves his hands to your waist.

"I'll have to tell the guy I've been seeing that it's off," you chuckle. Your heart feels like it's going to explode inside your chest.

"You're mine again."

tagging: @thewxntersoldier @spacegirlstuff @reddesert-healourblues

#hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids scenarios #stray kids hyunjin

426 notes · View notes

serafilms · 11 months ago

Text

song 23! try hard (5sos) + park sunghoon (spotify wrapped event)

she’s so out of reach, and i’m finding it hard ‘cause she makes me feel, makes me feel, like i try, like i try, like i’m trying too hard

happy birthday sunghoon! wrote this one especially without being requested because 23 is his jersey number and i wanted to celebrate him today :) hope he has the best day + year

Today starts out just like any other: Sunghoon wakes up thinking of you. Actually, technically his first thought was ‘Wow, I’m one year older today,’ but his next thought was about whether or not you’d wish him a happy birthday, so it still counts.

He checks his phone and fights his disappointment when he doesn’t see a text from you. Instead, he’s flooded both in the group chat and his private messages with well wishes. He sends polite ‘Thank you’s’ to his relatives, tells the guys to ‘fuck off’ in their group chat, and laughs at Jake’s very lengthy and emotional private text, which Sunghoon is sure his friend cried while writing.

Riki facetimes him seconds after seeing that he’s awake and tells him he’d better have his house ready for their joint birthday party tonight.

“Seriously, if your backyard is a mess when I get there, I’m going to clog your toilet so people piss in the yard and then you have to clean everything properly.” Ah, what an angel. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks, Riki.”

Then the younger hangs up, leaving a promise that he and the others will arrive before lunch for their planned ‘pre-party group only birthday pizza party’ and to help set up for the ‘real party.’ Sunghoon looks around his bedroom. It’s a little messy, because he lives in it so of course it is, but he knows the rest of his house is in order.

He already obsessively panic cleaned the whole place three days ago, when Jay confirmed that he’d sent you an invite. Man, he hopes you show up tonight. Not that he cares that much, of course (he cares very, very much). Because caring too much is bad, Sunghoon thinks. He can’t show his weakness, even when he is extremely weak. He wonders if he really has gone too far in his delusions and might now be descending into madness.

You care about him, or at least he thinks so, but you always seem so far above him, out of reach (“Is Y/N out of my league?” he asked once, chewing on his burger. “Yes,” chorused his friends. Lovely).

Sunghoon sighs and looks around at his room then begins to clean it up. He can’t have you seeing this mess (not that he’s being presumptuous in assuming you will be in his room or anything! This is Purely Hypothetical).

It’s only after he’s finished, and opened his presents from his family, and received the cake that his mother had delivered for him and the guys to enjoy that he finally opens the door and sees their faces.

Jake immediately tackles him in a hug, and Sunghoon feels like he can’t breathe as he squeezes him and shakes him around. His chest warms with happiness though, and through Jake’s shaking he glimpses Jungwon, Riki and Sunoo in front of him. Jake finally releases him and speaks.

“Sorry we’re late! We stopped for churros.”

Sunghoon furrows his brow. “You brought churros for the party?”

“No, I wanted churros,” Sunoo says, then takes a big bite. “Wan’ some?”

“I’m good,” he replies.

Riki pats Sunghoon on the back, then barges past him into the house and immediately begins examining it like some sort of teenage home inspector.

“Happy birthday,” says Sunoo, then follows Riki inside and immediately throws himself on the couch to finish his churro.

Jungwon repeats the sentiment then adds, “Jay and Heeseung are picking up the drinks and pizzas, they’ll be here soon.”

Thank god I made friends with Jay all those years ago, Sunghoon thinks, feeling very touched, Who else is rich enough to fund their friend’s birthday party?

“Very cool,” he replies, then drags Jungwon and Jake inside.

The other two arrive soon after and they enjoy a nice party without interruption for about 20 minutes until Sunghoon checks his phone and feels himself frown at it being void of notifications.

Are you busy, or did you forget his birthday? Do you just not care about him? If so, you should. He wore ripped jeans to impress you. He bleached his hair in the hopes you’d notice him (though that was also because he lost a bet with Jay). Is he just trying too hard?

“What’s up with you?” Heeseung asks him as he slaps a slice of pizza on top of another to make what is effectively a pizza sandwich.

“Nothing,” he mumbles.

Riki snatches his phone out of his hands and looks at the screen, where Sunghoon’s texts with you are open. “He’s pissy his girlfriend hasn’t texted him yet.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Sunghoon says sadly, and Jake gives him a pat on the back in consolation.

“Don’t even stress,” says Sunoo airily. Sunghoon doesn’t like how unaffected he seems. Shouldn’t everyone wallow in his despair with him since it’s his birthday?

The younger continues, “I asked her yesterday and she said she’ll definitely be here. So we just need to make sure you look super hot tonight.”

He feels a flicker of hope arise in him.

“It’ll probably take a lot of work, but we’ve got time.”

The flicker sizzles and dies. He glowers at Sunoo. “Gee, thanks.”

However, true to his word, Sunoo makes sure that Sunghoon does look super hot. It’s actually insane how hot he looks. He admires himself in the mirror. Maybe being a try hard isn’t such a bad thing if he ends up looking as gorgeous as this.

The party starts without a hitch and is soon in full swing. His friends are all starting to get very drunk (except Jungwon and Riki, because Riki is waiting until midnight for the sake of integrity and Jungwon is a Good friend who is waiting with him) and Sunghoon feels himself getting a little cloudy minded too. But as he stumbles a little through the hall, he still can’t see you.

But there is someone who looks just like you at the end of the hall and in the kitchen right now. He walks towards them, squinting a little and hearing them laugh and say goodbye to someone who’s evidently leaving the kitchen. Wow, they even sound like you. As he enters the room, the person perks up and greets him, and when he blinks the blurriness out of his eyes, you appear in front of him.

Oh. “Hi Y/N,” Sunghoon says, flushing.

“Hey Sunghoon, happy birthday.” God, your smile is pretty. Your outfit is pretty too, and your hair and your face and your hands, where…

There’s a wrapped box in your hands, and you follow his gaze down to it, then start in surprise as if just remembering it. “Oh, yeah, this is for you! Where should I put it?”

Sunghoon is still trying to comprehend that you’re really here and talking to him as he tells you, “Just on the table is fine.”

Okay. This is his chance. Now or never. “Do you want to go to the backyard for a bit? I need some air.”

Maybe he’s hallucinating a little because of the alcohol (or delusion) but he swears you blush. “Sure.”

You follow him out to the back. He’s surprisingly steady for someone who’s had as many drinks as he has, and stops out on the back porch, turning to face you.

You clear your throat as he tries to get his pounding heart under control. “So how’s your day been so far?”

He can hear it beating in his eardrums, and hopes you can’t hear it too. “Yeah, good, good. Um, can’t really complain. I ate pizza.”

Sunghoon is really not sure what to say now. But apparently the alcohol in his system does, as he’s speaking before he’s even processed the words.

“Can I kiss you?” he says at the same time as you say, “I have another present for you.”

The both of you stare at each other for a moment, not having heard the other’s words. “What?” you ask.

Sunghoon feels his stomach churn and hears an alarm go off in his head. “Um, it’s nothing. You go first.”

You look away shyly for a second. Yep, you’re definitely blushing, he thinks. “I said I have another present for you. I was kind of waiting for the right time to give it to you.”

He’s surprised, if nothing else. “You didn’t have to get me two presents.”

He’s also curious. “So what is it?”

“Can you close your eyes?” You’re avidly avoiding his gaze.

Sunghoon obeys, and the darkness behind his eyes makes him all the more aware of the sound of his heart. He’s nervous and scared and anxious and frightened, and then all of it is melting away because your lips press themselves to his and you’re kissing him. You’re kissing him, and he’s kissing you. Sunghoon’s stomach flutters and he brings his hands to your waist. It’s a very good kiss, and he can taste a little bit of cake on your tongue as it deepens.

Then you’re pulling back and Sunghoon is metaphorically and literally breathless. You kissed him. He kissed you.

“Happy birthday, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon’s face breaks out into a grin and he takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. He tugs you into his chest and looks down at you. “Thanks.”

And he kisses you again.

#finished at 11:43pm kst holyyyyy close call #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagine #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon imagine #park sunghoon scenarios #park sunghoon imagines #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon imagine #2023 spotify wrapped event !#written works !

72 notes · View notes

indianamgc11 · 10 months ago

Text

prompt list

crossed out = already done

it is listed if it is in progress or if it has another part

angst:

- “the worst part of all this is that i still love you.”

- “i’m playing the villain, just like you wanted.”

- “from the day we met, i knew i’d hurt you eventually.”

- “i told you not to get too close to me.”

- “it was always going to end like this. wasn’t it?”

- “please tell me that at least a part of it was real.”

- “i gave up in you a long time ago.”

- “i wanna say that there’s still hope, but sometimes, things just don’t go our way.”

- “you didn’t call. you didn’t text. nothing.”

- “i hope someday you get a taste of your own medicine.”

- “i don’t know where we are.”

- i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.”

- “i’m sorry i’m not who you thought i was.”

- “swear it to me.”

- “he had it coming.” (in progress; luke hemmings x reader)

- “i can’t even act mad at you.”

- “i don’t care. i’m not leaving you.”

- “you’re playing a dangerous game. my game.” (in progress; luke hemmings x reader)

- “don’t tell me there was nothing.”

- “this can’t be goodbye.”

- “you didn’t miss me the way i missed you.”

- “you didn’t love me, did you?”

- “don’t go anywhere that i can’t follow.”

- “you don’t deserve me.”

fluff:

- “i hope you know how much you mean to me.”

- “i like my shirt on you, it looks cute.” (Ethan landry x reader)

- “yes, i have feelings for you. moving on…” (in progress; Ethan landry x reader)

- “hold my hand. you’re going to be fine.”

- “your hair is really soft after you wash it.”

- “you can ask me as much as you want, i’m gonna say that i love you each time.”

- “oh, just shut up and let me take care of you!”

- “i love your smile”

- “safe and sound, hm?”

- i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still.”

- “you must be freezing— here, take my jacket.”

- “would you just let me take care of you?”

mixed/miscellaneous:

- “you taste like my new addiction.”

- “was that supposed to happen?”

- “i’m here for business— not pleasure.”

- “you look like you’ve got something to say.”

- “makes me want to wreck you.” (pt. 2 coming soon; Ethan landry x f!reader)

- “text me when you get home.”

- “would you like a distraction?”

- “it’s okay, you can touch me, i won’t break.”

a/n: i might keep adding to this, depends.

i write for 5sos, jack champion, ethan landry, and spider socorro

I will still take requests for prompts already completed for another person :)

(ex: if a prompt was written with Ethan already and you would like it written with a different person, you can request it with that person, for example with Michael)

#luke 5sos #michael 5sos #michael clifford #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #luke hemmings #jack champion #ashton irwin #calum 5sos #5sos x reader #jack champion x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #spider socorro #jack champion x y/n

54 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 3 months ago

Text

Teeth

Pairing: Vicious fic w/ EO!fem!reader (nonspecific to preserve the feel/suspense!)

Summary: The war between Victor Vale and Eli Ever is just beginning, and you find your place in it.

Warnings: spoilers for Vicious, graphic depiction of open heart surgery, violence (not exactly torture but it's on the bloodier side of things), angst, fluff at the very end

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

A/N: I got this idea while listening Teeth by 5SOS. I used the lyrics and highly recommend the song because it's great.

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Steady,” you demand. “It has to be all the way to the heart. Without direct access, this will never work.”

A moment later, you can see into his chest cavity, his heart beating within reach. As you place your hand around it, his life becomes yours.

Eli Ever gasps as he wakes. He sits up, breathless, before he realizes it was just a dream. You would never do that to him, he knows. Eli looks over his shoulder, and you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. Beside him, peaceful. You stir as he turns to face you, smiling in your sleep as he brushes his fingers over your cheekbone.

“Some days you’re the only thing I know,” he whispers. “Only thing that’s burning when the nights grow cold.”

“Nightmare?” you ask without opening your eyes.

Eli hums, and you place your hand on his and encourage, “You’ll heal from it. Just like you heal from everything else.”

“Yeah,” Eli agrees under his breath.

As he lies down, he can’t look away from you. Something inside of him pushes him to beg you to stay, make you promise to be there when he wakes up in the morning, but as you move closer to him, he knows he doesn’t have to beg. You’ll be there.

“Eli!” you yell from the other room. “Focus.”

Eli follows your voice, then pauses in the doorway of your shared bedroom to watch you. On the bed, you’re leaning forward with your head in your hands, whispering something to yourself.

“You okay?” Eli inquires.

You chuckle and answer, “I’d be better if I could get a moment away from you.” You close your eyes and sigh before you stand and turn toward Eli. “I’m sorry.”

Eli shrugs, and pressure builds in his chest when you reach out for him. “It’s fine,” he assures.

“No, I… I guess I’m just feeling lost. That’s no reason to push you away. Stay with me?” You smile as you brush your fingers through his hair. “Please stay with me, Eli,” you whisper.

Eli can’t speak, the pressure around his heart turning into a gripping pain. He nods and pulls you close. Immediately, the pain disappears, and he’s left with nothing but you.

You can feel Eli looking around as if he thinks something is missing. Moments like these are becoming more frequent, and you’re unsure how to deal with them. One wrong step, and you know he could leave you forever. Or worse.

“Stay with me,” you murmur against his shirt, speaking directly to his heart. “I’ll beg you to stay, Eli.”

“Sometimes you’re a stranger in my bed!” Eli accuses. “I don’t know if you love me or you want me dead.”

You clench your jaw and pull your arms tightly across your chest. There’s a hatred for Eli inside you, and you’re powerless to hide it.

“Something in the way you’re looking through my eyes…” Eli adds. “I don’t know if I’m gonna make it out alive.”

“What do you want to hear, Eli?” you ask. “If I tell you I love you, you’ll think I’m lying, but if I agree and say I hate you and want you to leave, you’ll say I’m baiting you! I can’t keep playing this game.”

“You’re the best thing in my life, I look at you and I see my wife. Then you turn into somebody I don’t know.”

You step toward Eli, daring him to come closer and say, “Take what you want, Eli. You and I both know you’re too scared to ask for it and this relationship was doomed from the beginning. So, take what you need and run. I won’t be surprised if I wake up alone.”

Eli’s arms drop as his gaze hardens. For a moment, you think this is the end. Then, he mumbles, “I just need some air. I’ll… I’ll be back tomorrow.”

As the door closes behind him, you sigh. There’s a photo from Lockland on the table beside you, and your smile between Eli and Victor’s masks makes you reconsider everything. But tonight, you have something important to do. Then you can call Eli and apologize. If he answers.

Your leg bounces as the phone rings. Your relationship with Eli isn’t new, but there’s still so much you don’t know about him. Like if he’ll accept your apologies or the lies you insulate them with.

“Hey,” Eli answers.

“Hi,” you greet, pulling your knees toward your chest. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have said those things to you- to anyone, because they aren’t true.”

“No?”

“Of course not. I love you, Eli. I love you more than anything else in the world. But if you decided that there’s something else, someone else, out there that would be better for you-“ you pause and take a shaky breath – “then I love you enough to let you go.”

Eli is silent for several seconds after you finish. He muses, “You said you’d call me in the morning to apologize and every little lie gives me butterflies. Better is with you, you’re the only thing saving me from myself.”

“You’re coming home?” you ask, avoiding looking at the picture of Victor beside you.

“Yes. In a while. There’s something I need to do first.”

“Oh, okay. Be careful, Eli. I love you.”

The line beeps as Eli hangs up, and you look down at your empty hands, pristine despite the feeling of blood running between your fingers.

Eli knocks on the heavy wooden door, then steps back to wait. He knows the woman who lives here, yet he’s never been inside. Something about her makes it hard to argue and easy to tell everything. Maybe that’s why she’s such a good listener and gives worthy advice.

“Eli Cardale,” a woman says as the door opens. “Or is it still Ever?”

“Serena,” Eli greets. “You look good.”

“I know. Here for personal reasons or is this another Midnight Incorporated thing?”

“No, no, business is great,” Eli assures. “It’s personal.”

Serena smiles as she opens the door wider. “By all means, come in, then.”

Sitting in her home library, Serena offers Eli a cup of tea before she sits back to listen to his worries, stories, and everything else he never planned to share but seems to let slip. The first time he came by, he accused her of lacing the tea with something to inhibit his control. She laughed and brushed him off, and as he shares the details of his relationship with you, he doesn’t even remember that encounter.

“It’s like she… she’s the kind of person who can fight so dirty but her love’s so sweet, talk so pretty but her heart’s got teeth,” Eli explains.

“And last night?” Serena presses. “What did you think during your argument?”

“That she was a late-night devil,” Eli answers. “But even when she’s like that, pushing me, hating me, the only thing I ever want to do is beg her to put her hands on me.”

“It’s sounds like you think she has some kind of power over you. Here I was thinking Eli Ever couldn’t get hooked by a pretty girl.”

Eli scoffs as he raises his cup. “You’d know, huh?”

“We had good times together, you and I,” Serena defends. “But this is about you, here and now. What are you going to do about the girl you see a future with but can’t survive twenty-four hours with?”

“I need her,” Eli admits. “But there’s these moments, a sense of clarity, where it seems like everything is fake, something she’s manipulated me into believing to keep me in this- this vicious love.”

Serena sets her mug aside, leans forward, smiles, and encourages, “Then make your own reality. If you want the clarity, grasp it and pull until her love shatters around you.” She leans back and shrugs. “But if you want the future, figure out how to make it yours.”

Eli nods as he stands, not because he feels ready to leave but because something urges him to. He knows what he wants, and while Eli has the clarity to see that you’ve been manipulating him, hooking him into a false love that makes it impossible for him not to return, he pulls. And everything shatters around him.

When Eli blinks his eyes open, you are standing above him. He tries to smile, but then he sees the look on your face. The look Victor gave him after Eli killed himself. Like he’s a monster.

“Welcome back,” someone says on the other side of the room.

You step back, and Eli tilts his chin to watch you. His eyes widen when he sees you and everything else in the room.

“Back to what?” Eli asks, his throat dry and scratchy.

“Reality.”

There’s blood on your shirt, a rose in Victor’s hand. You’re looking at him like you don’t know who he is. When Eli left your manipulative reality, he wasn’t expecting to come to this.

Blood on your shirt, a heart in your hand, Eli thinks. My heart.

“What did you do?” Eli demands.

“Nothing you didn’t deserve,” you answer carefully. “Tell Victor thank you for the get well present.”

“Oh, no,” Victor interjects. “Thank her. She’s the one who decided you should have something beautiful.” He twists the stem, raising the flower toward the light. “A desert rose. Poisonous, perfect, and deadly.”

“You said you loved me,” Eli says, his eyes on you.

“I said a lot of things,” you reply, putting pressure on Eli’s heart. “The only time I meant what I said was when you thought I was lying. I’ve never loved you, and no one ever will.”

You shift and lower Eli’s heart back into place. Blood covers your shirt, runs down your arms, and drips from your fingers as Victor lays the poisonous rose across his exposed ribs. He removes the clamps holding Eli’s incisions open, and the skin begins knitting itself closed over his heart.

“Try healing around that, Cardale,” Victor says.

“What was it you told sweet Serena?” you ask, faux sympathy on your face. “That my heart has teeth? Well, there’s one thing you didn’t learn. Those teeth bite. And now that your heart has poison in it and thorns wrapped around it, we’ll see who’s really the monster.”

“Victor,” Eli grits out. “When I get out of here-“

“I’m shaking in fear,” Victor deadpans, “but I’m going to stop you right there. You’re not going anywhere. Welcome to purgatory, Cardale. Enjoy dying, over and over and over.”

As you follow Victor out of the sterile room, you grimace at having any trace of Eli on your skin.

The last thing Eli hears you ask is, “Vic, do you think insanity is spread through bodily fluids like hepatitis?”

On the other side of the door, Victor thanks you for your help, then tells you to leave.

“Yeah,” you agree sarcastically. “One thing you should learn from that is I don’t give up. And you’re stuck with me until Eli meets his true fate. I just determined his fate for three days; I’m not walking away yet.”

“You heard her,” Sydney calls from the end of the hall. “And from Eli’s girly screams, I’d suggest not picking a fight for her.”

Victor sighs but waves for you to follow them. Holding Eli’s beating heart in your hands was a good start, but this fight is just beginning. Luckily, your heart, teeth and all, is still beating.

#victor vale x reader #eli ever x reader #victor vale #eli cardale #sydney clarke #vicious ve schwab #villains duology #vicious #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#tw: injury #tw: violence

19 notes · View notes

m1d-45 · 2 years ago

Note

the thoma one, god i love him. what a sweetheart :') but like.......what would happen if we went to the kamisato estate with him. and like. the siblings caught us. would they be on our side or would ayato call for our arrest immediately. would thoma still try to help us once he realized or does his loyalty override that. i am dying to know 👀

silent conclusions

summary: the kamisato estate is welcoming, thoma and ayaka are kind, ayato is… ayato.

word count: exactly 4000. very cool

-> warnings: spoilers for inazuma archon quest, exactly one (1) swear word, ayato is a little shit (affectionate), if your name is maple uh… whoops?

-> lowercase intended!

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @genshin-impacts-me || @5sos-wdw

@yoshikuno and @alexteea asked for part threes- sorry if you didn’t wanna be tagged

<<first part || < masterlist >

teleport waypoints, despite being incredibly convenient, take large tolls.

the moment your feet were on solid ground again you reached, latching onto the closest person as your vision swam with vertigo. bile rose in your throat once more, exacerbating your nausea. though you managed to wash out some of the saltwater with the tea—shockingly sweet, from what you remember of green tea—it still soaked your tongue.

two people are talking, voices just out of focus, and the person you grabbed sets their hand over yours.

you’re thankful they give you a moment’s pause, and you take deep breaths. slowly, the stone beneath you is less blinding, and you can see that you’re outside the kamisato estate. the white and purple walls are tall, imposing, two guards stationed in front of the entrance. it looks like light security, but you figure nobody could be bold enough to try anything anyways.

you pull your hand from your support, hoping your gaze show your apology as you look at-

ayato?

he glances at you, eyes flicking over you once before returning to his talk with hisashi.

oh fuck.

thoma appears from your other side and takes you by the arm, walking for the entrance to the estate. “come on, let’s get you inside.”

you follow in a daze, still thrown off by the fact that you grabbed the arm of the yashiro commissioner after teleporting. you’re certain that most people would be knocked off in an instant—or worse—if not by him then by those around. you can’t tell which is more shocking: the fact that he didn’t seem upset afterwards, or that hisashi let you get so close in the first place.

the courtyard is full of life, plants lining the outer edge and the raised patio-like platform in the middle. the various workers around the area stare a little more at you than you’d like, but since thoma is besides you they don’t give you much trouble. the emblem of the kamisatos ripples on the flags they’re printed on, moved by a silent breeze.

the guards in front of the door eye you with more suspicion, and step inwards over the door as you approach, spears crossing in an X. thoma’s steps halt unnaturally, and you can see confusion on his face out of the corner of your eye.

“who is with you, retainer?”

“er…”

right. ayato had directed the conversation at the teahouse to your charges, not to you. you never got a chance to tell your name—not that you would have told the truth, incase history tried to repeat itself.

“the commissioner has employed new help,” he said, wisely keeping back the part where you were being hidden from the shogunate. “i am to show them to their quarters.”

the guard’s eyes narrow further, and you can’t find it in yourself to blame them. you don’t look fit for work by a long shot, let alone for somebody as prestigious as the kamisatos.

“come on souta, when have i ever been untrustworthy? the commissioner himself is just behind us, if you don’t-“

the door behind the guards slid open and they rushed not to block the way, glancing first at each other and then to the open doors.

ayaka is standing in the open doorway, barely-concealed curiosity evident in her eyes. in one hand is a fan that covers the lower half of her face, the carefully painted design matching her eyes.

your mind flashes back to when you were introduced to her, when she was sitting behind a screen and thoma said that that was the traditional way to greet guests, or something similar. sure, you’re less of a guest and more… maybe blackmailed is a little too harsh of a word, perhaps more coerced-

“m- my lady?” thoma steps forward, tugging you behind him, and you can’t tell if it’s meant to be protective towards you or her. “what are you doing out here?”

“indeed, it is rather rare for you to be out. i told you i was bringing home somebody, ayaka.” ayato’s voice once more comes out of nowhere, and you turn to see him and hisashi walking up. the latter looks more tense than you’ve ever seen him, and you don’t blame him. considering ayato gave a… warning..

…wait a minute-

“it’s well past when you said you would return,” ayaka points out, voice far more diplomatic than you’d expect from a conversation between siblings. “is it wrong of me to go for a stroll?”

an odd expression flashes over ayato’s face, but it melts into acceptance quicker than you’d expect. “that is fair. i apologize. negotiations took longer than expected.”

you have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something smart in return. the threat of salt also helps, but not nearly as much as the fear of angering him.

something like a laugh comes from ayaka, but you refrain from turning. even if you’re ‘allowed’ to, it feels polite. also, you really don’t want to upset ayato. after everything he’s done, he feels like the largest threat.

(your mind reminds you of how kind his hand was when it settled over yours outside of the estate. you arrive at the conclusion that ayato is strange.)

“come in, then. hisashi, you are dismissed.”

hisashi bows, then sends a questioning look at ayato. the latter nods, and the former turns neatly on his heel, leaving with barely a sound to his footsteps.

thoma pulls at your hand again and you turn to follow, keeping your eyes on his shoes. you figure it’s better not to snoop or get distracted, and considering thoma’s following ayaka…

ayato’s eyes weigh on your shoulders as you walk.

for the second time today, you’re sat in front of tea you have no intent drinking.

it’s smells a little more flowery, and you think you remember catching the word rose, but that could very well be referring to the flower arrangement in the center of the table.

they’re nice. pale pink, in a soft green vase. they still have their thorns, surprisingly, a detail that distracts you from the conversation happening at the table.

first, ayato filled in ayaka on your conversation at the teahouse. second, ayaka asked for thoma’s recount of how you met. third… third you had zoned out, distracting yourself with the details of rose petals.

“-what do you think?”

you jump slightly at thoma’s voice, the sound closer than before and obviously directed at you. glancing around the table reveals no indication of the former conversation, only two other sets of eyes. soft silver looks with genuine feelings, and pale lavender looks a little too smug for your liking.

the latter picks up his teacup. “we’re assuming you don’t want to reveal your name,” he says, taking a drink. you wish his gaze wasn’t so knowing.

nonetheless, you nod.

“thoma was considering maple, since it’s a pretty neutral name.” wait, what did you just agree to? “it’s not inazuman, but it’s also not anything else either. it’s.. an interesting choice, considering its also the name of a tree common on narukami, but i believe it will hide you nicely.”

oh. that’s better than you thought, considering who it’s coming from.

you give a half-shrug and a nod in response, the pen under your hand not worth picking up for such a simple reply.

“well, maple,” ayaka pauses, but the name doesn’t sound awful, and you let her continue, “thoma can show you around, and you’ll start either tomorrow or the day after, depending on how long it takes you to get used to the place.”

sounds reasonable enough. you nod, and thoma speaks up next, nudging your notepad.

“do you have any preferences for where you’d like to work? i’ll keep you out of anything involving a lot of other people-“ you send him a silent thank you “-but just so i know…”

you pick up the pen and write down your choices, hesitating at the bottom before adding ‘but anything’s fine if you’re there.’ is it cheesy? probably, but he’s the person you’re most comfortable around here. he’s been nothing but open and kind, and doesn’t have a reputation to uphold or an agenda to fulfill.

he reads over the paper when you pass it to him, and a quiet pride comes over you as he flushes a bit at your end comment.

“a- alright then! i’ll show you around today, you can shadow me tomorrow, and the day after we can finalize things. sound good?”

you nod, and neither of the kamisato siblings have anything to add either, both silently showing their approval.

you feel yourself smile.

thoma’s work is surprisingly simple.

not that it was easy, of course, because what else would you expect working for a third of inazuma’s government, but it’s… shockingly simple.

he’d warned you the night before that you’d need to wake early, but he wasn’t angry when you didn’t wake up on time. he seemed upset, almost, regret lacing his words as he tugged you out of bed. even as you delayed him further by struggling with the uniform—the nightclothes were easy enough, but this one had so many folds and ties that you got lost embarrassingly quickly—he wasn’t upset. he just led you to the kitchens, where he explained every step of how the lord and lady liked their teas.

ayato prefers black tea, he says, carefully measuring out loose leaves. he takes it with no sugar, and as hot as it can be.

ayaka has been trying new teas from liyue, he mumbles, voice quieter than he intends to be as he stirs in honey. she’s quite fond of dragon’s well, but anything from there will do. feel free to experiment, just be sure it’s not too sweet.

he shows you their respective offices, and you wince at the amount of paperwork on both of their desks. they both greet you with a smile, but you can see how tired they are. absently, you wonder if that same exhaustion is why ayato likes black tea.

thoma’s interactions with them are short, and you waste no time in following him to his next task.

the day passes by easily, thoma’s easy conversation—despite your hoarse voice—easing the load of the work. floors are swept and shelves are dusted, and when he quizzes you on their tea preferences at dinnertime you get it right on the first try.

he beams from his post at the stovetop, bright green eyes shining in the same way dew does on grass. you feel your own smile form in response, and he makes you sit and wait while he delivers dinner—yes, to their offices—no matter how much you protest. he returns swiftly, pulling over a pot that you didn’t realize wasn’t empty and ladling out two bowls of soup.

he slides one over to you, and together you share dinner.

the next day is much the same, as is the next, and the next, and you slowly fall into a routine.

you wake up, the knots on the uniform more familiar than they were at the start, a simple way to start a simple morning. you tidy yourself up and meet thoma on the way to the kitchens, chatting about a dream you had the night before or a diplomat that had arrived yesterday for a meeting. water bubbles and you share a breakfast, the two of you preparing tea side by side.

today you decide to make ayaka a new king of oolong tea that had just come in a few days prior. after all the various security screenings, you could finally make it!

thoma encourages you to take the large platter this time, and you comply, however nervous. you’re watching it more than you are the hallway, making sure that nothing spills, and it pays off when you make it to ayaka’s office without incident.

she looks up with a smile as you come in, and you flash one of your own as you set down the large plate.

“good morning, lady ayaka.”

“good morning, maple. how did you sleep?”

you eye the bags under her eyes as you push over her teacup. “i should be asking you that, my lady.”

she chuckles, picking up the cup for a smell. “this doesn’t seem familiar.. what kind of tea is this?”

thoma looks to you from where he’s sorting out a stack of scrolls, and you recite the information off the box.

“it’s tieguanyin, also known as iron goddess, and is a type of liyuen oolong. it seemed sweet by the smell, so i didn’t put much honey in.”

her smile turns sweeter, an oddly genuine happiness taking you by surprise. “thank you.”

there’s a weight to her words, some other information tucked between the lines that you can’t reach. with a smile and a nod, you pick up your tray.

ayato’s office is strangely far from his sisters, something that confused you the first day and still does now. the only difference is that now you’re familiar with the sprawling layout of the estate, and you can take the right turn without missing it.

he’s much more tired, evident by the delay between when he sees you and speaks.

“maple, thoma. good morning.”

your hand paused over his teacup. ayaka… she hadn’t greeted thoma, had she?

you’re fairly certain there’s an implication there, something that ties into the heaviness of her voice when she thanked you, but you don’t have time to think it over. thoma nudges your side and you snap out of your thoughts, moving ayato’s tea and breakfast off the tray.

“is something wrong?”

you shake your head. “no. something.. caught my attention. i apologize, my lord.”

he picked up the cup with a grin, “oh? i do hope you’re not trying to pry into any yashiro documents.”

you shake your head and he drinks, but thoma catches your arm as you turn to leave. his lips part, something worried shining in his eyes, but ayato cuts him off.

“what is this?”

oh no.

ayato’s black tea was easy to brew, tea wise, and with thoma watching over your shoulder you had assumed it wasn’t burnt.

the housekeeper seems just as confused, the both of you turning back to ayato’s desk. he’s staring at the tea in his cup thankfully not with disdain, but certainly with confusion.

“it’s wakoucha, my lord,” you say. “no sugar. hot as can be.”

“is it a new kind?”

“it’s from the same box as yesterday’s, and all of last week’s.”

he looks to thoma, who nods. “the only difference is that maple brewed it.”

ayato’s eyes flick between the tea, thoma, and you, still not accusatory, for which you’re grateful. you’re not sure you could hide from poisoning the yashiro commissioner as easily as you could hide in liyue.

“…here.”

the cup is passed to thoma, who hesitates before trying some. he’s easier to read than ayato—most anybody is—and you can pick out the emotions in his eyes clearer. shock, delight, and then a careful sort of confusion.

“it’s very strong, though the flavor is perfectly intact… even without sugar, it’s still sweet.” you don’t know enough about tea to discern what that means. “but how? i was watching you the whole time…”

you’re tempted to say something stupid—‘well, i hear that nightshade can be pretty sweet’—but wisely hold your tongue, watching the cup return back to ayato’s hands. he stares at the rim of it for a moment, then a flicker of a smile crosses his face.

“well done,” is all he says, and after another sip, the cup is set down in favor of his pen, the prior conversation dissolving back into the air with nothing more than a glance. “and if you two are planning on going to the city today, do stay away from the docks.”

“are the tenryou receiving a shipment?”

“nothing of the sort, thoma, what do you mean? what reason would i have for directing you away from them?” ayato looks up from his paper, some stupid little scheme glinting in his eyes. “i’ve just received news from the shuumatsuban that the imposter is likely in the area.”

you can’t help the way your shoulders tighten, the office suddenly seeming smaller. though you had admitted as little as you could about why you were hiding from the shogunate, you had never brought up their accusations on this front. intentionally, too, because you knew that no matter how kind anybody could be, religion was a heavy topic in teyvat, inazuma especially.

and when you were staring down a man that held loyalty in high standard, it was wise not to admit such a thing.

the corner of ayato’s lips twitch into a smile. “do be careful, maple. i’d hate for you to get caught up in another incident.”

you cling closer to thoma’s side than you normally would when you two go into the city, your hand linked with his as he speaks with the various vendors. you’re not sure why you two are even in ritou, honestly, but didn’t bother with asking questions.

he’s speaking with a kanjou officer, which he’d addressed by name, oddly, and you’re standing behind him, looking around the city. the maple trees are a pretty pink for spring, making the island look a lot kinder. sure, the outlander affairs agency likely still has the area in a chokehold, and sure it’s run by a literal puppet government, but something could be said about its beauty.

“what do you think about lunch?” thoma asks, and you look back in alarm only to see the kanjou officer long gone, his eyes focused on you.

ah.

“we’re gonna be out for most of the day, and there’s a little food stall here that i like. granted, we could eat at shimura’s…”

you shake your head, “here’s fine, thanks.”

he brightens, pulling you along once more. “great! ryouko makes the best dry-braised fish, or she has fried tofu in a miso broth, if you’d rather?”

you make and tell him your choice, and he nods as you walk down sets of stairs, making note of it. people wave at you two as you pass, and though it’s mostly at thoma, you do see some smiles directed at you. probably just because you’re with him, though.

thoma leads you to the left of the main courtyard, taking you down another small set of stairs. it’s… familiar, the tree behind the sidewalk reminding you of something you can’t pin.

“hello ryouko!”

“hello, and welcome! care to have some specialty snacks?”

you keep a hand on his as you look around, letting him order for you. the food stall was backed against a wall, in a tucked away corner, near the port… if you turned so that you faced the staircase, it clicked.

this was where you met thoma. it was months later, at a wildly different time of day, and you were in a much better place… but you were back here. back when he held your hand much as he did now, in a drastically different context but for much of the same reasons.

guidance. security. promise.

comfort.

“first time in the city?”

you turned to the close voice, jumping slightly when you see the owner. maroon hair shadows grassy eyes, ones that seem to pick you apart—much like ayato, but a lot less subtle. the blue of an anemo vision shines behind the baton of a doushin, and you can feel your heart stop as you face down the best detective in inazuma.

you tug on thoma’s hand and he turns as well, apparently recognizing him. “doushin shikanoin? what are you doing out here?”

heizou crosses his arms with a heavy sigh, some of the tension in the air fading as his eyes fall to the floor. “on ritou, a failed mission. here in particular… well, ryouko’s one of the only in inazuma that makes a good katsu sandwich, and i’m in the market for a pick-me-up.”

“really? what happened? do you want eat with us and talk about it?”

“no no, please. there’s no need to interrupt your little excursion on behalf of little ol’ me.”

what is it with inazuman men with blue visions that makes them adore implying things most would rather say aloud?

“well we’ve got time while our food’s being made, don’t we?”

“mmm…” one of heizou’s hands comes up to his jaw as he thinks, tapping a steady beat. “i suppose i can tell you. after all, it was your boss that tipped me off.”

oh no. who could have ever seen that coming.

“ay- ah, i mean the commissioner?”

“indeed. you see, he’s been using his connections to keep the tenryou updated as best as he can, something any detective would appreciate, even if sometimes the information can be a bit lackluster. recently, he’s gotten a tip that the imposter was planning to leave inazuma tonight through ritou’s port, and madam sara sent me out to check it out. i, of course, looked over his evidence prior to coming, and though it was a little shaky, it’s the best lead we’ve had so far. i even heard from some fishermen that they saw somebody shady boarding a merchant boat, but… no dice.”

thoma’s grip on your hand adjusts, and he squeezes once. you don’t have much time to think it over. “i’m sorry to hear it. i can promise that we’re putting all of our effort into solving the situation as best as we can, and i regret letting them slip from our grasp.”

his voice lacks the usual depth behind it, like… like it’s rehearsed, almost. like he was prepared for this.

heizou’s eyes flick to you, jade green seeming to cut into your soul. “oh, naturally. this is such a pity, don’t you agree?”

subtext laces his words, and you’re left floating in the pause between his sentences. even as it stretches, his mouth slips up in a suppressed grin.

“after all, weren’t you the one who told him?”

you blink.

you didn’t do that. you didn’t tell ayato anything, you never even left the estate unless thoma—or, on occasion, ayaka—was by your side. you never had time to collect information, and you certainly didn’t give it to ayato- didn’t he say that the shuumatsuban gave it to him? didn’t he…

’i’ve just received news from the shuumatsuban that the imposter is likely in the area.’

’he’s been using his connections to keep the tenryou updated as best as he can, something any detective would appreciate…’

‘after all, weren’t you the one who told him?‘

you can see when heizou notices that you get it, the sharp light to his knowing gaze. he rests his chin in his hand and passes you a cheeky wink, one that makes you laugh.

kamisato ayato.

what did you expect?

#i am so sorry this took so long to come out #i wanted to finish ‘duality of man’ first and then the ‘plagued’ request had me in a chokehold #fun fact: every tea listed here exists!!! i did a lot of research on teas for this part :))#if ur curious i prefer black tea with an unreasonable amount of sweet; that may just be because i don’t make tea properly though #something i learned after finally finding the right way online. the box i got didn’t have any instructions so i fucked it up lmao #genshin #genshin impact #genshin sagau #sagau #thoma #sagau thoma #thoma x reader #ehhh sure #ayato #sagau ayato #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayaka #sagau ayaka #anybody wanna guess why i chose the nickname maple? there are two right answers and one is because thoma found you under a maple tree #shikanoin heizou #heizou #sagau heizou #genshin heizou #heizou my beloved <3 #i just think he’s a very cool character in a sagau context #esp. imposter aus. mr ultra instinct ’this is only 10% of my power’ falling — genuinely or not — for an imposter…#i just think he’s neat <3 #the pacing here is��. oh boy. but hey the plots good!

641 notes · View notes

nuclearplutonium · 10 months ago

Text

Dividers

Ello! I’m Charlie (#1 Chief fan and #2 Ann fan) buuut you can also call me Orion or Rory! :D

more info about me: https://en.pronouns.page/@CH4R71Z4VRVZ

🇷🇺🇺🇸 (born and raised to drink vodka and dance with bears 💪💪)

Alterhuman therian and fictionkin, my theriotypes are black wolf, snow husky, and a T-Rex <33

Cracklin, Chief, Mr. R, Sketchpad, Airy, Gerbo, Thomas Flyswatter, Exclamation Mark, Doorstopper, Clock, Fridge DJ, WWF Tile, Printer, Season17, Lightbulb, Taco, Bot, Cabby, Fan, Yoshka, Yulka, Zara, Cheppy, Socka, Charmy, Edgar, Fossil, Mushroom, Wagyu, Minty, Razor, and Orange Herald are all of my favorite characters/kins :3 (OUTDATED)

I’m an artist and a little bit of a violinist (I mainly speak English but I also speak Russian!)

I am a MINOR!!! I am ok if adults (NOT THE SEX BOTS) interact with my blog or me in general just don’t be creepy or kinky about it please.. (read dni list for specifics)

My blog is not meant for younger audiences, therefore I am telling you all that this is a 16+ BLOG. mainly because I’ll post art with mildly suggestive themes in it or reblog something weird.. whatever it may be, I just want to protect the little itty bitty babies that happen to stumble upon this beautiful yet horrifying tumblr blog .-.

currently locked in @thesillygoober7’s basement (GO FOLLOW HIM PLEASE THAT MIGHT MAKE HIM FINALLY LET ME OUT OF HERE)

old acc is @charlibugg T_T

Here’s most of the stuff I like ! Purple = ION💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Blue = VERY VEEERY VERY VERY VERY VERY VEEERRYRYYY HYPERFIXATED

Green = LOVE ITTT

Orange = Cool cool I like it

Red = Eh… I mean it’s fine.. II/III, I.O.N/И.О.Н, TNM, TPOT, EEE/THREEEE, BURNER, 5SOS, ONE, CFMOT/ИНМТ, Objectified, TDOS, LoTS, Animatic Battle, Bugbo, Dreamophrenia, Sprunki, Max Design Pro, Warrior Cats, Smiling Friends, ATHF, Gravity Falls, Villainous, Countryhumans, DHMIS, Electric Dreams (1984), Ride the Cyclone, Pink Corruption, Regretevator, Mouthwashing, Homestuck

besides fandoms I hyperfixate on time to time… I also LOVE nuclear reactors, dinosaurs, cats, epic guitar solos in music, whatever the hell plutonium jazz is, and I just genuinely love learning ANYTHING about nuclear physics and energy :3 (oh and lollipops, I love lollipops)

Some games I really like (not Roblox games) are In Stars and Time, JSAB/Just Shapes and Beats, Fallout 4/Fallout: New Vegas (IM SORRY FALLOUT 76 IS SO BORING AND BUGGY AAAAA), Omori, Mouthwashing, Sims 2-4, Tomodachi Life, Miitopia, Cardpocalypse, Wobbledogs, Pikuniku, Ooblets, Splatoon 2-3, Dragon Quest: Builders 1-2, Minecraft, Wandersong, JSAB, and AC:NH :3

and most of the bands/artists I listen to (current hyperfix band will be written in bold) are MSI, sElf, Will Wood/Will Wood and The Tapeworms, Human Zoo, The Scary Jokes, Sodikken, Machinery of The Human Heart, Lemon Demon, Tally Hall, Bondage Fairies, And One, STOMACH BOOK, Ken Ashcorp, KSB Muzic, LiteralHat, YFM, Limp Bizkit, Insane Clown Posse, Gorillaz, Tyler the Creator, System Of A Down, Foo Fighters, That Handsome Devil, Sacri, They Might Be Giants, Oingo Boingo, Weird Al, Jhariah, MAMA RUSSIA, Lenin Was A Zombie, and Drive45!

I have Autism, ADHD, (I have some sort of Anxiety disorder too, forgot what it was called though) and Depression.. so sorry if I don’t talk/respond to asks or dms quick enough or I don’t answer them properly… I’m a very shy person. So please text me first if you want to dm me, if you’re a mutual I’d love to talk to you! ^_^

ask box will close down sometimes, it is not a mistake usually, I just don’t feel like taking asks (or I’m being swarmed by donation asks and I feel overwhelmed) :3

DNI - uhhhh this (carrd not mine) ..also I will check your account once you follow me usually to see if you aren’t a weirdo, I block who I choose to block

Places I inhabit:

YouTube: Charlizardsb - CharlieSB

Spotify: Tonsillitis (yes that is my actual name on there shut up)

Pinterest: LIZARDWAZAZOMBIE - charred corpse

Instagram: Charlizardsb

Wattpad: spagheetee

Discord: (please DM me if you want my username)

TikTok: lizzardz.0n.steroidz

(Created: 1/15/24)

(Last updated: 11/12/24)

I reblog WAYY too many posts so if you’re willing to find my art search #bugs goof art

#Charlizard’s rabble ransoms - for random posts that are just filler or me going on a whole rant (will also be tagged for long posts too sometimes)

#enjoy your stay #you’ll have to wait a long while until I actually post cool art or something if you wanna find me anywhere #charlizard’s rabble ransoms #introduction #intro post #blog intro #introductory post #pinned intro #pinned post #pinned info #read pinned #intro

44 notes · View notes

castieltrash1 · 2 years ago

Text

summary → patience is a virtue and you show bucky barnes he’s worth waiting for

word count → 17k

warnings → angst/comfort, pining, insecurity/jealousy, partial soldat!bucky, mentions of violence, ptsd/nightmare references, ambigious pre-wakanda timeline, alcohol, wanda/vision mentions, reader is non-gendered but gets called “sweetheart” “doll” “darling” and “kid,” bucky is scared of thunderstorms, physical scars and canon-level violence, basically just a big ball of emotion with a happy ending

a/n → yes guys it is, in fact, finished. i’d like to thank the academy aka my bucky anon and @f1nalboys bc without them this fic would’ve never seen the light of day </3 this one is for yall MWAH !!

+ each section of the fic is kind of based on a different song so u can listen to those [here] hehe :3 but the whole fic is based on the song outer space/carry on by 5sos (the title is from lyrics hehe)

---

I. The Archer; “And I don't see an end to this, so I'll enjoy the fire.”

Bucky enters the kitchen almost silently, the slosh and drip of his drenched clothes giving away his sudden presence.

You turn your head just in time to watch a few drops hit the floor, water collecting into a murky puddle of shadow on the tile around his clunky boots. It takes an eternity of a stretched second for you to recognize him. Everyone had turned in for the night, supposedly. When your brain registers who’s standing in front of you, your eyes widen, heart skipping a beat. Even with everything you’ve seen, everything you’ve watched him do, it still doesn’t feel right to see him in this state.

He’s already stalking off with a rubbery squeak when you grab a spare dishtowel from the counter and rush over to him. For a moment you think he’ll ignore you, but then he stops in his tracks, albeit without sparing you a glance. He’s not all there -- stance stiff, eyes glazed in a way that disregards the usual sliver of warmth in his deep blue gaze. But he’s polite -- obedient -- regardless.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologize -- for not being fast enough, not noticing him; anything he might take offense to in this sensitive state. “I didn’t realize you were still out... I thought…” He doesn’t reply, but his jaw ticks as water trickles from his hair to his cheek. It lets you know he’s not completely numb. Not yet. You lift the towel, but he grabs it from you before you can get any closer.

He drags it across his eyes, forehead, nose, before shoving it back into your hands. When he slicks his hair away from his face, you take note of the blotchiness of his skin; concentrated around his nose and under his red-rimmed eyes. They’re bloodshot, and the veins are bright against his grey expression.

He offers you no more than a sniff as he brushes past, heading towards the bathroom.

When the door slams shut behind him, you break from your stupor and trace his wet footprints back to the puddle that’s begun to seep into the lines between the tile. You sacrifice the already dirtied towel to clean it. Bucky will feel bad for the mess eventually, even if he’s apathetic now. The searing hot shower will slowly bring him back, steam opening the guilt-filled pores that hide under his scarred skin. He’ll come out and scrub the grout until his hands bleed.

The water is still running when you reach the bathroom door to wipe up the last of the mess, just a heelprint of thinned mud.

As you retreat to your room, you text Steve. He’ll be the first one up, and the only one equipped to deal with the emotional hangover. He’ll be the only one who really cares.

You let him know that Bucky just got home, hoping he’ll note the late timestamp of your message. And you tell him Bucky seems tired. Tired. It does little to encompass everything -- all the exhaustion, fear, and confusion he’ll wake up with. But Steve will understand. He always does. And you do your best, even when there’s not a single recognizable part of Bucky left.

Steve catches you by the wrist in the lounge the following early afternoon, tugging you to the corner of the room. A soft smile spreads across his face as he wipes away the sweaty remains of his morning run; all warmth, skin glowing in a way that only happens after a good workout.

His eyes scan the rest of the room, a movement almost too fast to catch. He lets out a heavy, relieved sigh when he realizes you’re alone, and brings you to the nearest couch.

“I got your text,” he says lowly, hesitant to breach the topic in person. “I wanted to thank you.”

You see the nervousness in his gaze and scoot closer to pat his shoulder. “Of course. I know he can be… Unpredictable. You deserve a heads-up if you can get one.” Steve’s been caught off guard before; you all have. It’s easy to think Bucky is just being distant, just being him. And then he’s sleeping too late, saying too little. His dinner plate will stay untouched, but the kitchen will be ransacked at midnight once everyone’s gone. Steve can barely catch up, and you doubt Bucky can either.

Steve shifts, letting out a shaky breath. “I want to help him.”

“You do more than any of us,” you reassure, truthfully. “Bucky trusts you -- he loves you. I think your presence is all he needs most of the time.”

Everyone else has to put more effort into their support. Natasha peels back the scars of her past in hopes of sharing the pain. Bruce spends weekends hunched over his desk trying to make sleeping pills that Bucky’s metabolism won’t immediately digest; tired fingers shaking as he tries a new dose, a new capsule, a new something.

But Steve’s existence alone is more of a contribution than anything.

“He knows you help, too,” he finally says, staring in a way that makes you squirm. It’s the hardened soldier’s gaze that leaves no room for argument. Whatever he’s telling you is a belief buried deep in his soul, an unwavering promise.

It makes your chest clench. Steve confirming that Bucky pays you even an ounce of attention is enough to make your heart race. “I’m just trying to be a friend.” You stress the last word, hoping it’s not visible that you’re curled around the ledge of a maybe more.

“He’ll notice eventually,” he tries, but his determined gaze is gone, and he’s holding onto hope just as much as you are.

The surface of Bucky’s healing has barely been scratched. There’s an entire life for him to uncover, remember, forget, and relive. It’d be selfish to expect any more than that from him. You know that, Steve knows that. A part of you hopes Bucky does too -- that someday he’ll realize his existence isn’t at the expense of others, even if that expense is love.

Steve stands with curled lips and a gentle double-pat on your leg that’s too comforting for something you shouldn’t even be disappointed about. It makes you feel like you’re mourning, but maybe you are, and maybe he’s just the only one who realizes it.

II. Studio 6; “I reached out to wake you but I learned that he'd taken you back.”

Group dinners are impossible, but there’s always a good handful of you in the kitchen at one time.

Tony will sip something bubbly that’s worth a mortgage, while Bruce tosses a salad fit for two; perpetually charged with thinly veiled green anger. Clint will scarf down a slice of week-old pizza and Nat will scrunch her nose at the unpleasant sounds she can never seem to avoid when he’s within range.

And, if Steve’s around, so is Bucky. The latter has only made an exception for Sam if his prior friend is on a mission for too long that he can’t sustain a hunger strike.

No one questions it or why his presence is more likely to exist when the dining room is crowded. He seems more inclined to show up when he can sink out of a conversation without anyone noticing, without any eyes on him -- except yours. He always catches onto your staring quickly though, feeling the heavy and uncomfortable weight of your focus.

But tonight, his chair by the corner of the room is noticeably empty. No one dares to disturb it, even if the extra seat is needed. No one says anything either -- at least not too loudly, though you catch some distant mumblings between Sam and Tony. They’ve chosen to forget (or purposely ignore) the fact that Steve, who’s sitting beside them, has beyond-perfect hearing.

And he’s quick to hear the vibrating of his silenced phone, brows furrowed as he discards his fork to reach for the device. Normally, he’d scold you for ignoring table manners, but when he reads your hasty message, he understands.

“Have you seen him eat today?”

Steve gives you a tight-lipped frown and discreet shake of his head as a response.

You’re quick to stand from your chair with a sigh, the room quieting as everyone’s eyes focus on you. “I’m done, so I’ll do dishes tonight.” All of them happily agree without question, piling their plates onto yours. Wanda smiles in gratitude, whereas Clint presses a messy kiss to your cheek in thanks. Steve, who usually has clean-up duty, just nods, giving you permission for whatever you’re planning.

Thankfully, the kitchen stays empty for a while. Laughter and voices echo from the lounge, and you half listen to the retold stories as you load the dishwasher. Everyone is still going strong by the time you finish cleaning and grab a new plate from the overhead cupboard.

You hope Bucky won’t take offense at the basic sandwich; certainly not the homely dish of meat and potatoes he might think of as a family dinner. No silverware, no mess. The fridge is mostly stocked, if you ignore the Asgardian leftovers and the three-hundred-dollar block of cheese, so you pile up what you can.

The sliced tomatoes wobble while you walk down the hall, dish balanced in one hand. Light spills underneath Bucky’s bedroom door frame, but when you knock softly, there’s no response. You tap a bit harder, and call out: “Bucky… I have some food for you.” Try as you might to keep your voice steady, there’s a waver that makes you grimace. Contrary to what he may believe, it’s not him you fear -- not in the way others do. He still doesn’t answer you.

You leave the plate on the ground; a pathetic offering of inclusion and peace.

It’s just a sandwich.

When you’ve retreated to your own room, you send him a text letting him know what’s waiting for him. And even though it stings when he doesn’t reply, you feel a silent weight lifted off your shoulders. You played your role today, just as you did last night.

If there’s one emotion Bucky has never evoked in you, it’s guilt.

You don’t check your phone until you’re making coffee the next morning, barely awake as the smell of roasted beans fills the air. The sandwich and its recipient feel like a half-forgotten dream. Only when you’re a few sips into your drink do you see the notification, and the one word it bestows.

Thanks.

It catches you off guard, and you busy yourself by rinsing the pot for the next person, a ceramic glint catching your eye. The stainless steel sink is home to a single plate -- the plate. There’s still a smudge of mustard on the corner from when your hands shook, and the squeezed condiment missed the bread.

You scrub at the dried stain, a much easier mess than the mud-covered floor. It’s just a small task, just a sandwich, just a friendly gesture.

It’s clear Bucky thinks nothing more of it either. The following weekend he’s fine in his own way. After an episode, the air around him feels off; a thick aura that makes your gut instincts fire up. He’s a human timebomb, one wrong step away from mass destruction.

And then he smiles at Steve, you overhear their conversation about Coney Island, and suddenly all that fear is gone.

His laugh is more of a throaty chuckle than anything else, but there’s a flash of his pearly whites when he jokes about taking Steve on the Cyclone (a story you’ve all heard countless times) and time seems to slow. You hang onto the sight of him like a single frame in a movie; the sway of that one curl on his forehead, the slow upturn of his lips. It’s almost like he’s not there, not really, because he’s someone entirely different -- and not in the ways you’ve seen before.

It feels like you’re standing in the museum again, looking at all the Sergeant Barnes plaques and pictures. Not a hint of Winter Soldier, not even Bucky, just… James.

You must be grinning like the lovesick idiot you are because Steve finally nudges your shoulder. “Don’t you start laughing now. You’dve thrown up too if you went on that thing.” It takes a second for you to realize they’re still talking about roller coasters, and you just shake your head.

“Whatever you say, Cap’.”

“C’mon, Buck, back me up here!” He’s reverted to the past just as much as his friend, though less noticeably. Just a shift of the shoulders and a stance that fits a skinny Brooklyn kid, not a trained Avenger.

“Nah.” Bucky laughs again, stifled now that you’re involved in the conversation. “Steve’s just a chicken.”

“Oh, eat it,” Steve retorts. “I had stomach ulcers! Of course, I threw up.” He acts truly offended, but there’s no malice in his tone. He loves a good row, even when he acts otherwise. You pretend not to catch his barely visible smirk even as he walks away to go talk to Sam, who’s just entered the room.

You lean closer to Bucky, hand covering the side of your mouth, voice lowered. “He’s just bluffing. I heard he screamed over a spider yesterday.” There’s not much space between you two, and your head spins as you realize he must’ve leaned in too. Just a little. Unconsciously, perhaps, though a hopeful part of you thinks he calculates every moment, no matter how small.

He laughs, enough for you to see his chest puff, but too quiet to cover the whirring of his metal-plated arm. Making him laugh gives you a feeling that’s unmatched by any other form of euphoria. It’s a baby step, a sign of comfort, a realization that maybe, just maybe, you’re enough. Enough for him.

Your heart skips a beat, and when his eyes dart to watch your upturned lips, you wonder if his does too.

III. Sign of the Times; “Why are we always stuck and running from the bullets?”

A part of you is beginning to believe good and bad luck are destined to come hand-in-hand.

It’s an odd feeling having Bucky next door to you, even with the heavy, soundproof wall border. There are simultaneously mere inches and a world apart between you. His steps are silent and his door is always closed, but his presence is still there, and you don’t know if you’d still feel it if you weren’t head over heels for him.

Considering the rest of the building’s layout, you’ve been blessed with this corner of the facility. Steve’s across from Bucky, Sam from you. Despite the square shape, they’re a tight-knit triangle most of the time, even if you consider yourself somewhat involved in their friendship. But it’s partially relieving to not always be included since they can be a handful otherwise.

And that much is proven true when a loud clattering wakes you up at four in the morning.

The sound would wake anyone up, but your job and training are responsible for the way you jolt, heart racing. Any remaining sleep is blinked away as your fingers drift to the side of your bed, where you know a knife is sandwiched between the mattress and frame. No one can get in or even close to the facility without Tony’s knowledge, but the smooth metal feels reassuring against your fingertips regardless.

Silence follows for a few seconds, long enough for you to wonder if the disturbance was just a vivid nightmare. And then you hear one door open, and another; both slammed into the wall behind them. Steve’s voice echoes down the hall, calling your name, and you slide off the bed to your door, forgetting your disclosed weapon.

Steve’s halfway through your name again when you enter the dark hall, finding him standing in Bucky’s doorway. He’s bleary, blue eyes clouded with an uncertain look you’ve only managed to see once or twice; most notably, on the freeway that fateful day. He’s forced to adjust to the situation quickly, you realize, when you join his side and peer into the room.

Everything about Bucky is wrong.

His chest heaves, and when Steve shifts forward, he growls. It’s not a warning, but a threat. If his mouth could foam, you’re sure it’d be dripping down his chin at this point. He’s an offensive predator at first glance. And then you notice the little clues: disheveled sheets, sweat gathered on his brow, the broken vase by his bed stand, and the water dripping from his flesh hand.

Bucky suddenly becomes a wounded, scared animal.

You inch closer, Steve grabbing your wrist when Bucky reacts with a snarl. But you don’t halt, forcing yourself past the threshold. One checkpoint at a time.

“Bucky, it’s me.” You stand, palms face out. “I don’t know what you dreamt of -- I’m sure it scared you. But Steve and I are here, ok?” His eyes flicker between you, respectively, and a glint of recognition flashes in them. “Can you sit back down on your bed?”

His expression trembles, metal fingers curling and stretching repeatedly.

You rack your brain for any idea of ways to de-escalate the situation when he doesn’t follow your suggestion. And then it hits. He doesn’t need a suggestion. He needs an order.

With a deep breath, you steady your tone and catch his gaze. “Bucky…” His eyes glaze, but you try again. “James.” He twitches, just a small shift, but you grab onto it. You want to use the least amount of soldier-related words you can and if his legal name works, you’re not going to push your luck.

“Sit down on the bed, now.” You can feel Steve burning holes into your back, but you ignore his presence, and keep your eyes trained on Bucky. His shoulders drop after a moment and he blinks a few times before shuffling backward until the underside of his knees hit the bed frame. His recline is slow, but he finally sinks into the soft mattress with a heavy breath.

When you walk closer, he doesn’t react at all -- just watches your movements. And when you sit beside him, he continues to stare at you curiously. Steve’s still watching as you grab Bucky’s warm hand, rubbing your thumb over the back of his palm in a soothing repetitive motion.

You begin to murmur affirmations while you continue, not daring to initiate any more physical contact. And he slowly, almost unnoticeably, begins to react to it. Steve sandwiches Bucky’s other side and grabs the latter’s fluffy thick blanket from the middle of the bed.

“He’s sweating,” you whisper to Steve, and he nods, but adjusts the fabric on his friend’s shoulders anyway.

“He doesn’t like the cold.”

You swallow down the quickly forming lump in your throat.

Bucky blinks away the fog a few silent moments later. His fingers grip yours and he looks down at them, tracing your arm up to your face. He says your name quietly.

“Hey, Bucky.”

He scrutinizes you for a second, making your heart flutter, and then his gaze shifts to Steve.

“Steve?”

The blond smiles and nods, patting Bucky’s back gently. “Hey, punk. You alright?”

He swallows thickly, too many words and not enough answers. His fingers are still within your grip. “Yeah. I think.” The wavy strands of hair around his ear are slick with sweat and his tongue darts across his chapped lips in a nervous tick.

“Steve, can you get some water?” you ask, and Steve seems taken aback by your control of the situation, but he finally stands and makes his way to the door. When his steps grow quiet, you return your focus to the man beside you.

“I’m sorry if we scared you,” you begin, but then Bucky jerks his hand from yours as if your touch is the red-ringed surface of a hot stovetop.

His vulnerability shrivels away and he covers the rest of it with his blanket as he shifts toward the other end of the bed. If he notices your hurt expression, he doesn’t mention it, and you do your best to hide it as you stand from his bed.

You slowly drop to your knees, beginning to pick up the remains of the shattered vase; counting each thread in the carpet to take up more time. The flowers that fell are already shriveling, stems cracked into stringy vertebrae, petals smashed into the woven flooring.

“Why do you do that?” Bucky suddenly asks, voice gruff, but with a hint of hesitance. When you look up at him, your breath catches; the table lamp behind him is a warm yellow halo, and you can’t dismiss the feeling of kneeling before him, rose gathered in your palm as you pray he loses the solemn look that covers his face.

“Do what?”

He gestures his chin toward the floor. “Pick up my… messes.”

Steve’s promise rings through your ears. He’ll notice eventually. Your hands shake, and you look back to the floor; constant and unchanging, unlike his expressions. “It’s not a big deal. We all make messes sometimes.” And while that’s true, both of you know there’s no one else you’d be picking up glass shards for at four in the morning.

“You don’t,” he says, before continuing in a hushed tone, almost so you don’t hear, “make messes, I mean.”

His words make you still: what does he perceive? What does he know about you, what does he see that you overlook? What has he pieced together on how absolutely ruined you are for him?

Steve walks in with a cup of water, and the questions silence.

He feels the change in the air quickly and grasps your shoulder with his free hand. “I got it. Go back to bed.”

You toss the glass into the trash, pocketing a few of the intact flower petals to press and save.

When their quieted murmurs and sounds of cleaning continue, you dare a glance back. Bucky pulls his blanket closer, chasing as much warmth as he can take. His hair is almost dry, but the shorter and thinner strands are still stuck to his forehead with sweat. When you blink, he looks the same as the night before last -- wet from the rain and too uncomfortable in his own cold skin.

His reaction to the rain suddenly makes all too much sense.

IV. worldstar money; “Don't hate me, am I crazy? So tenderly you watch me burn.”

It turns out that the nightmare is the peak of Bucky’s episode, and his outburst ends quickly after. He returns to nightly dinners -- with Steve in tow -- and you don’t wake up to either of them yelling again.

Coincidentally, his plateau of emotions also lines up with Thor’s periodic arrival. His presence is always a date to anticipate and the team can spend up to a week preparing if they’re given the time. The god is not a handful, per se, since he’s more than capable of entertaining himself. But, at this point, it’s a tradition that his appearance is paired with a party. The few times one hasn’t been organized before he shows, Thor’s taken it upon himself to create one spontaneously; with no regard to his surroundings. Tony’s already lost a few pieces of furniture to Asgardian liquor stains and he won’t make that mistake again.

As the preparation begins and the excited trainees at the facility are informed of the event, your mind drifts back to Bucky. His attitude change seems too instantaneous. The decline and regrowth can take weeks. A part of you hopes it’s a sign of healing - the fast recovery. The logical side of you thinks he’s simply hiding his discomfort since everyone is busy, too busy for him.

Thankfully, Wanda keeps you distracted. Whenever something normal like a party happens, she’s the most excited, and it’s hard to not feel infused with her radiance. Even Natasha becomes more playful, talkative. Despite popular belief, it seems that redheads have the most fun, especially ones who crave some regularity in their lives.

“What about this one?” Wanda pulls the nth dress from her closet, both you and Natasha lifting your heads from where you’re lying on her purple bed. It’s a simple red piece, with a small flower pattern and flowy skirt.

Natasha sighs, pushing herself into a sitting position. “Too simple.”

“You only wear little black dresses,” you retort, sliding up to her side. “I think it’s pretty, Wanda.”

“Hey, it’s a staple to any good wardrobe.”

“Nat?” you playfully jab. “Are you hiding a secret stylist side of yourself from us?”

Wanda clears her throat and you glance back at her. “Nat’s right. I’ll order something new.”

You frown at their obvious attempt to gang up on you. “I thought I was right!”

Natasha chuckles and Wanda attempts a sputtered excuse before she ends up laughing as well. You flip both of them off, but they see the smile gracing your face regardless.

“Fine. What about you, Nat?” You rest your head on her shoulder, feeling her shrug.

“I don’t plan for this stuff.” A total lie, but you let it slide.

Wanda looks over her shoulder as she returns the dress to her overfilled closet. “Picked something to seduce Bucky in yet?” Her accent deepens as she fakes a sultry tone, sending a mascara-lashed wink your way.

“Oh my god,” you groan.

“I think you should get something to highlight your ass,” Natasha muses, playfully tapping her chin. “That’s a pretty obvious hint, don’t you think?”

“Not you too!” But she pulls you into her arms regardless. Wanda jumps on the bed a few seconds later, curling up to your other side. You’re so close to them, and not just physically. You feel like you could reveal anything, admit any secret, and it’d stay in this group of minds forever. A Bermuda Triangle friendship for your confessions.

You can’t help but mumble: “Why doesn’t he notice anything I do?”

It still feels selfish to think, let alone say out loud, but there’s no judgment in response. There’s not the pitying comfort from Steve or the teasing grins of the others who don’t understand the depth of the situation. Natasha pats your arm and Wanda squeezes you a little tighter, and they don’t need to offer an explanation because just having them listen is enough. You know that’s how Bucky feels with Steve and you wonder if, in some other dimension, he trusts you just as much.

Natasha leaves first; off to the shooting range with Clint, and you follow soon after.

“Hey, Wanda,” you call, halfway through the threshold. She looks up from investigating her heeled-boot collection, red waves of hair crashing over her shoulder. Her thin brow lifts in question, and you smirk.

“I think Vision would like the flower dress, just saying.”

You don’t look back, even when you hear her sputter a retort, because you already know her face is flushed to match the outfit hanging in her closet.

V. sex money feelings die; “Trade love for one night, two pills and a red wine.”

The air in the facility only changes when Tony Stark is in charge. Routines, workouts, meetings -- they’re all forgotten and replaced with tipsy staff and good music. An inkling of professionalism remains in the lounge, but it’s discreet; fancy champagne, expensive suits, and a few public heads lingering in groups. But as a whole, it’s nowhere near the usual stiffness of your daily life. The facility may be your home, but it’s your workplace as well. Except for during moments like these.

You’re able to spot everyone quickly. Unlike the previous Stark Tower parties you attended a few years back, the guest list tonight is much smaller. Natasha is holding her own in a conversation with a few snobby businessmen and Clint lingers on the balcony behind her looking like he’d rather jump off than engage in any small talk anyone has to offer.

Wanda, in all her flowered-dress glory, is a tad tipsy, but Vision stables her with a hand on her waist, and you can see her cheeks flush from across the room.

Tony is with Bruce at the bar, and Thor is surrounded by excited trainees who’ve only heard stories about him. A second later, your gaze lands on a group of three: Steve, Bucky, and Sam. The last catches your eye and waves, heading your way before you can take a step in their direction.

He stumbles on his path, which means he’s drunk. Sam Wilson is not a lightweight, but deep inside his body lives a frat boy who only appears when he’s had too many shots to remember.

“Hey!” He grins and pulls you in for a hug, the type he’d usually give you after a two-week mission away, even though it’s been two hours since you talked last. “I didn’t see you around. Thought you decided to skip.”

You chuckle. “You know me. Just… Lingering.” And watching for Bucky.

Sam raises his brow cartoonishly high. “I think you’re partying wrong. You,” he starts, grabbing your hand before you can blink, “should be dancing.” He extends your arm above your head until you appease him with a spin.

He whistles, then sighs. “You know, I hate to admit it but I think Barnes would be a better partner. Dude’s how old again?” Sam laughs, palm warm as he squeezes your hand. “Seven decades of dance moves. Hell, you think he can moonwalk?”

It’s a nice thought: Bucky, not yet greying due to his years on ice, being free in the eighties. His hair fluffed with hairspray and a neon earring dangling from his lobe. But that’s another life. Another era he’ll never live.

“Hey, you alright?” The new wave illusion fades away and you’re left staring at Sam’s toothy smile. “You have too much to drink?”

“No, actually.” You play off the spaced-out moment and Sam is too inebriated to notice. “I haven’t had anything yet, really.”

He immediately gets a playful glint in his eyes. “Steve got his hands on some of that God beer, or whatever -- if you wanna try.” Despite internally refusing the offer, you don’t dismiss Sam. Mainly, because Bucky is still standing by Steve, and you can see the invisible walkway leading up to them. You nod, and Sam heads back in their direction with you trailing behind him.

Steve pulls you to his side the minute you’re within reach, breath hot and sweet against your cheek. “Wondered where you wandered off to.” He loosens his grip but lets his weight rest on your shoulder, enough to keep you warm. He flashes his flask at you, silver metal and dark brown leather, but you shake your head.

Before you can politely decline, Sam reaches over to take the offer from Steve’s hands. Three sets of eyes watch, with bated breath, as he tosses back a shotful, complete with a face-scrunching cough. “Is it that bad?” you ask, but Sam’s too busy clearing his throat to respond, and Bucky grabs the flask.

He makes Sam look like an amateur as he takes his own drink. It goes down smoothly, the veins in his neck tensing as he swallows without hesitation. None of his other muscles even twitch. You marvel at him in quiet awe as he licks away the last golden drops clinging to his lips.

Bucky’s eyes catch yours when he’s done. Tonight, he stares, like he’s trying to understand your gaze for once. A part of you wonders how he can struggle to profile emotions as visible as yours. Another part of you wonders if he remembers what attraction and amazement look like to the naked eye.

You don’t have time to consider it before the man of the hour is pushing his way into the conversation, sliding a toned bicep around your neck to pull you in. He grins, sends the other guys a nod. “My favorite human,” he starts, though you’re not sure if that ranking was decided pre or post-Jane. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, Thor, thank you.” He pats the small of your back in response and then directs his attention to the others -- distant chatter of mead and parties fading into the background. You’re in the midst of zoning out when a gentle, but direct, cough alerts you of someone’s presence. Thor doesn’t pay you any mind as you pull from his grip, turning to face a guy you think you recognize. A security guard, maybe -- or a media reporter?

You’ve got a superhuman soldier on one arm and a God on the other, but this, presumably mortal man stays rooted in his place. “Good evening,” he starts and throws your last name out like the idea of being beneath you socially crushes his already crippling ego. “I know this might be, well, quite forward, but…” In the back of your mind, you realize the others have halted their conversation to watch how this will unfold.

“I’ve been waiting to see you all night.” You give him a polite smile and hope your cringe isn’t obvious.

“Thank you…” He is optimistically brave and you know that letting him down without a fight is unavoidable, so you play along to save face. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself.” His grin is bleached white, a staggering contrast against his dark suit and brown eyes.

“Well, now that you’re here,” but he can’t finish the tacky line before Sam snorts, only silencing when Steve jabs him in the side.

You feel downright sick. His intentions aren’t pure, obviously, but you wonder what his motive is. It always starts like this -- a nice, albeit forced, conversation, and next thing you know, he’s asking which Avengers are fucking behind closed doors (or whatever other gossip is trending at the moment.)

“Anyway.” You brace yourself; here it comes. “There’s a private gallery showing downtown next weekend. I was hoping you’d be interested in going with me?”

Oh. Oh.

“I’m sorry?” You’re still not convinced. “Are you asking me on a date?” The word leaves your mouth and you faintly feel Steve take a step closer, gentlemanly instincts kicking in. He’s watched the others be tempted by similar propositions, only to be ambushed by paparazzi or caught in a pre-planned scandal.

“You could call it that, if you’d like,” the guy responds, a flirty lilt in his tone. “I understand if you’re not available -- a lifestyle like yours doesn’t leave much in the schedule, I assume.” He rustles in his suit’s breast pocket before pulling out a card, off-white with a dark grey print. You catch a glance of his name -- Tom -- before he’s speaking again.

“If you end up having time, I’d love to take you.”

You nod dumbly, still not sure how to process the situation at hand. But if his disinterest towards your opinion wasn’t obvious before, it’s clear when he’s already walking away with a grin before you can attempt to respond.

When you finally turn around, all four men are staring at you with different expressions. Thor is impressed, it seems, even when he falls into a bout of surprised chuckles. Sam’s slightly more annoyed, but not enough to stop himself from laughing either. Steve is staring daggers into Tim -- Tom’s -- departing figure, and Bucky is… You’re not sure. His jaw is clenched, tightly, and his stance is far more predatory than it was before; shoulders squared, chest puffed. He’s the perfect picture of jealousy, but you know he’s probably just put off by Tom’s cocky demeanor.

Regardless, the change in the air is palpable, and you end up excusing yourself before you can choke on the tension. You rescue Natasha from her painfully dull conversation and pull her onto the balcony to relax with Clint. He’s staring off at the landscape below, and you both press against the railing with him. His gaze doesn’t shift, but a smirk becomes visible on his sharp profile. “Nice escape in there, you two. Barnes and those businessmen were really shaking their heads.” Natasha scoffs, but you tense.

“Bucky?” you ask, and Clint huffs, faking surprise.

“Yeah, Bucky. Thought the old man was about to go into cardiac arrest when that other guy asked you out.”

“What guy?” Natasha cuts in.

At the same time, you say, “How did you know he was asking me out?”

Clint isn’t easy to annoy, so he continues to answer your questions. “I know because Barnes looks jealous as hell. I can hear his heavy breathing from here, and in case you’ve forgotten,” he gestures towards the purple aid lodged in his ear. “And since you’ve gotten over here, he’s taken it upon himself to finish off Steve’s flask.”

“Gross,” Natasha groans. “I wouldn’t touch that shit if it were the last drink on Earth.” She accentuates her words with a sip of her bubbling champagne, long red nails tapping the glass flute.

“Whatever you say, Barton,” you chuckle, but there’s a hesitation in your words; a silent gap waiting to be filled with more questions. Was Bucky really jealous? Is Clint just humoring you? The thoughts drift around in your head, and your friends let the conversation flow into another topic, saving you from dwelling for too long.

As they begin to playfully argue over something -- like always -- your eyes drift back to the party. It’s reached a quiet buzzed state, the energy of the room coming to a lull. The calmness is enough to leave you feeling dazed, letting the cold breeze coat your skin with goosebumps. You silently hope that Bucky is watching from afar, indulging in your shadowed silhouette against the darkening night. But when you examine each partygoer to find him, you land on Steve instead; with that look.

Natasha finally notices, or at least announces, your distraction: “You alright?”

“Yeah…” You trail off, watching as Steve and Sam glance around the room; searching, worried. “I’ll be right back.”

“Bring more drinks on your way,” Clint suggests, but his favor leaves your mind the second you head inside.

VI. SLOW DANCING IN THE DARK; “Don't follow me, you'll end up in my arms.”

Your shoes clack against the floor and Steve lets out a sigh of relief when you enter his line of sight. “Thank God you’re here,” he half-jokes as if you can’t see his flustered expression. “I was just about to call you. Bucky wandered off and... I don’t know, it doesn’t feel right. He’s not in his room -- Sam checked.”

“Bathroom?” You ask, but Sam, approaching, shakes his head. He looks like he’s a second from toppling, his earlier shot taking a visible toll.

“Looked there first.”

You raise a disbelieving brow. “Geez, I’ve barely been gone five minutes and he just disappeared on you both? Isn’t that what he does?” You discreetly gesture around to the crowd, gritting your teeth. “This isn’t really his scene.”

Steve’s concern doesn’t lessen. “No, I know. He just, he somehow got buzzed. I don’t think he’s slept in days and… I don’t know...”

You know his ability to burn off alcohol is unparalleled, but unlike Steve, Bucky hasn’t touched the stuff since ‘42 -- not even one of Tony’s mild wines at dinner. If he was drinking as much as Clint said, there’s a fair chance he could be slightly inebriated; just enough to throw him off his perfectly calculated balance.

You can’t leave him to his own devices, so you let out an exhausted huff. “Fine. Take Sam to his room, though. He’s about to pass out.” Said drunk sends you a glare, then promptly stumbles in place. “I’ll make the rounds in the meantime. Text me if you see Bucky on your way.”

Both men nod, Sam’s head bobbing in a way that makes you dizzy. They head off, attracting a few whispers along the way, but make it down the hall without too much of a scene. You sneak away in the opposite direction, towards the other half of the facility. It’s eerily quiet as the voices fade away until there’s just silence. The lights automatically flicker on as you walk, turning off behind you when you leave their range.

The closest rooms are the lounge and some storage closets, but they’re all empty, along with the pool. He can’t be in the shooting range or armory, since they’ve been locked up tightly for the night; FRIDAY can’t even open them without Tony’s approval.

But there’s another set of bathrooms down the hall; less used, without everyone’s necessities inside. When you walk past the door, a few sounds catch your attention: a drunken mumble, squeaky boots, and water running. There’s a possibility it’s a public hookup since it’s practically a mile-high achievement to fuck at a Tony Stark party. At least, it was, back in 2011.

You push open the door slowly.

Bucky is leaning against the sink, face flushed and dripping water. It’s been unceremoniously splashed against his skin, dripping down his neck and spilling across his maroon dress shirt. The patches of wet fabric cling to his chest, and you barely manage to pull your gaze away from the smooth outlines of his torso. His jacket is draped next to the faucet, freckled with stray droplets like a garden flower.

His eyes catch yours in the mirror, blue drifting into a hazy grey.

“Hey…” You trail off, closely monitoring his expression. “Steve wondered where you ran off to.” You refrain from mentioning your own concern; a good choice, considering Bucky gives you a tight smile in return. You’re just thankful for more than a grimace at this point.

“It’s pretty loud in there, right?” you continue, looking away as you grab some paper towels, thin white, masking your palms like sheet ghosts. Bucky’s eyes are still on you when you turn back, making you jump. You try to play it off by taking a step closer, slowly raising your hand. “Is this alright?”

He doesn’t respond, but his chin juts outward. When he’s steel-faced like this, you can’t tell who you see more: Sergeant or Soldat.

His reaction seems like a yes, albeit a stubborn one. His skin is warm even through the napkins as you gently pat his face, drying it off. He’s completely still, and it takes a second for you to realize neither of you is breathing. You’re sure your heart is beating much faster than his. You dab his cheekbones and when you move to his forehead, he tilts toward you. It’s tender and trusting and your heart melts; dripping over your rib bones and living jitters in your stomach.

Bucky’s lips pout as you press them once, twice, and you savor the indirect kiss.

And then you pull away, and he leans back.

You smile, and for a second it looks like he does too. “All dry.” He’s quick to grab his jacket, slinging it over his broad shoulder. Right as you move aside to let him leave, he takes an unbalanced step, hurriedly adjusting himself. The sight of Bucky tripping over his own feet is enough to make you giggle, and the quieted sound makes his cheeks flush a shade darker.

“Are you drunk?” you press, and he scoffs.

“Can’t get drunk. You know that.” But the corner of his lips upturn just barely, and you know only a drunk Bucky would ever smile at you.

“Whatever you say…” You pull his jacket onto your own shoulder. “But I’m taking you to your room. Steve’ll put me on dish duty for a week if I don’t.”

VII. Out Like a Light; “If I betray our lonely nights spent out like a light, with no kiss goodnight...”

Bucky is quiet the entire walk to his room, but his presence is warm and comforting behind you; thick like drizzled honey. You don’t have to look back or strain your ears just to feel him, to sense him. You don’t mind that he doesn’t utter a single word or attempt to sync his steps next to yours -- you just make your way down the hall, distantly noting Sam’s door being open a sliver. It’s a habit of his, like many others, that you’ve grown to recognize. He can be overly cautious, sometimes to a fault, but you’re relieved to know he got to his room with a few screws left intact inside that wild head of his.

“And here we are, safe and sound.” You extend your arm to Bucky’s door with a cheesy grin: “Home sweet home.” When he tenses at your words, you try not to falter -- even when you know home to him is a century away, in another life, and another world. Even if home to him means young laughter, warm cooking, and a scratchy record. You can’t apologize for wanting to be home, for hoping the occasional laughter of Peter and the motherly nagging of Pepper are enough to makeshift a family.

Bucky gracelessly stomps into his room, immediately falling back into his unmade bed. Any other night, you’d close his door and walk far, far away. But tonight he’s still got his shoes on and you know one wrong move will track God knows what across his sheets. You can’t help but wonder how many messes Bucky Barnes will make before you finally give in and kiss him.

Without another thought, you close the door behind you, causing Bucky to look up with a raised brow.

“I’m not gonna let you fall asleep fully dressed,” you tell him, voice stern, and he’s half-asleep by the time you’re untying his second shoe, tugging it off his socked foot. He managed to undo one button on his shirt, but promptly gave up, leaving his arms beside him.

You murmur his name and he groans. “Buck, c’mon. What do you normally wear to bed?” He answers by rolling over, muttering something into his pillow.

It’d be frowned upon to go through his drawers, but you’ve got no other choice. You quickly grab a t-shirt and some sweats. You don’t stare when you pull off his button-up and slacks, and you don’t ogle when you pull his impromptu pajamas on. You don’t glance at his scars or his chest or his stomach because he trusts you.

He’s as vulnerable as you could ever hope for, but he’s also stumbling drunk, and bound to forget this encounter tomorrow morning. He will never trust you like this again, so you cling to the moment as you tuck him in and brush his bangs from his face.

The thought of his upcoming headache sends you to the bathroom to fill a glass of water, thankful the tap is filtered. You set the cup on his bed stand, next to his toppled prescription bottles. He’s got a memo pad, unmarked but indented from previous writings, and a silver pen there too. You scribble a note telling him to drink water and take his meds in the morning. You add a little heart, stick it on the glass, and resign yourself to the fate of this being a blurry moment for the rest of your life.

You’re finally about to walk away when Bucky grabs your wrist, completely catching you off guard. His eyes flutter open, drowsy blue and thankful in a way that reminds you you’d do anything for him. “Please, don’t leave me.” He blinks, glossy and unfocused, and you sit next to him with a gentle nod. His hand stays locked in yours, even when he shifts to rest on his side. Your thumb rubs his knuckle while his opposite metal one clicks into place with a soft rattle.

“‘M sorry,” Bucky mumbles, but when you ask why, he just shakes his head and dozes off with a few slurred words. Something like thank you, and then a gravelly rumble of Russian -- Золотце.

A part of you wishes you didn’t understand it. Another part of you is glad Natasha has called you darling so many times before.

VIII. Even If It’s a Lie; “And I know you don't love me so, but please say it once before I go.”

If Bucky remembers anything from that night, he never acknowledges it. The others joke about the party in their sober states, reminiscing and reliving all the antics you missed while you spent the night baring your heart and soul to the man who now can’t stand to look at you.

“I wish I’d drank more and forgotten that night,” Clint jokes before the mention of alcohol jogs his memory and he glances over at you. “You never brought back our refills, so I’m blaming you.” You can tell he’s playing around, and you hope his words will fly under everyone else’s radar, but then Nat nods, growing suspicious. You’re all having dinner -- one of the good ones, where everyone is warm and full -- so you hope she won’t prod. But you can feel the shift in her energy as she leans in, raising a sharp brow.

“You’re right, Barton -- for once in your life.”

“Thanks.”

“Where did you go?” Her cherry lips curl on one side, and Wanda can’t hide her amusement as she snuggles up to Vision on the loveseat; unlike you and Bucky, they’ve barely left each other’s side since that night.

Instinctively, your gaze darts to Bucky, and you’re surprised to catch him already staring back. A hint of something lies in his gaze -- something more unrecognizable than usual. It’s neither embarrassment regarding your time together, nor a glare warning you against speaking up. If anything, it’s almost a silent plea, though not one rooted in regret. He’s asking this to be your secret and yours alone.

“Sam got hammered,” you start, rolling your eyes jokingly. Bucky physically relaxes, you note, watching him from the corner of your eye. “I had to help him get to his room -- with Steve, who did most of the heavy lifting. Literally.” Everyone seems appeased with the answer and you’re relieved to have made the right call.

Someone -- you’re not paying much attention at this point -- remarks how difficult it is to get drunk nowadays; between being on-call and not being able to enter a bar without ten different security precautions. You don’t doubt the gratitude the team shares, both for each other and the satisfaction of saving people. But it comes with a certain yearning. You see it at Steve’s apartment when he makes you dinner and talks to you about the weather like you’re just his neighbor. Or when Wanda paints her nails before missions, even when she knows they’ll be chipped bare by the time you return home.

Everyone wants what they don’t have; a normal life -- a chance at something different, mundane, peaceful.

And you… You want Bucky.

Considering his usual aversion to your presence, it takes a while for you to realize he’s purposely ignoring you. You’d hoped your white lie to the group would build you some rapport in his mind, but the awkwardness builds up until it rolls off him in waves whenever you walk by.

The silent-stand off reaches unbearable levels until Bucky ends up assigned to a day mission. It’s a sad realization, but you can tell the entire facility relaxes at the lack of his presence. No one’s gotten the hang of being around him, so it’s easier when he’s just...gone. If anything, he’s usually in a better mood when he gets back. The alone time, the structure, and the familiarity of burning knuckles and bloody lips calm him in a way nothing else can.

Steve pulls you into his room that late afternoon. He’s all furrowed brows and pouty lips; his thinking look. You sometimes forget he doesn’t have all the answers, despite appearing old and wise. He’s navigating the same life as you are. He’s lived two eras, but so few years. He doesn’t always understand.

His room is clean and stark, bare walls and pristinely tucked sheets. It’s still warm, in all the right ways. It smells soft and sweet like him -- a woodsy linen scent -- and there’s a cream, knitted blanket draped across his bed that drowns you whenever he lets you borrow it.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he starts, sitting on the edge of his bed with you. His broad frame takes up most of the space, but you don’t mind. “How did things go that night, with Buck? I asked him how he got to his room, but he said he doesn’t remember.”

The single spark of optimism you had for keeping that night a special secret fizzles away without another word. Within a mere second, the realization hits you. Bucky’s not cherishing some romantic rendezvous because that’s not what it was. If anything, he’s probably ashamed at how easily he opened up to you after too much alcohol.

You can’t help but scoff to hide your pain. “Lucky him,” you joke, nudging Steve’s side. He doesn’t budge. Instead, he frowns, immediately scooting closer to you.

“I’m sure you don’t mean that.”

You’re blinking back some form of emotion -- heartbreak, anger, the burning feeling of your conscience sneering I told you so. I told you this would happen. “I just got him to bed, that’s all.” It’d be easier to believe that, to gaslight yourself until the memory is nothing more than a faded delusion. If Bucky refuses to acknowledge it, why plague yourself with the isolated recollection?

With the tone of an overbearing mother, Steve sighs. “I know that’s not true, doll. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be crying.” And then you feel your wet cheeks and the faint taste of salt gathering on your lips, tears streaking without you even noticing.

“He called me… Darling -- in Russian.”

“What?” Complete disbelief. “Are you sure?”

You know he’s just as surprised as you were, but the question burns: Why would Bucky ever call you that? It’s what Steve’s secretly asking. “Nat,” you answer. “She’s used it with me before. I recognized it right away.”

“Darling...” Steve muses, the world pulling out in a Brooklyn drawl instead of a Russian purr. “Well, I can’t lie and say I was expecting that, but…” He tilts his head with a smile, blond wisps curled around his ears, glowing white in the setting sunlight. “That’s a good thing, don’t you think?”

You go to wipe your eyes, but Steve beats you to it, rough knuckles brushing the tears away. “I don’t think so. He won’t even talk to me now. I think he’s ashamed -- but he shouldn’t be, right? It was just a drunk mistake. We all make those.” You know your tone isn’t convincing -- you’re still trying to prove it to yourself, and Steve’s face morphs into a look of pity. His features are drawn with guilt, and you don’t know when you both began to take the fall for Bucky’s faults.

“I’ll be honest.” Steve sighs, leaning forward. It’s hard to see him like this, so unsure. “I can’t always tell what Bucky’s thinking -- not anymore.” He shakes his head. “Maybe back then, before. Things were less complicated. It was easy to understand him.” He reaches for your hand, cupping it between both of his, and the contact steadies your wavering heart. “Sometimes, I think he’ll handle things like he used to, you know?” Sergeant Barnes -- the flirt, all confidence and smooth words. He’d treat you differently, but that’s not what you want, who you want.

“But that doesn’t mean you can doubt yourself, ok?” Steve’s words aren’t a cure-all, but they soothe the growing ache in your chest. He’s a terrible liar, so you know he’s being honest, and his reassurance means more than most people’s.

“Whatever Bucky decides to do - that’s his choice. You’re not doing anything wrong by trying to offer him love.” He doesn’t hesitate with the last word, which burns in every way possible; relief, knowing he understands the depth of your feelings; pain, that even with that knowledge, he only has hope. If Steve, with all of his unwavering optimism, is hanging by a thread, you know you’re past saving.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He says nothing else, just pulls you closer, and lets you rest in his arms for a few beats while you take in his natural scent and warm hands. In another life, he’d be easier to fall for. You’ve snagged a part of his heart, just like the others, but whoever gets it all… That’d be a type of love you’re not sure you could ever wrap your head around.

“I’m gonna go for a walk - try and clear my head. Alright?”

“Yeah, doll. Get to bed soon though, ok?”

You nod, and the sun has set by the time you make it down the hall, incoming moonlight lighting your way up to the balcony.

IX. Two Slow Dancers; “It would be a hundred times easier, if we were young again.”

The outside air is crisp, occasional winds biting into your arms and coaxing goosebumps from your skin. It’s the type of weather that leaves you alone with your thoughts, too sharp to let you zone out into an unfeeling haze. Everything lingering in your mind confronts you when you’re cold like this, and you wonder if that’s why Bucky hates the midnight chill so much; if it forces forward the memories that aren’t really his, the guilt of his subconscious actions.

You’ve all made countless mistakes, misjudgments. It’s part of the job. When you rely so heavily on instincts and adrenaline, slip-ups are bound to happen. But at the end of the day, you have yourself to own up to, not a foreign entity wearing your skin. Bucky isn’t the Winter Soldier, but the Winter Soldier is a part of Bucky, in a way that can’t be denied. To consider them separate entities would be ignorant, but to blame Bucky would be cruel.

Bucky mirrors your route at some point in the night, quietly joining you. The cold is making your body ache, much like your mind, but you can’t find it in yourself to turn around and go back in, especially when you see him. He’s still in his mission clothes, dark and clinging to his sweaty skin. He looks untouched, though you’re sure he’s got a few cuts and bruises you can’t see.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until the morning,” you state, with a slight chatter of your teeth. The stars above shine brighter than they did at the tower, unobstructed by city lights and various forms of pollution. They feel closer, almost as if they’re listening to every word you say and whispering amongst themselves.

Bucky busies himself by tugging his leather gloves off. “Got done early. Steve said you’d probably be here.”

Bitterly, you acknowledge he didn’t check on you because he felt inclined. Rather, he’d been put up to it. Instead of giving him a verbal response, you hum. Your mind races with what Steve must’ve said, how it led to this. You know you’re being given the conversation you spent nights begging for, but instead of joy, you feel fear. A sour bile rises to your throat. Bucky has dirt caked on his clothes, you’re half-freezing in the dark night, and the universe is cruel for deciding now is the moment.

“I know what you’re doing.” He’s straight to the point, just like always. No flowery language or attempt at sugar-coating, which you find both a blessing and a curse. He won’t say anything that could be misconstrued, but his statement is vague enough to lure you into your own admission.

“Yeah? What’s that?” The crest of fresh tears burns your already irritated eyes. You feel the end of all ends coming, but you won’t be the one to start it. Your pride was what kept this infatuation going for so long, even though it’d been predestined to fail. And your pride is what keeps you from giving in, even with the settling realization that Bucky never intended to treat you differently or give you a chance.

His hands, and their now visible bruised knuckles, curl around the balcony railing. It’s the closest he’s ever been to you, yet he’s never felt so far away. “You shouldn’t doubt yourself,” he says gruffly, and it sounds worse coming from him than anyone else. Less comforting, more pitying.

“Look at me.” You hesitate before obliging.

The sight catches you off guard. You know what Bucky looks like when he’s uncomfortable; seen it countless times - this is worse. He’s gone through Hell and back, yet he still looks more tortured glancing at you than at any time in his past. Why he wants to see you when he does this, you don’t know. Sadistic is the best word for it. Why must he gouge a hole in your chest while giving you those baby blues?

His eyes are dark, stars catching in their reflection as the colors swirl like a galaxy. The celestial vision is only yours to enjoy for a moment before he squints, brows furrowing. He must see the tears, the pleading look on your face that you no longer bother to hide. “Doll?” Like a stab to the gut, he delivers the one word you’ve imagined falling from his lips so many times before. There’s no warm sun or shy smiles or soft kisses to accompany it, only a pitying gaze and the gloomy sky.

“Please - don’t call me that.” You attempt to be stern, but your voice wavers, words barely coating a stifled choke. The second you turn away, Bucky latches onto your wrist, calloused fingers pulling you close; finally wanting you to invade his space.

His lips form a tight line. “Won’t you at least listen to what I want to say?”

“Why should I?” you ask, voice sharpening into a bite. “I know what you’re gonna say. I can tell just by looking at your face.” Chest heaving, you continue. Now that the confidence to speak has hit you, you can’t seem to stop. “I’ve known every day since you came here, Bucky. I know you don’t like me, but I don’t know why you seem so determined to rub it in my face.”

Ripping your wrist from his clutch, you rub away a fresh set of oncoming tears. Bucky blinks, wide-eyed, but composes himself quickly. “You think…” He almost laughs in disbelief. “You think I want to hurt you?” For a second, your stomach churns with guilt, but it dissipates before he speaks again. He is hurting you, whether he intends to or not. “I’m telling you this because I want to protect you.”

Voice trailing into a barely restrained yell, your chest bubbles with frustration, spreading like wildfire. Every word slices through the icy air with a hiss. “Protect me from what?”

Bucky shakes his head, brown waves of hair swaying with the motion. “You don’t know what you want,” he says, sternly. “You think you know how you feel, but you don’t. You… You don’t realize the things I’ve done -- what I’m capable of.”

A second of silence passes before the dam inside you breaks. The tears dry up, scorched away by the anger in your veins. “We all know, Bucky,” you retort, not missing the flash of hurt on his face. All you can think of is Steve, Tony, everyone who’s lost in the name of the man in front of you. They’ve worked tirelessly to push aside the past, putting their trust in the future, in the one who has caused them so much pain. “And we are the ones who have given you a second chance, despite it all. You’re the only one who can’t forgive yourself.”

His chest heaves, letting out a low breath as your words sink in. “You’re right,” he admits, lowly. “Which is why I can’t let you shoulder that burden.”

“Stop assuming you know what I can and can’t do,” you snap, lip curling into a snarl. “This has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact that you refuse to think anyone can see the good in you!”

“That’s because there isn’t any good in me!” Bucky yells, finally managing to startle you. He steps closer, chest puffed and jaw twitching. For a moment, you imagine this is how his victims must’ve felt in their final moments. “It’s the ugly truth and you’ve gotta face it. I can’t ever be what you want.”

At that moment, you realize it’s never been you that he’s disliked; only himself. The thought makes you spiral, and you immediately soften, voice hoarse and hushed. “You are what I want,” you tell him, hoping he understands. “Just as you are, Bucky. Why can’t you accept that?”

“You’re…” He shakes his head, strung so tight his body shakes. “You’re being unrealistic. I - I can’t see you with hope now when I know that there’s no future where I’m the person you’re imagining.” He’s entirely resigned to the fact, despite all you’re willing to give him, every possibility ahead.

You have to remind him of the light at the end of the tunnel. “What about all the work we’re doing? The therapy, the meds? Steve’s even making negotiations with Shuri… I… Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“What if it works?” Bucky questions and the thought makes you stop. “Are you going to follow me there? To Wakanda?” he asks, and it’s almost sad how quickly you come to a decision. For him, and the chance of something more, you’d leave it all behind.

“I would,” you admit, keeping your voice steady. “If there’s a chance - why… Why wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t you?”

Bucky doesn’t even consider it. “It doesn’t matter… It’s something I have to do alone.” He’s burrowing himself into a pit of isolation despite your pleas. Every time you hold your hand out to help, he’s just inches away, fingertips brushing yours. Just one reach and you can pull him to safety.

“I know I can’t heal you, Bucky - that’s not... That isn’t what I’m trying to do. I just… I want you to know I’d wait for you, every step of the way.”

He stops, thinking about his next choice of words. Somehow, you already know what he’s going to say. “What if…” His voice is hesitant, almost as if it pains him to speak. It’s going to hurt you even more. “What if I don’t want you there?”

Finally, it hits; the admission you’ve always been preparing yourself for. The excruciating buildup slams into you with a deafening crescendo. The letdown, the pure collapse, is unavoidable. Not a cell in your body can fight it. Any chance of convincing him is over -- completely and utterly so. It’s the sharpest ache you’ve felt in so long, but you can’t break in front of him - not any more than you already have. You can’t allow him the satisfaction he’s been waiting for since he demanded you look him in the eye; the fact that he is wholly, unequivocally, and painfully right.

“Okay,” you finally exhale, trembling but not looking away. “If you… That’s all you need to say. If that’s what you want.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen Bucky regretful, because the emotion held in his eyes is not something you recognize; downcast eyes, slumped shoulders. This is one instance where the guilt is entirely his own. “I care about what you want too, Bucky,” you tell him, unsure of how he could ever think differently with all you’ve given him. “Just because I feel a certain way… I-I’d never force you to feel the same.”

The balcony falls into silence, neither one of you having anything left to say. The last bit of warmth disappears as Bucky retreats to the doorway, gentle winds brushing his hair back for just a second; long enough for you to see a light gloss of tears coat his eyes. He blinks them back, features relaxing on instinct as he shifts into the perfect picture of numbness like he’s been trained to do. Any hint of emotion is washed away in one crawling, desperate wave.

He stops halfway through the threshold, one final consolation on his tongue. “It wouldn’t have been forced,” he admits, and, for a second, it’s like the dream you’ve always imagined; his soft eyes, the chance of him feeling the same. But the confession is for another life, a different version of yourself that you can’t quite imagine.

Bucky gives you a trace of a smile, and your frustration spills away as quickly as it came. All that remains is the longing for what could have been -- for what will never be. “Thank you,” you tell him, and this time you mean it. He leaves quietly, almost as if he’d never been here to begin with.

You’re left standing in the cold, nose burning, and fingers numb. The stars stare down from above, twinkling and all-knowing. You can’t help but wonder how many heartbreaks they’ve witnessed in all their years, finding yourself grateful for a finite lifetime of them. One streaks across the sky and you let a silent wish cling to the bright white tail, hoping and begging to never take its place in the universe. You’re not sure how many more broken hearts you can handle.

At the very least, not an eternity’s worth.

X. Strange (Instrumental)

The night on the roof slowly fades away, word by word, until you start to forget exactly what Bucky said, and in what tone. The emotions linger in a way akin to sickness; a tight chest, twisted stomach, clammy skin. At the very least, the physical reactions are easier to hide, covered by excuses like a sparring match gone wrong or spoiled leftovers.

To most, you seem entirely fine. No one knows about your conversation beneath the stars, though a few begin to suspect something happened after Bucky’s return. He’s calm. He’s participating. He sits at dinner with everyone else, passing you the salt when you ask and listening intently to your repetitive drones about training. Natasha and Wanda watch with wide eyes, not bothering to muffle the sounds of them smacking each other under the table every time you and Bucky so much as glance at each other.

You neither confirm nor deny their suspicions, partly so you can revel in their happiness. They deserve the relief of thinking your silly little crush is over, even if they do believe it ended in a more favorable conclusion.

Your fork has barely touched your finished plate when Steve picks it up for you, stacking it upon his own scraped dish; three servings packed away in his super soldier stomach. Dinner cleanup is usually his chore, but he’s prematurely eager about it tonight. Everyone is still sitting around the lounge and kitchen, forgotten bites dangling off their cutlery between conversations.

“I got it, doll.” He presses a gentle kiss against the top of your hair before heading to the sink and you don’t miss the curious glances sent in your direction; Tony, halfway through a bite of pasta, focuses his brown eyes on you like a laser.

You know exactly what Steve is doing. Steve knows you know. He’s been stuck to your side like glue for going on a week now, and you’re equally thankful and sick of it. His footsteps sync with yours on the way to the gym, the pool, and even your shared hallway. At night, you curl up into his blanket, which he lent you with a silent acknowledgment. It’s soft and easy to cry into, even if it doesn’t heal the painful cold that fills your body.

Faintly, you wonder if Bucky’s blanket does; if, when he dreams of the blood-stained snow, it warms his metal heart.

Your facade lasts another couple of days before it begins to crumble. Bucky is completely unaffected and, for once, you find yourself envious of him. It’s disgusting to admit, to tell yourself you’d rather feel his aching numbness than the deep pit of sorrow nestled in your stomach, but it’s true. Everyone else praises his change in attitude: That’s three nights in a row that Barnes has come to dinner. Isn’t that great? The words seem to echo in every room you enter and you want to scream, revealing to everyone that the only thing different in Bucky’s life is you. He’s finally rid himself of you, cut you from under his skin like nothing more than an obsessive parasite.

Thankfully, it’s easy to come up with an excuse. In your line of work, everyone gets burned out from time to time, retreating to different areas of the world. Clint goes home while Tony visits the beach. Bruce drops off the grid entirely.

“And you swear you’re alright?” Tony asks, again, watching as you pack an overnight bag. You know he’ll drop it eventually, begrudgingly respecting your privacy, but it’s obvious you’re not being entirely truthful about why you want to leave. If you want to admit it, now’s the time.

You stuff Steve’s blanket into your old duffle. “I’m sure, Tony. Just tired, you know?” He scoffs, nods, and gives you a slight smile -- in that order -- silently agreeing; I’m Iron Man, kid. I’ve been tired since 2008.

He finally relents, clapping his hands like he always does when filling an awkward silence. “Alright, well… I’ve got a driver downstairs for you. He’ll take you wherever you want to go -- which is where again?” You give him an unamused look and he huffs. “What?”

“None of your business,” you remind him, with a smile. “Thanks.”

He waves you off, suddenly humble, and goes to leave the room, actually making it halfway down the hall before his steps audibly reverse. Tony sticks his head back in your doorway with a hesitant look; an expression you’re not used to seeing. “If you want me to, uh, take care of Barnes while you’re gone…” He drags his index finger against his neck in a cartoonish gesture, his smile softening after your laughter quiets. “Just let me know.” His expression isn’t aggressive or vigilante, closer to what you assume is his attempt at fatherly protection. I’m here for you, he says silently.

You’re thankful he leaves before you have a chance to respond, unsure of what you’d even say. You’ve always known not to underestimate Tony, even with his questionable social skills, but another part of you knows you’ll never fully grasp him, and not just in the way you’ll never truly get anybody but yourself.

If everyone is a grain of sand, Tony is a speck of snow. No matter the weather, you will never understand a blizzard.

XI. Outer Space/Carry On; “And the rain, it came too soon, I will wait for you to love me again.”

The door to your apartment swings open with an old creak, wood bouncing off your jutted hip. It smells like dust and there’s a distinct humidity filling the rooms. Your complex is far from dingy, but you do have to smack the air conditioner a few times before it switches on; probably from a lack of use. When you do visit, the electricity and water are usually questionable for a day or so, but the landlord never questions your absence -- a perk of Tony’s bribing.

You drop your duffle on your bed, which, while unmade, is still relatively clean. Knicknacks flood the surrounding bookshelves and your socked feet rub against the old rug tucked under the slatted frame. It’s a far cry from your room at the facility, which is fitted for everyday use. It holds your most worn clothes, all of your life’s necessities. Your apartment is more complex, deeper memories lingering in the walls. It has all the things you couldn’t box up and take with you. There are pictures of old friends on the walls, their voices long forgotten, and belongings from your childhood slipped under your bed in undisturbed nostalgia. Bucky’s question from that night suddenly hits you in full force. If he had to go to Wakanda, could you leave here behind?

You don’t have an answer and soon his voice fades away too. For the first time in a while, you sleep well, only stirring awake once, at around five in the morning. The room is filled with that early blue filter and your sheets are extra cold, your body tingling in its barely awake state. The world is quiet, and you think only of the eyes that match the outside sky.; steel, with icy highlights, and the mist of unshed tears and almost rain.

The weekend morning greets you with dark clouds rolling overhead. Rain drizzles lazily as you walk to the nearest bodega, a couple of stray bills stuffed in your coat pocket. It’d be smarter and safer to order takeout, but you crave the normalcy of buying groceries and cooking dinner, especially now that you’re alone.

The shop is relaxed. Radio music and news announcements overlap in dull robotic voices, patrons harmonizing as they talk amongst themselves; arguing over deli prices and which cheap wine to pair with dinner that night. No one looks at or speaks to you, and you feel invisible, which is somehow a relief. Again, you think of Bucky. He has so often tried to fade away -- usually bringing more attention to himself -- but you finally get it. The ignorance of the customers is your much-awaited bliss.

It seems, you realize, you’re understanding Bucky more every day.

You follow the speckled tile floors to the cashier, who gives you little more than a glance. Her glazed eyes focus on the box television behind the register, hands blindly scanning your items out of instinct. She mutters your total with a heave of nicotine breath, but you barely notice. You wish she understood how much her disinterest means to you.

The plastic straps of the grocery bags dig into your wrists the entire walk home, but you’re just happy to be free.

The storm reaches its full, beautiful, raging glory by the time you get back to your apartment. Lightning strikes, illuminating the living room with flashes, followed seconds later by heavy rumbling. The windows streak with tear-like drops, each one chasing the other to the bottom of the pane, and you feel like a child again, betting on which one will win the race.

Thunder shakes your apartment lightly, and the droplet you watched connects to the one beside it, gravity pulling them both into a long splotch. On the coffee table, your phone blinks awake, unread texts rolling in one after the other. The messages are all similar declarations of missing you, but each one makes you smile, even if you’re a bit surprised no one’s noticed your absence until now. Then again, you’ve been guilty of the same, even with Bucky; not realizing he’s disappeared all day until everyone gathers for dinner. You’re used to sharing confused glances with Steve across the lounge or in the kitchen, two pairs of hands deep in the soapy warm water filling the sink. You did the same thing right after Bucky moved in, cowering and suspicious like a stray dog.

“Is he going to be ok?” you’d naively asked Steve, scrubbing away the soup-dried bowls from dinner.

He had simply smiled, the back of his hand meeting yours beneath the water. “I think so.”

At that moment, you’d dedicated yourself to the cause; to saving Bucky Barnes -- if not for himself, then for Steve. In your eyes, there were two lives lost, two souls who’d gone through Hell and back just to reconnect in an equally cruel and gracious act of destiny. They both deserved a second chance, especially considering they never got a first.

“I can help if you two ever need anything,” you offered, brimming with confidence. Steve nodded, and the conversation inevitably trailed off to some other topic. Bucky was just a casual discussion, one with too many questions and too few answers. You’d both gravely underestimated his recovery, a process that everyone else knew would be difficult. If anyone were to expect miracles in Bucky’s name, it was bound to be Steve and you.

You’d always felt like you’d known Bucky before he came home. The minute Steve found out he was still alive, you’d been the one he confided in, sharing his stories. The countless memories spilled from his lips with intricate details, coming to life before your eyes. He spoke and you could taste the cotton candy of Coney Island, see the wonders of the 1943 Stark Expo, and even smell the bloody battered war.

A part of you was aware Bucky wouldn’t be the same, and Steve had always been prepared for some version of that reality. When he was younger, though, his earlier doubts revolved around war-related PTSD or combat stress reaction, as he called it. Bucky had gone through much worse -- seventy years of torture and an unending abyss of pain.

He didn’t walk into the facility with a suave wink or smooth-as-butter Brooklyn tone. You weren’t disappointed, even as pre-war Bucky dissolved right before your eyes, leaving a hardened man in his place. You just convinced yourself this was like Steve. He was no longer a sick, scrawny boy, right? But Steve was the same, in many ways. His mannerisms and language were stuck in another century, and when he laughed, the insecure sound of a young kid squeaked out. He’d been Captain America for so long, but still hit his head on short doorframes and bought clothes a few sizes too small, always remaining shocked when they didn’t fit.

Bucky was not the same. He didn’t flirt or dance. He didn’t laugh, joke, drink, or brawl, and you failed to imagine how this was the same man that tried talking the red dress off of a young Peggy Carter. Finally, it had hit you that Bucky’s early life was long gone and no years of healing would bring it back.

Even now, curled up on your couch, you can’t fool yourself into thinking he could ever truly be fixed. There would always be more levels of healing to endure, more coping mechanisms to learn, further ways to grow. Sometimes, he didn’t seem driven to take any steps toward bettering himself, content with his internal and external scars being all he had to show for his trauma. He was determined though -- had made it all of these years somehow. Even if his stubbornness worked against him, it had to count for something.

You’re about to let yourself wallow over him once more when a thump echoes loudly through your apartment, rattling the walls with its intensity. You will yourself off the couch, leaving behind a half-eaten bowl of pasta, and glance out the back window, seeing nothing but sleet-streaked streets. It takes an admittedly long time to realize someone’s knocking at your door, but you don’t need to look at the clock to know it’s way too late for visitors. Some animalistic instinct warns you to be cautious, but you have little confidence in whatever criminal has decided to pay you a visit in the pouring rain.

You unlock the door with a sigh and swing it open, cold air chilling the tip of your nose instantly.

“Bucky?”

The immediate sight of him evokes a nauseating sense of deja vu; hair slick against his forehead, lips nearing a shade of purple. When he awkwardly shifts his weight, you hear the telltale squeak of his wet boots and it lets you know he’s nervous since you wouldn’t hear him otherwise.

He exhales in obvious relief. “You’re still here.”

You’re thankful the overhang blocks the rain from reaching him since you don’t feel too inclined to welcome him in. “Why wouldn’t I be?” you ask, but barely listen for his answer as you take in his exhausted expression. His chest is heaving, and you glance out to the road expecting to see his motorcycle in the distance, but the street is bare.

“I thought…” He must think better of whatever assumption he’s brewing since he quickly shakes his head. You flinch at the cold water that speckles your skin. “It doesn’t matter. I need to talk to you.”

He must be stupid to not realize he’s the reason you left. You need to be away from him and inviting him inside your otherwise isolated apartment is far from the best idea. “What is it?” you ask, not budging. “Is everyone okay?”

It’s clear he’s expecting a different answer, though you can’t entirely blame him. If he’d shown up any day prior to now, you’d be laying out a red carpet. Instead, his features melt into confusion, and it’s one of the few expressions you’re still not used to seeing; his brows soft, lips plump with a heavy sigh. “You had that date tonight,” he answers, and you’re too distracted by his mouth for the words to register.

When they do, you’re confused. “Wh-”

“I was gonna stop you from going.”

The rest of your question catches in your throat, words lodged in your airpipe. The night of the party fills your head and you breathe in the smell of alcohol and heartbreak. “Tom?” you ask, racking your brain for his name. The single utterance results in a sour expression from Bucky, one that you mirror quickly. “Jesus, Bucky. Did you really think I’d go out with that douche?”

He goes to speak, but you cut him off, irritated. “Even if I did, how the fuck does that have anything to do with you showing up here? Christ, did you walk here? You’re soaked.”

“Ran, actually,” Bucky corrects, and your heart skips a beat. “Can I come in?”

The sane and logical answer would be to slam the door in his face, so you open it wider and step aside. You have to know why he ran in the middle of a storm to check on you, even if a hopeful inkling deep in your heart has already come up with a reason. You probably just worried Steve by running off, but your curiosity gets the best of you. “Alright…”

The second Bucky steps inside, your carpets are soaked with dark boot marks. “Fuck,” you curse, cringing at the sight. “Let me get a towel.” You can’t stand to be next to him for another second anyway, so you race down the hall before he can argue. When you catch a glance of yourself in the bathroom mirror, your nerves are more than visible; your skin losing color by the second, eyes strained with overthinking.

It’s easy to start coddling him once you return, patting away the water on his face before sandwiching his hair between the folded towel and squeezing the strands dry. “I know you do a lot of stupid shit, but running through New York City during a storm has to be one of your worst ideas yet,” you scold, but your touch is gentle and, for once, he allows it. “And I know you hate cellphones but could you really not call? Or get a taxi, at least?”

You know you’re rambling, but you’re keenly aware that if you don’t talk, neither of you will, and that silence will make you spiral. Chest pounding, you start to talk again, before realizing Bucky is gripping your wrist, pulling you from him softly. “Doll,” he murmurs, and this time you’re too nervous to correct him. “It’s okay.” With a slight tug, you yank yourself from his grasp, shaky fingers digging into the wet towel. You use the last dry corner to pat his damp palms, ignoring how large and rough his hands are against yours.

“I told you to stop doing this,” Bucky reminds you softly but doesn’t interfere. “You’re always trying to fix people… patch them up. You gotta take care of yourself, too.” Still, he lets you finish his other hand before he steps back, and you glance at him.

“No offense, Buck, but me coming here -- alone -- was kind of my attempt at that,” you tell him, frowning.

“I… I know, I’m sorry-”

“Bucky.” You’re not sure you can take another second. “What are you really doing here?”

He inhales sharply, and when he begins, you can immediately tell he’s not going to answer your question right away. Knowing he’s a man of very few words, you latch onto the way he seems to be opening up. “Every day, it’s like…” He shakes his head, trembling. “I don’t know who I am or if any of this is even real. It feels like every day is my last and everything is catching up to me all at once. I didn’t want you to be stuck in that, too.”

Bucky glances at you and his eyes soften; white ice cracking to reveal soft blue water underneath. When he reaches for your hand again, you’re in too much shock to deny him, even when he’s squeezing so tightly it hurts. He’s not just scared you’ll be taken from him, he’s scared you’ll willingly leave.

“You deserve better than that, doll.” His voice cracks around the nickname this time and you can hardly believe what’s happening. “I… I won’t ever be able to give you what you deserve.” Your fingernails leave crescents in his palm, and you’re not sure if you’re trying to hold him closer or scare him away. “I just can’t go another day without you gone,” he finally admits, and you gasp.

“Bucky… I don’t-”

He inches closer, face flush with insecurity. “I know. I fucked up -- I fucked up so bad. I don’t blame you if you don’t want this… If you don’t want me, I understand. I just -- you deserve to know how I really feel. I can give you that much, at least.” His grip finally loosens, and you realize he’s shaking, but not from nerves.

Your lips part, and his eyes glimmer with hope. “You’re freezing,” you finally say, and he visibly deflates. “You need to -- um, just sit down for a second.”

“...I’m fine.”

“Please? For me?” The second his chin tilts in a hesitant nod, you’re stalking off toward the bathroom with him in tow. You throw the dirtied towel in the hamper and rustle through the cupboard for a few more. Your bathroom is small, and when Bucky squeezes in behind you, his damp chest presses against your back for a second too long.

When you turn to face him, your noses practically touch. “T-these should be enough,” you stutter, clearing your throat and handing him the fresh towels. “You can hang your clothes up on the towel rod,” you tell him, inching back. He raises a brow and you quickly answer his silent question. “I have some spare stuff you can wear, I think.” And, before he can ask anything else, you push past him, shutting the door behind you.

You have mere seconds to contain yourself, so you rush to your room, mind racing. As you search through your spare drawer, a million questions run through your head. Is Bucky saying he wants to be with you? Does he even know that’s what he’s saying? Is he here on his own accord, or did Steve and Tony send him to ease your heartbreak and lure you home?

You can hear him rustling through the wall and you blindly grab at the only t-shirt and sweats you think could fit; extras left behind by one of the other guys. Hopefully, they’ll work long enough for you to dry Bucky’s clothes and kick him out. He can’t just decide he’s ready, especially not after how he turned you down. You’ll do the polite thing and let him stay until the storm ends, but then he needs to leave.

The bathroom door creaks open the second you step in front of it, Bucky peering out with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Just like the last time he was shirtless in front of you, you will your eyes to stay above his neck. Still, you can’t ignore the fact that now he’s allowing himself to be in this state with you, completely vulnerable.

“I found these,” you squeak, handing the carefully folded clothes to him.

He doesn’t take them. “Whose are these?” Silent envy drips from his tongue and you shiver at the thought of it; Bucky being possessive of you, yearning to fill the small drawer in your wardrobe. Swallowing heavily, you rustle the shirt to see the tag.

“Steve, probably? Maybe Clint…” You spot the letters and shake your head. “No, it’s an extra large. But the sweats are definitely Clint’s. Steve never wears them.” Bucky listens amusedly to your rambling, and you quickly clamp your mouth shut. You practically shove the clothes into his hands, stumbling backward. “I’ll just be in the living room.” The door doesn’t click shut until you’re out of view.

It’s hard not to collapse on the couch the second you reach it, overwhelmed with a sense of relief of a wall separating you two. Try as you might, you still can’t comprehend what’s currently happening. As much as you want to kick Bucky out and never see him again, pure delight has started clawing at the inside of your chest, eager to be let out. If he confesses to you once more, you don’t think you’ll be able to turn him down.

When Bucky emerges from the bathroom, your heart pangs at the sight of him. He sinks into the chair across from you with an air of domesticity, like he’s always meant to be here. It’s like you bought that chair with him in mind because it fits him perfectly, and he fills it just the right amount.

“You look better already,” you comment, with a shy smile.

He huffs out a disbelieving laugh, glancing up at you from between falling strands of hair, and he’s never seemed more beautiful than in this moment. “I feel better,” he admits. “I’m not a big fan of-”

“The cold,” you finish for him. He blinks in disbelief and you sputter out an excuse. “Sorry. Steve told me.” Then, deciding against putting all of the blame on the one who’s kept you sane this whole time, you continue. “I mean, I’d already kind of guessed so because of that night in the kitchen. He told me later.”

“I don’t remember much from that night,” Bucky confesses, sheepishly; not embarrassed, ashamed.

You’re not sure if it will make him feel any better, but you agree: “I don’t either, actually.” Surprisingly, you mean it. A few days ago you could’ve recalled every small detail from that memory. Now it’s just a dream inside a dream or a blurry image, abroad a ship, stuffed deep in the bottleneck of your glass brain.

Bucky showed up on your doorstep and it’s like he’s never left.

It’s a slightly unconscious action, but when you shift to make more space on the couch, Bucky takes the silent invitation. His gait is wide, a few silent steps until he’s lowering himself beside you. The line between cushions acts as a border. Even next to you, he’s like an opposing magnet, slowly inching further and further away. He’s toeing over the edge of a cliff, waiting for you to let him fall or tug him back into your desperate arms.

“Bucky-”

“Can I touch you?” His words overlap yours, which isn’t hard considering you’re choking on a whisper, and he’s finally letting the depths of his soul speak without reservation. There’s no context for his question, no way for you to decipher what he’s insinuating. You don’t care. You decide to step off the ledge with him.

“Yes.”

His fingers are grazing your chin, calloused tips warm and rough and gentle. Your pulse thrums against the thin skin of your throat, a lump of emotion gathered in a swallow you can’t force down because Bucky is staring, seeing you for the first time. You don’t blink, and neither does he, blue eyes dew with the first rainfall of spring. You watch winter melt away beneath his fluttering lashes.

“You are so soft,” he murmurs, and you know he doesn’t mean just physically, even when his palms are like sandpaper against your jaw. His grit flattens the rest of your apprehension, and your hands find the sharp angle of his scruff-peppered chin. When your thumb strokes the indentation below his lips, his mouth parts just barely, enough for you to feel the shaky hot exhale he sighs in silent relief.

When he begins to lean in, you don’t budge; not until he’s a hair width away and you feel the tips of his fingers shaking, one hand ice cold, the other burning hot. Then, you close the gap, hungry for the taste of his bleeding heart. The kiss is desperate in its own way, lustful for vulnerability and the satisfaction of finally.

Bucky is the one to press harder, nose harshly digging into your own as his face tilts to fit into the curves of your features like a missing puzzle piece; knocked haphazardly onto the floor when the box is first opened. You can feel his hair, still damp, against your forehead. His metal arm clicks into place, fingers adjusting their grip, and an unfamiliar sensation shoots up your spine. Fear.

He’s never been so close. His hand could easily wrap around your throat and take you out, without him even sparing a second glance. A moment of desperation and your lack of resistance would be all he needed. One kiss is all it would take.

Instead, he pulls away, though not without leaving one last sweet peck on your pursed lips. When your eyes flutter open, he’s blinking in the sight of you with a genuine smile painted on his face; tongue quickly darting between his teeth and catching the last taste of you on his mouth. He lets out a disbelieving laugh, a stifled chuckle that’s just enough to have you joining him, until your cheeks burn from grinning.

“Did -- was that okay?” Bucky asks, lines around his lips deepening. “I thought you were gonna pull away for a moment there.”

“No!” you answer quickly, feeling your skin flush at the admission. “It was… nice. Very nice.” He’s clearly enjoying the way you stumble over your words, especially when he strokes your cheek to further fluster you. “G-great, really.”

“Great,” he echoes. “I haven’t kissed anyone since 1945.”

You can’t help but laugh at his secret. He’s kissing you and only worried he wasn’t good enough. Bucky, the playboy, Barnes, is worried some seventy years of inexperience could stop him from stealing your breath with a single touch. Thankfully, he knows your reaction isn’t out of dismissal or jest, and soon his face is red with cheerful exertion.

“Can I ask you something?” He questions, quieting down but not losing any of his warmth. “Will you come back? To the facility, I mean.”

“No,” you start, watching his face fall before you can finish. “But only because I bought enough groceries to last me the whole weekend and I don’t want them to go to waste. But you can stay with me if you want.” His eyes are wide, brows raised. “My place is big enough and I think I have more of Steve’s clothes lying around…”

“You’d…” He swallows the lump growing in his throat. “You’d actually be okay with that?”

You let out a soft sigh. “Of course.” You force yourself not to backtrack or shy away. Not now. “We could rent some movies? It’ll probably storm the next couple of days so there’s really no point in heading out. Unless you want to?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No. I don’t… I’d want to stay in if I stay. I want to stay. Can I?”

“Yes.” You grab his hand in yours and squeeze. “Yes, Bucky. Stay with me.”

The air settles but you see an unanswered question lingering on his mind. You’re about to press, but then he’s asking, shyly: “Will you let me kiss you again?”

It’s such an easy question, so effortless, and yet it holds the weight of months spent alone. You wonder if he has suffered the same aching coldness as you, desperate for someone else’s warmth. You want to tell him he can kiss you forever, until forever, after forever. “You can kiss me whenever,” are the words you finally settle on, and it’s clear they appease him.

“I’ll take the couch, tonight,” Bucky says a moment later. A small relief, since it’s too soon for anything like that. Personal space is something you’ll need to work on. Not tonight.

But you’re still curious: “What if you have a nightmare?”

He huffs, albeit with the ghost of a smile. “If you don’t hear me, I’ll wake you up.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Later, after so many bowls of pasta you realize you’ll have to order takeout eventually, Bucky sinks into the couch; toes pressed against the arm, a thick blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. You excuse yourself for a moment to go turn on the heater, setting it a few degrees higher than usual so he doesn’t get cold. Your phone beeps softly from the pocket of your pajama pants. It’s Steve.

“I told you he’d notice.”

When you hear the tell-tale sigh of a snore, and realize Bucky has drifted off, lights still on and arm dropped off the side of the couch, you have to smile.

“Took him long enough.”

---

bucky tag list: @queens-rose-garden @eunoia-kth @zhangyixingxing1 @augustvandyne @fairydxll @justreadingficsdontmindme @interwebseriesfan24

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel oneshot #marvel imagine #marvel angst #marvel fluff #t: writing

398 notes · View notes