#vue x

[n1xxi3]

TW!!!! ALCHOHOL ABUSE and PTSD

Saracen got home and immediately knew something was wrong Dexter was sat on the sofa with the TV on with unseeing eyes. It didn't look like he had heard or seen him walk through the door yet alone come to greet him like he normally did. He had no idea know what to expect had his PTSD gotten worse had he relapsed into drinking his bad memories away.

"Hey Dex you okay?"

There was no response this was bad very bad he always replied no matter how bad things got. Saracen walked closer to to his boyfriend and sat down next to him and hugged him. In response Dexter rested his head on Saracen's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry" Dexter croaked out.

"Hey it's okay. What happend?"

"It happened again" Dexter pointed to the empty green bottle beside him.

"It's okay." He soothed his boyfriend.

"No it's not you deserve someone who can stop drinking. Who can stay sober. Who can love you with every inch of their being. I can't do that when I'm not in my right mind."

"You can stay sober. I know you can. This was just a slip up. I mean look how long you've stayed sober for so far!"

"6 weeks isn't enough"

"It's enough for now"

That's when Dexter broke down. Saracen was their for it all soothing him, reassuring him, helping him into bed when he finally fell asleep. It was over for today. But there was definitely more struggles coming.

[babysdrivers]

if my local cinema doesn't show the blur documentary i think i'm just gonna move house this is my final straw

[jackbatchelor3]

Back from the cinema.

🚗🏍️

[starsinthesky5]

you are in love: l'amour de ma vie || joe burrow x reader

description: a little bridge between the last part of YAIL into part 5 which will be coming soon! little moments from the france trip and some stuff from home 🖤

universe: you are in love (click for parts 1-4 of the series)

a/n: been in my drafts since June of 2024. and here she is :) would love some feedback and if you’d like to see more of this for this series!

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyb1989 @joeyburrrow @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @majestic87 @grittysbiggestfan @definitelynotdomanique

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📍cannes, france

liked by: joeyb_9, lahjay10_, killatrav, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, and others

tagged: joeyb_9

y/n_y/ln: ocean blue eyes, looking in mine

comments:

joeyb_9: la plus belle fille que j'ai jamais vue

——— y/n_y/ln: tu me rends le plus heureux 😙😙

——— fan14: he said she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid his eyes on. shut the fuck up oh my god

——— fan938: did she just say he makes her the happiest? oh pack it up fellas it's wraps

fan6: i can’t believe we’re back to her casually posting my relationship era. thank you joe burrow for your services 🫡

fan1348: i don’t even know who’s winning in this relationship like they’re both HOT as fuck

y/bsf: 🛥️ the ship has sailed folks

fan_71: the heart on his back? god when is it my turn

fan273: they’re so cute 🥲

fan28288: that caption feels oddly like song lyrics y/n 😟

fan1717: i am so happy for her 🥺 she deserves this after all these years

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📍cannes, france

liked by: y/n_y/ln, lahjay_10, jjetas2, killatrav, y/bsf_21, and others

tagged: y/n_y/ln

joeyb_9: photo dump?

comments:

y/n_y/ln: he’s learninggg 🤞

——— joeyb_9: creds to the best 🧎‍♂️

y/n_y/ln: wear that alo two piece more often. damn 🤤

——— joeyb_9: yes ma’am 🫡

—————— lahjay_10: aye 🤨

fan226: y/n has joe doing photo dumps now? are we in heaven?

fan9191: everytime they pop up on my feed my jaw drops because I still can’t believe it’s true

fan8877: he brought her with him to the events 🥺

fan5874: atta boy joe! winning on and off the field like a true king

fan2727: that last photo of her...hello. HELLO

lahjay_10: i was in baton rouge for 5 seconds and shiesty went hollywood? damn

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📍french riviera

liked by: enews, bengalslover47, y/ncollective, ybsf_21, wasitover_10, and others

tagged: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9

gridback_news: love is officially in bloom under the french riviera sun! 🌹✨ multi-platinum and grammy award winning artist, y/n and superstar NFL quarterback of the cincinnati bengals, joe burrow were spotted on an intimate stroll through the charming streets of cannes, looking completely smitten with one another. from soft smiles to stolen glances, the chemistry between these two is undeniable. after months of speculation, their outings in france seem to confirm what fans have been buzzing about: romance is in full swing and the fans are here for it! could this be the new power couple we’ve been waiting for? 🖤

#cannesinlove #yxj #couplegoals #romanceinfrance

comments:

bengalslover47: the king of cincy has finally found his queen everyone. may she bring us good luck and make joe the happiest he's ever been. amen

y/ncollective: ARM PLACEMENTS? and she looks so small next to him 💗

y/nfan0: oh joey b you are so loved by us.

fan8: qb1 scoring touchdowns on and off the field. y’all are the ultimate power couple

fan38: can we talk about how joe went from breaking defenses to breaking hearts? he just bagged the woman of the CENTURY

——— fan.18: every man and woman in america just fell to their knees

fan9_: oooooof her new album is going to HIT

——— fan!6: new album? did i miss something

—————— fan9_: grammy's coming up...she always goes out with a bang then 👀 just connecting some dots

rulethejungle5: and they said i was crazy when i said i heard some things around town about these two

xoxogossipgirllover: i need to get the scoop on these two! damn 😍🔥

fan3893_0: INJECT IT INTO MY VIENS MY WORLDS ARE COLLIDING

fan84: anyone notice y/n's best friend liked the post? tea ☕️

fan82828: oh the album is coming everyone. it’s coming soon. WE MADE IT

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📍paris, france

liked by: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9, usweekly, bengalslover47, y/ncollective, ybsf_21, wasitover_10, and others

tagged: y/n_y/ln, joeyb_9

gridback_news: spotted: y/n and joe burrow turning heads in paris, strolling hand in hand and serving effortlessly chic looks 👀✨ with fashion week just around the corner, fans are buzzing about whether this stylish duo might make an appearance. whatever the occasion, one thing’s for sure—they’re absolutely owning the parisian streets!

an exclusive source has confirmed their relationship, revealing that joe and y/n are very happy together and share a connection built on trust, understanding, and mutual respect. their relationship has been growing behind the scenes for much longer than anyone realized, and their bond is stronger than ever. y/n has fully embraced life in cincinnati, and together they’ve created a solid foundation that balances their busy lives with a love that feels effortless. right now, they’re focused on enjoying each other and making memories—and it’s safe to say, happiness looks good on them. 💕

#parislove #yxj #styleandgrace #fashionweekvibes

comments:

fan9493: FIRST PAP WALK? IN PARISSS? oh we are so back y/n nation. that girl is in LOVE

y/ncollective: they look phenomenal

y/nfan0: manifesting a fashion week appearance

fan02: peep both their likes on this post...

fan-19: wonder if their gonna go to vouge world?

——— gridback_news: 👀👀

fan521_: this photo would do numbers on wattpad a few years ago

fan91: she seems so much happier and comfortable with joe. that’s how you know she’s thriving again. just look at them

fan18_brq: embraced life in cincy? and that’s a big fuck you to her ex! wack him again for me HAHAH

xoxogossipgirllover: i heard that they'll be at YSL's show tomorrow...watch this space

fan0101: wait…how long have they actually been together because-

fan3939: i need football season to come faster. need her in the stands this year!!! she has such great style

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📍paris, france

liked by: joeyb_9, lahjay10_, jjetas2, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, gracieabrams, ysl, sabrinacarpenter, and others

tagged: joeyb_9

y/n_y/ln: thank you for an amazing night @ ysl 🖤

comments:

y/bsf_21: god damn you look amazing

——— y/n_y/n: i love you 💞

joeyb_9: starry skies 🌌

——— y/n_y/ln: ...starry eyes?

—————— joeyb_9: ....darkest nights?

———————————— fan3010: what are they talking about 🤨

lahjay10_: lookin fly mademoiselle

——— y/n_y/ln: feelin fly uno 😴

fan9393: oh they absolutely ate this up. 10/10 no notes

ysl: thank you both for joining us!

joeyb_9: beautiful as always

——— y/n_y/ln: lover 💘

bengals: 👑 🐅

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📍vogue world

liked by: tmz, y/ncollective, rulethejungle, bengalsfan4949, enews, and 1.5 million others

tagged: y/n_y/ln

gridback_news: breaking alert 🚨: y/n spotted looking absolutely stunning at the vogue world fashion show, where rumors are swirling that her boyfriend, joe burrow, is set to make his runway debut alongside friend and fellow nfl star, justin jefferson 🏈✨ sources say y/n is here to cheer joe on as he steps into the world of high fashion for the first time, sharing in what’s sure to be a monumental moment for him. from the field to the runway, this power couple is proving they’re unstoppable 🔥

#vogueworld #joeburrow #yxj #fashionmeetsfootball

comments: have been limited under this post

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📍pfw

liked by: y/n_y/ln, jjetas2, lahjay10_, bengals, y_bsf21, samhubbard, vouge, killatrav, and 5.6 million others

tagged: vouge, y/n_y/ln

joeyb_9: with @ vougemagazine doing some new things :)

comments:

y/n_y/ln: i am so so so proud of you joey ❤️

——— joeyb_9: my biggest cheerleader. ilyttmats

—————— fan383: did he...did he just quote "seven"? OH MY GOD HE QUOTED SEVEN

—————— fan29: im going to be sick this is so 🥲

jjetas2: shiesty in all black

samhubbard: nice 😎

fan302: peak couple behavior is the matching loubitans. we're witnessing the couple of the decade y'all. buckle up

y/n_y/ln: put the back away joseph lee there's people around 😦

——— joeyb_9: why don't you come help me out then ;)

—————— y_bsf21: guys...there's people watching

————————— y/n_y/ln: oopsies 🙊

bengals: alright joe! 🐅

killatrav: 🔥

vouge: a natural star 🌟

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📍fashion week

liked by: joeyb_9, lahjay10_, y/ncollective, rulethejungle, bengalsfan11, y/bsf_21, taylorswift, and others

tagged: joeyb_9

y/n_y/ln: come here dressed in black now

comments:

joeyb_9: bestest week with l'amour de ma vie

——— y/n_y/ln: ��

—————— y/ncollective: joe please keep her this happy im not okay :(

——— fan39: LOVE OF HIS LIFE!! HE SAID LOVE OF HIS LIFE

—————— fan30303: WHAT

taylorswift: love it!!!! you both killed it :)

——— y/n_y/ln: 💗

fan3003: love seeing them happy together! they both deserve this

fan1991: has anyone noticed the black theme/aesthetic she has going on? her last few posts have been…dark

——— fan181.y/n_: wait a second. you’re onto something??

fan111: give me that album now rachel. GIVE IT TO ME.

loverofy/n: girl we need new music. like NOW

fan9339-_: already the most iconic couple we've seen in years.

lahjay10_: y'all killin it 🙂‍↕️

——— y/n_y/ln: we miss youuuu

——— joeyb_9: dinner at our place when we get back?

vouge: a beauty ✨

fan2882: how much y’all wanna bet that her caption is song lyrics

y_bsf21: STUNNER? HOT? JOE MOVE OVER

——— y/n_y/ln: im in tears joe's giving me a frowny face because he feels threatened

—————— y_bsf_21: good.

——— joeyb_9: I will NOT be moving over ma'am

enews: setting the streets of paris on fire as well as all our hearts 💕🥰

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joeyb_9 via Instagram Stories

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y/n_y/ln via Instagram Stories

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--The End--

stay tuned for you are in love V

[u6is]

"wish you were here right now"

summary: at a lively yacht party celebrating his team's league win, Kylian ignores the chaos around him, staying on his phone with you��and the conversation quickly takes a steamy turn.

—kylian mbappé x reader: smut (PWP)

"The team are having this yacht trip to celebrate our win." Kylian said, his voice crackling over the phone line, "Would you like to join me?"

But you couldn’t. You had already promised your mom that you’d go on the family trip that had been planned beforehand.

"I'm sorry," you replied, trying to mask the disappointment, "I wish I could be there with you."

The line was silent for a moment before Kylian spoke up, his voice a mix of understanding and a hint of sadness, "It's alright, babe. I get it. You can't miss out on family time. I'll just have to party extra hard for the both of us." He laughed, attempting to lighten the mood.

You knew his teammates—or as he calls them, his "friends"—were probably lining up a night full of partying with female escorts in tow. Still, you trusted your boyfriend wholeheartedly. “Have fun, okay? Congrats again on the win. I’ll see you in a few days,” you said softly over the phone.

The family trip was nice. The sunsets were beautiful, and your mom’s cooking was always a delight.

But Kylian’s texts kept coming in. He sent pictures of the vast ocean and the lavish yacht. He talked about the fancy dinners and the wild parties, he said it wasn’t the same without you.

“Fireworks are set for tonight,” Kylian texted, attaching a shirtless photo of himself, clearly meant to tease you.

You couldn’t help but smile, imagining his playful grin and the way his eyes would light up when he knew he’d won you over.

You quickly typed back, “Sounds exciting.” But as you stared at the photo, you couldn't shake the feeling that Kylian was teasing you on purpose, his abs almost taunting you from the distance between you two.

The thought of him surrounded by those gorgeous women didn’t sit well with you, but you had promised yourself not to be that girlfriend.

“Send me a selfie?” Kylian texted, interrupting your thoughts.

You took a deep breath and stepped outside the balcony of your private hotel room, the cool sea breeze kissing your skin. You quickly snapped a selfie, standing in the sunlight. Your sundress, the one that hugged your body perfectly, flowed gently with the breeze, accentuating your curves. With a playful grin, you tilted your head just enough to catch the light, sending the photo with a casual, natural air, teasing him without even trying.

Kylian’s reply was quick, and you could almost hear the smirk in his words:

"Tu es la plus belle femme que j’aie jamais vue." (You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.)

"That dress is doing more than just looking good on you." His tone was cocky, playful, and definitely hinted at more than just teasing.

You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks. It was all fun and games until his next message popped up: "I would take that dress off you in the blink of an eye."

As the night went on, the party was in full swing, with his teammates living it up and the escorts they brought along.

Achraf, one of Kylian's best friends and teammates, noticed Kylian hadn’t put his phone down all night. Standing up from the couch with a girl by his side, he walked over to where Kylian was still smiling at his screen.

Achraf gently grabbed Kylian’s phone, and Kylian looked up with a raised eyebrow. "What's up, Hakimi?"

"You’ve been on that thing all night," Achraf said, laughing. "You’re missing all the fun."

"I’m having fun," Kylian replied, still smiling.

"Yeah, fun with your phone," Achraf teased, tossing the phone back to Kylian. "I’ll grab you a drink, but seriously, put the phone down. You’re no fun to the girls."

Kylian just smirked, getting up and following Achraf. As they walked, he quickly typed out a message to you: "I’ll talk to you later, babe."

Kylian wasn’t really a big drinker, but tonight he’d indulge for the celebration. Still, his mind kept drifting back to you in that sundress. He’d saved the photo and found himself glancing at it over and over. There was something about the way you looked in that dress that had his thoughts spinning, intoxicated, not by the alcohol in his hand, but by the image of you.

A few minutes later, with the alcohol starting to take its effect, Kylian found himself reaching for his phone once more. His fingers typed out a message before he could stop himself.

"Can’t stop thinking about you in that dress," he texted, his words slow and a bit more daring than usual.

He stared at the screen for a moment, then added, "Maybe I should come see you sooner than planned."

"You haven’t seen me in my bikinis yet," you replied, adding a pleading face emoji, hoping to make it seem like an innocent tease.

As you hit send, a rush of excitement coursed through you. There was something thrilling about flirting with him like this, especially knowing that despite the many people on the yacht, including all the stunning women around, his attention was completely fixed on you.

Kylian’s reply was teasing and direct: "You’re driving me wild just thinking about it. Don't make me wait."

With a nervous giggle, you stepped into the bathroom, the cool marble floor beneath your feet. You untied the strings of your sundress, letting it drop to the floor. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your heart racing. The bikini was new, a surprise you had packed for when you’d finally get some time alone on the beach. The neon blue of the top contrasted with your tanned skin, and the bottoms hugged your hips perfectly.

You took a deep breath and held your phone up, angling it just right to capture the reflection in the mirror. The camera clicked, and you studied the image for a moment. You looked amazing. You bit your lip, feeling a mix of excitement and naughtiness.

Achraf was talking to him when Kylian’s phone buzzed with a notification. He smirked as he looked at the screen, feeling a surge of heat rush through him. The picture you sent him had definitely stirred something inside, an arousing thrill coursing through him.

Achraf glanced at Kylian, who was smirking with his head down, absorbed in his phone. "You're no fun, Kyks," his teammate remarked, but Kylian didn't hear him, lost in his own thoughts.

He glanced at the picture again, his eyes lingering on your reflection in the mirror. The neon blue bikini was a bold choice and it had definitely paid off. The way the bottoms hugged your hips, it was a sight that made his heart race.

You watched the screen, your heart pounding in your chest, as you waited for Kylian's response. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a thrill of excitement that made your skin tingle. The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity.

Then, his message appeared. "You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now." It was raw, unfiltered, and incredibly arousing. The words sent a jolt through your body, and you felt your cheeks flush. You couldn't believe he'd said something so explicit, but the desire in his message was undeniable.

You took a step closer to the mirror, the cool air of the cabin brushing against your skin. Your eyes traced the curves captured by the bikini, and you felt your body respond to his words, a warm ache building between your legs.

Kylian's gaze was glued to his phone, his heart racing as he stared at the picture. His shorts began to tent as an erection grew, the fabric straining against his hardened cock. He shifted uncomfortably, the pressure increasing with each passing moment.

Amidst the laughter and chatter of his teammates, he couldn't ignore the ache in his pants. It was like a silent symphony playing only for him, a sweet torture that grew with every glance at your bikini-clad reflection.

Kylian excused himself, "I'll catch up with you later, mec," he says, struggling to keep his voice steady, thick with longing, and retreated to the cabin he had booked for privacy. The door clicked shut behind him, muffling the outside world.

He looked down at the bulge, a silent testament to his desire, and groaned. The shorts felt like a prison around his throbbing cock.

His phone chimed once more, a message from you lighting up the screen. "Your turn," you texted. "I want to see you."

Kylian didn’t waste a second. He sat on the edge of the plush bed in his cabin, the soft white sheets a stark contrast to his tanned skin. He looked down at the bulge in his shorts, his pulse quickening. With a devilish smirk, he unbuttoned his shorts, letting them fall to his knees, his cock springing free.

He took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. It was thick and hard, standing proudly against his abs. The tip was flushed a darker shade of pink, begging for attention. Kylian’s hand wrapped around it, stroking it gently. He took a deep breath, feeling the headiness of his desire for you.

With a grin, he held the phone in one hand and began to stroke himself with the other. The camera captured every inch of him, the way his hand moved up and down his shaft, the way his abs tightened with each stroke. He knew you'd love watching him, the same way he craved seeing you in your bikini.

The room grew hazy with his building arousal, the scent of saltwater and cologne filling his nostrils. The sound of the waves outside was a gentle serenade to his own escalating rhythm, the stroke of his hand against his skin echoing in the quiet cabin.

He sent the video, his heart pounding as he awaited your response.

It took you a moment to process the video. Kylian, your sweet, loving boyfriend, was masturbating for you. The sight of him, so raw and vulnerable, made your core throb with desire. You watched him stroke his cock and you realized you had never wanted him more.

Your hands shake as you place your phone on the counter, pressing the record button. Your eyes remained glued to the screen as you reached behind and untied the strings of your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts bounced freely, the cool air of the room teasing your already hardened nipples.

You stepped closer to the phone, your heart racing as you slid your hand down the front of your bikini bottoms. You felt the wetness of your desire, and a soft moan slipped from your lips as your fingers grazed your clit.

As his phone chimed once more, Kylian watched the video you had sent in response. His eyes locked onto your every move. The sound of your breathing grew heavier, the sight of your hand disappearing beneath the fabric of your bikini driving him wild. He stroked his cock faster, his thumb swiping over the pre-cum that had gathered at the tip.

He couldn't help himself—his need to hear your voice was too strong. With one hand still wrapped around his shaft, he called you with the other. He facetimed you amidst the noise of the party, his teammates cheering and music blasting in the background. The line connected, and your face appeared on his screen, illuminated softly by the warm glow of your bathroom. "I'm so fucking hard for you right now," he growled into the phone.

Your breath hitched when you heard the raw desire in Kylian's voice. The sound of the waves outside the cabin grew distant as you focused on the sensation of your fingers playing with your clit, tracing delicate circles as you watched him stroke himself in the camera. "Oh, baby," you moaned, "me too."

"Take those bottoms off," Kylian ordered, his voice thick with lust. "I want to see all of you."

Your hands trembled as you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your bikini bottoms. You pulled them down slowly, your pussy exposed to the cool air. Your phone was propped up on the sink, the camera clearly capturing you as you stood right in front of it. Kylian's eyes were glued to the screen, his breaths coming in quick, shallow pants.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he murmured, his hand moving faster on his cock.

The sound of his voice, the sight of him stroking himself, it all sent you spiraling into a frenzy. You stepped closer to the sink, spreading your legs apart for the camera, giving Kylian the full view of your aroused pussy.

"Oh, baby," Kylian murmured, his voice thick with lust, "you're so fucking wet for me." His hand moved faster, the slick sound of his hand against his cock echoing in your ear.

From your perspective, everything is cloaked in darkness, as if he's in a private space, alone with his desire. The only sounds are his groans and the strokes of his hand on his cock. You feel entirely exposed for him, and it gives you the confidence you need.

You could feel yourself getting wetter just hearing him. You slid two fingers inside yourself, the sensation making your toes curl. "Kylian," you gasped, your voice a needy whisper, "I want you so bad."

"Fuck, me too, baby," he groaned, the sound of his hand moving up and down his cock a sweet symphony to your ears. "I wish I could be there to taste you."

Eventually, you notice it, Kylian’s eyes were hooded with desire as he watched you touch yourself. He took a deep, shaky breath, then spoke in a commanding tone that sent shivers down your spine. "Add another finger inside of you, baby."

Your body responding to his voice. The feel of your three fingers sliding in and out of your wetness was heavenly. "Just like that," Kylian instructed, his breathing becoming more ragged. "Imagine it's my cock, pumping deep inside of you, making you moan like you do when we're together."

You closed your eyes, the image of Kylian fucking you playing in your mind like a steamy home-made video. The sounds you made were pure, raw desire, echoing like a melody of forbidden passion.

"Turn around for me baby," Kylian's voice was a command, yet it held an undertone of longing, the kind that made your knees weak and your pussy clench with anticipation. You obeyed, feeling a thrill at the thought of him watching you so intimately despite the miles between you. You turned around, the soft curve of your ass on full display.

Your free hand reached out to the wall for balance as you began to finger yourself, the other hand buried deep inside your pussy. The sensation was exquisite, a delicious mix of pleasure and vulnerability that had you gasping for air.

You arched your back. The sensation was surprisingly erotic, and you couldn’t help but tip your hips back, pushing your ass towards the camera.

"That's it," Kylian's voice was strained, his need for you palpable through the phone. "Now, touch your clit. Slowly."

You shifted your other hand from the wall to your clit. You took a shaky breath, your heart racing at his command. Your fingertips grazing the swollen bud of your clit. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, feeling your arousal spike.

He watched as your other delicate fingers move in and out, his gaze intense as he tried to mimic your motions with his own hands, imagining it was his cock instead

Kylian watched, his breath hitching as he stroked his cock in time with your movements. "Fuck, baby, your ass looks so good," he murmured, his eyes never leaving the screen. "I can't wait to fuck you again."

Your ass and legs began to tremble, the tension in your body building with every stroke. You could feel your orgasm approaching, a tidal wave of pleasure threatening to crash over you. "Kylian," you gasped, your voice trembling as much as your body, "I'm going to cum."

His groans grew louder, his strokes faster, "Do it, baby. Cum for me."

With trembling legs, you began to slap your pussy, trying to hold back the impending orgasm. Your other hand clamped over your mouth, desperately trying to muffle the sounds escaping you, your body trembling with unrestrained pleasure.

The stinging sensation mixed with the pleasure of your fingering was overwhelming. Each slap echoed through the quiet room, a rhythmic punctuation to Kylian's strokes and your gasps.

You slid a finger again, feeling your cum ooze. The sight was so erotic, so raw, that you couldn't help but look at the camera behind you, a tired smile playing on your lips. You knew Kylian was watching, his eyes devouring every inch of your exposed flesh, and the thought made you hotter.

"Putain bébé, t'es tellement sexy," (Fuck baby, you're so sexy)

Kylian's voice was a hoarse whisper, the sound of his hand still working his cock in the background.

His hand move faster, his strokes becoming more erratic. The tension in his body was palpable, his muscles tightening with every second that passed. And then, with a loud groan, he came.

Kylian's cum shot out in thick ropes, splattering against his abs and stomach. The sight was mesmerizing, a beautiful mess of white and your desire. He painted himself with his release, his hand moving in slow, lazy circles, smearing it across his skin.

"Oh, fuck," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours, "That was incredible."

You watched him through the phone screen, panting and flushed, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. You couldn't believe what had just happened—how you'd both given into the moment, separated by miles of ocean yet feeling closer than ever.

He took a picture, capturing his cum-covered abs and his still-hard cock. He sent it to you without a word, and you stared at the image, a strange mix of satisfaction and longing filling you. The stark white of his cum against his tanned skin was a powerful visual, a testament to the intensity of his desire for you.

With your own arousal still pulsing through you, you pulled your bikini bottoms back up, feeling the sticky wetness of your cum against your skin. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of naughtiness as you adjusted the panties. They felt like a secret, a deliciously dirty little part of you that Kylian had unlocked from afar.

"I want to fuck you, baby," Kylian's voice was a low rumble, the sound of his need resonating through your body. You could feel your pussy clench at the words, the desire for him to fill you up so intense it was almost painful.

"I want that too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "So much."

The line went quiet again, the only sound the distant laughter from outside the cabin and the steady beat of your own heart. You felt a sense of longing, a deep ache that no amount of self-pleasure could ever truly fill.

"I miss you," Kylian finally said, his voice softer now, the passionate haze of his orgasm giving way to a tender vulnerability.

You grabbed your sundress from the floor and slipped it on, your legs still trembling from what had just happened.

You felt your own heart swell at his words, the distance between you suddenly feeling like a tangible void that needed to be filled. "Me too," you murmured, leaning against the sink, the coolness of the marble a stark contrast to the heat of your skin.

Kylian took a deep, shaky breath, then stood up from the bed. He reached for a towel, wiping the last remnants of his pleasure from his stomach and cock. His erection began to subside, the need momentarily sated by the intense orgasm he'd just had. He pulled his shorts back on, his cock still half-hard, the fabric clinging to his skin like a second layer.

As he buttoned them up, he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness that it wasn't your hand touching him.

"I'll be home soon," Kylian promised, his voice still thick with lust. "And when I do, I'm going to fuck you like it's the last time we'll ever be together."

The words hung in the air, heavy with desire and promise. You felt a shiver run down your spine, a thrill that was both terrifying and incredibly exciting. "I'll be waiting," you murmured, your voice a mere whisper of a promise.

Exhaustion enveloped your body as you whispered that you’d call him by morning, and with shared "I love yous," the call ended.

Kylian remained in a euphoric haze, as he stepped out of his cabin, he tried to mask the storm within. But his mind raced with the memory of your sounds, your body.

He found Achraf and walked over to him.

"There you are, the best player in the world," his teammate joked, his voice thick with drunken cheer as he raised his cup in a toast.

That night, Kylian felt like a God, basking in the praise of his teammates. Yet, his thoughts were consumed by the longing to return to you, to worship you—his Goddess.

note: ngl, that leaked convo from when he was still at Monaco..man’s a freak 😭 this fic gives off “I’m doing it, are you?” meme LMAOOO bye 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

[spideyanakin]

Reader being a cat to reveal who the traitor is genius. And I think peter noticed the symbolism behind it.

The part with the widow pearls was sad, rip regulus 😔

I cant wait to read more on reader being Madam Black 🤭

THANK YOU HIHIHIHIHI

I'm so glad you noticed <3 I was so happy when I came up with the idea of the cat hihi. Also reg will always be in our hearts ♥️

here is mr black and mrs black reuniting to heal our hearts

all I think about now - masterlist

summary - sirius black x malfoy + slytherin! reader, the order takes a break after peter has been caught, sirius joins you outside for some fresh air (and some revelations)

warnings - revelations and reunions <3, yearning, longing, and everything in between. mentions of minor character death (r's mom who was sick), smoking (s bad for u), james being a menace, spot the Metallica reference lmao

read the part before

The soft autumn air suddenly felt heavy.

You kept facing the sea, watching as the waves grazed the sand below the cliff. You could feel Sirius shifting beside you, the sound of his leather jacket, the zipper of a pocket, and the crisp sound of a cigarette box with the wrapper still half on.

The spark of his lighter caught the corner of your eye, and soon after followed a cloud of smoke gently blown your way by the wind.

With your gaze still fixed on the waves, you saw his hand move towards you, offering you his cigarette. You took it without a second thought. You hadn't smoked since the last time you had seen him.

You took two long drags before you handed it back to him, your gazes still refusing to meet.

A sense of deja vue filled you. Suddenly you were back atop the astronomy tower at the start of your seventh year. Tension slithering between you before it would hopefully crack.

You knew how it had gone the last time. You could never stay apart from him for long. You had always felt close, no matter how far. No matter how many times life has pulled you away from one another, you still felt that tug, that string pull you towards him.

But no matter how hard it was, there was a reason the two of you had called it off the last time. There was a reason you had tried to break that unbreakable string.

You were to be married to his brother, which you now were.

You had pledged your allegiance to the dark lord.

There wasn’t a world anymore where the two of you could have attempted keeping this up.

In 7th year, you were already risking your life sneaking around. You had both risked your lives trying to see each other after graduation, and then he had risked his life coming to see you, for one the last time, the night before your wedding.

The grey area you had been dancing around had been reduced to ashes by the exceedingly fast brewing war.

And now, as you smoked together watching the waves dance upon the sand, it seemed that maybe, just maybe there was a flicker of hope for a happy ending.

But how could he forgive you for never choosing him?

After an unknown number of smoke clouds, he sighed. It wasn't out of annoyance. It was soft, as if he was finally getting rid of an unknown tension that prevented him from voicing anything.

"How have you been?" You could tell he had a hard time asking. Voice laced with rugged emotions as he kept his gaze toward the waves.

You finally dared to look at him.

"Frankly, I do not really know. You?"

He laughed the tension out his shoulders, "frankly? I don't know either."

"Well, that makes two of us."

It took him another minute before he looked at you after he discarded his cigarette.

You stayed without a word spoken as he scanned your face. Your tired eyes peering back at him.

His hair was longer than when you last saw him, and a huddle of tattoos peeked out of his clothes anywhere skin would dare show. You could tell he was probably just as tired as you, but his eyes still held that fire you loved so much about him.

Salazar you had missed him.

But emotions didn't have time to surface because soon enough his gaze tore away from you, and you found yourself looking down to your shoes.

"How long have you been on our side?" He asked, and you heard him huff as he tried fishing for a second cigarette.

"Since we left Hogwarts."

You watched as Sirius dropped his lighter, a surprised groan leaving his lips.

You both bent down to pick it up, fingers brushing as you reached for the lighter first. You handed it to him.

It felt like sparks flew from the mere brush of your hands, and you knew Sirius had felt it too by the surprise in his eyes. With a second too long of your hands lingering, you finally spoke through the ice.

"I missed you."

"Why didn't you tell me you were working for the order?" His voice was soft, and you carefully scanned his traits as he placed his new cigarette to his lips and lit it.

"To keep you safe."

"I could have handled it."

"Sirius..."

"I can't believe it."

"Is it so hard to believe?"

"If I’m being honest, yeah!" His voice rose from an octave or two until he got quieter again. "After you refused to come with me, twice. Yeah. Especially since, apparently, the second time I asked, you were already allied with Albus."

"Sirius..." you trailed as you watched him advert your gaze as he burned away his cigarette, sighing half of the smoke through his nose.

"You couldn't leave. I know." He looked down.

"I wanted to," you stepped closer to face him, trying to gain his eyes. "You out of anyone should know how desperately I wanted to be like you, be with you," your voice quivered. "But I had strings attaching me there, I had my mother to take care of, and then- then when she passed and I finally thought I could leave, that nothing kept me back anymore I-" You stopped in your rambles, too afraid of voicing the rest of your thoughts.

Sirius was staring back at you with glassy eyes, mouth slightly agape at your sudden confession. You were about to leave. You were actually going to, but then his face hardened again, the sudden reminder of reality hitting him.

He didn't need to be a genius to figure out what had kept you there. If his information was correct your son was born around nine months after your wedding. Your mother died barely two months after the ceremony.

"Another string kept you attached."

"Yes," your voice was hoarse over the suppression of your tears, and it took you another minute before you managed to use your voice again. "I didn't mean it to."

That seemed to get his attention, and you watched as confusion riddled his eyes.

You took in a sharp breath. You weren't even close to ready to have this conversation, but here you were, plotting against the dark lord, not even being sure of making it past these next few weeks.

It was now or never.

"Breaks over!" James's voice rang from the opened window, causing your shoulders to jump at the interruption.

Sirius dropped his dying cigarette before pressing it with his foot and giving you the best sad and tired smile he could muster as he headed back to the door.

"Wait, Sirius," you caught his arm before he could grab the handle. "If anything were to happen... to me or r-" you caught yourself. "If anything were to happen, promise me you will take care of Perseus."

You could feel him tense under your touch at the mention. His expression almost stoic as his movements fully stopped.

He caught your gaze and suddenly something seemed to shift in him, he almost smiled.

"So that's the little rascal's name."

The lightness in his voice took you aback, and you almost smiled too.

"Yes. Perseus Sirius Black," you sheepishly mumbled and watched his eyes widen.

"Is that why Walburga and Orion finally kicked the bucket? Must of given them both of heart attack," he mumbled and this time you couldn't help but smile.

"No," you bit your lip. "Your mother insisted he wore Reg’s name. We told her he did but we wrote Sirius on the official papers."

"First borns usually take their middle names after their fathers."

“They do…"

Sirius couldn’t decipher your expression but took it as a sheepish ‘we broke the rules, so what’ because he couldn’t even dare to even think of looking into the fact that you could mean anything else by it.

"Didn't take my brother for a sentimental," he muttered before fixing his hair in attempt to distract himself. "I'll do what I can, but I promise you, it won't come to that. You'll come home to him."

He reached for the door again, and the burning feeling that after tonight, you weren’t sure when you would see him again came nagging at your gut.

The same voice rang through your mind again.

It was now, and If not, the possibility of never.

"Regulus never laid a finger on me," you blurted out.

Sirius turned back to you with a confused expression, one hand already on the door handle.

"We, um-" You were blinking extremely fast now, heart fluttering uncontrollably as he awaited for you to elaborate. "Weneverconsummatedthemarriage."

"Sorry?" Sirius tried to comprehend the string of blabber. He had heard it. But it just didn't make sense in is mind.

Nope. Absolutely zero sense.

But then by the look of absolute terror and pain in your eyes, he seemed to connect two and two together.

His jaw opened by itself, literally like one of those muggle cartoons Lily made Harry watch on Friday nights using what she called a TV.

He wanted to speak. Say something, anything. But all words died down in the back of his throat.

Suddenly Sirius fell. One second he was leaning against the door and the next he was being swished backwards and harshly onto the wooden floor of location twelve, which didn't make any sense because there was supposed to be a door behind him.

He blinked to realize that his hand was indeed still securely on the handle of said door, with James sheepishly on the other side of it.

"Prongs!"

"Sorry mate didn't know you were behind it." He looked at you and then back at Sirius, "we're waiting for you."

[funlovinzara]

Reigen Arataka x Gyaru! Reader

Requested by - @whyisummmuknow

(Heads up: the type of gyaru isn’t specified! You’re free to choose whatever!)

Intro: Reigen and Mob were assigned to complete an exorcism at an abandoned hotel, however there was a 90s throw-back festival that ended up slowing them down.

Warnings: None/Fluff

*brrrrr* *brrrr* Mobs phone rang, he picked up to see Reigen calling “Hello?” Mob says monotoned. “Hey Mob, it’s the usual, we have an exorcism down at the abandoned hotel from the 2000s.” Mob nods “Oh okay, but Master Reige-.” Reigen feeling exotic, cuts off Mob. On the other side of the phone he does his classic arm movements, “Don’t worry Mob, it’s going to be a breeze.” Mob was actually going to mention the fact that there would be a festival today and that there normal time would be slowed trying to bypass everyone. But as usual, he said nothing and went with it.

Mob showed up to the office, Reigen already prepared to leave. “Ah hey Mob! Is dimple with you?” Dimple appears out of hiding from Reigens annoyance. “Yup…right here.” “Alright let’s go!” Reigen takes a look at his phone while walking to check the newest news and he was the only one who didn’t know about the throwback festival, at the exact time they left the office.

“Hey….hey did you guys know about this?” Reigen says showing his phone to Mob and Dimple. “Yeah everybody knows, it’s an event that happens every decade.” Said Dimple, unfazed. Reigen shrugged a little disappointed, “We might go through some trouble, let’s hurry.” The group moves quickly towards the abandoned hotel, but it was too late. The festival had already begun so they had to slow down, however Mob and Dimple didn’t mind slowing down and watching. Mob was in awe at all the cultures and sub-genre’s of clothings from years before.

“Wow master Reigen, these people are really having fun!” Reigen sighs in an unpleasant tone, “This is not what we came here to do, we wont get all the money if we don’t finish in time, lets get a move on and-.” Reigen turns while talking and walks into someone a part of the festival, your drink falls out your hand and onto the sidewalk. “Hey!” You say booming towards to group. “I hope you’re going to help me pay for that.”

Reigen with his eyes on the ground, says “listen ma’am we don’t have time….time…TIME…?” He looks up and takes a look at your flashy physique and makeup. Mob and Dimple look just as astonished. “Uhhhh” Reigen is at a loss for words. Mob however really wanted to speak to you, everyone at this festival has seemed so unique and joyous. “I really like your style miss..” you look at the boy and grin slightly, still a bit angered your drink was spilled. “No need to be formal, im y/n!” Reigen butts in “Well y/n we have an important job to do, really i do apologize for the inconvenience but we really gotta go.”

You take a look at the man,

Hes quite handsome..

His suit is ironed with a tight fit around his chest and legs, showing very slight muscle. His eyes with a bland but seemly seductive aura beams towards your own eyes. His hair, a bit frizzled but still neat. Taking a closer look he appears to have tiny freckled spots and smooth lips. “Ah right.” Reigen may or may not have a soft spot for your cute face and exaggerated eye makeup, he finds it attractive. “Well y/n, heres my card. Anyway Mob let’s go! We’re gonna be late!”

“Oh..bye y/n!” Mob waves, you wave back with a smile.

The group runs off and you stand there with the card and look down, ha. Fake business card, its just his number.

Dimple swoops over to Reigen. “I definitely saw that, looks like someone is trying out new things these days.”

“Shut up dimple.”

Sorry for the short stories guyss i will keep trying to make longer ones

[vixen7243]

Undivided Attention: Captain Price

John Price x AFAB!Reader | TF141 x AFAB!Reader

Masterlist | Gaz |Price | Ghost

MDNI!!!

You had been separated from the team, mostly due to you pushing your captain out of the way of another solider attempting to strike him, while wresting with the man the two of you fell off a ledge, last thing you heard was John yelling your name before slamming into the ground and loosing consciousness for a moment. You all had been looking for reports or a nuclear bomb that was in the midst of being sold to Russian terrorists. Coming to, you quickly moved to look around yourself remembering who you had fallen with, seeing them laying by you, you turned them over and they had fallen on their knife, impaling themselves in the throat. Shaking your head you made to get up flinching, "Fuck." Groaning you hobbled around corners, occasionally having to fight for your life, hearing a group making their way down a hall, more than you knew in that moment you could realistically handle, you made to try and hide in any of the rooms around you, but the doors were locked. Huffing you leaned behind a pillar, tears building at your eyes, even though you knew death was a guarantee with this work, your heart wasn't ready, you never got to tell any of the lads how you truly feel, you didn't get to even say good bye. John.

Oh, you know John will rot with this, his mind will never let him forget this, you wished there was something you could do for him, make your death less of a burden, a weight. He never wanted to let you come here, but you insisted, you had been growing restless at the base, promising to stay glued to their side and out of harms way yet you threw yourself right into the way. Grabbing your hand gun you checked the magazine hitting your head back, out, patting yourself down you groaned grabbing your tactical knife from your hip, waiting till they were closer. Getting a hold of the end of a AK47 you turned out knife about to go straight into the guys throat before you froze, it was, "John?"

"Y/N, oh god." Wrapping you tightly into him you wrapped your arms around his waist, trying not to wince at the force of his embrace. "Come on." Picking you up he turn and they started making their way out back to their Ronda Vue point for Nikolai to pick them up. Grunting with each rapid movement and step up some stairs, you looked up to Johnny, he looked so damn sad and worried, made you ache, wanting to comfort him, comfort all of them. Getting to the top of the building, John handed you to Simon before you were set into a seat and strapped in, "Let's go, now!"

---

You were taken to med bay by Simon, Johnny and Kyle, they stuck by your side the whole time as you were stitched up, wrapped up and given tests. Your arm was put into a sling after noticing that you had indeed broken your right clavicle you were brought into a back room to have a plate screwed to the outside of the bone. You were knocked out when the lads say you next, had been for a few hours, they never left you, John was still away, where none of them was sure, most likely holed up in his office burying himself in work and papers.

When you did come to, you reassured the guys, apologizing and hugging each of them, the door closed and locked, blinds drawn close as Simon carefully held you, kissing your head. "Where's Cap?"

"Probably in his office." Kyle said, his hands on your back and hips. Moving to get out of the bed he tightened his grip slightly stopping you. "Where r'you goin?"

"Check on him, I'm fine, truly, guys, let me go." Pushing their hands from you, you gasped as you tried to wrap your button up around your shoulders. "Shit."

"Here bon." Johnny helped you set the shirt around you, "You sure you don't want to rest a bit more bonnie?"

"I'll be fine Johnny, thank you. You guys know I've been through worse." You chuckled as you unlocked and left the room, all of them close to you, glued like guard dogs, everyone making a clear path for you. Nearing John's office you ushered them away, knocking on the door and not hearing anything you stepped in and looked around confused when you didn't see him inside. Now making your way to his room you knocked as you slowly opened the door and looked in, hearing the shower from his bathroom.

Closing the door and locking it behind you, you went to the bathroom and stood in the door frame frowning, "Captain."

His head spun around so fast you were sure you heard a crack, "What are you doing?"

"Came to check on you." Walking in some more you looked into his eyes, he looked so pained staring into you, before they went down and took in your arm and collarbone. Shrugging the shirt off slowly, you used you good arm to undo the sling taking it off.

"What are yo-"

"Help me with my shirt will you?" Stepping right into the shower with him, the water splashing off his shoulders and head hitting you, his scowl deepened, as he opened his mouth to speak you rested your hand on his cheek, "John, help me?" His hands were more gentle than ever as they guided your clothes off of you, kneeling down undoing your boots and tossing each soaked piece of clothing out of the shower.

"You should be resting." Standing back up he retracted his hands moving to make room for you under the water.

"I will, after this." Stepping back into his space, you pushed your hand into his stomach before gliding your fingers through his chest hair and then gripping his shoulder pulling him to you. "Y/N."

"Don't pull from me John, I'm fine, everything's okay. I'm sorry, truly, it's my fault, I nev-"

"Stop." Closing his eyes he tilted his head back, "You've nothing to apologize for darling, this is my fault."

"It's not your f-"

"I said you wouldn't be out on the field, I caved, you got hurt protecting me when I promised I would protect you. This should've never happened, not for me or because of me." His eyes were so broken, voice almost cracking in the end, guiding him back to you, you leaned up onto your tips gently kissing him.

"You've up held to your promise John, there's nothing you could've ever done to prevent me from protecting you. As much as you don't want anything happening to me, I don't want anything to happen to you, to any of you. As I belong to you all, ALL of you belong to me too." You used your good arm to wrap up and around his shoulders, your right arm carefully going to his waist and massaging his lower back, whatever you could comfortably reach you did.

"Darling." Leaning the both of you under the water, he kissed you, enveloping you into his arms. Reaching his hands down to behind your thighs you grabbed his bicep and jumped, wrapping your legs around his hips he leaned back, his back hitting the wall, locking his lips with yours, tongues slowly easing into the others mouth. Each moment the two of you would pull back for a gasp of breath your would continue to reassure him, claiming him, the team, telling him continuously that you belong to them, calming his nerves, kissing the anger fueled tears from his cheeks. He wasn't mad at you, couldn't ever be, he was angry at himself, your words soothing his soul.

Feeling the water start to cool against both of your skin, John slid your hips up along him a little more groaning as your slit dragged along his shaft, holding you to him he turned the water off and stepped out, grabbing a towel setting you on the counter drying you. Before he tossed the towel, you grabbed it from him and returned the favor also patting him dry smiling when he kissed along your neck, jaw, shoulders and laying gentle kisses to your collarbone. Shuddering at the soft touch you let the towel slide from your fingers as you drift your fingers into his hair lightly clenching and redirecting his lips back to yours, picking you back up he carried you to his bed, ever so carefully laying you on your back in the middle, bringing the other spare pillow he had under your hips.

As gentle as he was being you could feel the tremble in his body, unsure of if it's just being a build up of passion or something else you tried to move your hips with his, arching your back into him as your clit rubbed against the tip of his dick. "Don't move, I'll take care of you." Pouting as you watched him kiss a trail down your stomach and hip you moved your legs for him, moving your hips up the hip as his hand gently slapped your pussy making you gasp, surprised. "Darling, don't move."

"But..." Looking to the side before looking back to him, "You want more, right? I'm fine, you can take me how you need Captain."

Huffing he pushed back up, "Y/n, you're hurt."

"But I'm FINE, take me, if it gets to be too much, I'll say my safe word. ... Take me Captain." You were pushing him again, just like you had when you begged to go on the mission, his body itching as he grabbed the back side of your left knee he pushed it up to your chest slapping your cunt a little harder this time.

"You are damn stubborn sweat heart, I tell you no again and yet you keep pushing. You never want to listen, I'm trying to look out for you, why won't you let me do this for you." Slapping your cunt again a little harder again, you gasped jolting, "Begging me to just fucking take you, you'll say your safe word? What if you can't?" You clenched around nothing just before he moved your leg to the side a little more exposing your clit and slapped down making you moan, "I'll take you darling, I'll fucking take you but damnit Y/N. Why must you push me?" Pouting you looked down, watching as he lined himself up and started easing into you. "Fuck." Grunting the both of you jerked into the other panting as he slowly moved in and out of you, your slick collecting around the base of his cock.

"John." Huffing your hips started moving, meeting his, the sound of skin slapping ringing in your ears making your head spin from how much he was stretching you. Feeling his fingers dig into your hips he pushed your hips down into the pillow growling.

"No moving damnit, urgh, gonna make me lose it darling. You want to cum?"

"Yes, please, Captain, please sir." Feeling his dick twitch against your gummy walls you moaned, "Captain."

John swirled his fingers around your clit, lightly pinching it, a small twist before pushing his thumb into you drawing circles. Arching up from the bed you whined cumming, walls spasming around him, he didn't relent as he continued to riding out your orgasm. Huffing he drew your legs up to his chest, pushing down to you, he gripped your neck, squeezing the sides, "Again darling, come on." Slamming his hips down your cunt started squelching, taking each thrust you rolled your eyes back trying to arch into him and move your hips but with his weight over you, you couldn't move. Feeling him squeeze your throat a little tighter you gasped grabbing his forearm moaning, "Darling." Loosening his hold your grabbed the side of his face and pulled him down kissing him.

Breathing heavily the both of you pulled back and came, John grasping the pillow under your head pushing his forehead into yours grunting after he picked his rhythm back up, overstimulating the both of you, "Oh, John, wait..." As you whined, he pulled out, sliding you onto your left side, laying behind you, raising your leg and slinging it back and over his thigh. Taking labored breathes you moved your hips back into him moaning when he helped guide you this time rather than try and stop you, "Oh John, yes, good." Feeling his hips picked up, your body getting jostled, the sheets getting kicked and pushed to the floor, the pillow that had been under your hip also being pushed to the ground.

John slid his arm under and around you neck, putting you into a choke hold from behind, your third orgasm flooding over you, your body shaking as he didn't stop. Gasping you grabbing the bed sheet and trying to push his forearm only making him grunt, "No, you're going to stay right here, fuck. Right here, where I can see you, hold you." Scowling you tried to hold out but when your fourth orgasm was slowly building up already you felt tears prick at your eyes, your cunt felt too raw, already clenching so tightly around him, his girth stinging slightly more than the pleasure that was building. Huffing you tried pushing again against his arm, before shaking violently against his front whining patting his arm.

"Red, John, red please." Gasping you gathered your breath as he froze, his hips pushed flesh against you. Feeling him slowly pull out of you, you whined when he pulled away, collecting the blanket from the ground and the other pillow, he got back in behind you gently massaging your hips.

"I'm sorry darling."

"You did nothing wrong John, Just over stimulated a bit quick today is all." You interlocked your fingers with his smiling as he wrapped his arms around you gently.

"You're too good for me, Y/N."

"No, you are ... me." Your eyelids growing heavy, you yawned and snuggled back a little more into him before falling into sleep.

"No, you truly are, for any of us, you deserve better."

Ghost

[oncanvas]

Vue du Sacré-Coeur, rue du Mont-Cenis, Montmartre, Maurice Utrillo, October 1922

Gouache on paper 19 x 14 ¼ in. (48.3 x 36.2 cm)

[artsandculture]

Liberty Leading the People (1830) 🎨 Eugene Delacroix 🏛️ The Louvre 📍 Paris, France

Perhaps Delacroix’s most influential and most recognizable paintings, Liberty Leading the People was created to commemorate the July Revolution of 1830, which removed Charles X of France from power. Delacroix wrote in a letter to his brother that a bad mood that had been hold of him was lifting due to the painting on which he was embarking (the Liberty painting), and that if he could not fight for his country then at least he would paint for it. The French government bought the painting in 1831, with plans to hang it in the room of the new king Louis-Philippe, but it was soon taken down for its revolutionary content. Lady Liberty was eventually the model for the Statue of Liberty, which was given to the United States 50 years later, and has also been featured on the French banknote.

Peint de septembre à décembre 1830 dans l'atelier loué par Eugène Delacroix au 15 (actuel n°17 ?) quai Voltaire, à Paris ; envisagé pour la deuxième Exposition au profit des blessés de Juillet 1830, galerie de la Chambre des Pairs (palais du Luxembourg), Paris, janvier 1831 (n° 508 du livret sous le titre "Une Barricade"), en réalité non prêté ; admis par le jury le 13 avril 1831 et exposé au Salon de 1831 (ouvert du 1er mai au 15 août), Paris, Musée royal (Louvre), n° 511 du livret sous le titre "Le 28 juillet. La liberté guidant le peuple" (n° 1380 du registre d'entrée des ouvrages au Salon, sous le titre "La Liberté guidant le peuple au 29 juillet" [sic], aux dimensions de "293 x 358 cm" cadre compris) ; envisagé comme achat de la Liste civile du roi Louis-Philippe Ier, en juillet 1831, au prix de 2 000 francs, finalement acheté à l'artiste par le ministère du Commerce et des Travaux publics en août 1831, au prix de 3 000 francs (en remplacement de la commande à Delacroix, au même prix, d'un tableau d'histoire ayant pour sujet "Le roi Louis-Philippe Ier visitant la chaumière où il logea près de Valmy, le 8 juin 1831", annulée suite au désistement de Delacroix) ; présenté au musée du Luxembourg, Paris, en 1832 et en 1833 (n° 160 du supplément au catalogue du musée) ; mis en réserve vers 1833-1834 ; confié à l'artiste vers 1839 qui le met en dépôt au domicile de sa tante, Félicité Riesener, et de son cousin Léon Riesener, à Frépillon (Val-d'Oise) ; réclamé à l'artiste par la direction des Musées nationaux (ministère de l'Intérieur) en mars 1848 (Delacroix demande à cette occasion une augmentation du prix de 7 000 francs, soit un total de 10 000 francs ; cette augmentation lui est refusée) ; prêté par Delacroix au peintre et entrepreneur lyonnais Alphonse Jame entre mai 1848 et mars 1849, en vue d'être exposé à Lyon, contre 1000 francs (payés en deux versements de 500 francs, le 11 septembre 1849 et le 8 mars 1850) ; rentré à Paris et restitué à l'administration en mars 1849 ; possiblement présenté au musée du Luxembourg, Paris, à partir de juin 1849 jusqu'en 1850 (mais absent du catalogue du musée) ; mis en réserve dans les magasins du musée du Louvre de 1850 à 1855 ; présenté à l'Exposition universelle, Palais de l'Industrie et des Beaux-arts, Paris, 1855, n° 2926 du livret ; mis en réserve dans les magasins des Musées impériaux de 1856 à 1863 ; présenté au musée du Luxembourg, Paris, de 1863 à 1874 ; déplacé du musée du Luxembourg au musée du Louvre en novembre 1874 ; inventorié pour la première fois, sous le n° "R.F. 129", en 1875 et présenté à partir de cette date dans la salle des États au musée du Louvre ; mis en sécurité pendant la Première Guerre mondiale au couvent des Jacobins, à Toulouse (Haute-Garonne) de 1914 à 1918 ; restauré par Lucien Aubert (nettoyage et réintégration de la couche picturale) à Paris en 1920 ; mis en sécurité pendant la Seconde Guerre mondiale au château de Chambord (Loir-et-Cher) en 1939, puis déplacé au château de Sourches, Saint-Symphorien (Sarthe), le 29 septembre 1943 ; rentré du château de Sourches au musée du Louvre, Paris, le 16 juin 1945 ; restauré par Raymond Lepage et Paul Maridat (rentoilage) et par Georges Zezzos (allègement et réintégration de la couche picturale), au musée du Louvre durant l'été 1949 ; présenté au musée du Louvre dans la salle Mollien d'octobre 1949 à 1969, puis en salle Daru de juin 1969 à juin 1994, puis en salle Mollien depuis décembre 1995 ; restauré par David Cueco et Claire Bergeaud (remplacement du châssis, pose de bandes de tension sur les bords de la toile) au musée du Louvre en janvier-février 1999 ; restauré par Bénédicte Trémolières et Laurence Mugniot (nettoyage et réintégration de la couche picturale) au musée du Louvre, d'octobre 2023 à avril 2024.

[thunderstruck9]

Ossip Zadkine (Russian/French, 1888-1967), Vue d'une ville [View of a town]. Gouache and watercolour on paper, 49.5 x 35.3 cm.

[fredomotophoto]

Road trip along the ridge route in Alsace with the Moto Morini X-Cape 650…

Canon EOS R

24-105mm F4 DG OS HSM | Art

ƒ/5.6 

38.0 mm 

1/250 

iso 100

(FR)

Route des Crêtes Vosges La Route des Crêtes est une voie longue de 88 kilomètres qui traverse le massif des Vosges, reliant Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines au nord à Uffholtz au sud, à proximité de Cernay. Elle a été créée pendant la Première Guerre mondiale pour des raisons stratégiques et permet aujourd’hui de découvrir les paysages les plus caractéristiques de la chaîne des Vosges.

Paysages et points de vue La Route des Crêtes offre des panoramas étendus inoubliables, avec des cols, des ballons, des lacs, des chaumes et des forêts. Elle passe par le col du Bonhomme, le col de la Schlucht, le massif du Hohneck, le Markstein, le Grand Ballon et le Vieil Armand. Le point le plus élevé est à 1 343 m au passage du Grand Ballon.

Activités La Route des Crêtes est accessible à pied, à vélo ou en voiture, en moto, en camping-car. Elle permet d’accéder aux sommets des massifs vosgiens, tels que le Grand Ballon (1 424 m), le Rothenbachkopf (1 316 m) et le Hohneck. Elle offre également l’accès au champ de bataille et au cimetière militaire de l’Hartmannswillerkopf.

Points d’intérêt Le Hartmannswillerkopf, également connu sous le nom de Vieil Armand, témoigne des terribles conflits de la Grande Guerre. Le Hohneck, troisième plus haut sommet des Vosges, offre un panorama paysagé avec en toile de fond les montagnes vosgiennes. La station de ski de La Bresse Hohneck, située aux pieds du Hohneck. Le col de la Schlucht, qui relie l’Alsace à la Lorraine par le biais de leurs vallées. Informations pratiques La route est fermée à la circulation chaque année à compter de mi-novembre pour toute la période hivernale. En hiver, elle est fermée au nord entre le col de la Schlucht et le col du Calvaire pour faire place aux pistes de ski de fond, et entre le col du Bonhomme et le col des Bagenelles, ainsi qu’au sud entre le Grand Ballon et les pistes de ski de La Bresse-Kastelberg. Des balades pédestres, des circuits VTT et des animations sont proposés aux départs des arrêts de la navette sur la route des crêtes. Conseils Parcourez la route en après-midi pour profiter des paysages les plus beaux. N’hésitez pas à vous arrêter aux nombreux bas-côtés de la route aménagés pour votre sécurité. Profitez des activités proposées, telles que le parapente ou la luge d’été, aux beaux jours. Prenez le temps de découvrir les vestiges historiques et les points de vue panoramiques qui jalonnent la route.

Bon… Nous, nous n'avons vraiment pas eu de chance cette fois là (en Juin). Brouillard, brouillard et encore brouillard toute la journée. Et le pire, c'est qu'il a fallu chercher de l'ombre une fois rentré tellement le soleil prenait sa revenche en fin de journée.

(EN)

Route des Crêtes Vosges The Route des Crêtes is an 88-kilometre-long road that crosses the Vosges massif, linking Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines in the north to Uffholtz in the south, near Cernay. It was created during the First World War for strategic reasons and today allows you to discover the most characteristic landscapes of the Vosges mountain range.

Landscapes and viewpoints The Route des Crêtes offers unforgettable, extensive panoramas, with passes, balloons, lakes, stubble fields and forests. It passes through the Col du Bonhomme, the Col de la Schlucht, the Hohneck massif, the Markstein, the Grand Ballon and the Vieil Armand. The highest point is at 1,343 m at the Grand Ballon pass.

Activities The Route des Crêtes is accessible on foot, by bike or by car, motorbike or camper van. It provides access to the peaks of the Vosges massifs, such as the Grand Ballon (1,424 m), the Rothenbachkopf (1,316 m) and the Hohneck. It also provides access to the Hartmannswillerkopf battlefield and military cemetery.

Points of interest The Hartmannswillerkopf, also known as Vieil Armand, bears witness to the terrible conflicts of the Great War. The Hohneck, the third highest peak in the Vosges, offers a landscaped panorama with the Vosges mountains as a backdrop. The La Bresse Hohneck ski resort, located at the foot of the Hohneck. The Schlucht pass, which connects Alsace to Lorraine through their valleys. Practical information The road is closed to traffic every year from mid-November for the entire winter period. In winter, it is closed to the north between the Col de la Schlucht and the Col du Calvaire to make way for cross-country ski trails, and between the Col du Bonhomme and the Col des Bagenelles, as well as to the south between the Grand Ballon and the La Bresse-Kastelberg ski slopes. Hiking trails, mountain bike trails and activities are offered at the shuttle stops on the Route des Crêtes. Tips Travel the road in the afternoon to enjoy the most beautiful landscapes. Don't hesitate to stop at the many roadsides designed for your safety. Enjoy the activities on offer, such as paragliding or summer tobogganing, when the weather is nice. Take the time to discover the historical remains and panoramic viewpoints that line the road.

Well… We were really unlucky this time (in june). Fog, fog and more fog all day long. And the worst part was that we had to look for shade once we got back because the sun was getting its revenge at the end of the day.

[junmayers]

Alberto Giacometti

VUE DE L'ATELIER (NATURE MORTE)

circa 1936-1939

patinated plaster

Sculpture

49.5 x 69.5 cm

[kyurizeu]

Uncalled for— ‼️CHAPTER ONE‼️

(Pls someone teach me to use tumblr😭)

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Summary: u accidentally sent a text to Jake making the best accidentever.

Genre: ‼️, EVENTUAL FLUFF AND SMUT‼️

Wc:

Warnings: mentions of food, alcohol, hickeys, unprotected sex (use a condom fr), rude speaking and cursing, parises, more lmk if i missed smt!!

Pairing: Reader X Jake, maybe mentions of other pairs…

This is the unchecked version

I wrote this on a boat in 2 hrs😭

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Jake was your best friend Yeonjuns ”bro” and was in the same frat house as Him too, so you know him pretty well. Last Saturday you accidentally sent Jake a picture of yourself trying on a bikini at a store, because he had the same profile picture as your Bsf Hanni. He replied with “Y/N? Wtf” And instantly you realised that you sent it to Jake and your heart dropped to your stomach. Now… you have to face him again on monday, this will horrible since you two always walk to class in the morning cuz you both have 70 mins of math at 8:30 on mondays.

(Monday 5th of September 2022)

You wake up irritated by loud and obnoxious knocking at your bedroom door. You knew in your heart it was Soobin (your annoying ass brother). “FUCK OFF SOOBIN” you throw your teddy mr. hugs towards your door just in time for Soobin to open the door and get hit in the face with mr. hugs. “You idiot it’s already 7:46!!!” He opens ur curtains and tries to pull the blanket off of you. “Stopp…” you irritatedly bicker.

He suddenly stops to look at your neck and starts hitting your legs. “Y/N WHY DO YOU HAVE HICKEYS?! WHO ARE THEY FROM?!” He shook your half asleep body back to life.

“Gosh Soobin… i have no idea what your talking about. Let me go.” “NO Y/N YOU HAVE LIKE 8 HICKEYS ON YOUR NECK!” You only now realised what he said and you finally opened your eyes “wait WHAT?!” You instantly jump out of bed to look in the mirror only to see 8 purple and red marks on your neck. “I- who did this?! I can’t remember anything..” Soobin just got a laughter attack and you ran downstairs just to see Yeonjun in the Kitchen.

“Y/n you’re awake! I made u a sandwich cuz i know u slept too late. Wait what is on ur neck—“ you ran into the bathroom and quickly put your hair into a surprisingly cute bun covered you face and sadly neck with concealer and applied some lip oil and then ran back upstairs to your room only cor your delight Soobin was still laughing and had something in his hands.

“SOOBIN WHAT IS THAT?!” He flinched a little and ran away knowing you’d hit him if you felt like it. Soobin was holding your phone and as you looked at the locked screen, you saw all the messages you got last night. You were not in the mood to read group texts from your class about the party you apparently made out w someone random OR WORSE fucked last night at.

“Y/N LETS GO YEONJUN IS DRIVING ME TO SCHOOL RN HE CAN DROP U OFF TOO!!!” Soobin is seariously the most annoying man in this whole universe but atleast he’s a use sometimes getting u rides to school. “COMINGG!!”

You got into Yeonjuns car with his sandwich in your mouth. You three just sat in silence as the sound of ur chewing on your sandwich filled the car until Soobin opened his idiotic mouth: “So Y/n… who’s the hickey guy??” Yeonjun laughed in a teasing tone and you groaned. “Seariously i have no idea, i think i just made out with a random guy at yesterday’s party at Niki’s house..” they quickly glance at each other “oh so the party was at nikis house huh? Gotta ask him later today abt it…” Yeonjun sounded a little worried “huh why??” You knew they liked Niki because he was a part of their huge friend group of 12 but somehow they seemed to be suspicious about Niki.

“Niki knows hella lot of people and we weren’t at that party cuz we were at a bar 21+ w some of our bros but… Niki is just 18… i guess he just hosted his own party then.” You shrugged and ate your sandwich until the car stopped at your favourite cafe called belle vue.

“Alr bye y/n!” Soobin and yeonjun yelled in a duo. “Oh nah i’m not going here today… just drop me off with Soobin.” Yeonjun and Soobin furrowed their eyebrows a bit confused.. “aren’t you walking with Jake today? Don’t you two always get morning coffee and walk to school together?”

“Mmhm yeah nor anymore… dw tho it’s nothing important.” Soobin let out a sigh that sounded like he slipped the word “girl drama” out of his lips so you stepped on the back of his seatbelt and made him cough. “Okay no you’re getting all of us coffee or we leave you to walk here, its 8:16 so you’ll be late if u walk!” Soobin is such an arse.. “fine ugh, but u two ARE paying me back. and i SWEAR TO GOD if i see jake in there. I will throw ur coffees on this car.” You left into the cafe angrily. “Shes scary, but funny”

You stepped into the cafe and ordered the coffees and the thing you feared the most, ofc it happened. Jake, Jake sim was behind you in line to get coffee and when you turned to leave the cafe you accidentally made eye contact with him.

“Here are your coffees but be glad I didn’t pour them on the car Because SIM FUCKING JAK-”

“YO JAKE!! you want a ride to school? U’ll be late if u walk!” Yeonjun waved his hands through the car window aignaling Jake to come in the car. “Fuck” you sigh.

The ride to school was awkward. Jake, Yeonjun and Soobin were being just as annoying as usual but something was off with Jake. Jake seemed to look at you more than usual. Then all of the sudden Jake whispered: “I wonder how you got all those hickeys…” with a smirk.

You got really anxious and just whispered back: “i wish i remembered.” Which seemed to make Jake a bit annoyed.

Finally Yeonjun parked his car and you instantly saw your friend group waiting for u inside the building.

You walked to class with Jake but it was just quiet the whole time. It was a really awkward day on its own but finally your favourite part of the day, LUNCH!!!

(I’m using a different way of speaking lines i hope yall r ok w it just cuz theres many speakers!)

Hanni: “y/n you never told us what happened after you left the party to go upstairs!!!”

Chaewon: “yeah well i think your neck explains a lot…”

Y/n: “shut up… I actually can’t even remember who did this to me. I’m worried if i did more that just hickeys…”

Chaeryong: “GURL YOI DONT EVEN KNOW?!! IT WAS JAKE”

Y/n: “fuck no. FUCK NO.”

Kazuha: “wait don’t you like him though?”

Y/n: “i.. yeah i guess but something awkward happened on saturday and i didn’t know that we spoke after that and i also saw him today gosh it was SO awkward… WHAT HAVE I DONEE!?” You rub your eyes on your hands and bang your head against the table.

Danielle: “it’s fine dw well help you… but first, what happened on saturday?”

————————————————————

You decided to call Jake on Wednesday because the atmosphere was so awkward around him the past couple days.

“Hey y/n?”

“H-hi Jake i just… wanted to chat a little if thats okay with you..?”

“Oh- i mean s-sure whats up?

“So i just kind of have to apologise.. i’ve been awkward with you for these couple of days because i… I don’t remember sunday at all and i don’t know what to say to you after the text.. thing.

“I can’t tell you over the phone y/n. I’m coming over”

He hung up the call and you instantly got ready for him.

In about 10 minutes he was at the door and as you walked downstairs you saw Soobin at the door talking to Jake and u quickly yanked Jake by his arm to your room.

“Explain.” You say as soon as the door shuts. “Y/n, i told you at that party that i loved the picture you sent me.”

“Y-you loved, It?” You began blushing. “Yes, you told me you had feelings for me. So… we made out… i’m sorry if you didn’t want to”

“Oh trust me i wanted to. I want even more.” He instantly looked at you, after a while you looked at his lips and he instantly leaned closer to you. You pulled him closer to you by his hoodie collar crashing your lips on his and he placed his delicate veiny hands behind your neck also pulling you closer to him. He pinned you on your bed and started sliding his hands all around your now sweating and hot body. You kept the deep never ending kiss going while you slid your soft hand into his hoodie touching his abs, making you blush even more. He started undressing you and himself as you catch your breath. Suddenly you’re not wearing anything but your matching underwear. He was wearing only his boxers but not for long.

He slid his hand in your panties to get you ready for him and he adored you as you whimpered already under his touch. “You’re so wet for me. Are you ready to take all of me in?” You mumble between moans: “yes Jake please.” “Oh but i don’t have a condom-“ “it’s fine i’m on the pill, just- fuck me Jake.”

He flipped you over to the doggy position ripping your panties off and he gave his cock a few strokes and already started lining himself up in your entrance. “You’re so wet already” As soon as his tip touched your pussy lips you started shivering and felt like heaven. He pushed his cock all the way in and you felt something you’ve never felt before, it was so deep inside of your cunt that it seemed like a reflex to moan as loud as you could. “You’re so tight Y/n, god you feel amazing though.” He placed his hands on your waist to guide you and started thrusting quicker by the second. You moaned like never before. You felt the familiar knot building up in your lower stomach. “J-Jake i-i’m gonna cum..” you managed to get out of your mouth between moans. “Oh no, not yet babe. He slowed down teasing you and after a minute or two he started quickening his pace again adding his fingers on your clit making you cry out in pleasure. “You’re taking me so well” he said while groaning making you sense that he’s close too. “I-I’m cumming Jake!!”

You came on his dick and almost immediately after he painted your walls white with his cum. “You did so well princess.” He caressed your cheeks and gave you a peck on the lips. You both fell onto the bed panting, he made sure you’re alright and he cleaned you twos mess. After all that you two kissed for a couple more minutes and chatted about what just happened… then suddenly-

Soobin just opened the door and gave you two a side eye “quiet down next time.” And left the door open.

You and Jake quickly looked at each other scared and you chuckled awkwardly.

Well great…

After a while you walked with him downstairs and as soon as he left you heard another door open. “CHOI Y/N WHAT WAS THAT?” Soobin ran downstairs to yell at you. “Are you seariously fucking jake?” You felt the atmosphere getting awkward. “Y-Yes i am i suppose…” “SINCE WHEN Y/N?!” He seemed to be a bit panicked… “well, since today…” “it was HELL listening to you, did you forget that I am at home or were you too cockdrunk?” “Did you use protection?!” “IS HE BLACKMAILING YOU?!” “Did he lose a bet-“ He kept asking so so many questions you couldn’t keep up. “Shut up dumbass, No, no, no, no. Can i just.. process what just happened..?” You’re walking upstairs to the shower while soobin is following your every step. “Okay. WAIT YOU DIDNT USE PROTECTION?! Y/N” he screamed after you locked the bathroom door. “I’ve got it under control bro chill out.” He left and you went into a hot steamy shower.

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CHAPTER 2 WILL BE WRITTEN IF YOU GUYS WANT IT SO LIKE THE POST PLS😘🫶

[urween]

Skittish | Bucky Barnes x ftm!reader

notes : je préfère le spécifier, la temporalité n’est pas exactement respectée. Disons que tout cela se déroule juste après Captain America : The Winter Soldier.

résumé : Après une longue bataille et surtout de dures recherches, les Avengers ont fini par retrouver la trace du Soldat de l’Hiver. Pour maintenir la sécurité de tous, ils le gardent en sécurité dans leur QG. En semi-liberté mais surtout dans un état second, Bucky Barnes attire l’attention du jeune garçon chargé de s’occuper de lui durant son séjour ici.

⚠︎ warnings : mentions de lourds traumatismes liés à la guerre et aux projets Hydra, une forme de dépressif!Bucky, violence, armes, incompréhension de la transidentité sans transphobie, mentions de pensées suicidaires.

english version here

- Description à la deuxième personne

- 5 605 mots

Tu étais le petit protégé du groupe, il l’avait vite remarqué. Même si Natasha n’avait elle non plus pas de supers pouvoirs ou de combinaison robotique, elle faisait partie de l’équipe. Elle et Clint étaient un peu les supers humains de la bande, avec des capacités surhumaines mais rien qui ne dépasse la foudre de Thor ou les muscles de Hulk. Puis, il y avait toi, un petit humain assez normal et sans spécificités particulières. Une grande intelligence, une extrême gentillesse et un sourire adorable. Mais pas de maîtrise des arts martiaux. Tu connaissais les bases des combats, Nat t’avait appris le principal. Tu avais fini par comprendre les formules chimiques extravagantes de Bruce, et tu comprenais le plus important de ce que disait Tony dans ses phases de nerd intenses. Mais encore une fois, tu n’avais rien de spécial, et ça interrogeait Bucky. Pourquoi un humain basique était ici ? Qu’est ce que tu faisais au milieu des Avengers ? Il avait beau avoir raté quelques années décisives d’un point de vue social, il ne comprenait pas.

Lorsqu’il marchait à travers le bâtiment, il tombait sur des scènes qu’il ne savait pas interpréter. Toi assistant Tony Stark et Jarvis, toi riant avec Bruce Banner, toi aidant Natasha Romanoff à s’entraîner, toi portant le bouclier de Steve Rogers jusqu’à lui, toi triant les flèches de Clint Barton, toi refaisant les tresses de Thor.

Qu’est ce que tu faisais là ?

Tu t’étais gaiement présenté à lui. Un sourire amical aux lèvres tu avais énoncé ton nom, prénom et tes pronoms – il n’avait pas vraiment compris ce dernier point –. On t’avait sûrement mis au courant de sa situation, ne te vexe pas il lui faudra un peu de temps avait-on dû te murmurer. Il ne t’avait pas répondu, et tu n’avais pas semblé vexé. Tu étais alors reparti, et il était resté perplexe. Si tu savais déjà tout de lui, pourquoi venir se présenter ? Tu avais dû lire ses dossiers, vous aviez tous dû lire ses dossiers. Steve avait dû s'éclipser pour prendre l’air, Natasha tout inspecter en détails, Bruce marmonner des “quelle horreur”. Tu avais dû lire ses dossiers. Voir sa vie exposée sur une grande table, des mains étrangères parcourant les contre rendus médicaux. Tu avais dû lire avec angoisse la liste interminable des victimes qu’il avait tuées lors de ses missions, observer les modifications qu’on lui avait fait, les traitements infligés, peines endurées. Tu avais vu tout ça. Pourquoi venir le voir ?

« Disons que je n’aime pas vraiment que tu traînes autour de ce type, déclarait depuis plusieurs minutes la voix de Tony, Jarvis copie moi ce plan et fais en une reconstitution 3D avec gares, aéroports et tout le bazard »

Les hologrammes bougèrent devant tes yeux, mais tu n’y prêtais plus attention depuis le temps. À l’époque, la première fois que tu as vu ce monde virtuel se modéliser dans le bureau de Tony tu étais comme un gamin. Des étoiles dans les yeux, tu posais milles questions à la seconde, faisant sourire le créateur de ce programme. Mais à présent tu savais toi même comment fonctionnait la plus grosse partie du système “Jarvis”, et tu n'étais plus si impressionné, ou du moins tu ne l'étais pas à chaque geste de Stark.

« Je vois pas ce qui te dérange, répondis-tu en balançant innocemment tes jambes dans le vide »

Tony se retourna avec sa gestuelle toujours aussi dramatique, faisant un vague mouvement de la main il essaya de te faire comprendre les choses sans avoir à parler. Malheureusement pour lui la télékinésie ne faisait pas partie de tes capacités.

« Très bien, s’avoua-t-il vaincu, pour commencer son bras robotique sophistiqué qui pourrait te broyer avant que tu ne puisses crier, mima-t-il avec désintéressement, puis lui-même au global, tu l’as regardé ? Instable et complètement perché »

Un sourire non camouflé dessina une courbe à travers tes lèvres.

« On parle toujours de Bucky Barnes ? T'amusas-tu, parce que j’ai plutôt l’impression que tu te regardes dans un miroir »

Tu jetas un petit coup d’œil vers Jarvis, qui finissait la demande de ton ami. Puis, ton attention partit de nouveau sur le milliardaire visiblement désespéré d'avoir cette discussion avec toi – tu finissais par avoir l’habitude, une démonstration d’amour de sa part –.

« Je préfère te couper tout de suite, continua ta voix, je t’interdis de me sortir les traditionnelles excuses dans le genre il est dangereux ou armé ou c'est un meurtrier. Tu descendis de la table où tu étais assis et montras avec des grands gestes la pièce, regarde autour de toi Tony, que des armes ou futures armes. Tu te rapprochas de lui et pointa son front du doigt, tu as la plus grande arme que l’humanité n’ait jamais connue dans cette boîte crânienne. Natasha et Clint sont des tueurs professionnels, Steve un soldat traumatisé qui se voile la face, Thor un alien avec des pouvoirs surnaturels et Bruce un scientifique hanté par un alter-ego destructeur. Tu émis une pause pour admirer l’expression faciale toujours aussi indéchiffrable de l’homme en face, vous êtes tous des meurtriers et des dangers pour l’Homme, la seule différence entre vous et Barnes est que vous avez choisi de livrer vos talents à une cause, et que lui n’a pas eu le choix »

Tony resta durant quelques longues secondes de marbre, un tourbillon sûrement en train de faire vibrer ses neurones. Puis, il haussa les épaules et inclina rapidement la tête en signe de défaite.

« Tu as raison, déclara-t-il, j’ai plus d’arguments et les tiens sont en béton, il se retourna et repartit vers Jarvis, bien joué petit »

Il y a encore un an tu aurais été perplexe face à cette réaction, mais le temps t’avait appris qu’il fallait prendre Tony Stark avait des pincettes et l'observer comme on le ferait avec un champignon étranger. Tout ce que tu pouvais retenir de cette interaction était que tu étais fatigué, que tu avais gagné contre le grand mégalo Iron Man et surtout qu’il fallait que tu parles de nouveau à Barnes.

Personne n’avait vraiment été d’accord avec Steve sur l’idée de ramener un mercenaire d’Hydra au QG des Avengers. C’est l’équivalent de lui servir sur un plateau en argent nos secrets, avait à raison dit Clint. Tu avais avec surprise vu Nat prendre la défense de Barnes, à tes côtés et ceux de Steve – bien entendu –. Puis il y avait Bruce qui ne savait pas livrer un jugement distinct, puis Tony et Clint qui étaient contre. Thor étant parti tu ne savais où dans l’espace, les votes avaient donc été clos sur un majorité de pour.

Tu avais aidé Captain a installé une chambre un minimum habitable dans une cellule de protection, un peu comme celle qui avait abrité Loki. Tandis que le grand blond portait le lit dépliable, tu t’étais occupé d’un sac de vêtements – approximativement à la taille de Barnes – et d’un autre avec de l’eau et des sucreries, cette idée venait d’ailleurs de toi. Tu trouvais injuste de qualifier cet homme de simple meurtrier, il avait été manipulé et contrôlé. Tout en posant les barres céréales sur une petite table en fer, tu avais essayé de ne pas penser au chaos qui devait au même moment se jouer dans la tête du Soldat d’hiver. Il devait être tout aussi traumatisé que ses victimes, peut-être même plus. Puis se retrouver dans un environnement aussi particulier du jour au lendemain devait être perturbant. Alors une barre en chocolat et un soda ne pouvaient pas lui faire de mal.

Merci, t’avais murmuré Steve, de comprendre. Tu lui avais rendu un sourire attendrissant, retenant l’envie de lui demander comment il se sentait. Il venait de retrouver son meilleur ami, qui était censé avoir disparu depuis plusieurs décennies, et en plus de ça cet ami avait subi des traitements inhumains durant la plus grande partie de sa vie à présent. C’était évident qu’il ne se sentait pas bien, qu’il était démuni face à cette situation. Bruce t’avait conseillé de lui laisser du temps, et que s’il avait besoin il finirait par parler à l’un d’entre vous. Tu avais écouté ses conseils, et t’étais davantage concentré sur Barnes à la place.

Tu t’étais d’abord présenté, commençant par un simple rapprochement. Tu avais ensuite fait en sorte de veiller à ses besoins, glissant une nouvelle bouteille d’eau fraîche lorsque la précédente était vide, lui ouvrant sa prison seulement quand la nuit tombait pour qu’il puisse aller se doucher sans croiser un Tony méprisant ou un Steve déprimé. À ce propos, des règles avaient été instaurées pour garantir la sécurité de tous. Si Bucky quittait sa cellule s’était toujours en compagnie de l’un de vous – vous étiez d’ailleurs les seuls à avoir les pass –, s’il demandait quelque chose – ce qu’il ne faisait jamais – l’objet devait passer plusieurs portails de contrôle avant de lui être remis, et enfin peu importe où il allait, toilettes ou douches, quelqu’un devait le surveiller dans la limite de l’intimité. Bruce avait proposé de fonctionner à tour de rôle, mais au vu des visages des autres tu t’étais porté volontaire pour assurer la plus grande partie de ses sorties. Natasha devait te remplacer lorsque tu n’étais pas disponible, puis Tony si aucun de vous deux n'était présent. Tu avais ainsi éviter les conflits mais aussi et surtout que Steve ne doive se rendre là-bas.

Tu ne le connaissais pas, Bucky, ayant seulement vu les vidéos présentes dans son dossier, et pourtant à chaque fois que tu allais lui rendre visite ton estomac se nouait. Il n’était pas question de peur, puisque son bras robotique avait été censuré au maximum grâce à un gadget de Stark, lui laissant seulement la liberté de l'utiliser comme un membre normal, sans super-force ou arme intégrée. Il reste un super soldat, avait alerté Bruce, ses facultés physiques sont supérieures à celles de Nat et il a un sérum semblable à celui de Steve dans les veines. Mais tu n’avais pas peur. Malheureusement une chèvre aurait davantage fait frissonner que Barnes lorsque tu allais le voir. Il était comme toujours sur pause. Ne parlait jamais, bougeant à peine son regard du sol. Tu avais été malgré tout rassuré de voir qu’il mangeait le minimum syndical, et il avait même un jour goûter une barre chocolatée. Mais mis à part ces détails, c’était comme si tu voyais le même robot dans la même position, jour après jour. Ton estomac se nouait pour ces raisons, parce que lorsque tu lui apportais des draps propres il n’avait rien de l’homme que tu avais vu en vidéo. La haine qui hantait ses yeux avait disparu, il ne restait qu’un vide sans nom, et tu n’avais jamais rien vu d’aussi triste. Tu n’avais pas l’impression d’avoir un soldat d’Hydra d’une centaine d’années en face de toi, mais un orphelin brisé.

Tu passais beaucoup de temps à relire son dossier, ses rapports, ses examens. Tu essayais de le comprendre à travers ces papiers. Steve était perdu, il ne voyait plus Buck dans ces yeux, et toi tu essayais de comprendre ce qu’il était devenu, Buck. D’après sa fiche personnelle, il avait été retrouvé à l’âge de vingt-six ans avant de subir les expérimentations d’Hydra. Une photo de lui, en 1943, était collée sur le papier. Un sourire timide aux lèvres, son couvre-chef d’infanterie légèrement penché sur sa tête et son uniforme sans un pli trônant fièrement sur son torse. Une larme avait gravement dévalée ta joue, finissant son chemin sur une écriture manuscrite russe : Зимний Солдат, autrement dit Soldat de l’hiver. Bruce avait effectué une tradition complète de tous les documents, par la suite corrigée par Natasha. Peut-être que relire ces textes n'était pas bon pour toi, mais tu en avais besoin. Tu étais le seul ici à t’intéresser à Barnes. Steve culpabilisait à tel point qu’il faisait une sorte de déni, Nat ne faisait qu’étudier froidement le dossier du soldat et ne parlons même pas des autres. Bucky avait besoin de temps, de compréhension et de douceur pour au moins ne pas aggraver ses séquelles. Tu devais très certainement faire des erreurs, n’étant pas psychologue de profession, mais tu faisais déjà mieux que tes camarades et qu’Hydra.

« Douce soirée pas vrai ? Résonna dans un silence de plomb ta voix »

Le soleil s’était couché depuis plus de trois heures, la plupart des Avengers étaient dans leur chambre ou partis dehors, ce qui signifiait que c’était le moment idéal pour que Barnes puisse prendre une douche. Tu avais rassemblé tes forces et t’étais rendu dans la cellule du soldat. Lorsque tu étais passé, il y a de ça environ deux heures, il n’avait pas voulu manger son repas alors tu l’avais repris et fait chauffer de nouveau pour plus tard. Le plat chaud donc d’une main, tu refermas avec précaution la porte en verre blindé derrière toi. Comme tu t’y attendais, Barnes n’avait presque pas bougé depuis ta dernière visite. Toujours assis en tailleur dans son lit, il semblait vaguement remarqué ta présence.

« Je sais que tu ne voulais pas manger tout à l’heure, commenças-tu en déposant le repas à côté de lui, mais je me suis dit qu’entre temps l’appétit t’était peut-être revenu »

Tu avais parfois le droit en guise de réponse à un petit “hum” rauque provenant du fond de sa gorge, mais tu te demandais si c’était volontaire tant sa gestuelle ne collait pas avec ce léger signe de vie. Malheureusement ce soir ne faisait pas partie de ce “parfois”. Pas de bruit, à peine un souffle. Mais tu ne te décourageas pas.

Les premières fois que tu étais venu lui parler, son manque complet de réaction t’avait interrogé sur sa possible compréhension de ta langue. Pourtant tu avais lu qu’il lisait et parlait au minimum deux langues, dont la tienne. Si ça se trouve tu comprends pas ce que je te raconte, avais-tu marmonné tout en ramassant ses vêtements usagés. Ta plus grosse interaction avec lui s’était alors produite lorsqu’il t’avait regardé droit dans les yeux et avait prononcé d’une voix agréablement grave : Je comprends.

« Mis à part ça tu peu- »

Tu fus surpris de le voir se lever de lui-même, se dirigeant studieusement vers la porte de sortie en attendant que tu l’ouvres. C’était d’habitude toi qui allait en premier à la sortie, attendant deux ou trois secondes qu’il se lève et te rejoigne. Mais c’était une bonne surprise, ça voulait peut-être dire que son état s’améliorait.

Ton pass électromagnétique collé au tableau de bord, un petit bip retentit avant que tu ne pousses la lourde porte et fasse passer en premier Barnes. Ces questions de sécurité t’étaient obligatoires pour approcher le Soldat de l’Hiver. Le faire toujours marcher devant toi, rendre ton pass inaccessible – caché dans ta manche la plupart du temps comme Bruce te l'avait conseillé –, une arme blanche camouflée contre ta cheville en cas de problème, et tu n’étais pas censé lui parler de toi ou de l’équipe. Clint avait voulu ajouter une règle supplémentaire : ne pas lui adresser la parole sauf en cas de nécessité, pour prévenir tout risque de manipulation. Est-ce que tu l’as bien regardé ? T’étais-tu imposé dans la discussion, il n’a émis aucune opposition durant tout le processus pour le ramener ici, et puis souviens-toi de ses rapports de missions, il n’était pas un espion mais un tueur de masse, il était programmé pour parler le moins possible à ses victimes. Tony était tombé d’accord avec toi sur le sujet, rappelant le cas de Loki – encore une fois – qui était bien différent de Barnes.

Stupides règles, pensas-tu en regardant la silhouette de l’homme en face de toi avancer dans le long couloir. Si les autres le voyaient plus de cinq minutes, ils se rendraient compte qu’il ne s’agissait plus que d’une victime dans cette cellule. Ils te trouvaient tous un peu naïf et ils t’appréciaient pour ça, un éclat d’espoir au beau milieu du chaos. Pourtant tu étais de loin celui avec la meilleure perception des autres. Chaque méchant avait des arguments, bon ou mauvais tu les écoutais tous. Tu raisonnais l’équipe, les faisant sortir de leur bulle de super-héros pour leur montrer la possibilité d’un peu de légèreté.

Tu ne doutais pas des capacités du soldat Barnes, tu avais encore moins envie de te retrouver en face à face avec lui qu’avec Nat – et c’était déjà beaucoup –. Tu regardais quelquefois de nouveau les vidéos de surveillance prises le jour où Natasha et Steve l’ont combattu pour la première fois. Il était hypnotisant, dans la manière dont tous ses mouvements semblaient s’assembler avec tant de fluidité et de rapidité, la façon avec laquelle son corps réfléchissait pour lui et agissait en conséquence. Tu avais, en comparaison, la tête qui tournait après avoir fait une roulade, alors voir tout ça était stupéfiant. Bien sûr il y avait derrière ces dons d'atroces explications, tout comme pour la plupart des personnes en capacité de reproduire tout cela, mais tu ne pouvais tout de même pas t’empêcher d’analyser ces vidéos. Et puis, là dans ce couloir, tu regardais le dos de Barnes, son bras étincelant, l’étoile rouge y trônant, et tu te demandais ce qui se passait dans son esprit. Ce qu’il savait faire était inhumain, le voir en image renforçait ce sentiment. Puis on devait prendre conscience qu’il s’agissait d’un être humain, qui un jour avait été comme toi. Son mode de fonctionnement devait avoir été totalement bouleversé, déformé et détruit. On avait dû réduire en miettes ce qui avait été pour construire ce qui était à présent, c’était comme ça que ça fonctionnait. Pour s’adapter à un nouvel environnement on nous conseillait toujours d’oublier tout ce que l’on pensait savoir, tous les films le disaient. De la même manière que des platistes étaient persuadés que la Terre est plate, Barnes ne voyait plus le monde comme tu le faisais.

Comme les règles le disaient, tu rangeas discrètement ton pass dans une poche de pantalon tandis que vous arriviez à la salle de bain. De simples verrous servaient de sécurité, et c’était amplement suffisant. Personne à part toi n’avait jamais évoqué l’hypothèse que Bucky tente de mettre fin à ses jours. S’il le faisait, la salle d’eau était le meilleur endroit, c’est pourquoi un simple verrou faisait largement l’affaire pour que toi ou quelqu’un d’autre puisse défoncer la porte en cas de nécessité. Mais tu évitais de trop penser à cette issue, car à travers le peu d'interactions que tu avais eu avec lui et les réflexions que tu entretenais à son sujet, tu t’étais attaché à sa personne.

Tu ouvris le rideau de douche, sous le regard intrigué de Barnes. Chaque Avengers avait une salle d’eau avec le strict minimum dans leur chambre, mais il y avait aussi trois salles de bain plus grandes au deuxième étage. C’était les pièces pour se nettoyer en urgence lorsque l’on rentrait couvert de sang, ou Bruce s’y rendait en cas d’alerte verte par exemple. Elles étaient plus accessibles que les chambres, ce qui expliquait cette fonction. Mais ce qui rendait Bucky curieux n’était pas ça. Tu lui donnais toujours la salle numéro deux, avec un douche basique, un lavabo et des toilettes. Hors là vous vous trouviez dans la numéro une, avec une baignoire. Il détailla rapidement la pièce, légèrement plus grande et mis à part la baignoire il n’y avait rien qui différenciait de la 2. Tu avais comme toujours préalablement enlevé tous les objets sujets à être utilisés en tant qu’arme. La pile de deux serviettes propres surplombée du savon et du shampoing durs – pour éviter les risques d’ingurgitation ou d’attaque oculaire trop agressive – et le gant de toilette, étaient toujours soigneusement posés sur le rebord du lavabo. Alors pourquoi une baignoire ?

Comme si tu lisais dans ses pensées, tu te retournas d'un mouvement fluide. Tu pris le temps d’apprécier le regard expressif de Barnes – c’était tellement rare – avant de répondre à ses interrogations.

« J’ai supposé que ça devait faire des années que tu n’avais pas pris de réel bain, tu essayas d’éviter le sujet Hydra, alors je me suis dit que ça pouvait être une bonne idée ? »

Un bon nombre d’émotions passa dans le bleu de ses yeux, ne faisant qu’accentuer ton appréhension face à sa réaction. Personne n’avait dû être ne serait-ce que sympathique avec lui depuis un long moment, ce qui voulait dire qu’il allait prendre du temps avant de proprement réagir. Mais comme tu l’avais imaginé, son regard parcourut à une vitesse folle la baignoire derrière toi à la recherche d’un piège. Je ne suis pas comme eux, pensas-tu dans un pincement de cœur.

« Je sais ce que tu dois te dire, mais il n’y a pas de piège Bucky, son nom résonna plus que tu ne l’aurais imaginé, ça va être long mais crois-moi je n’essaie pas de te tuer ou de te faire du mal »

Un lourd doute sembla peser, et tu ne pus que comprendre. Ce genre de phrases, il avait dû en entendre beaucoup trop avant de finir électrocuté ou pire. Pour aider son processus, tu t’écartas et le laissa pleinement observer le lieu. Ses yeux bloquèrent plus longtemps que prévu sur le pommeau de douche, et encore une fois, tu eus des nausées en imaginant les traumatismes qui devaient se rejouer dans sa tête. En cet instant, tu repensas à la première fois que tu l’avais conduit dans une salle de bain. Il avait refusé de rentrer dans la douche, la mâchoire serrée au point que ses dents devaient le faire souffrir, il t’avait fixé avec un cocktail d’émotions indéchiffrables dans les yeux. Tu avais fini par te souvenir des traitements réservés aux Juifs dans les douches durant la Seconde Guerre Mondiale, et tu t’étais tout de suite excusé. Pardon j’aurais dû y penser, avais-tu dit avec culpabilité, si tu veux tu peux juste te laver avec le gant et l’eau du robinet, pas besoin du pommeau de douche aujourd’hui si tu n’as pas confiance. Et la situation semblait se reproduire ce soir, il avait peur que vous vouliez vous débarrasser de lui durant sa douche, ou bain en l'occurrence. Les techniques ont malheureusement évolué depuis 39-45, d’autant plus qu’il se trouvait dans le QG du plus grand ingénieur des États-Unis, ce qui voulait dire que vous auriez pû trouver bien des méthodes pour le tuer pendant sa toilette. Mais il fallait que tu trouves un moyen de le rassurer, parce que tu n’avais pas l’intention de l’exécuter en douce, et que tu voulais être sincèrement gentil.

« Peut-être que si ça te rassure je peux-, tu hésitas avant de te dire que c’était pour la bonne cause, je peux rester avec toi ? Il y a un rideau de toute façon »

Face à son expression qui tanguait de la surprise au doute, tu te sentis obligé de justifier.

« S’il y a du gaz ou une explosion, je meurs avec toi ce qui serait pas très apprécié de l’équipe, tu émis une petite pause pour jauger sa réaction, et s’il y a quoique ce soit d’autre de ménaçant tu pourras toi-même me tuer puisque je serais juste à côté. Tu brandis ensuite la clé de la pièce entre tes deux doigts, en plus de ça je nous enferme et laisse la clé sur le rebord de la baignoire, pour ne pas m’enfuir et t’enfermer derrière moi »

Tu eus la ferme impression qu’à une autre époque, Barnes aurait souri, peut-être même ri. Puis, à ta grande surprise, tu vis un semblant d’amusement dans ses yeux. Un voile presque invisible qui ne dura qu’une seconde, juste le temps pour qu’une lointaine version de lui ne prenne le dessus sur le Soldat d’Hiver. Tu ne pus empêcher ton sourire, attendant malgré tout une réaction plus concrète avant de réagir en retour.

Bucky essaya de sortir une émotion dominante du brouhaha qui se jouait dans son esprit. Tu étais définitivement différent, et il commençait à comprendre pourquoi tu avais ta place au beau milieu d’une bande de surhumains. Et même si quelqu’un qui parlait comme toi avait le profil parfait pour manipuler à un haut niveau les personnes, il se risqua à tenter sa chance.

« Je peux avoir vingt secondes seul pour me déshabiller »

Le frisson qui électrocuta tout ton corps ne passa sûrement pas inaperçu. Sa voix, son ton, donnèrent une tournure plus directrice qu’interrogative à sa question, et tu ne fis qu’hocher légèrement la tête. À ton tour, tu devins aussi silencieux que lui, trop perturbé par l’accès de réactions de sa part en si peu de temps. Tu quittas la salle de bain, poussa la porte derrière toi sans la fermer, car malgré ton choc, ton inconscient valorisa ta sécurité.

Pendant que tu attendais un quelconque signal t’autorisant à entrer dans la pièce, tu divaguas sur de nouvelles réflexions. Barnes n’avait parlé à personne d’après ce qu’on t’avait raconté. Les caméras avaient enregistré que durant le combat pour le neutraliser il avait parlé, quelques hommes d’Hydra étaient avec lui alors tu avais supposé qu’il leur donnait des ordres en russe. Natasha avait été bien trop occupée à essayer de ne pas mourir pour prêter attention à ce qu’il avait dit, mais avec du recul, tu avais envie de savoir ce qui était sorti de sa bouche ce jour-là. Tony aimait dire que le russe était une des langues les moins accueillantes au monde, mais étrangement l’entendre de Bucky te donnait envie. Peut-être que c’était sa voix comme grondante, peut-être parce que le russe avait été pendant des années sa langue “natale”.

Outre le russe, il parlait d’autres langues d’après les rapports, mais encore une fois il n’avait pas fait valoir ses talents à n’importe qui à part toi. En même temps, je suis presque le seul qu’il voit depuis son arrivée, pensas-tu. Mais il avait malgré tout eu l’occasion lorsque Bruce était venu avec toi lui rendre visite pour vérifier un branchement du tableau de bord. Il aurait aussi pu le faire depuis sa cellule, puisqu’elle était totalement transparente et qu’il pouvait voir le couloir où beaucoup de personnes passaient, il aurait pu parler. Mais il ne l’avait pas fait, et sans savoir pourquoi tu avais le sentiment qu’il ne voulait parler qu’avec toi.

Un bruit d’eau te fit presque sursauter. Tu murmuras un juron – espérant que Bucky n’ait pas entendu – avant de doucement te retourner vers la porte.

« Je peux ? Préfèras-tu demander pour éviter un drame »

Le temps qu’il réponde, tu laissas encore une fois ton esprit s'égarer. Et s’il était juste nu au milieu de la pièce ? Hydra l’avait conditionné pour qu’il perde tout sens de propriété, pour que même son corps ne lui appartienne plus, ce qu’il voulait dire que la nudité n’était plus un tabou et qu’au contraire – vu les horreurs que ces gens avaient fait – ils auraient très bien pu le forcer à rester nu pour l’humilier davantage.

« Oui, résonna vaguement sa voix »

Te préparant au pire, tu pris une grande inspiration et garda tes yeux bien haut pour éviter tout contact visuel au mauvais endroit. Mais en ouvrant la porte tu fus soulagé de voir le rideau tiré de moitié et un Bucky déjà dans l’eau. Un sentiment, que sur le moment tu comparas à celui d’un parent fier de son enfant, réchauffa ton coeur. Ce n’était peut-être pas grand-chose aux yeux du monde, mais toi tu imaginais les impressions de l’homme lorsqu’il plongea un corps devenu presque inconnu dans une eau chaude préparée pour lui, et lui seul. Confort, surprise, soulagement. Il devait se passer beaucoup de choses dans la tête du Soldat de l’Hiver.

Tu refermas la porte derrière toi, verrouillant la sortie comme prévu. Mais, tandis que tu te rapprochais afin de déposer la clé près de lui, une deuxième vague de chaleur traversa ton corps en te rendant compte de quelque chose. Il avait seulement tiré le rideau de moitié, cachant ainsi le bas de son corps mais te laissant tout le plaisir de voir à partir de son torse. Encore une fois, en d’autres mesures tu n’aurais pas trouvé la situation émouvante, mais plutôt cocasse. Sauf qu’il s’agit du Soldat de l’Hiver, et que toute sa communication se faisait sans la voix. Il avait laissé ses bras et son visage visibles pour qu’à ton tour, tu vois qu’il n’était pas une menace. De la même manière que tu avais trouvé une solution à son angoisse, il faisait un pas vers toi en te montrant que tu n’avais pas de raison de le craindre en ce moment.

« Merci, murmuras-tu »

Comme si tu avais peur de briser le moment, tu t’installas sans un bruit. Il n’y avait pas de chaise ici, mais le sol te convenait. Tu croisas tes jambes en tailleur tout en reposant ton dos contre la petite extension de mur collée à la baignoire. De cette façon, tu restais assez proche de lui tout en respectant une distance nécessaire pour éviter de voir le reste de son corps dénudé.

Tu oublias de vérifier l’heure, ne comptant plus les minutes d’observation que l’homme en face te laissait avant de se poser des questions.

Bucky resta une heure entière dans l’eau avant qu’elle ne commence à refroidir. Tu passas tout ton temps à détailler son visage détendu, ses yeux fermés comme s’il allait d’une seconde à l’autre s’endormir. Puis lorsqu’il rouvrit ses paupières, il te regarda à son tour quelques secondes, avant de te demander s’il pouvait sortir du bain. À sa phrase, la réalité te percuta de nouveau et tu eus une envie folle de lui dire qu’il était libre, qu’il n’avait plus d’ordres à recevoir. Tu eus envie de lui faire voir le monde, de lui faire goûter une glace à la vanille, de lui faire sentir l’odeur de l’encens dans les églises, du gras des triples burgers. Tu eus le besoin de le voir acheter avec son propre argent, l’aider à se relever de ses premières chutes. Lorsqu’il t’avait regardé avec ses grands yeux bleus, attendant ton autorisation pour sortir d’un bain, tu eus envie de lui demander pardon, au nom de l’humanité. De lui promettre que personne ne viendrait le frapper, promettre à ce petit garçon que rien ne lui arriverait, qu’il pourra vivre une vie sereine et heureuse auprès de ses amis et de sa famille. Mais en regardant la peau vive de son épaule gauche, en regardant l’arme qui était implantée dans son corps, tu sentis ton ventre se retourner. Personne n’avait été là pour protéger cet enfant de Brooklyn, aucune des personnes lui ayant fait ça n’a ne serait-ce qu’eu pitié de cet homme. Et aujourd’hui il dormait dans une cellule capable de résister à la force de Hulk.

« Tu peux sortir du bain, se brisa ta voix »

Il obéit, faisant rouler les muscles surhumains de son corps pour se redresser. Tu ne bougeas presque pas, étant à ton tour trop loin dans tes pensées pour avoir l’idée de détourner ton regard de lui. Un nouveau coup fut porté à ton cœur en te rendant compte que oui, il n’avait plus de pudeur. Deux gouttes d’eau tombèrent contre ton mollet tandis qu’il attrapa la plus grande serviette de essuya sans une émotion sa peau. Le bruit rêche du tissu te fit frissonner, et alors doucement tu te levas. Il était plus grand que toi, mais ni ça ni son bras robotique ne t’empêchèrent d’attraper sa serviette humide. Son corps ne parvint pas à réagir lorsque tu passas le tissu blanc contre son bras, son visage était figé dans une expression de totalement incompréhension, face à la douceur avec laquelle la serviette entrait en contact avec sa peau.

Tu finis ta tâche, comme s’il ne s’agissait que d’un petit chiot à essuyer. Puis, tu te reculas de trois pas et planta tes yeux dans les siens. Tu lui tendis des vêtements propres, avant de reprendre la clé et de partir vers la porte.

« J’ai bien besoin d’un chocolat chaud, déclara ta voix encore cassée de larmes, et j’aimerais beaucoup le partager avec toi, Bucky »

Ta main quelque peu tremblante essuya l’humidité de tes joues, te retournant ensuite progressivement vers le soldat après avoir déverrouillé la sortie. Il s’était déjà habillé, le jogging noir tombant bas sur ses hanches. Bucky détailla ton visage, et ses sourcils se rejoingèrent dans une mine mi-confuse mi-triste. Il se rapprocha assez de toi pour que tu sentes la chaleur qu’il dégageait.

« Pas de cannelle, énonça-t-il, je crois que je n’aime pas ça »

Tu lâchas un petit rire nerveux, te disant qu’il n’y avait que toi pour te retrouver dans ces situations.

« Pas de cannelle »

Il y avait un début à tout, et lorsque tu vis – plus tard dans la soirée – de la chantilly sur les lèvres du Soldat de l’Hiver, tu pensas qu’après tout, l’enfant n’avait pas pu être sauvé mais que tu pouvais ramener l’homme à la vie.

images : Pinterest

bannières : @/strangergraphics, @/pommecita et @/thecutestgrotto

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Sixteen

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Strong Language, Smut, World on Fire spoilers

Word Count: 9.3K

Notes: Hiya pals.

“Welcome home, Mr Bennett.”

Tom looked behind the suited man and his clipboard. Beyond the small dockyard pier, he could make out the beginnings of a town still sleeping. Mist, or was it rain, was rolling in from the horizon of hills. In just a few hours, the train would take him through those valleys, along the Pennine Way and to Manchester.

“Not quite home,” Tom said to the man, who smiled in turn. “But almost.”

The boat from Gibraltar to Scotland had taken five days and, after his journey through central Spain, Tom was glad to be back at sea. In England, summer would have been making way for autumn but the heat still lingered in Spain. Days of walking, being bundled between cars, and of weeks waiting in Gibraltar for any news of his departure left Tom agitated. The heat had not helped. The days at sea had given him plenty of time for reflection. Stood on the stern of the boat, gazing as mainland Europe disappeared, he watched the surface of the water for disturbance. After the Battle of River Plate, he couldn’t shake the fear that U-boats were lurking beneath the waves, waiting to strike. Fighting for attention alongside these fears were thoughts of Bess. She had told him, before he left, that the Navy could be the making of him. In a way, she was right, for faced with the open ocean and endless sky, Tom felt freer than he ever had on land.

Home was so close now; he could almost smell it as the gentleman on the dock led him and a few other evaders towards a waiting vehicle. Roast dinners, grease from the dockyard, rain on the cobbles, perfume at the Palais and buttered chestnuts at Belle Vue. The dusty picture house, clean linen, Bess’ hair. Tom had tried to think of what he would do when he saw her, for seeing her was inevitable. For a while he thought of going to the Infirmary; she couldn’t scream at him while in her uniform. Or else, he could climb into the window of her flat like old times, but he didn’t know which was hers and hadn’t she said that the boarding matron had a strict rule of no gentlemen? Perhaps Tom could charm the woman. He wasn’t a gentleman, after all. He settled on seeking her in Longsight. Neutral ground. What he’d say he didn’t know, but that was one part of the plan he could account for; no more performing.

By evening, Tom and the other evaders that had made the crossing were trundling southwards, through Scotland and towards England. It was a supply train, and they had been given bunks by the men that worked to deliver steel, food and other resources across Britain. Tom watched as the sun set below the Pennines, knowing that in the morning he would awake in Manchester. He looked at the photograph of Bess. Almost nine months since he had laid eyes on her at the train station. Maybe tomorrow, he would see the real thing.

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Bess removed the blackouts to be dazzled by sunlight. She stood at her window a while; autumn was coming and soon all warmth would disappear from the sun. God she hated Manchester in winter. She scanned the city skyline. At least, what was left. As if in some perverse game of dominos, a few buildings that had been there last night were gone, dark smoke billowing in their stead. She had heard the first loud crashes. The air raid sirens hadn’t noticed this attack, and after the first distant explosion came banging doors as the girls of Carver Mills, dressed in nightgowns and curlers, hurried to the shelter at the end of the road.

Despite the terror of the night past, Bess found herself in unusually high spirits. The months had not been kind to her, and she could count on one hand the few times she had been truly happy since new year. Most of those times had been the first promising two weeks of 1940, sharing stolen kisses and glances with Tom. But this morning, with the sun shining through the horror, Bess felt perhaps if she couldn’t conquer the world, she could at least conquer the day.

She sat at the small vanity. She had been dancing at the Palais over the weekend and her rollered curls lingered. If she draped them just right at the base of the neck, she could hide them from Sister Stern under her nurses cap. Bess surveyed her reflection. It was a day that called for rouge. Rolling the lipstick from its tube, Bess swiped the colour across her lips and thought of the men at the hospital. She’d certainly brighten their day. The last thing to do was grab the photo from her nightstand. The paper was worn at the edges but despite this, and the black and white hue of the paper, Bess could feel Tom’s blue eyes gleaming at her. She tucked him into the pocket of her apron and donned her coat before glancing round the flat. It wasn’t much, but in the early autumn light, it felt like home. Perhaps she’d have Joan and Helen over that evening for supper and wine, if they could find some.  

The bus was just pulling away from the stop when Bess reached it, and she ran to join it. Douglas appeared at the open door and held out his hand to haul her onto the moving vehicle.

“Thank you,” she half whispered, half panted. Douglas touched his cap. A little awkwardness still coated the air after she had kissed him then revealed her feelings for his son; the month since had left little time for her to visit but she made a point to every time she was in Longsight. She valued Douglas’ friendship too much to allow her moment of insecurity and fear get in the way.

“Your father’s down the front,” he said as Bess moved to find a seat. “Looking a bit worse for wear.” Bess nodded and found her father slumped against the window behind the driver. His hair was unkempt and a little stubble was starting to show.

“Dadda,” Bess nudged him as she sat down. “Dadda!” He woke with a start and looked at her. A sleepy smile spread across his face and he took her hand in his own, patting it gently.

“I was going to pop into the hospital on my way home, to see if you were okay.”

“We’re all fine,” Bess squeezed his hand in reassurance. The Blitz was taking its toll on Fergal. More frequent air raids on the city meant that after his shifts at the dockyard he was straight into his warden’s uniform and on patrol, helping put out fires or guiding civilians to safety. Since Albie’s death, he was rarely home, his time taken up with helping the war effort and avoiding his grief. Bess laid her head on her father’s shoulder and they sat in amicable silence.

“Heavy night last night, they got Oxford Street. Palace Theatre got hit.”

“Many dead?”

“A fare few my girl, a fare few.” When they arrived at the Royal Infirmary, Fergal spoke again. “I do worry about you Bess. It’s only a matter of time before they get the hospital-”

“We’ve got a shelter in the basement, Dadda, we’ll be fine.” She kissed his cheek. “Tell you what, I’ll come by at the weekend for dinner. Stay over?”

“I’d like that, you take care.”

She waved off her father and Douglas from the stop as the bus made its way to Longsight, then hurried in to begin her shift. Sister Stern said nothing about her hair and lipstick, though from the twitch of her eye, Bess knew she wanted to. She was right too, the men loved it. She, Joan and Helen were the most popular nurses at the Infirmary with their beauty, charm and care. With every flirtatious comment, smile to her friends and patient helped, Bess felt her heart lighten. Uncertain the cause of this newfound contentedness, Bess was desperate to cling onto it regardless, and set about making plans for the evening with Helen and Joan.  

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On any other day, the walk from Manchester London Road to the Bennett house would take an hour. But as Tom strolled the streets that had coloured his childhood, his buoyance at being home turned to horror. The pub in which he snuck into for his first pint was no more than a pile of rubble. Houses of friends gone, skeletons of their childhoods all that remained. Even his secondary school, once an imposing building, had been brought down to a singular wall and the scaffold of the gymnasium. He felt sick. The war had at last come home. What if he arrived in Longsight to find it no longer existed? Walking through smoke and the rising dust of devastated buildings, he saw lines of people watching on as wardens and firemen attempted to put out the still simmering flames of the night before. At Victoria Park, a woman was trying to calm her young children, some of whom sat atop the rubble, as men scavenged what they could from the bombed-out street. A football lay abandoned in the road and Tom, taking pity on the woman, offered to kick the ball about with her sons while she rested.

By the time he had arrived in Longsight, any thoughts of happy reunions had vanished, replaced by the anxious dread that had followed him since his final days on the Exeter. The fear that around every corner, no matter how safe or familiar, life could be upended as easily as the spinning of a top. Keen not to feed his fear, Tom walked along the ginnel, avoiding the sight of the street and what it may hold. He reached the gate to the yard of his home as paused, taking a deep breath. The handle was cool in his hand, and it clicked gently as he opened it. Washing was strung across the line, mostly his dad’s shirts and a few of Lois’ small things. Instinctively, Tom took the sleeve of one of Douglas’ jumpers and brought it to his face, inhaling the smell of familiar laundry detergent. It fluttered from his hand in the breeze, and for a moment, Tom felt he could cry. It was that exact sound that stopped him. High and coarse, a wailing cry came from within the house, and Tom’s heart somersaulted.

Tentatively, he opened the door to the kitchen and stepped inside the house. A dull light streamed through the net curtains. Nothing had changed. The piano sat unused, the chairs the same, exactly where the family liked to sit. Douglas at the table, Lois by the window and Tom at the hearth. The only difference was the baby that lay swaddled and crying in its basket, set on the kitchen table. Slowly, ever so slowly, Tom inched towards the little creature. Its red face contorted as it kicked its covered legs and balled its tiny fists. He didn’t know who it belonged to, but Tom knew that somehow, he loved the little babe. Steps thundered on the landing upstairs. Tom just managed to tear his eyes away from the child when a pair of feet appeared on the stairs.

“I’m coming, I’m coming-” Lois slipped down the last few steps in her haste, buttoning the blouse she wore. “Come here then, you little bugger.” There was a moment when Tom thought he was a ghost, had died at Dunkirk and drifted home, for Lois looked straight through him with unseeing eyes. Her steps faltered as she made towards the Moses basket, looking at the space Tom occupied. She stopped and the wailing continued. The two siblings stared at each other, neither moving, as though scared they would startle. It was when Tom smiled at his older sister, dimples appearing in his cheeks, that Lois knew he was real. With a shriek she leapt at him, arms tight around his neck as she burst into sobs.

“Hiya,” he whispered with a laugh. She pulled back to look at him, taking his face in her hands and assessing him, making sure he was there. Deciding it was true, her brother was really home, she took a step back and smacked his arm, hard.

“You bloody bastard,” she laughed through her tears. “We’ve been so worried.”

“And busy,” Tom nodded his chin in the direction of the baby. Lois wiped her face with a watery smile and scooped the baby into her arms.

“Give over,” Lois huffed, unbuttoning her blouse and sitting in the rocking chair by the hearth. Tom watched as the baby’s cries turned to snuffles of contentment.

“Christ. Everything’s so different,” Tom whispered. Manchester, the war, a baby. The home he had longed for was irrevocably changed. And yet, looking at his sister cradling that little baby in her arms, Tom felt that somehow everything would be ok in the end. Lois watched Tom watching the baby and another small sob left her. “Don’t be soft,” Tom laughed, though he held out his hand and Lois took it.

“I’ve missed you,” she wiped her eyes again. “Needed you here.”

“Did you know? Before I left?” Lois nodded. “You should have told me.”

“I was scared. I’m sorry,”

Tom shrugged his shoulders, and Lois gazed back down at the baby. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” He said with a chuckle. The baby had finished feeding, and Lois held the little creature up.

“Sit down then,” she said, indicating the armchair opposite the rocking chair.

“You what?” Tom tried to sound light, but a spike of terror caused his ears to turn pink.

“Just sit down!” Tom did as he was told, and Lois lowered the baby into his arms. She laughed at her little brother, whose eyes were wide in shock. “You can relax, Tom. Lean back in the chair and I’ll put a cushion under your arm. Just take her head, that’s it-” Everything in Tom’s body stilled. His breath became deep, his racing thoughts quietened and any sound beyond the house disappeared. The baby in his arms licked its little pink lips, still milk-drunk, and looked up at him with shining eyes. “This, Tom, is your niece.”

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“Language.” Lois teased. “And this, little one, is your uncle Tom.” Knowing she was in tender care, the little girl gargling in his arms took hold of the finger that had reached out to brush her cheek.

“Fuck,” Tom said again, and wiped a tear of his own from his eye. With Tom missing, Harry married and facing a world of raising a child on her own, Lois had lost all expectations for the future she once dreamed of. A little piece of hope she thought missing slotted back into the space of her heart, as she watched her brother embracing her daughter. She ran hand through Tom’s hair tenderly and he leant into the touch, reminded of their mother. After minutes of contented silence passed Tom, never looking away from his niece, spoke.

“Is she Harry’s?”

“Yes. Though what he’ll have to do with her, I don’t know.”

“Bastard.”

“Quite.”

When he spoke again, it was to his niece. “Doesn’t matter thought, does it? You’re perfect.” Lois smiled and kissed his cheek.

“Are you alright with her there? I’ve got some folding to do,” Tom waved his hand; he’d sit there forever. “Not sure what to call her yet, I thought it’d be nice to name her after mum?” Tom nodded and Lois’ heart burst with pride. Her little family would be ok.

They talked for hours. Tom told Lois about his travels around the south of Europe, and about Dunkirk. How he ended up in Paris and his escape. About Claudette and the others he met along the journey. Lois told him of ENSA, Harry’s betrayal and of adoring Vernon. Of the baby and the birth; she spared him the detail, all but one fact. “Bess helped me deliver her.”

“Oh right,” Tom’s voiced croaked and Lois smiled to herself.

“You’d better go over and see the Vaughns later. They’ll be so happy to see you.” She came back to sit next to Tom and her daughter, now sleeping in her uncle’s arms. “I don’t suppose you’ll have heard that either, God, there’s so much to tell you-”

Tom didn’t get the chance to find out what Lois had to tell him, for the front door clicked open. Douglas walked in, shucking off his shoes and coat. “Where’s my granddaughter then?” He was happier than Tom had heard him in a long time and his stomach sank a little. Was it wrong, to have hoped to find his father devasted? Maybe he was right after all, maybe things were easier if he wasn’t here.

“Dad,” Lois’ voice was soft.

“Yes, love?” Douglas turned from hanging up his coat and glanced at his daughter, before his eyes flickered to the man sat beside her, cradling his granddaughter. Tom stood and Lois hastily took the baby from his arms. Douglas looked between his daughter and son, mouth a little ajar, and swayed on the spot.

“Hi dad.”

The words were barely out of Tom’s mouth before Douglas clapped a hand to his own and laughed. He bent double, laughing, and at this Lois began crying again. It was when his father stood straight that Tom saw the tears rolling down his face. “Dad,” Tom stepped forward but hesitated. For the second time in his life, he froze. The first was when Bess fled from this very house in tears, the second was now. Luckily for Tom, he didn’t have to wait long, for Douglas staggered forwards and gripped him in a desperate hug.

“My boy,” Douglas laughed through his tears. “My boy,”

“Hi dad,” Tom said again, weakly. Douglas, as Lois had done, cupped Tom’s face to look at him.

“My brave, brave boy.” Tom laughed awkwardly, but his heart soared with happiness. At long last, he was home.

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The afternoon was reaching for evening when the Bennetts finally grew tired of chatting. Baby Bennett was sleeping on her grandfather’s shoulder, who was watching his two children with adoring pride. Tom had taken the picture of Marie down from the wall and placed her at the table, the way the Vaughns did with their mother. Sipping the last of their tea, they sat in gentle silence and simple enjoyment of the fact that their family was together again. And not just together, but growing.

“What are your plans, Tom?” Douglas asked as he placed the babe back in her basket.

“Well, I imagine it won’t be long until I’m called back.” He hurried on at the darkness that befell Douglas’ face. “But it won’t be for a while. I’m not sure how much paperwork it takes to resurrect the dead. In the meantime, it’ll be a few good meals and see as much of home as I can.”

“Speaking of which,” Lois said. “You best get over the road. They need some good news and I think you’re just the thing.”

“Must have been devastating when I left, all the good-looking fellas gone-” Lois smacked his arm again.

“Be off with you!” Tom kissed her cheek and patted his father’s shoulder.

“Save some tea for me, Lois. I’ve been dreaming of your roast dinners.” Dressing in an old jumper and clean slacks, he made for the door and the Vaughns. The air was still warm from summer though an autumnal breeze was gathering through the street. A few little girls playing in the street shrieked when it lifted their petticoats around their woollen tights. Tom laughed. That’ll be the little one someday. Crossing the road, something else fluttering in the wind caused him to stop dead. A black ribbon, tied around the knocker of the Vaughn’s front door. His blood ran cold. Surely, Lois would have told him if it was one of the girls. If it was Bess. The sensitivity of the day’s emotion caught at the back of his throat and he swallowed. Hadn’t Lois tried to tell him something before his dad arrived home? Tom watched with quiet fear as the ribbon teased him, before stepping to the door and knocking. He straightened his jumper and ran a hand through his hair. God damn it, he should have looked in a mirror before he left. Or at least washed. Tom was just shaking out his shoulders when the door opened and he snapped to attention.  

“Co-” The words died in his throat as the eldest Vaughn sister jumped at him.

“Oh my God!” Cora withdrew to look at him, then crashed into him once more. “Oh my God! Dot. DOT! Come down here right now!” She dragged him over the threshold. As yet, Cora had said nothing to Tom, and no words were exchanged further when Dot came hurtling from the back room and screamed at the sight of him. Running across the kitchen, she jumped into his arms and bounced up and down.

“You’re alive, oh thank God,” Dot turned back to her sister. “Some good news at last!”

Cora didn’t take her eyes off Tom. “Bess will be thrilled,” Tom could have sworn he saw Cora smirk.

Bess. Tom remembered the front door. “Cora. What’s happened? The ribbon on the door,” Dot stopped her giddiness, still holding on to Tom’s hand.

“Oh Tom,” Cora shuffled around the table to hold her sister. “It’s our Albie. The Siege of Calais-” Her voice died away and Dot hiccoughed. Tom looked between the sisters.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hating how feeble the words were and how they sounded in his mouth. Dot looked up and tried to smile through her watery eyes.

“But at least we have you back. And like Cora said, Bess will be thrilled.”

“I’m going over there to Manchester soon actually, Tom, taking some food round for Bess. If you want to come?”

Cora looked to Dot, who still had hold of Tom’s hand. She began to swing it, looking up at him mischievously. “Um,” he coughed. “Yes, will do.” Christ.

The journey back into the centre of town was easy. One of Douglas’ friends from the bus service gave he and Cora two free tickets on account of him returning home, and the bus detoured around the bombed buildings. Tom thanked God; he didn’t know if he could stomach it. Not when his mind was so occupied on seeing Bess within the hour. Next to him, Cora chatted away about Roger and how well he was doing with the RAF, about the memorial mass for Albie, and at that Tom tried to listen. But through imagined glimpses of the Vaughns’ grief, all he could see were flashes of Bess running alongside the train. It wasn’t until he and Cora departed the bus and arrived at an old mill building that he noticed he hadn’t been paying attention at all to the route they had taken. All he knew was that this was the old cotton trade quarter of the city. Tom looked up at the tall chimneys, smog-stained red brick and the shadow the old mill cast. Half of him thought that facing the Germans would be less terrifying than stepping in here and he laughed. Cora smiled lightly.

“Are you excited to see her?”

“Pardon?” Tom’s reaction was quick, so quick that when he whipped his head around from gazing up at the mill, he heard it crack.

“Give over Tom, I’m not stupid. I know all about you and Bess. She told me, after I caught you both kissing in the window.”

Tom grinned mischievously and rubbed the back of his neck. “I always get caught, in the end.”

“At least this time it isn’t trouble. Though I’ll tell you know, Tom Bennett. I adore you, but if you break her heart, I’ll kill you myself.”

“I think Dot’d kill me first.”

Cora laughed. “That she would. Now,” she put her hand on the door knocker. “Mrs Russo, the boarding mistress, doesn’t like gentlemen visitors so we’ll just tell her you’re waiting outside. Then we’ll sneak you in when she isn’t looking.”

“Aye, aye!” Tom saluted and with a laugh, Cora knocked. Once. Twice. Three times. There was a little noise behind the door and the two heard a pair of footsteps growing louder. It opened to reveal Mrs Russo, broom in hand and beaming, her bonny face shiny with exertion of cleaning.

“Cora, love, hello!” She pointed at the basket of food in her hand. “Got any for me?”

“Just deliveries for Bess I’m afraid,” the two women laughed and Tom sensed this was an ongoing occurrence. Mrs Russo then turned her eyes to him appraisingly and did not hide that she clearly approved.

“And who is this handsome lad?”

“Mrs Russo, this is Tom.” Cora lightly touched his shoulder. “A childhood friend. He’s just returned home this morning.”

“Ah, the missing fella!” Mrs Russo clapped her hands. “Bess has told us all about you, of course.” Tom felt a blush rise up his cheeks and Cora smirked. “Now, I don’t allow young men in the house, even ones as good looking as yourself, but would you take a cup of tea while you wait for Cora? I can open up the courtyard for you.”

“Only if you join me, Mrs Russo.” Tom winked.

“Oh, he is a charmer! I can see why you girls are so fond of him. I best get back to my cleaning but if you follow the building round, I’ll open the gate to the courtyard. Coming, Cora love?”

Tom began to walk along the red brick wall as Cora whispered, “I’ll come and get you when the coast is clear!”, and followed the lady inside. Mrs Russo had already opened the courtyard gate and hurried back to her chores when Tom reached it. Washing, bedsheets and nurse’s uniforms, hung between every window and at the centre of the small patio was a table and two chairs, a steaming cup of tea already awaiting him. No sooner had Tom sat down and taken his first sip was Cora hissing at him from a side door.

“Psst! Tom!” Tom hastily threw the tea into a plant pot and strode towards Cora. “Bess is still at work but I can let you in. You’re alright waiting for her, aren’t you?” Tom nodded his assent and felt his heart rate double. The two wound their way quietly up a few flights of stairs before Cora stopped to fumble with a set of keys. “Here we are, Bess’ humble abode.” She entered the flat first and Tom followed. It was as if he was trespassing on the room of someone recently deceased; it was so full of life yet the occupant was nowhere to be found. He half expected Bess to jump out at them.

The kitchen was miniscule. A cup and plate had been left by the sink, and Cora set about washing them for her little sister and putting away her parcel of food. On top of a rickety table was a vase, the dried flowers losing their leaves and scattering around two picture frames. One of Bess and her family, one of Etta. Tom smiled and moved to the window. Despite the missing buildings and the faint smoke rising from the air raids, Manchester looked magnificent in the late summer light. The sun was low on the horizon, piercing through chimneys, spires and mills. A little way off, Tom could make out the cranes of the dockyard. Beside him was an old armchair, its fabric faded and patched in places. Over the top lay some clothes, haphazardly draped, and a book of Nursing Practice. A little to his right, the bedroom door was askew, and Tom just caught a glimpse of the bed when Cora spoke. She was halfway out the door.

“I know what happened, Tom, before you went away. Bess has a steely mind and a sensitive soul, but she needs the truth.”

She didn’t allow Tom to add anything more before shutting the door. He was left alone.  

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“Got a bottle of wine from one of the lads,” Joan said, placing dirtied bedding into the wash bin. Helen was smoking discreetly out of a store cupboard window, carefully avoiding Sister Stern.

“How on earth did you manage that?”

“Said I’d give him a kiss,” Joan said sweetly and Bess laughed.

“Honestly,” Helen pretended to chastise her friend, but still smiled as she exhaled a plume of smoke. “What time shall we come up to yours Bess?”

“Eight o’clock, I’d say.” Bess was helping Joan to tidy away the linens before heading home to pick up some sewing work. “Gives me a chance to finish the clothes.”

“I wonder if there’ll be another air raid?” Helen worried the skin of her lip as she flicked her cigarette away.

“If there is,” Joan straightened and stretched her back from the day’s labour. “I’m glad I’ll be with you girls.” Bess squeezed her hand and waved her goodbyes.

The five o’clock sun set the city ablaze, and when Bess stepped onto the street, the glare the sun cast from the windows caused her to walk straight into somebody.

“I’m so sorry,” she held out her hands to steady herself against the person.

“Bess,”

Bess looked up, and into the sullen and scarred face of the man before her.

“James!” Bess took an instinctive step back. “How are you? The scarring is healing well, glad to see my stitching was neat.”

“Yes, I uh-” James looked nervously at her and shuffled on his feet. “I’m here to see one of the doctors about my sight. If he thinks I’m healed, it’ll be back to the front for me.”

Neither spoke for a moment, then Bess reached out to hold his arm. “The offer still stands, James. If you want someone to write to, you know where to find me.” She gestured to the building behind her. “Good luck.” She began to walk away when the calling of her name stopped her.

“Bess, if I do go back, would you come for dinner with me before I go?”

“James-”

“Please, just one last time.”

Despite his height, the soldier seemed to slouch under Bess’ gaze. His messy hair blew in the breeze and the coat he wore hung loosely around his shoulders. He looked completely lost.

“James, I’m sorry. I’m taking care of my heart at the moment, I don’t think I can handle any more heartbreak.” The man she spoke to straightened at this, seemingly buoyed by the fact that in some life somewhere, he could have the capacity to break this magnificent woman’s heart. The reality was entirely different, and Bess’ mind drew images of blue eyes and thin lips before her. Still, this little offering seemed to ease the soldier’s spirit and she smiled. “Good luck, James,” she said again, before heading for the bus stop.

Mrs Russo was exiting Carver Mills when Bess arrived home a while later. The little woman was buttoning her coat over a blue skirt Bess had mended for her when she spotted her tenant.

“How was work love?”

“Exhausting.”

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that Cora popped round a little while ago with a very handsome man and a food basket for you.” Bess smiled, imagining the fuss Mrs Russo surely made over Roger. He really was taking his time with that proposal.

“Perfect. Helen and Joan are coming up for supper later if you’d like to join us?”

“Oh heavens no!” Mrs Russo smiled. “I’m off to see my daughter, and besides, you girls don’t want an old biddy like me hanging around. No, you have your fun.”

“And you,” Bess passed Mrs Russo in the doorway and dragged herself up the stairs towards the flat. Despite her weariness, and run in with James, Bess still felt in her heart the lightness that had settled there that morning. For the first time, she smiled as she thought of Albie. Bess had never been particularly faithful, unlike her mother and father, but she wondered if this happiness and warmth came from her brother watching over her. Perhaps he was annoyed at her moping and was sending her a gift from the heavens. He always got annoyed when she was miserable, the likely cause being their twin moods. Or maybe it was because she had finally settled into her life in Manchester, away from her family. It was true, she missed them, and missed the piano, but this newfound sense of freedom gave her something she hadn’t known since she worked at the atelier. Only three miles away from where she was born, yet somehow this little world felt like hers entirely. The only thing that could dampen her happiness was Tom. She heard Albie’s reassuring and logical voice in her head. “Missing, not dead.” She reached the door to her flat, a little out of breath and pulled her keys from her bag.

“Missing, not dead.” She said aloud to the stairwell, placed her key in the door and began humming Mack the Knife. The sun painted her kitchen a brilliant gold, and Bess stood in the open doorway letting the last of the day’s warmth touch her face. She turned back to the door, still humming and locked it before removing her coat and shoes. Reaching up under her dress, she unhooked her itchy tights and pulled them off also, the cool tiles of the floor sending shivers up her legs. It was as she was retrieving the contents of her bag that the sudden and harsh scraping of a chair across the kitchen floor caused her to gasp and spin around.

A man was stood at the table. Wisps of his blond hair were haloed in the golden sunset, his broad shoulders squared, and Bess could just make out the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. Electricity hummed in her fingers tips. If I reach out and touch him, she thought, I might spark. At this surge of power, of energy, warmth welled in her bosom and her chest burned, as though taking her first gasping breaths of oxygen. Bess’ body, far before her mind, reached out to the figure, lit like a beacon in the autumnal light. She stepped forward, yet the figure didn’t move. He didn’t need to.

Bess would have known it was him had she been blind. If he’d not been a man, but a perfect ray of sun or a bird perched on her window or the chime of bells on Sunday, she’d have known. She would have known it as the air stilled around them. If he hadn’t come back until she was an old maid, and he an old man. She would have known it was him, just like she knew he was the reason for the day’s high spirits. Bess raised her hand and, shielding her eyes from the light, she saw him. The depths of those grey eyes, the sweep of hair. The strong neck that led to that stone jaw. The slope of his nose, pink at the tip and those lips, curved and oh so tempting. She edged ever closer, her hands instinctively reaching out to him.

Tom had been prepared for stony silence, a confrontation, or an affectionate kiss on the cheek and a “welcome home”. But when Bess looked at him as though he were the only man on earth, Tom Bennett could do nothing but watch. Watch, as she stood bathed in the sunlight. Watch, as she took in every feature of him. Watch, as her shock turned into recognition, and watch as she advanced on him, her dark eyes set and certain.

“Bess, I-” his voice was barely above a whisper, and the hopeful need he heard in his own was matched in the stormy eyes of the woman before him. Months of despair and self-hatred, years of waiting and wanting all came undone at the sound of his voice. Taken over by carnal desire that only he could ignite, Bess rounded the tiny kitchen table and collided with him.

“Tom,” her voice was shrouded in desperation, and no sooner had his name left her lips were they on his, warm, wanting and needy. Tom sighed, letting Bess devour him in a frenzy of lips, teeth and tongue, and in an instant his hands were at her back, pressing her body flush against his chest. Bess pushed Tom into the wall and pawed at his chest, desperate to touch any part of him she could. Pulling away from his lips, she tugged at the jumper he wore. She dropped it to the floor and pressed her body against his, wanting nothing more than to melt into his touch. Bess untangled her hands from Tom’s hair and frantically began undoing the buttons of his shirt. Her nimble fingers made quick work of the offending garment and Tom watched with proud awe as she ripped it away from his body and ran her eyes over his hard chest. When a small gasp left her parted lips his pride turned to fear however, until Bess ran gentle fingers under the skin his left shoulder. There, above his heart and below his collarbone, the puncture of scar tissue darkened his alabaster skin.

Seeing horror flash across her eyes, Tom placed a hand on hers and held it over his scar. “They shot me,” he said simply with a sad smile.

“And that’s why you didn’t come home,” it was a statement more than a question, and Tom nodded. Slowly, Bess removed her hand from the scar and placed a tender kiss to the mottled skin. Tom’s wayward heart drummed in his chest as something akin to hope anchored there.

“I’m sorry,” Bess whispered, peppering kisses across his chest, always returning to kiss the gunshot. “I’m so sorry,” her voice quavered and when Tom moved away from her she whined. Tears were forming in her eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She reached out to Tom but he batted her hand away and instead took her face in his hands.

“Why are you apologising?”

“I didn’t say goodbye to you,” Bess took a shuddering breath. “What if you hadn’t come back? It’s, it’s-” Her voiced raised in pitch. “It’s so close to your heart, Tom.” She had barely finished the words before prolonged grief racked her body. She tried to hide her face but Tom didn’t let her. Instead, he ran a thumb over her cheek and committed this moment to memory. In the streaming, yellow light, and filled with tears, her brown eyes looked gold. She must have been wearing lipstick during the day, for the faded pigment lingered at the centre of her full lips, now wet with his kisses and slightly parted. A flush covered her cheeks and nose, and her eyebrows were knitted with anguish. Tom grinned with tenderness for her. Once more running a finger over her cheek, he wiped away a tear and spoke softly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he kissed her slowly, savouring the taste of her salty tears and the warmth of her tongue. “I’m here, Bess. I’m home.” At this, Bess whimpered through his kisses and clutched at his shirt. The sound sent tremors straight to Tom’s cock and he inhaled harshly, attempting to restrain his desire to take Bess where they stood. Urgent for closeness, Bess wound her hand through Tom’s sandy hair and gripped hard at the nape of his neck. When he moaned aloud, she ran her tongue along his lips before moving to nip at his jaw, down his neck and his bare torso. His head fell back and hit the wall as she ran her tongue up the length of body, skirted her hands over his chest and wound them around his neck. She bit him there once again and Tom laughed.

“I missed you so much, love.” Tom whispered, the ghost of a smirk on his handsome face.

“Tom,” Bess ran her tongue along the column of his neck and bit the pulse point there. The action caused Tom to buck his hips and Bess giggled. She did it again and this time, Tom growled. “Fuck, Tom,” once more her hands found his hair and she tugged him down in a fiery kiss, their tongues fighting to gain dominance. One of Tom’s large hands gripped Bess’ waist and pulled her towards his groin, where she felt the growing hardness beneath his trousers. Head spinning, and whining at the friction through his trousers and her layers of uniform, Bess broke the kiss and licked her lips seductively. Tom pulled forward. She pulled away.

“I dream of this every night, Tom Bennett.”

That was it. That was all it took for Tom Bennett to snap. Months, if not years of wanting Bess Vaughn burst from him as he roughly took hold of her face and crashed his lips onto hers. No longer were his kisses soft and loving, but hard and wanton. Bess mewled at his display of ownership over her and began unbuckling his belt.

“Fuck,” he tore his mouth away from hers to suckle at her neck; hot, wet kisses as she fought to free him from his trousers. When the belt was undone, still dominating her mouth with his tongue, he gripped her hips with his hands and forced her backwards until her legs hit the wood of the kitchen table. With both hands under her backside, he hoisted her onto its surface and she grabbed him for another devouring kiss. Without coaxing, she spread her legs and Tom groaned as he stood between them, grinding against her layers of skirt.

“Tom,” Bess’ head tipped backwards and he ground into her. He reached behind her back and pulled the ties of the nurse’s apron and threw it to the ground. With her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms about his shoulders, Bess clung to Tom as he fought with the buttons and zip of her bodice. Cold air and Tom’s long fingers traced the skin there when he managed to undo it, and no sooner had Bess moaned is name was Tom pulling her free of the arms and bodice of her uniform. He huffed at the sight of her brassiere, and with no warning or hesitation, ripped its satin straps so that Bess’ chest was entirely bare to him. Instantly, her pink nipples puckered with cold and Tom’s eyes blew wide. He dipped his head to kiss at the full flesh there, and Bess’ hold around his waist tightened.

“Please, Tom.” His name was all she could say. Tom was all she could comprehend. Still teasing her breasts, Tom reached beneath her skirt and roughly pulled down her knickers. She moaned with need as Tom ran a finger through the treasure he found there.

“Fuck,”

Bess bucked her hips.

“Fuck,” he said again, bringing his lips back to hers and moaning into her mouth. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined doing this to you.”

Bess laughed with the pleasure and power those last words brought her. “Yes I do,”

“Confident,” Tom smirked as he continued to kiss her and run his long fingers through her now dripping folds.

“’I’d have fucked you with my mouth, my fingers, my cock. Watched you take me.’” Bess quoted, and Tom stilled. Through lust-hazy eyes, he looked down at her. His fingers stopped their work and Bess whined.

“What did you say?”

“’I don’t want to imagine anymore what those nimble fingers of your can do.’” Bess quoted again, and she watched as his pupils dilated further and his Adam’s apple bobbed with nerves. He huffed a laugh and Bess bit her lip.

“How do you know that?”

Bess tried to drive her hips upwards, frantically trying to feel his fingers against her but he moved them away. “What do you mean?”

“I-I didn’t send that letter,” Tom whispered, his mouth close to hers. Bess frowned a little, confused but eager for their reunion to continue.

“Well, you have a guardian angel because not only did they send you back, but they sent that letter too. And I’ve read it every night and every morning since it arrived. I’m tired of using my hand and pretending it’s your mouth around me.” Bess kissed him quickly, chastely.“I could say exactly the same.”

Tom regarded her with admiring shock then, with a harsh thrust as quick as lightening, brought his fingers to dip inside her. Bess cried out but was silenced by Tom’s hot mouth on hers. Who was more wanton, neither could say, for no sooner had he touched her was Bess bucking her hips onto his hand. Faster and faster, Tom fucked her sex with his fingers. First one, then two. When he added a third he felt Bess clench hard around him and he buried his head in her chest.

“Please,” she whimpered, curling an arm around his neck for purchase. “Please, I need you Tom.” At the sincerity of her words, a singular sob rent its way from Tom’s tense body. He looked down at her, at his Bess, spread before him on the table, half dressed and flushed with lust. It was true that Tom had thought of this moment, though his dreams could never equal the excitement, terror and elation that he felt roaring through his veins. But his obsession with Bess was so much more than lust. These nine months he had carried her in his pocket, through battles and enemy-occupied states. If he did have a guardian angel, surely it was she. Surely, it had always been her. On the Exeter, wasn’t it her hair he saw in the flames? When entangled with another woman he didn’t know the name of, wasn’t it her lips he’d imagined? It was memories of her, teaching him piano, nights at Belle Vue or the Palais, the momentous occasions he had made her belly laugh, or quiet evenings sharing a cigarette that had got him through those lonely, fearful nights at sea. It was the certainty that when he got home Bess would be there, waiting for him or not, that dragged his tired and war-battered body across Europe to safety. He needed her, completely and entirely.

With a swift kiss, Tom removed his fingers from her arousal and fumbled hastily with his slacks. Bess bolted upright and her hands found his. Together, with smiles and desperation, they wrestled with his slacks and briefs until the growing hardness that had strained so uncomfortably against the hard fabric was freed. Bess’ mouth watered at the sight and she kissed Tom with a renewed hunger. Looking back to his hard erection pressed against the soft flesh of her thigh, she whimpered. A few pearlescent beads of precum were gathered at its pink and swollen tip, and the veins that travelled along the shaft to its base in the thicket of blond curls throbbed. Without hesitation, Bess gripped his wide length and Tom hissed as she pumped his arousal before lining it up with her centre. Bracing his hands on the table either side of her lips, Tom’s head fell forward against Bess’ and she ran the tip of his cock along the entrance of her dripping sex. She inched closer to the edge of the table, mouth falling open in a silent moan as the tip of Tom’s painfully hard cock pressed against her entrance. He was panting with need, and the effort to not slam his hips forward and fully seat himself inside her. Already, their kisses were sloppy. The small kitchen was alite with the heat of the sun and their bodies. Bess’ hands gripped his broad shoulders and Tom took himself in hand, but when her legs wrapped around his slight waist, he faltered.

“I-I-Christ,” he was cunt-drunk before he’d even fucked her. “I don’t have a sheath.”

Bess ran a hand through his flaxen hair. She had waited years for this man, known since the war began that it was Tom Bennett or no-one. Any consequences of loving him wholly be damned. “I want all of you, Tom,” she whispered. “Please.”  

And Tom, with a shuddering breath, inched himself slowly into the welcoming heat of Bess’ body. Simultaneously they groaned, as Tom bottomed out in the warmth of Bess’ cunt. Her head tipped backwards and exposed the column of her elegant neck. Not moving within her, Tom leant forward to kiss the delicate skin there, the act pushing him forwards so that the tip of his cock brushed that sensitive spot within Bess’s pussy.

“Fuck,” her cry sounded pained, and Tom would have withdrawn from her were it not for the piercing of her nails in his shoulders, or the plump flesh of her thighs holding him ever closer. Slowly, so tantalisingly and cruelly slowly, Tom edged out of her heat, causing Bess’ eyes to flutter shut. He paused to watch the heaving of her breasts as she raggedly gasped for air, and at his stillness she looked at him through half-lidded eyes. “Please-” Whatever she was to say next died in her throat, for Tom slammed his hips so forcefully into hers that she saw stars. Over and over, Tom thrust his aching cock into her heat as she mewled and clawed at any part of him she could reach. With every snap of his hips Bess’ body came alive for him, from the quivering of her walls around his cock to the babbled gasps of “more”, “Tom”, and “harder”.

For Tom, the tight heat of Bess around him, the image of her coming undone at his touch and the desperation with which he had always wanted her reached a feverish pitch in which the overwhelming cacophony of feeling rendered his mind utterly blank. All he knew was Bess, the sound of her pleading voice, the harsh rasps of their hot breath on each other’s bodies and the obscene sounds of their love making. Harder and faster he pounded into her, all thought of gentleness gone from both their minds, bodily need and years of craving each other taking over.

The banging of the table legs against the floorboards of the old flat was barely audible over Bess’ moans and Tom’s muttered adorations, and neither noticed nor cared. Tom was too caught up in the waves of pleasure washing over Bess, and when her body fell back against the table and revealed her parted sex taking his cock so perfectly, he reached down to circle a thumb over her needy clit. Bess gripped his wrist and Tom felt her cunt clench around him.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, and at her demand Tom felt he could continue no longer. Eager to satisfy her, he ground his jaw and with a hand at her hip and the over rubbing perfect circles over her sex, he watched as a flush of red bloomed across Bess’ cheeks and chest. Her body tensed and began to quake, and Tom knew he had never seen anything so beautiful; he promised himself he would bring Bess to pleasure as often as he was able. The shockwaves of her orgasm pulsed through her body, hard and untameable, and at the feeling of her climax Tom came undone, growling lowly as he came within her. Bess’ body went limp and he brought her against his chest, cradling her in his arms. In turn, Bess kissed the side of his forehead and laughed. When he looked at her through his loving and fucked-out gaze, he saw the surely uncomfortable position she was in; legs spread wide around his waist, leant slightly against the hard table and half dressed. Slowly, Tom pulled out of her still quivering sex and Bess gasped. The sound made Tom grin with smug satisfaction and Bess laughed. He kissed her smiling lips and pulled her to her feet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered with a chuckle. Bess stood and, as she did so, the skirt of her uniform slid from her hips and pooled on the floor. Completely naked in front of him, Tom reached out a hand and caressed he full hips.

“Now you’re the one apologising!” Bess stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his perfect lips and feeling his cock grow hard once more at the touch of her bare body. He laughed.

“I had grand plans for when I came back to you, and fucking you on the kitchen table wasn’t one of them. I’m sorry-”

“I don’t know,” Bess cut him off with a languid kiss. “It seems appropriate to me, the course of our lives seems to have occurred in the kitchen.”

“Not anymore, love.” Bess raised a quizzical brow but her question went unanswered, for Tom bent low and flung Bess over his shoulder. She squealed and held his waist, Tom’s own hands firm on the plump roundness of her bottom. Bess could sense the shit-eating grin her wore and she smacked his arse.

“Cheeky,” Tom walked her to her bedroom, kicking open the door and dropping her on the bed. His eyes were hungry and she expected him to ravish her. Instead, he crawled atop her and rested his head against her soft stomach and curled his hand around her hips. It was then that Bess realised that hunger and lust for another person were not the same, and her heart beat with a fresh wave of love for the man clutching at her body.

“I missed you,” he said again, running his hands up her sides. She shuffled beneath him, rolling onto her side and Tom was forced to look up. Bess was reaching for the drawer of her bedside table.

“I want to show you something,” her voice was strained as she stretched awkwardly to retrieve something amongst the pile of makeup, magazines and fabric samples. Sitting up, naked and vulnerable, Bess handed Tom a bundle of paper. It was only when he looked closer that he realised they were letters. Each dated, with his name in the centre. He looked from them to Bess with wide eyes, doubting that anyone, including his father or Lois, had ever loved him this much.

“I never stopped writing, after you went missing,” she wiped her eyes and a glimmer of the old Bess, defiant and hardy, appeared before Tom. He wrapped a hand in the copper hair at the base of her neck and kissed her deeply.

“You’re some woman, Bess Vaughn.” And with dexterous fingers, he opened the first letter and began to read.

Notes: I’m sorry this took so long, hen dos and Eurovision and mega work deadlines and illness got in the way. Forgive me. Expect communication and long, sexy, heart-felt smuttiness in the next chapter! See you soon (I promise!)

EDIT: If you've read Come Back To Me, you may have noticed that in my illness-addled mind I called Bess the wrong name. All sorted now.

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