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halorocks1214 · 4 years

Text

ბარტერი (a Thunderbirds fic)

Chapter 1: გატაცებული

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3892

Summary: And here they thought getting their father back was the least of their worries.

i make no promises for this fic. the upload schedule will be totally willy nilly because i havent really been feeling the whole writing thing and because of my other fics and projects and irl shit. i hate to admit it but im on the fence on whether or not this will actually be completed, BUT, i still am surprisingly proud of this so im posting it anyway. hope yall enjoy!

“Okay, what’s the dealio?”

Gordon easily skipped around his younger brother with a slightly faux-naive voice. They were currently out in the field, damn tsunamis not being picked up by the D.A.R.T. soon enough, and while Gordon knew better than to talk about personal things during a rescue, it was the first time in a while he even had the chance to talk to Alan.

Who was currently more forlorn than Gordon was aware he could be if the way he watched his toes kick whatever small rock they strutted past was any indication. It took a moment for Alan to register his older brother’s question, but when he did, he blinked a few times before looking at Gordon with a raised eyebrow, “What?”

Gordon was going to play this slyly. Treat it as banter, not an interrogation. Gordon idly leaned over and picked up a stick. He started to twirl it, never meeting Alan’s gaze directly, “I don’t know, you seem off. Just wanted to see if it was anything I could help with.”

Alan went back to kicking the pebbles, shrugging his shoulders in a way that said ‘this was a big deal but I don’t want you to know that’, “Oh, sorry, just tired. It’s not my fault I was having a wonderful nap in the closet only for John to make me tumble out of it due to the alarms. The fact that we’ve been out here for God knows how many hours doesn’t help.”

Gordon’s chuckles at that statement were slightly fake. Alan was hiding something, and if Gordon had to imitate Scott, well, then it was only Alan’s fault, “Yeah-huh. Sounds good.” He focused on the stick, pretending it was a wand and waving it around as such, “Decided on a college yet?”

Alan still didn’t look up, and Gordon could hear the noises of rocks getting kicked and traveling a foot or two. Alan answered him monotonously, “Uh, not really. I’ve narrowed it down to three. I haven’t brought them up with anyone other than Grandma though since the last thing I want to do is create a World War between our older brothers about which one is better.”

Gordon snorted but then got serious again. Dammit, Gordon, you are not letting him worm his way out of this. Again, “If I promise Scout’s Honor will you tell me them?” He cheekily grinned at Alan, which got a small smile out of the younger brother. Nice, getting closer. Now Gordon was doing that rubber pencil trick with the stick, way more immersed with the visual illusion than he probably should be, “Hmm, is it girl trouble?”

Alan rolled his eyes, but Gordon could tell he was getting annoyed, which meant the older brother was getting close. Alan kept his facade up, crunching a stick underneath his feet as he started walking just a little faster, “If you mean ‘Kayo chased me for accidentally spilling paint on Shadow’s nose’ then yes, I’m having lots of girl trouble.”

Gordon winced wholeheartedly and sympathetically. He remembered when he accidentally tripped and spilled water all over the front of her one night. He wasn’t aware she was a fan of throwing them into the pool just as much as he was until that night. It was in annoyance, but still, Gordon considered it a similar hobby between them regardless, “Yeesh, sorry for bringing up traumatizing memories bro.” Squinting at the stick he was playing with, he put it over his lips like a faux-mustache, lightbulb dinging in his brain with joyful glee, “Boy trouble?”

Alan groaned at started walking way faster than Gordon. Once he was about three feet away from Gordon, he shouted while still facing forward so Gordon could hear him, “Oh my god, let it go, Gordon!”

Bingo, Gordon thought he hit the jackpot. Throwing the stick away and keeping his distance from Alan, his grin went ear to ear with excitement at what he thought was figuring it out, “Oh man, okay, wait, hang on, is it that Bear kid? The one Scott rescued for the umpteenth time last week? Or, wait, didn’t Conrad visit you up at ‘Five two weeks ago during your rotation?” Giggling, Gordon rubbed his hands together mischievously, “Allie, how dare you. Romantic or not, it’s my job to help you out with these things--”

Suddenly and abruptly, and shutting Gordon up, Alan turned around and glared at Gordon while his fists were haphazardly clenched at his hips, “Fine, Mr. Nosey, you wanna know? It’s about Dad, okay?!”

Well, there went any ability to joke in this situation. Gordon lost his smile completely and stared mindlessly at his younger brother, who was breathing heavily and still glaring, but Gordon could tell there was a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

Dad had been back for about two-and-a-half months now, and the Tracy family seemed to be settling into a new routine with him. Everyone was happy Jeff was back in one piece, none more so than Jeff than himself. They quickly figured out how to slowly integrate him back, starting with daily chores, reaching him having permission to help out with IR, and now they were getting ready to reintroduce him back into Tracy Industries.

The anxiety in Alan’s features was suddenly all Gordon could see in them, followed by Alan shaking his head and turning back around, “Shit-- forget I said anything, that’s not why--”

Before he could even think, Gordon shot his arm out to grab Alan by the wrist, his amber eyes wide with careful thought. He needed to think these words through. The idea that Alan was nervous regarding talking about his own dad was... “Allie… I know you didn’t have as much… time with him, but he’s your father too. You don’t have to hide any opinion about him for me, for us.”

Alan still wasn’t looking at Gordon, but the older brother definitely saw the tiny and hidden flinch the younger brother made at your father too. Gordon barely held back the sharp inhale he wanted to make. Okay, that was an entire suitcase, one he, unfortunately, couldn’t unpack right now (as much as he loathed to admit it that was a Scooter problem), so he focused the first problem he figured out, “Allie, are you upset Dad is back or?...”

That got Alan to turn around, “No! Jesus, Gordon, of course, I’m happy he’s back. The only reason I graduated right before we left was that Scott and John both told me to go do something while we waited because “the way you’re bouncing on your toes is going to burn a hole in the ground and Grandma won’t like that,” remember? I’m ecstatic he’s alive and back home.”

Letting Alan gently go, Gordon took a deep breath to reorganize his thoughts, “Okay, then what about Dad has got you so worked up?”

Alan was suddenly much younger than the fresh, getting-ready-to-go-to-college, young man Gordon saw this morning, “You remember that argument between Scotty and Dad, right? The one about five weeks ago that we shouldn’t have listened in on but did anyway?”

Gordon flinched, not wanting to remember that argument.

The two have made up since then, but it was a shock to just about everybody on the island, including John and Virgil, who the blondes nervously told the morning after so they could get some kind of reassurance the world wasn’t ending. In the Tracys’ quest to have their Fairytale Happily Ever After, it never occurred to them that their father might not like how they were running things.

Scott made a decision that didn’t sit well with the older man, and he let his son know that in tactless, Jeff Tracy fashion. Scott’s decision wasn’t the best per se, certainly not the worst, but he could’ve waited for some better options, but Jeff couldn’t just say that outright, that he was concerned about his son taking risks like that. He had to immediately jump to the idea that Scott’s leadership might be lacking suddenly.

It also didn’t help that Scott couldn’t just fucking say that, while he was sorry for being slightly rash, he didn’t like being undermined after years of successful leadership. He went straight for the fact that Jeff had been gone for the past eight years. Scott didn’t blame the man for it, God no, but the insinuation that Jeff wasn’t any better than Scott because of it stung everyone in the room. Because being reminded of the fact that Dad was technically a dead man for a big portion of all of their lives wasn’t bad enough.

Gordon forgot that Scott could be too much like Jeff for his own fucking good, as well as the fact that Scott did get it from Jeff Tracy of all people.

Adult men Gordon’s ass, two old and stubborn as hell mules more like it.

They were both stuck on the fact that now there might have to be challenges of authority, and frankly, now that the oldest outside of Grandma put that idea on the table, it bothered everyone else barely more than those two combined.

Jeff apologized for how he acted after Grandma ripped him a new one, and Scott apologized for jumping the gun a little bit too (after Grandma yelled at him as well), but there was no promising no second fight, least of all one like that.

It was a little like being a kid and watching Mommy and Daddy fight for the first time.

Long story short: it sucked ass.

Alan took a shuddery breath and brought Gordon down from that memory. Alan then proceeded to wrap his arms around himself, rubbing up and down in a weak attempt to ground himself, “I just… what if he had all these ideas about me while he was up there, and what if I’m completely different from those ideas and it disappoints him?”

Oh, sweet Jiminy Cricket.

What the hell was Gordon to say to that? Jeff was a loving a supportive father, more so than others. Gordon remembered all of his swim meets and such for a good reason, so his first response to that statement was easily of course he would be proud of you!

But there was an ever so tiny thing that grabbed Gordon’s tongue from saying that outright. It was honestly minor, so he wasn’t sure why it kept hitting him like a fucking truck.

Eight. Years.

Jeff Tracy was a remarkable man, and even more remarkable father, but nobody spent eight years in isolation, let alone spent it thousands of miles up in space, without it having some kind of consequence. Jeff would never outright disown his sons for anything as long as it wasn’t illegal or got themselves or others hurt, but he was human, and he had preferences just like the rest of them had.

So, disappointed? Hell no. But potentially shocked and uninterested? Less supportive than other endeavors? Gordon loved his father, but he had to admit that he was at a loss. There weren’t Dead Men for Dummies books anywhere, and it sucked to say it, but Jeff was different. They were different, and the only way they would know how this Jeff reacted to things would be an in-the-moment experience, and if Scott’s and his argument was the first concrete example they had...

With how different Gordon was to the rest of his family, he always worried that he would never fully fit in. When Jeff came back he was excited just as much as Alan, as the rest of his family, but Gordon was always worried about his dad the most. He cheered him on at his swim meets, sure, but Gordon was always keenly aware of how the man, outside of taking him to and from them and, well, cheering, lots and lots of cheering, never really asked more than How did it go, sport?

Gordon wanted to be the only Tracy with that fear. It sucked, but in the end, his family always came through even if they weren’t aware of his anxieties. Now that Alan has them, over his father no less…

That just brings them right back around to the start: Gordon would be lying to himself if he knew what Jeff thought of him, let alone Alan.

Alan was a perceptive person, and if Gordon lied to himself, Alan would see that and know Gordon was lying to him as well, and that would very easily make the situation worse.

However, before Gordon had any chance to say something, words pulled from his ass or otherwise, anything to ease his baby brother’s low thoughts, footsteps rustled in the distance, causing the two blondes to snap their heads to look to the side. What they saw were two men, one larger and older, another younger and seemingly out of his comfort zone, in a sense. Gordon was going to chalk it up to ‘being a rescuee after a tsunami’, but his squid senses were tingling, and he felt himself easily go slightly taut.

The younger stranger blinked a few times before snapping his head up to look at the two IR Operatives in front of him. His eyes lit up, and Gordon suspected it wasn’t because he was about to be rescued.

“Oh, shit, these guys are young. How much do you think they would sell for?”

And just like that, Gordon’s gut twisted into a killer pretzel and was dropped off a five-story building. This had to be a joke, had to be. These kinds of people were only supposed to exist in horror stories. In the dark parts of the internet that are mainly regarded as myths, created to scar the poor children who snuck onto their parents’ laptop without permission. Even if they were real, Gordon and Alan couldn’t have had that bad of luck to--

“Remember what we said about famous people? Forget the ages, these guys are International Rescue. Most clients will throw physicality to the wind if something famous is involved.”

Gordon also thought that your pupil shrinking to the size of the tip of a needle when you’re terrified was a myth, but as the blood completely drained from his face and left him white as a sheet, he had to concede he was wrong about multiple things tonight.

Holy hand grenade in a fucking handbasket.

The state of shock his body was forcing him to enter was bad, like, shock-blankets-are-required level bad, but trembles from a different body right next to him snapped him back into attention.

Alan was trembling, his grip on Gordon’s arm so tight that the older brother wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises when his outfit was finally taken off. There was only a marginal amount more color compared to Gordon behind those freckles, and Gordon couldn’t tell if his brother’s pupils were any smaller with the way the kid was flicking them around like crazy, “Wha-- what are they talking about?”

Ah, shock was one hell of a bitch.

Alan was 18 years of age, an adult. He flew a rocket into space for a part-time job. He also lived on an island where he was mainly homeschooled and was soon to be off at some kind of college (maybe even online classes). As embarrassing as it could be, his family wasn’t going to be the puritan fam that shoved the mere thought of sex to the sidelines. Alan had four older brothers who spent a significant amount of time on the mainland around other people more than the youngest could ever dream of. Most time of which was spent in their respective high schools (or Olympics fields, ‘cause Gordon wasn’t exactly of age when he still had school over there) with hot girls and boys-- similar hobbies or not-- that had the same level of hormones flying about.

They knew things and weren’t afraid to answer any question Alan had.

Also, Alan had a huge internet hobby; video games, browsing social media, you name it. The kid’s probably heard stories that would give Scott hernias for days. Alan had to have stumbled across the topic of human trafficking somewhere, whether it was the plot of a teen-rated video game or something as simple as a news article. At the end of the day, this kind of thing was something everyone was subconsciously aware of, but you didn’t think about it because A, it was awful, and B, more often than not, it didn’t happen to you.

But the way Alan stared at Gordon like the prankster held the stars in his palms-- as if he could snap his fingers and bring them to safety in the blink of an eye reminded Gordon that Alan was always a little bit more sheltered than any of them could help it. Alan was one of the last things their mother gave them, and the way John and he essentially became her just split into two people hurt more than any of them would be willing to admit.

Alan knew the horrors of the world firsthand, but he never had to fully grasp it because his older brothers would be there to shoulder it for him.

Always.

Like hell Gordon was going to drop that tradition today.

“Alan, run.”

With a shove and a half, Gordon ripped his little brother’s hand from his upper arm and sent him in the other direction. Gordon also ripped his own heart in half as he ignored the somewhat naive cry of Gordon! as it got quieter and quieter. Despite the guilt, Alan listened and booked it. Like a baby calf being told to run away from starving lions while the mom stayed behind to protect it. Gordon, mostly satisfied that his bro was safe, turned around and swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat.

He was hoping his glare could be as scary as Scott’s or even Virgil’s, but the way the creepy strangers just chuckled as if the threat he posed was no bigger than a tiny kitten filled Gordon with both anger and fear. They knew he was from IR. If they weren’t scared of him, what did that mean they were prepared for?

The older man stated an order, one that had Gordon’s blood run cold, “Go after the other. I got this one.”

Gordon got out half an angry “Hey!” before the man that spoke suddenly charged at him. On reflex, Gordon put himself into a fighting stance and prevented both of them from toppling over. He hardly considered it a victory, though, as the other guy who was ordered to run after Gordon’s baby brother was gone and out of sight before Gordon could even look up after nearly having the wind knocked out of him.

Gritting his teeth and shoving the man off of him, bringing his arms up and curling his fists with a glare brighter than his hair, the only plan he could go with was the one where he took this guy down as quickly as possible. Right now, the only solace Gordon had was the fact that his brother was a quick puppy. He didn’t only need ‘Three to move at the speed of light.

C’mon, Alan, show me why Track was worth it.

Focusing completely on his enemy, Gordon figured the man was intentionally slimy with his words, as the only thing he did in response to Gordon tensing like a cornered animal was to chuckle in cold amusement, “You’re a wily one, they’ll like that.”

Don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t--

Gordon reinstigated the fight with a snarl, landing a punch that didn’t cause as much damage as he wanted, but it was enough for him to gain a slight upper hand. The man wasn’t thrown off balance, nor did he majorly flinch back from the recoil, but he did understand that he had to play more defensively. It was like two stubborn stallions fighting over the mare in the area.

One young and smaller and quicker, his age not a roadblock but an easy strength. If he hit just right his opponent would topple over as quickly as he could throw his fists. The older one, however, was still larger, and while he might have been slower and less agile, his age allowed more wisdom and understanding. He’s probably seen (and kidnapped) many like Gordon, so he knew exactly how to play him like a damn fiddle.

It was hard to say who would win until one of them was either running for the hills, beaten and bloody, or dead at the victor’s feet.

Gordon wasn’t sure how long they went at it, but he knew it was longer than he liked.

He was somehow barely winning it regardless, and he was fully prepared to give Penny a big heckin smooch for the lessons that were currently saving his life, but even with her endless knowledge and background, she couldn’t prepare Gordon for dirty tactics. Stallions fighting over mares usually just involve two of them.

Right as Gordon was able to grab the man’s arms and wring them around his back, a magical third person appeared, different to the second one that went after Alan, like a freaking wizard with his own magic wand.

Which was also known as a cattle prod to most.

The pokey object was jabbed into his side. Fire filled his body, making him scream out in pain. Gordon remembered when he and Virgil messed with one back on the farm as kids and how they learned their lesson the hard way. He was hoping to never “learn” it again. Yet as a couple thousand volts flared throughout his abdomen, even with the suit, he had to relent and let go of his makeshift hostage. His body was on autopilot and it said get away from source of burning pain.

His body tried, oh, it tried, but what was previously his prisoner managed to stand in the blink of an eye and swing a fist into the side that wasn’t being tortured by an agricultural device. With another short, cut off scream, Gordon fell over onto his ass. His wheezes were brutal, the air not wanting to come back into his body despite itself. At this point, the logical part of his brain was telling him he wasn’t going to get away and he should save his energy to withstand whatever these people were going to do to him, but as always, the emotional part was overriding everything.

Shit, guys, help! Scotty, Virg, Dad--

He turned around to be on his hands and knees and scrambled to try and run as Alan did. He might be faster in the water than on land, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t one quick son of a bitch when he wanted to be. It was enough for his gym classes, it was enough when he needed to run away after a successful prank, it was enough when his grandma needed a new test subject...

But it wasn’t enough here.

The cattle prod was shoved into the back of his neck, and with it came darkness and a growing sense of dread.

Please, Mom, get Allie to our family.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #alan tracy #my post #my fic #i FEEL like im forgetting tags wtf. im 99% im not but STILL #hang on i added (a thunderbirds fanfic) to this cuz now that i look at it #that title is VAGUE AS HELL lmfao

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dontyouhearmehowling · 4 years

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oh my god. Ok so I just scrolled through your blog and my heart hurts because there is so much love and just so much stuff I can relate too and I just ahhh damnnn it I cant even but like can I please have the story of your relationship with this girl your with? please? i'm a hopeless romantic I feel too much I love so hard my own love life is complicated but i know the kind of love you talk about thats exactly how i love the love of my life too so yours is a story I need to hear

ok so. it all started on April 31st, 2018. i reblogged one of those ask games and she sent me an emoji that said “i’m too scared to talk to you but i think you’re great” and i was like do it!!! and she did!!!! she texted me after i had already gone to sleep tho, so i only answered the next day. but then we talked all day. and the next. and the next. and we never ran out of things to talk about and even only knowing her for a few days i already felt comfortable enough with her to talk about anything?? it was wild. since day 1 we’ve had this connection that i’ve never had with anyone else and its my favorite thing in the world. after like a week we already had a bunch of inside jokes, something that i’d never had before, and i was already crushing on her. ok so we became very close friends like immediately, and i mostly ignored my crush on her bc i thought she didn’t like me back and usually i’d get meaningless crushes on everyone at first before i met her. but then this other girl and i started flirting and i realized i didnt like her bc i liked c too much, so i broke things off and kinda went like “oh shit this is real” and decided that i’d just stay friends with c until i eventually couldnt take it anymore and had to tell her abt my feelings bc thats how i am. anyways ok cool meanwhile i made her watch the good place on rabb.it with me which will be relevant later.

ok so fast forward to may 21st or something around that time. its time to sleep bc i have school the next day so we say goodnight, but then i guess she says something or reblogs something and i get sad bc i realize she doesnt like me back. so i make some hashtag sad posts abt yearning and then i realize i told her i was going to sleep and i didnt want her to think i didnt want to talk to her so i text her again and say like “ok i was going to go to sleep but then i got sad abt my crush” and SHE GOES “you have a crush????????” and im there like. what in the hell bc not only did i not try to hide it At All, i constantly posted about it and had an entire tag about her and i thought it was pretty obvious. so anyways i go “yes?? i thoought you knew that?? im literally always posting about it??” and she asks me to talk abt the crush and who it is. i say “just stalk the tag if u want, im going to sleep” then shes like “nO WAIT WHO IS IT” and im like. blatantly ignoring that and my heart is already beating out of my chest but she Really wants to know and then at one point i say “please dont make me answer that” so shE SAYS “you’re making me think that its me” and i say “i dont know what you want me to say” and SHE GOES “I WANT YOU TO SAY THAT ITS ME BC I HAVE A HUGE CRUSH ON YOU” so i just. die. right then and there. also yknow we talk about it and its like after 1 am and im just happier than i’ve ever been. ok so 2 days later she asks me out Officially and its great and shes the cutest gf ever and she made me feel more wanted than i’d ever felt in my entire life. then 6 days later she sends me a big big big text on tumblr and long story short (bc it was kinda personal), she would be deleting her all social media for the summer.

so she was gone. and we had only dated for a week at this point, but we’d known each other for 2 months, and i already loved her. i already knew she was the love of my life. i didnt even try to move on, i’d tell people i didnt wanna move on cuz i knew i was meant to love her. i had another blog like this that i used to talk about how much i loved and missed her (so like. exactly like this). i literally reasoned with myself that like. that happened because before i met her i was in a really bad place after a terrible relationship and i was almost giving up on finding someone who actually made me feel loved bc i thought it would never happened, so i was like “ok so i was in a really bad place, so the universe brought my soulmate a little early just for a while so that i would know i had to hold on, and when its actually time for us to be together, it will bring us to each other once again” like i actually told myself that, in those words. and yknow what? i wasnt even wrong. on july 15th she texted me from an empty tumblr with her old url and at first i literally couldnt believe it but we talked for hours and hours and i asked her what happened bc i thought she was disconnecting for the summer and she said “i was. i am. i just couldnt not talk to you anymore” and she said that she thought about me every single day, and i told her i missed her and she said she didnt text sooner bc she thought i’d be angry at her and ofc i wouldnt, i could never be angry at her and besides, she was just taking care of herself and i said i dont think i could be anything less than head over heels for for, and she said she felt the same way, but wasnt ready to be more than friends yet. but that had always been more than enough for me. just having her in my life would always be more than enough for me. so we stayed friends.

then, on august 9th i got this ask.

and she saw it after i said i was gonna go to bed (bc again, i had school the next day) and she texted me a whole thing about how that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said about her and that i should be asleep but she had to get it out of her chest and that her anxiety made it hard for her to show how much i meant to her so she was sorry if i didnt know and this would probably make no sense but she was tired of keeping it to herself bc shes the luckiest person alive for having met me and that it was gonna be so hard because shes so difficult (shes not) and her anxiety is difficult but that she literally spent every night thinking about me and of buying plane tickets to come see me so that she could be with me. then she was like “im sorry if this is uncomfortable to you and you can just ignore it but i think im in love with you and this is over text and not romantic at all (it was the most romantic night of my life) but you’re asleep (i wasnt) and we arent together but i want to be one day” and until this i was Trying to fall asleep and then i checked my phone that kept RINGING and died a thousand times over and started to answer and she sent other texts saying “i’ve never felt this way about anyone before i’m so in love with you its fucking ridiculous and this is gonna be so complicated but fuck i want this so bad / i’m sorry it took me so long / would you move to new york with me?” and i was This Close to literally fucking exploding like. how the hell was this happening how was it not a DREAM. so we talked and i obviously said i loved her too and eventually she asked me out and thats still probably the best night of my life. other highlights: “i’ve loved you way before august 9th so jot that down” and “off topic but i love you / you’re honestly my other half” and, after i said “you cant make me laugh its 2am”, she answered “i’m going to make you laugh for the rest of your life so help me god” and thats my favorite thing anyone has ever said to me probably and so far she’s kept her word.

anyways we got back together and then she told me that she never even told her friends she broke up with me??? bc that way she could keep pretending we were still together???? literally like sjdksndk imagine being this loved. i dont have to. anyways she wrote poems abt me sometimes and her christmas gift for me was gonna be a book with all her poems and she called it “what we owe to each other” because of the good place (remember how i said it’d be relevant later? its later) bc like she said that when we were watching tgp together on rabb.it thats when she realized that she Really Truly liked me like For Real. and the inscription on the book was going to be “to the girl i love / and what i owe her” and. yall. i cry. anyways one of the poems had a huge impact on us. heres the story:

and she got them but we broke up before she got to mail them to me. what happened was she had some mental health problems and she said she couldnt give me what i needed at the time but knew i’d still give her my all bc thats just how i am and she thought it wouldnt be fair so she broke things off to work on her mental health. she said she would need some time before we could be friends. the last thing we said was that we loved each other. this was in like november 2018, and we didnt talk for months. i actually tried to move on this time after a while, but it didnt take. and then i gave up for good. havent tried since. but anyways, then, on march 11th, 2019, i had my first day of college back in my home country, and we have this “pranks”/games that seniors get to do to the freshmen, and one of them required eggs, and they asked us to paint them, so i panted mine as iron man bc it was easy, but c LOVES iron man. like. LOVES. like in a Whole New Level of loving. once when we were dating she said she loved me more than tony stark and i was like. shook. like she tattooed “T.S” on her ankle after him. u get the point. she loves him very much, its adorable and endearing and i love it. anyways. so i sent her a picture of it saying like “you dont have to answer this but i made this for my university and i thought you would like it” and she answered and IMMEDIATELY something clicked and we talked and talked and talked and it was never weird or awkward or uncomfortable. it never is with her. its incredible, i cant explain it. i Know shes my soulmate like thats the ONLY possible explanation for this kind of connection. its unreal. anyways. we became friends again! all was well.

then one beautiful night she drunk texts me sndjkajs she sends me so many texts and says it sucks that we live so far away and that she saw my posts (in this particular case, one that said something about like. when she talked about love now, was it about someone else?) and she said that it wasnt. and then she went to sleep and i only saw the texts when i woke up and i was DYING bc we had a 4 hour difference and it’d take a while for her to wake up. when she did, we talked and she said she wasnt over me and was scared she might never be, and even though we were still gonna stay friends, it was nice to know that she still loved me. ok so fast forward a bit more and i was starting to wonder if she’d moved on again, when she finds out her best friend had a crush on her, and that conversation ends up with her saying “it was 100% platonic for me / sorry if thats weird i just wanted you to know that” and it was NOT weird it was GREAT NEWS bc i was Hella jealous of her best friend and at first i wondered if they were dating and anyways the fact that she wanted me to know that was a pretty good hint that she still had feelings for me. ngl im still somewhat jealous of h (c’s best friend), but thats just bc im an insecure lil bitch and also bc they get to go out and do stuff together that i cant do with c bc of the distance, yknow? but anyways. then she went on a graduation trip in mid to the end of june and she bought me a magnet. just. out of nowhere. i cannot stress enough how Incredibly unexpected this was. so much so that i actually convinced myself that it meant she was over me????? literally. what the fuck. anyways we named him together and coincidentally (or bc of soulmate powers. who knows) we both had the same favorite names. i still love that.

okay so then we go to july 29th, 2019. first of all theres one of my favorite interactions Ever which was like after i was venting about something and i was thanking her and i said “you’re always here for me” to which she answered “nowhere else i’d rather be” and i still think thats peak romance and i will take no criticism on this. anyways so then she sent me a poem that she wrote based on a song i’d sent her (the song i called “heaven is a place” and its the BIGGEST mood for being in love and i sent it to her bc it was how i felt about her so her writing a poem about it?? literally the best thing ever. love it) anyways it was a beautiful poem and i cried and got very emotional and kinda went too far in my compliments (aka being very obvious about my romantic feelings) and then i was like oh no sorry if i made u uncomfortable and she was like. “you have NEVER. EVER EVER EVER EVER made me uncomfortable” “you’re the only person on planet earth i am comfortably myself around” and “there’s nothing you could ever say that i wouldn’t wanna hear” and anyways it was just very good and romantic conversation even tho we were just cough cough platonic hashtag gal pals hashtag no homo ✌️ and then she was like ok wait. i need to talk to u abt something. and in short she said she was waiting for us and i was like well what are you waiting for exactly? and she was like idk?? for us to accidentally bump into each other in new york in a few years?? WHICH WAS LITERALLY WHAT I’D DAYDREAM ABOUT BACK IN JUNE 2018 BEFORE SHE CAME BACK OKAY so anyways we had a Great conversation and said i love you about a thousand times each and she decided she was gonna buy tickets to come see me. and then she dID like TWO DAYS LATER. lichrally. queen of impulsivity but in the best way possible.

—————

ok quick edit here cuz i forgot to say that when i found out she was coming i asked for my mom’s help to make a necklace pendant for her from scratch. my mom works with prosthetics so she has the material to make jewelry and back when c and i were dating in 2018 i had made this lil design for a necklace that had the moon and the ocean (bc duh) and i was gonna give it to her for valentines day in 2019 but we broke up before that so i didnt get the chance, but when i found out i was meeting her i knew i had to. so i made the necklace in wax, like this:

and my mom took it to her work and heated it up to melt it and keep the shape of it to fill with silver, and this was the result:

i gave it to her when she got here and she wore it while she was here and it made me so happy. ok edit over

—————

ok so we kept being like couple-y but not officially in a relationship bc we didnt want to make her anxiety worse. also at one point she was like “so about the ‘i love you more than the moon/ocean’ thing, since we BOTH love BOTH of the moon AND the ocean, i think its only Fair if we update our love declarations to ‘i love you more than the mocean’ bc its mix of both but thats not a word, buT its pronounced exactly like ‘motion’. therefore we should both start saying ‘i love you more than the motion’”. so now we have both the wonderful, romantic, original version, and the NOT ROMANTIC AT ALL DO U HEAR ME C??? version :) and after this day she always started with the WORST!!!!!! version, and i always started with the Only Valid Version, but we’d still answer each other’s ofc because. well. thats love i gues?? it sorta goes like this though: her: i love you more than the motion / me: i hate u / me: i literally hate u so much / me: i Also love you more than the motion

but anyways she was coming to visit me but the plane ticket wasnt for my home country it was for where i was going to university at (a new university, i was starting over) and when i first got here on this campus, i didnt have a working phone number for this country, and i wouldnt be able to access the wifi for 3 days, so i had no way of talking to her. it was TERRIBLE and i missed her more than anything in my LIFE but when i got wifi (after CRYING to the people here bc theyre the most unorganized uni ever and i was already very overwhelmed and stressed) i immediately called her and she’d sent me over 100 text messages dkfjssjks it was amazing, there were two (2) videos of her singing (which is like. objectively the best thing in the world, and the song was rlly romantic and i love it sm when she showed it to me for the first time she said it made her think abt me), a poem, AND a HUGE text with “i love you” written like. a THOUSAND TIMES. seriously i have a gif of it opening and scrolling bc it was so long that the text wouldnt show up directly on the chat screen and u have to click on it to see the rest. i’d never felt more loved in my entire life by anyone ever. anyways so then it came the day for her to get here and i had to wake up at 5 am to go get her at the airport and the uber was like $40 but who CARES it was the best day of my LIFE and i got there 20 minutes earlier bUT GUESS WHAT SO DID SHE (hashtag just soulmate things) then we facetimed the entire time while she was walking through the airport and getting her luggage and then she hung up to walk to the door where i was and we hugged for like 5 minutes and we were totally in people’s way and also almost fell but it was the best thing in the world and i never should’ve let her go. but, we had to go home, so i did. and we spent 4 days together and im not gonna go into details bc this is already too long but u can always send me another ask about her visit if ur not a coward. also i bought her a hoodie from my uni and whenever she wears it i just. die. in short, those days were the happiest i’ve ever been. this campus res had never felt like home before that friday and it hasnt again since that monday, but i swear to god, during those 4 days, this was the only place i could possibly belong.

anyways then she left and i cried for the entire uber ride home and then i cried all day. lmao. also when she was here she gave me the poetry book, the magnet, and the bracelet. still wear the bracelet every single day and i love it more than anything. but then personal stuff happened and we kinda stopped being couple-y again and we’re just friends now but before new years i asked her if she still loved me and she said yes and she said she’d tell me if it changed so ✌️✌️ im assuming it hasnt. even tho my brain is a bitch and everyday its like. today. today is the day. this is when its gonna happen. buT yknow we’ve spent months before without even talking to each other and we got through that still in love, so i mostly ignore it. and tbh i know that actually like, even if we grow apart now (god forbid, but still) we’ll find our way back to each other eventually. like, i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again: nothing, not even the universe itself, can convince me that shes not my soulmate. and even if it turns out i’m not hers, loving her is still the greatest honor i can think of.

another edit: also i started drawing recently and the first person i’ve ever finished drawing was her and also (surprise surprise @c since you’re already seeing all my feelings anyway) bc of my second drawing i almost missed the deadline for one of my midterms (which was a take-home test) bc instead of writing it i spent the entire day before the deadline finishing the drawing which was a secret valentines day gift (secret as in she didnt know it was supposed to be a gift, she thought it was just a drawing inspired by a quote that she loves) and i finished at 2 am but shes 3 hours behind so for her it was still 11 pm which MEANS it was still valentines day so it still counts, i win, lesbian rights!

#mine #l #answered #dont rb #i dont think anyone will but this is personal and i dont want to risk it getting out #i wanna have this bc i love telling people this story and next time someone asks i’ll just send them this post

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starrywriting · 6 years

Text

touch

☞ bucky barnes

summary: after feeling the heart-wrenching pain of your lovers lips on someone else’s, you turn to icy blue eyes to soothe the ache that throbbed your body and pounded in your head.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, cheating, female pronouns (if you want specific pronouns, make sure to specify when you request!^^)

an: hi, im back with a full story and finally writing smut. (i havent exactly proofed read this, so bare with me)

words: 9.5k+ (i know, right?:0)

The ground was littered with the remnants of your overnight bag. A change of clothes, a travel sized perfume. The toothbrush you were meant to switch out last week because the bristles were old, and flared out. The contents dotted your hardwood floor as the ambient white-noise of Bucky’s forgotten music rang in your ears as a reminder to not let your tears completely wash over you.

You were sitting on the bed, nose red, and hands shaking. You were staring down at your open palms, a sort of distaste flowing through your taste-buds and sullying your once fresh mouth. You felt like vomiting. Nausea was knocking at your door; banging for you to open it and open your mouth to relieve the pressure that sat in your stomach in the form of today’s simple breakfast of cereal.

To say you felt disgusting was an understatement. You felt absolutely revolting. Your eyelids were scorched with the imprint of walking in on your boyfriend with another. Your ears were keening with the fragments of hearing their moans and groans intertwine in a sick melody of sinful lovers. You had given him everything. You had entrusted him to care for not only you, but your soul as well, but here you were… sitting on your bed, regretting ever laying your eyes on him. Here you were, feeling the ghosts of his fingertips dot your skin in a painful dance of pure repugnance. You hated him, and you hated yourself for allowing yourself to think you could ever truly love someone and earn their love in return.

You fell back against the bed, your eyes sticky and your cheeks pink. Your chest was heaving with gulps of air, but nothing seemed to soothe the fire burning inside your bones. Oxygen only seemed to power the flame to burn faster, hurt you longer. It was licking at your insides, and disintegrating what little bit of yourself you had left.

As if on cue, your sobs began again, and the door to your shared apartment with Bucky, clicked with the sound of the lock being undone with the push of the key into the keyhole, and the turn of a wrist to unlock the door.

Bucky was panting, gym bag in hand as he stepped into the apartment. His brows were knitted together when he heard the music still playing. He could’ve sworn he had turned it off, but then again, could he ever truly trust his mind again after everything he had gone through? His gym bag fell to the floor with a gentle thud, his protein powder hitting against his water bottle inside his bag. Small collateral damage. To say he was exhausted, was an understatement, and to walk into your shared apartment to find it empty, disappointed him.

His entire reasoning for moving from the teams' headquarters and into a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment with you, was so that he no longer had to spend time alone. Since the day he walked into the compound, there was no denying the sort of… string that was pulled taut between the both of you. Day after day, week after week, that string grew shorter and tugged you both closer the harder it tugged. Months passed, and here he was, missing your presence.

He hated to see you go, more so if he knew you were leaving to spend time with your boyfriend. Bucky wasn’t the jealous type, and while he knew you were truly, nothing of his, he couldn’t help but feel a protective wrench at his insides. He constantly wanted to have you close, and keep you from harm's way. He had gone through so much; too much even. The last thing he wanted was for your eyes, ever so full of life and bright, to dull into nothing but glazed over iris’s that hated the world.

Bucky knew better than to indulge in the thoughts in his head. At times, he found himself staring down at your lips as you talked. He held a curiosity about intimacy, but it was only ever sparked around you. It was like a gentle voice that attempted to coarse him into telling you his deepest thoughts, and darkest emotions.. and as time passed, he felt himself, too, wanting to open up to you… but then you announced your relationship, and Bucky found himself alone, staring up at the ceiling of his room, wishing he could look over, and be looking into your sleep-induced features. It was truly tragical. A tale painted, from the start, with hues of blues and blacks. Destined for darkness and sorrow. Somber; and starved from the light in the world. Unrequited love.

When Bucky made moves to enter the apartment, he immediately grabbed the hair tie from his wrist and used it to tie his hair up in a loose, two looped, bun. His shoulders visibly slumped, and he let the familiarity of the scent in the apartment, and the ambient feel of it all, soak into his pores deliciously slow. Every day, he left the apartment at eight in the morning to train with Steve for two hours. Every day, he jogged to and from the compound, no matter how tired he was. In the past, you joined him during those training. Begrudgingly, but you’d join nonetheless. You would eat your breakfast of some fruit, and cereal, while he chugged down his chocolate protein shake and a banana, then you’d both jog to the compound as a warm-up—but then you met your boyfriend, and Bucky found himself drinking his protein shakes alone and jogging alone. He found himself making excuses up on the spot when Steve asked why you were absent, even though you didn’t ask him specifically to cover for you… and he found himself collectively getting more and… more envious maybe? Annoyed possibly? He found himself growing more and more bothered by having to watch you leave for a date, rather than train for the team; he never brought himself to say anything, however, and he just opted to be a friend.

Bucky instead, helped you out when you asked what dress you should wear to a date, or what you should say when your boyfriend was upset with you. He comforted you whenever your boyfriend would send you home, upset and puzzled with emotions.

Bucky made a silent vow to always put you back together, every time you came back from your boyfriends’ place, a jumble of pent-up emotions and frustrations.

Deep down, Bucky was certain your boyfriend didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve to hold your hand or kiss your cherry lips. He didn’t deserve to look into your eyes and see the stars align inside your iris’s. He knew your boyfriend didn’t deserve to hold you, he didn’t deserve to hear the three simple words, that if you told Bucky, would make his world collide against cosmos and he would see the stars. Your boyfriend didn’t deserve you, and when Bucky began growing the courage to confront you and tell you just that, that you shouldn’t settle, he found himself questioning if he, himself, deserved you, because if he didn’t, what was the point of speaking up? Most of the time, the answer was no, Bucky didn’t deserve you, and that alone was enough to shut him up, and watch from afar as you loved someone he was certain, didn’t love you back.

Bucky felt his skin prickle in surprise when he walked down the hall, past your room, and he caught sight of your plaid dress, and curled up legs that were clad in the same black knee highs you had left in that same morning, claiming you and your boyfriend were going out for a walk in Central Park.

Bucky meant to compliment you when you waved a last, gentle goodbye over your shoulder with a soft smile. He meant to tell you just how lovely your supple skin, matched with the navy, red and green lines on your dress. He meant to tell you that your hair looked heavenly, and your choice of light makeup made your face look ever so angelic and gentle, but instead, he merely mumbled a low goodbye, banana still in his mouth, and his words still lodged in his throat as he watched you walk out into the morning air.

Bucky took a few steps back and placed a hand on the wooden frame of your door. He peeked his head in, expecting to see you laying on your bed reading, or texting. He figured that maybe your date had just been canceled and that was that… But when he walked in and saw the way you were staring blankly up at the ceiling, he froze. When he watched as your cheeks glistened with tears, and your chest heaved with slow, ragged breaths, he pushed past your doorway and made his presence known. “Y/N?” He spoke soothingly, his voice vibrating his chest as he whispered. “Hey, its okay—its just me.” He approached you at a snail's pace, expecting you to curl away from his sudden presence, but when your eyes met his, he knew that even if you pleaded on your knees for him to leave you alone, he wouldn’t. You being alone in the state you were in, would be the worst for you. He needed to help you; help lift your spirits, and aid you in guiding you back towards yourself again.

Bucky felt as if he was staring at a wilted flower. A flower so deprived of nutrients that it cried out in pain, a flower that had never seen the sun, or felt a drop of water. Bucky reached out, and sat next to you on the bed as you sat up, and curled your legs up against your chest. He knew that sometimes in situations like these, in moments were someone walked in on someone else at their most vulnerable, sometimes that person plainly just wanted company. They wanted to feel that warm presence that mimicked the feeling of coming home after a long day. The warm, fuzzy feeling that dots your skin when you kiss someone for the first time. A warmth that manages to whisper in your ear that everything was going to be okay, even if at the moment, everything was crumbling and dissolving. Even if around you, it felt like everything was falling into an abyss; becoming evanescent and lost. Bucky wanted to be that warmth for you, just like you had been for him, since the beginning, when he first joined the team.

Bucky hesitated before he let his bionic arm hand reach out, and wrap around your wrist. He tugged softly until your eyes met his and you realized that his intentions held all the tenderness they could. He moved your hand away from your face, and away from your eyes, ever so swollen with the remnants of a broken heart and shattered being. Bucky’s body was buzzing with a want, a want that made him feel the urge to question, why? Why were you so upset? Why were you alone? Why did he feel like this all… was because of your boyfriend? He was keening inside, clenching with a thirst for knowledge about the situation unfolding right in front of him, but he held back from interrogating, and instead, moved both your hands down towards your side before he let his hands settle against your cheeks. His thumbs brushed away your tears before they got a chance to lick at the skin of your cheeks and tint them a sorrowful, faded pink. His fingerprints were now engraved against your skin.

You looked up at Bucky, his touch feeling ever so familiar and gentle. You felt that lingering sensation on your skin that made you question if Bucky’s touch was the one that was meant to constantly be on your skin. It made you wonder if maybe Bucky had been the missing piece all along. Your gaze peered into his, and you watched as his cerulean eyes grew ever so compassionate.

The touch of his skin against yours made a slow pulse whorl through your body. The stark contrast of his metal limb against your burning skin proved to ignite something inside of you. It awakened something you couldn’t pinpoint.

You knew you were crying. You could feel the sticky tears fall freely and greedily from your eyes, only to get caught, and soaked up by Bucky’s touch. You instinctively leaned into his touch, and let yourself find comfort in his hands. You needed all the comfort you could get. You were traumatized by what happened, and you were just barely allowing yourself to wrap your head around it. Seeing your boyfriend—well now ex, having sex with another was perturbing. It made you blind with a sort of.. wet rage. An anger the surged through you and made you want to curl into yourself and cry. A rage that seized your words, and lumped them all up in your throat until you were left a blubbering mess. A frustration that was pent up, and pulled so tight, that upon walking in on your lover with another, his hips slapping against hers while they were both enveloped in the blanket you had given him as a random gift not even two weeks back... It was a frustration that loomed over your shoulders and made you rip the necklace he had given you on your one year anniversary, right off your neck the instant your brain processed the sickening rendezvous in front of you. You could still hear the crushing of the gem under your boot, and you could still hear your boyfriend calling out your name in meek attempts to bait you back into loving him. As if seeing him groan out the same pet names he called you when you had willingly given him your virginity, wasn’t traumatizing enough.

You swore you could still feel his fingertips linger against your skin. You swore you could still feel his lips pressing against your skin. You could feel the remnants of his touch still ghost against your being, and you wanted nothing more than to relieve yourself of that weight, even if it meant you had to scorch away his marks with a fire that seemed wrong—but ever so deliciously, mouth-wateringly right.

“He was- was with someone else, Bucky.” Bucky tilted his head in momentary confusion. His brows were knitted together in confusion, but when your eyes held a silent plead for him to understand because you didn’t want to repeat yourself… It all dawned on him. His hands froze against your cheeks, and his jaw ticked with a clench of his molars pushing against each other. “I walked in on them-“ Your words faltered, and the break in your voice echoed in Bucky’s ears, and he felt himself repeating your confession over and over again.

He found himself questioning if he had heard you right. He didn’t understand what was happening, he couldn’t comprehend why someone would do that to you of all people. You were the kindest person Bucky had ever laid his eyes on. Your movements were always cradled with care, and everything you did, or said, held such a tender fluidity to them.

Bucky pulled you close to his chest, his arms enveloping your frame in a warm embrace. He could feel your hands shake against his chest, the warmth of your palms sending bursts of unfiltered emotion through his skin and into his veins. “I gave him everything Buck… I gave him—everything.” Your voice was muffled against Bucky’s chest, but he still heard you clearly, and he understood everything just as easily too. The thought made his blood boil with an anger that he had been hiding for too long. He was surging with crashing waves of ruby rage, and he wanted to punch the man who had caused you so much pain, so much humiliation.

His grip on you tightened, and his chin rested on top of your head. His chest was now heaving with slow, deep gulps of air, and his hands were splayed against the small the of your back in attempts to keep himself at bay with his sudden emotions. If he could feel you next to him, he knew it would stop him from doing anything brash, because when it came to you, he always seemed to struggle with keeping everything under control.

Time ticked by, and the both of you sat still. Your head against his chest, and his body holding yours, cradling you in hopes that it would soothe, and maybe even heal your fragmented soul. Neither of you knew how much time passed, and even though you had a clock at your bedside table, neither of you bothered to turn and look at it. Time wasn’t a priority, time wasn’t a worry.

You pulled away from Bucky first and sat up on your own again. Your muscles ached from sitting still for so long, but nothing seemed to compare to what you were feeling inside. You pulled two hands through your (y/h/c) locks and sighed. Your eyes momentarily flittered shut, and your hands lingered in your hair, fingers still laced in strands of your hair. “I feel disgusting.” You admitted lowly, ducking your head to avoid Bucky’s lingering gaze, but after mere seconds, you found yourself opening your eyes and gazing back over him, eye brimming, spilling even, with the bottled up emotions you held inside yourself.

“Oh-uhm, do you want me to run you a bath?” Bucky questioned warmly, his voice cushioned with gentle reassurance to ensure you knew you had something to fall back on if you were to break down again.

“No- not that kind of disgusting… I just- I feel disgusting,” You repeated, hoping Bucky would understand, but then again, you didn’t even understand yourself. “It’s like I can still feel him all over me. It’s repulsive… I want to forget him.” You whispered, looking down at your open palms again. It was almost like you were waiting to see the silhouette of your boyfriend's hand holding yours. You could feel the weight of his hand, fingers laced with yours, all you needed now, was to see what you kept feeling. “I want- I need to forget him.” You softly pleaded into the air of the room, eyes now trained on a specific plank of wood that almost looked like all the others that lined the flooring of your bedroom, but it wasn’t the same. “Help me forget.” You suddenly blurted after a pocket of bubbled silence washed over both you and Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes never left your frame, his eyes watching as your demeanor constantly fluctuated into different spectrums of emotions. He was hoping to keep up with everything you were feeling, but he was finding it harder than he perceived. His lips parted in surprise when your head suddenly moved to glance at him, and while he had been listening, it wasn’t intently. Your voice was muffled to his ears, so it took him a few blinks, and furrowed brows until he truly understood what you said, although your statement still brought along another string of confusion and questions. Forget? How? How was he meant to help with that? “How am I meant to help you forget?” He questioned, his eyes flickering between both of yours in attempts to fish for an answer—but he had no luck in finding one.

“Help me just—forget everything about him. I don’t want to ever think about him..” You pleaded softly, uncurling from yourself as you let your arms loosen around your knees, and your legs stretch out until they dangled down from the edge of your bed. You stared at him, taking in his expression in a mimic of the way he was taking in yours; intensely, hoping to memorize every detail. You shifted in your spot on the bed and turned to face him, legs now tucked underneath you as you reached out to touch his cheek under your fingertips. “Replace his touch… with yours.” You whispered, your eyes never leaving his as you scooted closer to him, your knees now touching his.

His stubble prickled under your fingertips, and his skin felt warm under your usual cold fingertips. “I can’t.” Bucky finally spoke up, and you felt your lips twitch down into a soft frown. Your eyes searched his for a reasoning, but he seemed adamant in not giving you one.

“Why?” You whispered, your hand slowly faltering against his cheek until it completely fell from him and settled back against your lap.

“You’re hurting, Y/N. I’m not going to take advantage of you like that—you’re not in the right mindset… let me help you in another way..” He suggested softly, and you felt yourself reaching out again, now both your hands cradling his cheeks.

“No, James. I’m sure of this… please.” You implored slowly, hoping to convince him. No matter how badly you were hurting, there was no denying the feelings you had towards Bucky. They were always there, always prominent, but you never acted on them. From the start, when your (y/e/c) eyes met his slate ones for the first time, you knew something would bloom between the both of you, you knew you’d grow to like him more than a teammate, more than a friend, but after getting to know him; his darkest demons… you believed it was best to keep things platonic between the both of you, for his sake. Now you were realizing that that decision, was a mistake. It should’ve been Bucky all along. It should’ve been Bucky who held your virginity and cradled your secrets. It should’ve been Bucky holding the most intimate parts of yourself. You had been blind, and forget to ask yourself what you wanted. You jumped into a relationship blindly, thinking it would cure your demons and help you forget your feelings for Bucky, but it didn’t, it only caused you to dwell with more demons, and long for a life with Bucky at your side as your lover, instead of your ex, who wounded you so badly. You had to right all your wrongs. This was your chance.

“Okay- I just… Okay. I’ll help.” Bucky gulped, his movements hesitant. Bucky didn’t feel unsure of this all because he didn’t have feelings for you, no, it was because he had feelings for you. Even if you wanted him now, that didn’t cover tomorrow, or the next day. It didn’t clarify your feelings for him, it only made the water murkier, and he wasn’t too sure that he would be able to act as if nothing happened after a shared moment like the one you were asking.

In the past, sure, Bucky would’ve had no problems with a one and done. He would’ve been happier with just a simple, no strings attached act… But now, after everything he’s been through, ‘simple’ acts like these weren’t so simple anymore. He valued all the affection he received. But even so, he still found himself agreeing to help you.

Bucky watched as your eyes sparked with a sort of… excitement towards his agreement. He let you scoot closer before he let his hands settled against your waist. His hands were gentle with you, and when you leaned in so your forehead was pressed against his, he felt himself gulp. Bucky had pictured a moment like this, a moment with you, one too many times, and now that it was becoming a reality, all he could wish for was for this moment to hold just as much depth, just as much emotion, as he had daydreamed about in the past.

His gaze flickered between your lips and your eyes, his gaze silently asking for permission, to ensure you were okay with this all. When Bucky felt you nod against his forehead, his hands moved upwards, ghosting against your sides, and arms until his palms were cradling your neck, thumbs tracing your jaw.

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered shut when his lips brushed yours, and just that touch alone sent bursts of vibrant colors to cloud over Bucky’s vision. He leaned in further until your lips pressed against his, and his body leaned forwards, already baited into loving the feeling of your lips moving against his. His fingertips moved upwards until they reached your hair, and he pulled you closer against him.

The kiss was slow and intimate. A sensual, long-awaited touch between two clueless lovers that still, even now, with their lips touching, weren’t sure if the other liked them back just as boldly as they liked them.

Bucky made sure to keep his movements slow, and you were grateful for it. You wanted to feel him touch you, you wanted to feel his hands, instead of the ghost touches of the man who had broken your heart.

Bucky nipped at your lip, letting the silent gasp that slipped past your now parted lips allow him to slip his tongue out to brush against yours. Everything about the situation was magical. It was filled with vibrancy, and care. It held a tenderness and blanketed the both of you under a fuzzy warmth that grew and blossomed goosebumps on both your skins’ before that same warmth settled in both your stomachs’ in gentle, desire oriented arousal.

Bucky moved against your mouth until he began trailing kisses downwards. His lips moved against your skin. A kiss to the corner of your mouth, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach, and tickle you until a blush was dusting your cheeks a warm tinge of the color salmon. A kiss to your jaw, multiple kisses to your jaw. Each holding unsaid words, that Bucky hoped would convey into the tenderness of each of his kisses, and soak into your skin so you could feel his ever-growing emotions that were all deeply rooted for you.

His lips left opened mouthed kisses along the base of your neck, and he hesitated against your pulse point before he gave into his own pleas and pressed a bold-stripped lick against your erratic pulse. The act earned a gentle whimper from your parted lips, and he hummed in satisfaction. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t adore just how responsive you were to his simple touches and kisses.

Bucky’s hands untangled from your hair, and they moved downwards, past where your chests touched until they splayed against the small of your back. His flesh palm hot against your clothed skin, as his bionic arm sent a shiver up your back. Even though the fabric of your simple sundress, you could still feel him. “James,” You whimpered, lulling your head back as your hands curled into his hair, completely pulling it out of the loose bun it once resided in. You were washed over in pure ecstasy, and you were keening under every touch he placed on your body. He treated you so fondly, so warmly. He painted you in gentle hues of lavender, oranges and blue. He presented you with everything beautiful in a human, and all he had done was kiss you.

A string of long, angelic whines fell from your cherry lips when Bucky pressed his plush lips against the base of your neck, the stimulation of his lips against that one specific spot, sending you in a frenzy of aroused stimulation and closeted desire.

Bucky laid you back against the bed ever so slowly, and delicately. He cradled you warmly and allowed you to shift against the bed as you gazed up at him with hooded eyes before he leaned down once more to entrap your lips against his all over again. This time, his touches held a silent urgency. A gentle plea for more, and you were more than happy to allow him to indulge in his desire. Your hands ghosted against his chest, still clad in his workout gear, but even with a shirt on, you could still feel his solid muscles, that rippled his skin with every movement he made to feel closer to you. You hooked your fingers on the bottom of his shirt, and he pulled away from your lips with a deep, warm sigh. His eyes met yours, and he flashed you a gentle smile, urging you to discard his shirt from his body if that was what you wanted.

You tugged upwards, and he aided you in pulling the article of clothing off. His skin was hot under your fingertips, and you watched as his muscles rippled against your opened palm while he threw his shirt somewhere onto the floor of your bedroom.

Bucky watched through hooded eyelids and you leaned upwards and kissed his skin. He hadn’t expected that. He had expected you to stare at his newly exposed skin, eyes wide when your gaze eventually settled on the skin that was flared a ghastly pink; where the Bucky he was, met the killing solider he was forced to be. Where skin met metal.

Bucky sighed when you pressed butterfly-like kisses to his scaring. Only you would hold such compassion to act tender towards the single physical thing that still tethered him to Hydra. Only you, could reach out, and ghost a fingertip against his skin and brush away all his insecurities. He let you linger for a few more moments, before he reached, and cupped your chin, moving you back upwards so your lips now, ghosted over his.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his lips continuously brushing against yours in the fragmented collection of multiple kisses. He nudged at your legs, which you so trustfully parted so he could situate his hips against yours. His pelvic bones pressed against yours, and when he finally allowed his lips the delight of meeting yours again, he also allowed himself to indulge in the act of rolling his clothed pelvis down onto yours. The moan that slipped past his lips, and onto yours, resonated in his chest. He pulled away from the short kiss, wanting to catch a glimpse of the desire that was ever growing in your eyes.

Bucky was enchanted by your gentle moans, the sounds slipping past your parted lips mimicking that of honey. Ever so rich, ever so delectable. He continued his movements against you, enthralled by the feeling of pleasure that continuously shot through his body like lightning bolts of that only Zeus could produce. The room was already so heavy with craving, and lust- induced pleas, it was sickeningly delicious.

“Bu-cky..” You mewled out, the arousal pooling inside of you proving to be too much. You needed relief, you needed something to quench the thirst for Bucky that was burning inside you. “James, please..” You groaned out, throwing your head back in frustration.

Bucky was blinded with lust and was savoring each roll of his hips that he moved against you, each glide bringing forth a warm wave of pleasure in its wake. He was basking in pure euphoria, and your groans and mewls fuelled the fire more. He leaned down, pressing kisses to your neck as you leaned your head back against the pillows. He nipped at your skin, his teeth grazing over your collarbone until they bit down on the protruding bone, which earned him a soft moan from your between your lips.

He pulled away from you, sitting on his knees as he kept his hands on your hips. His eyes met yours, and he smiled again, only this time, the smile held more than just gentle reassurance. It held a soft warning, a never voiced, ‘just wait for what’s to come’.

Bucky grabbed a hold of the end of your dress before he began bunching it up in his hands and lifting it up and eventually, off your body. Under other circumstances, you were positive you would’ve been shivering because of all your newly exposed skin. But the look in Bucky’s eyes… it kept the fire of desire that was licking at your interior, ever so strong and fast growing. You looked up at him, and bit down on your lip, hands reaching out for his. Your palms open as Bucky smiled again, his lips lifting in a tender, soft smile as his hands met yours and intertwined his fingers with yours. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N..” Bucky breathed, situating himself back between your legs, his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He admitted, smiling again when he noticed the peach blush that dotted the skin of your cheeks and across the bridge of your nose.

He kept his hands laced with yours as he begun trailing down again, his lips ghosting past your neck in teasing, unplaced kisses until his mouth lingered above the newly exposed skin of your breast that curved ever so delicately. He licked his lips before he pressed a warm, opened mouth kiss to the skin. He unlaced a hand from yours and moved it behind you until it reached the clasp of your bra. Bucky glanced up at you, but your eyes were closed as you relished in his touches, so he merely placed another kiss against the tops of your breasts, before he unclasped the article of clothing.

Bucky moved his free hand back out from underneath you, the warmth of his flesh doing nothing to soothe the ache you felt inside. Nothing seemed to control the fire growing inside you, except for relief. Orgasmic relief. You let out a grunt and moved your freehand to tug down the straps of your bralette. You couldn’t keep at bay with your arousal anymore, you needed him.

Bucky found himself smirking at your neediness, and he grabbed a hold of your bra, pulling it off of you in a single swipe, which in turn, aroused a long, delicate sigh to sound from your mouth. He immediately lowered himself down, both his hands now gripping your waist as his eyes devoured the sight of seeing you so exposed. He glanced up at you, before he leaned down, and licked at your nipple once. Your bud was already erect, but he could still feel it harden more against the newfound warmth of his mouth. He encircled your breast and sucked on your supple skin.

Your hands immediately tangled into his unruly hair, and you threw your head back with an accompanied long moan. The sensitivity of your body was at a new high, and in all reality, you wouldn’t be surprised if the action of Bucky nipping and sucking at your nipples would be enough to send you over the edge. You were aroused to the point where it was painful.

You carded your hands through his locks, eventually just savoring the feeling of his kisses and nibbles, rather than basking in the need that was pooling in your stomach in painful, longing clenches.

Bucky trailed further down now, figuring that he assaulted your breasts long enough. He held your hips down onto the bed as he ghosted further down, his tongue trailing with his lips until he reached the start of your lacy panties. He looked up at you through his lashes and hummed when you pulled your hands through his hair once more, your nails scratching against his scalp this time. He pressed a few more lingering kisses to the skin of your stomach before he snaked both hands to hold down on your hips and thighs.

His head dove between your legs, and he pressed a gentle kiss over your throbbing heat. You moaned softly, the noise getting hitched in your throat. You wanted to throw your head back in bliss, but you stopped yourself, wanting to see every movement Bucky made against you instead.

Bucky licked at your clothed heat, stiffening his tongue as he used the tip to circle over your clit. That act alone sent overwhelming pleasure to course through your body, and you had to grip at the bedsheets to stay grounded. Any soft sort of friction seemingly was pushing you closer and closer to your release. Bucky hooked his fingers on the elastic band of your underwear, before he slowly slid them down your legs, his mouth following the movement and pressing gentle kisses down your legs. He tossed the lacy underwear over his shoulder once he pulled it off completely, and he glanced up at you, smirking softly at the desperate blush that was heating your cheeks. He began kissing back up your legs until his mouth danced against the elastic of your knee highs. He licked at your skin and snapped the elastic against your thigh before he trailed back up, his hot, drawn-out breaths now fanning against your core. His eyes, however, stayed glued on you, and you made sure to follow his gaze as well, the lust that adorned his eyes proving to only pool the arousal between your folds even more.

Finally, Bucky dipped in between your legs and licked a bold stripe up your folds, groaning against your glistening heat. “Fuck..” He cursed, barely above a whisper as he held you down harder, ensuring you had no way to move against him. He wanted to take his sweet time in working you through your first, long drawn out orgasm. He lapped at your slick and savored the taste of your sinful desire. Never before, did he ever think he’d be doing this, much less with you. Never did he imagine that he’d have this view of you, everything exposed, and ready for him to touch. It was ever so stimulating, and his cock was continuously throbbing, and dripping with precum in hopes of, oh, so sweet release.

He used his index finger to pull back the hood over your clit, before he licked at the sensitive bud, humming in response to the string of curses that spewed past your lips in delectable, savory pleasure.

He sucked at your throbbing bud, hoping to ease you of the cramping pressure of release that pushed at your stomach. He sucked against your bud, swirling his tongue against you as he loosened his bionic arm from around your waist, and instead, moved it in between your legs, slipping a cold digit in-between your folds.

You were a mess of moans, and mewls. Whimpers resonating from your chest, and your hands gripping at your bedsheets as he worked you with his tongue, and eventually a finger, then two. Your walls clenched around him, your arousal lubricating his metal digits until they curled into you with ease, the only feeling bubbling in your stomach now being your undeniable urge to let go. You gasped when Bucky curled his fingers and brushed your g-spot, the new found pleasure tantalizing your release until you were a writhing mess of need. He was continuously lapping at your clit, and repeatedly curling his fingers to touch you right where you needed him to. His fingers already stimulated your clit, his touch sending the jolts of orgasmic pleasure straight to your clit, but now, he was working you both ways, and you were completely unraveling. “James!” You gasped, throwing your head back against your pillows at you gripped at your sheets all over again. “Oh god, yes.” You moaned, finally letting your orgasm wash over you.

Your jaw was slack with moans flowing out from your lips. His name seemed to be the only coherent word that was engraved in your mind, and your skin was burning with the heat of the continuous lava-like waves that were drowning you in heated desire. You had never experienced an orgasm quite like this.

You could see stars dot your vision as you threw your head back in unfiltered, orgasmic pleasure. You could feel your body keening for more, and your legs were shaking under Bucky’s touch. It was as if the planets had aligned like a star had been born with the explosion of pleasure; the burst in your being. It was a fresh summers breeze that brought along the warmth of the summers scent and flowers aroma. It was a thunderstorm, raining down on you in giant, rumbling drops of water. It was everything, yet not enough. You were already craving for more pleasure the second his mouth left your clit. You swore he was some sort of incubus, a sort of sinful thing created in the depths of pure, sinful desire because this was just ungodly. Everything about the sensation was overwhelming, and you swore it was something like magic—but when you opened your lust-filled eyes and met the cerulean blue eyes of Bucky, you knew that if anything, the man before you would be something of an angel rather than a demon.

You watched his face, your chest still heaving with the remnants of your orgasm. Your body was still recuperating, and yet, you already wanted more. Your gaze washed over him, and you soon realized that he was completely bare in front of you. The only thing separating the both of you was space. All you had to do was reach out, and pull him on top of you. You could reach out, and touch all of him, every inch of his body.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he was meant to feel vulnerable under your gaze, but either way, he didn’t. Your wandering eyes only fuelled his desire more. It added to the fire that was already burning him. He licked his lips, tasting the remaining bit of you he had left on his pink lips, before he held himself in his hand, and pumped himself a few times.

He used his hand to coat himself in his precum before he situated himself back against your hips, his forehead back against yours. His eyes were trained down towards his member, which was only inches away from where you both needed the most. He maneuvered his tip against your folds, coating himself in your glistening slick. Bucky mixed his arousal, with yours and used it to lubricate his girth completely before he continued with the long, rolls of his hips against your heat, and over your clit. He was purposefully drawing it all out in hopes that the longer you both waited, the more overwhelming the pleasure would be.

He kept his movements slow and drawled out. His tip repeatedly prodded your entrance, and you felt yourself clenching around whatever you could in hopes for some sort of relief, but when your attempts failed every time, you eventually just threw your head back in frustration, stars doting your vision as your hands gripped at the bedsheets. You could feel his protruding veins, and how his girth pressed against your slicked folds before he thrusted forwards and let his tip press against your clit. He was teasing, and you were drowning in want, and craving release. “I swear James, please stop teasing..” You gasped, arching your back as you reached up and tugged at his hair in a silent plea for him to do something, anything; you just wanted to quench the thirst that was growing inside you.

Bucky was smirking against your skin as he leaned his head into the crook of your neck, and when he felt his veins throbbing, and his precum spew from his slit, and down onto his palm, he finally indulged and let his most primal instincts kick in as he situated his tip into you, before he rolled himself into you in one, swift thrust. The noise that reverberated between the both of you when you both gasped in pleasure, was everything but holy, and the sinful desire that was prickling at your skins’ was painfully delicious.

Bucky’s girth and length had taken you by surprise. Sure, you had seen his cock with your own two eyes and while you thought it was big, the feeling of him inside you made you question just how big he was. You were brimming with pleasure, and spilling with pain. Never before had you felt so filled, and stretched. You were keening with pleasure-pain, and Bucky was quick to seize his movements, and let you adjust, no matter just how badly his body was aching for him to move.

He knew it was selfish of him to thrust into you so deeply, so quickly, but he couldn’t help himself. He had dreamed of feeling you around him. He had craved to feel your warmth envelope his cock as you clenched around him in desperation, and while he imagined you would feel amazing, in reality, you felt more than amazing. You felt so overwhelming right. Like when the horizon meets the sea. That grey area of pure, unfiltered pleasure that tingled his nerves. The way you took his length snugly, how tight you felt around his cock. How his girth made you arch your back, and grip at the bedsheets. Everything about this all was driving Bucky wild. He was frenzied with lust and spewing with whispered curse words every time you clenched around him in attempts to get accustomed to his size.

Bucky thanked whoever would listen when you nodded your head slowly and wrapped your arms around his neck in a never voiced urge for him to move. He was much obliged and glided his length further into you. He savored the way you gasped at the sensation, and let the feeling of your nails clawing at his back urge him to pull back until his tip brushed against your folds once more, and you were a whining mess under him before he rolled his hips back into yours.

He was already grunting, and his movements were slow; sloppy even. He was moaning, groaning, swearing, and thrusting into you deeply. His hips circling against you in attempts to brush against you so deeply, that you were keening for more, for him to move faster.

You threw your head back against the pillows and attempted to meet his thrusts, with your own rolls, but the overstimulation of it all made your hips jerk with a sting of pleasure that rang through your body in shades of lustful red. You were seeing the stars, and feeling the cosmos move inside you. Flowers bloomed in your stomach, and with each plunge of his hips and as he glided into you, you felt your arousal rain down on those same flowers, and drown you over with intoxicating pleasure. Each roll of his hips caressed the deepest parts of you, and you felt like you were choking. You screwed your eyes shut, your jaw falling slack as moans flowed past your cherry lips, and hung in the air that was already pungent with the musky smell of sex. Never before had you felt someone worship your body the way Bucky was. His movements against you were ever so sensual, and passionate. They were brushed over in golds, and silvers. They sparkled your body with a sheen of sweat and coaxed your throat to dislodge the moans and whimpers that you attempted to suppress out of pure shyness.

His actions were blanketed in tenderness, and it was as if he was enchanted by your body; entranced by the sight of you underneath him, taking him so intimately. Your flushed cheeks, and wispy hair. Your swollen lips, and pleading eyes. The way your lashes brushed against your skin every time you closed your eyes. You looked like an angel.

Bucky’s hair was brushing against his cheeks, and his lips were parted to make way for the constant string of grunts, and hushed ‘fucks’ that fell past his pink, rounded lips, and into the thick air that was electrified by the shocks that were flowing between the both of you. His body was glistening with sheen, and his eyes kept flickering between your eyes, and downwards, where his cock met your heat. His body was molded into yours, and the way his muscles rippled under his tanned skin made the fire inside you, burn brighter. His stomach was repeatedly clenching, his abs ever so prominent. His muscles flexed under your hands as you clawed at his back once more, and his hips jutted into yours, his pace quickening.

“My god, you feel so good- fuck, baby,” Bucky growled, grabbing a hold of your ankle and hooking your leg over his shoulder so he could push into you just a little further. Just enough so he was panting, and heaving with hissed moans. He watched as you threw your head back once more, and he growled lowly. “Look at me, I want to see you come undone,” He quipped, his voice husky, and smoky. He was shrouded in the lust induced clouds brought down by the God Eros, and the sight was quickly inching you closer and closer to your demise. “Come on, baby, look at me.” He pleaded lowly, his voice an octave lower, and his thrusts becoming deeper and more frantic. He was chasing his release and was close to not only brimming with electrified pleasure, but he was thrusts away from spilling over with orgasmic pleasure. Hues of red painted over his vision messily, and he watched as you kept your (y/e/c) eyes locked with his, pupils dilated, and chest heaving. Your lip was between your teeth, and he could tell you were close because whimpers were greedily falling from between your lips and clenched jaw.

Bucky reached down and circled your swollen clit with three fingers. As much as he wanted to focus on his own release into the addicting orgasmic waves, you were his priority. You were the one who had asked for this, and you needed to be the one to have the best experience out of all of this. He wanted you to walk out of this whole ordeal, painted with shades of the sunset. Glistening with happiness, no longer gloomed over with the clouds of negativity your ex had looming over you. He cared for you enough, to set you as a priority, even now, when his most primal instincts kept trying to take over.

Your orgasm was quick to wash over you, knocking the air from your lungs as you gasped, and cried out Bucky’s name in the last attempts to stay grounded. Your nails dug into his skin, and you tried to pull him close and hold on tight, but he was focused on milking out your orgasm, while still chasing his. You were floating over the clouds, touching the stars, and staring straight at the moon. You felt galaxies dot your vision when your eyes shut tightly, and you felt the waves of ever-growing pleasure drown you until you were a blubbering, intoxicated mess of reddened lips, and roused moans. Bucky was no aid in cooling you down, and instead, he brought along another orgasm with his own release.

He emptied himself inside you, the tightness of your cunt proving to be the perfect thing to send him over the edge with relished moans, and spewed curses. He coated you with his cum and groaned softly when he pulled out and saw just how filled you were with your own juices, and his own. He flopped down against you, disregarding his weight as an issue because he was absolutely spent.

His arms ached, and his back stung with overexertion. It had been a while since he last had intercourse with a woman, so all his muscles ached with the gentle throb and pulse of exhaustion. He hummed in satisfaction when your hands carded through his hair, which was now curled, and unruly with the remnants of your rendezvous.

Bucky pulled away after a moment, and he glanced up at you, before he broke up from your embrace completely, and walked into the bathroom. He grabbed the washcloth from your bathroom counter, running it under lukewarm water, and wringing it out of the extra water before he walked back into your room. He flashed you a lazy smile when he noticed you had now pulled the cover out from underneath you, and snuggled against your plethora of pillows.

“Here, let me clean you up.” Bucky hummed, pulling away the covers before he reached for your ankle and pulled your legs apart once more. With one hand still holding your ankle, he cleaned your core slowly, making sure to be gentle and careful of your obvious sensitivity. He pulled away with a few delicate kisses to your ankle, before he stood up, and wiped himself of the remaining slick on his cock.

Bucky walked back towards the bed and pulled the cover back over you, his hand carding through your hair warmly to push a few stray hairs away from your forehead. With reluctant hesitation, he pulled away from you and reached for his shirt to get dressed. He knew better than to expect more than just sex. He was just a distraction for you, and he was fully aware of that when he had agreed to do this all… but there was no denying the sting in his chest when he thought about not being able to hold you against his chest, even after sharing such an intimate moment.

He pulled the shirt over his head and began pulling on his boxers before your hand reached out, and gripped his wrist. Your eyes held a million questions, but Bucky found himself not being able to even decipher one.

“Where are you going?” You questioned, your voice sparking that same curiosity in Bucky he had struggled to keep at bay with ever since he had first laid his eyes on you.

“To my room? You looked tired... I figured you wanted to sleep.” He responded, his voice laced with innocent cluelessness to your obvious feelings towards him. He still thought everything he was feeling was unrequited.

“I do, buh-but that doesn’t mean you have to leave.” Your cheeks grew a light shade of crimson, and you felt gentle amusement bubble at your insides. You had just slept with the guy, but you still got embarrassed talking to him.

“I don’t?” Bucky couldn’t help the light smile that tugged on his lips, and he was quick to tug off his shirt when you nodded again for him to stay. He lifted the covers, slipped in and wrapped his arm around your waist. He pulled you back against him, legs curled together with yours as you turned to face him. Your head against his chest and a hand splayed against his supple skin. He watched in tender silence as you drew unorganized lines against his skin, and he let his cold, metal digits dance across the supple skin of your forearm, a warm smirk gracing his features when he noticed the way your body reacted to his touch by blooming with goosebumps.

The both of you were savoring the warm, caring silence that washed over the both of you before you spoke up, words dipped incautious, almost scared and hesitant care, “It should’ve been you from the start.” You sighed, letting your eyes flutter closed in fear that he would shy away from your words and eventually, just pull away from you as a whole. “This—should’ve happened sooner.” You admitted, finally letting your eyes flitter back open as you eyed him through your lashes.

“Maybe,” He finally spoke up after another wave of silence washed over the both of you. His voice was hushed and heartfelt. His words were warmed with the passion shared between the both of you, and you felt a fuzziness settle over your body. “But at least it happened now, we can’t really ask for much more..” Bucky glanced down at you, and let his smile grow when he noticed your gaze already on him. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, his lips still turned up in a smile, like yours now were.

“It finally gets to be me and you, huh?” You mused tenderly, and he grinned now, his dimples making their appearance on his stubbled cheeks.

“Mmhm, me and you.” He agreed, placing a kiss on your head as his bionic hand continued to ghost your skin in attempts to memorize every curve, every rounding of your body. He was already trying to make up for all the lost time he had wasted, not getting to know you, not standing up against your boyfriend. But he knew better than to dwell in the past, because even though he had been longing for you for probably too long, he finally had you in his arms, snuggled up into his chest, the scent of your shampoo overshadowing his senses as you slowly slipped out of consciousness, and fell asleep wrapped in his embrace.

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diziar · 5 years

Text

One.

Soooooo who remembers my fic called Six? (If you havent read it, go read t first as this follows on directly from the end of it). Well just after I have written that I mentioned about maybe one day writing a second part, and as it’s Warriors Week over on the Discord, here we are. I promise one day I will write a fic that isnt angst, but today is not that day

Six.

Wind was gone. Dead. Warriors knew that no matter how much he prayed and wished to whatever Goddess or Goddesses that were out there, he wasn't coming back. No fairies were around. No great fairy fountain was hidden away somewhere nearby. Not even some sort of magic could fix this.

Wind was gone.

It had been hard. He had closed the poor boy's eyes whilst they had still sat on the floor - the blood and mud still under his legs, seeping into his clothing - and he had wiped his face free from any smeared blood tracks and tears in an attempt to at least make him look a bit peaceful in rest, in contrast to the angry and savage red wound across his entire stomach. At least it was no longer bleeding and he was no longer suffering.

With a little bit of assistance he had managed to stand still holding the body of his brother - or the closest thing he had ever had to one - and although his legs felt like they would give out any second, he would never forgive himself if he dropped Wind. His blood stained, blue scarf stayed over his form, moved around slightly so it had covered Wind completely, both face and body, and he had allowed Legend and Time to lead the way to somewhere nearby to camp for the night.

Even if there was a chance of Wild and Twilight coming back.

They couldn't stay at the Yiga Camp.

The fire had been set up in complete silence by Hyrule and Time, everyone had else just sat and watched. Numb: that was all Warriors could feel. A heavy and sluggish numbness running through his brain, through every limb. He had carried Wind to where they had finally decided upon setting up camp for the night, and now he could hardly even lift an arm to run his hand through his hair.

He wanted to cry, he could feel all the distraught emotions in his chest and behind his eyes, but by something twisted he couldn't. The tears wouldn't fall. The shaking wouldn't stop. His chest would never stop aching.

He couldn't sleep, in fact none of them could, but unlike him they all at least seemed to at least be trying. Everyone was exhausted, both mentally and physically, and shock was very much still running through everyone's system. Wind was gone, and Wild and Twilight were still missing.

Nine was now just Six.

Wind's body lay off to the side, just away from the rest of them so that they didn't have to look at him. It was a horrible thing really, but now that it was hours later none of them could bare to look at him. Now that he was so pale, so cold, so obviously lifeless with every blush now gone from his body. Any bruises the boy had stood out so obviously against the paled tanned skin.

No longer was he covered by Warriors scarf, but instead his blanket, which is some way mocked them all by making it seem like he was just asleep. They all knew otherwise.

Wind was never a still sleeper.

Never would he lie on his back and not move around constantly, eventually flipping himself over onto his stomach.

He wasn't asleep.

For that second time that day Warriors watched as another light slowly started to die out, though unlike last time, this one flickered and held onto the life.

It was something he would never be able to forget. Deep green eyes, filled with such fear and hurt, wet with unshed tears, fading as Wind tried to lift his arm up to reach for him.

His strangled attempt at saying the nickname he had given to Warriors, as both a nod to where Warriors had come from but also Wind's pirating ways. Had it been to say an apology, or in attempt to make Warriors feel better? He'd never know now.

Weak and shallow gasps that attempted to take in a full breath but kept failing and dying out with a pained wince.

The warm and heavy scent of blood being the only thing Warriors could smell. It soaked Wind's skin, his face, hair, and torso. It stained Legend's hands, Wind's tunic, and Warriors’ scarf. It spread and marked everything it touched, making the harsh realisation only more brutal.

He watched the fire, unable to tear his gaze from it, eyelids drooping heavily shut more and more progressively as time passed. Fingers stayed clenched in the material on his scarf that draped over his lap.

He had wanted to clean it, to get the blood out of his beloved blue scarf, but exhaustion wouldn't let him move.

His eyes fell once again, the low red and orange light being replaced by a dark and suffocating black which welcomes him into sleep as it finally takes over his drained body.

Waking up from a sleep that he wasn't fully rested from was something Warriors was used to in one way or another. Every muscle screamed out to him in pain before he could even register that he was actually awake. Heavy fog clouded his brain and dulled every sense.

In a weak attempt and using every effort he could muster in his dazed state, Warriors moved his arms slowly underneath him and pushed on the ground to try and get himself up.

Aching limbs protested in moving, something that finally registered in his brain after he had exhausted himself further in his endeavour. He managed to turn his head slightly, his cheek now laying flat against the cold and dewy grass-

No. A sense of touch had finally come back to him, and it wasn’t the grass of the field wet from the morning dew he felt but something else.

Hot and dry sand, scratching and irritating his skin as he moved his head back and forth, small granules rubbing in an unpleasant and unexpected way.

Why…

Why was he lying on sand?

No longer did the tall trees of the forest edge cool him from the morning sun, in fact nothing did now.

He could feel the blazing hot sun beating down on him, and underneath all the layers of his fabric, chainmail, and armour he was was roasting. Perhaps if he was more dressed for the weather he'd be able to cope, but as he currently lay face down in the sand unable to move or shade himself it was just another pain to add on the list.

The faint morning breeze was cool as it blew through his hair and over his skin. It was gentle and kind, and not unpleasant.

Another sense finally cleared, and he could hearing the waves lapping at the shore nearby. The seagulls crying and wings flapping overhead, a loud oink rumbling low, people talking and a child laughing, and finally the sound of footsteps approaching closer as they ran along the loose sand.

Along with that came his sense of smell. No longer did the scent of blood, heavy and metallic, filled his nose but instead that of fresh air. It was easy to breathe in and completely clear, it helped wash away the last remaining aches from deep within him. The salt from the ocean and brush of the waves against the sand help wash away the last horrifying memories he could recall...

Wind.

Warriors hadn't yet tried to open his eyes, the darkness still being the only thing he could see, but all too suddenly did that get replaced by a bright light behind his eyelids. He squinted his eyes tighter shut, wincing slightly as he did then slowly beginning to open then again, rapidly blinking and squinting as he did so.

Vibrant yellow sand and blue water immediately filled his sight, both so bright and almost like that of a painting. It all seemed far too perfect and lush to be real. Once again he tried lifting himself up, his arms no longer protesting so much.

Green grass and trees, wooden houses, and sheer rock grey cliff faces covered the small island, and the footsteps that he had heard approaching had now stopped. It took him a few moments to tear himself away from the peaceful scenery, and he looked to his right to see a young girl.

Tanned skin and bright blonde hair. Deep green eyes and a light blue sundress.

Immediately he began feeling sick. Panicked. After being dazed for so long and slowly having his senses coming back to him, focusing on feelings and sight again, had he forgotten what had happened.

Not just that, but where were the others?

Warriors scrambled to stand up, the end of his blue scarf flowing out behind him in the breeze and no longer was it stained, nor were his clothes.

“I'm glad you're not dead, or wounded for that fact. You were lying out here for so long Granny was beginning to worry, so she asked me to come see if you were okay.”

He recognised this place, recognised this girl, but how he couldn't recall. His mind was a mess. Wind was dead. He had died in his arms! But now… there was no trace of that ever happening.

A shaky hand pushed itself through his hair as he tried to make at least some sense of what had happened. How he had gotten here? Here being…

Outset Island.

Wind had shown him a pictograph of the place before, told him about his sister and even shown Warriors a picto of her and a group of people all standing in front of a pirate ship. That was missing from the scene but the rest of the Island and this girl…

Aryll.

This was Wind's home.

“If you're not feeling too good, Granny said I could take you back to ours.”

This time Warriors manages to take it what she had said, instead of just listening to the words but not taking any of it like he had last time. He gave Aryll charming smile, at least the best one he could muster up currently, and knelt down to be level with her.

“My name is L- Warriors, you can call me Warriors. May I ask what yours is?” He needed to be sure. Nothing was making sense and he needed answers.

He needed answers so he could try and make a plan.

“Aryll! My name is Aryll, and I have a big brother who's away right now but Granny is at home so we should go see her. We don't want to keep her waiting.”

Warriors watched as she ran easily across the sand back inland, stopped, turned back to him and pointed towards a house on the right. With a deep breath and by moving one foot in front of the other, he followed her off of the beach, along a small path and then to the lone wooden house on the right side of the island.

Aryll had already run inside, holding the door for him as he made his way in, giving her a brief nod of thanks before she had gone off again. The inside of the house was simple, with stone floor and wooden furniture, but it felt like a true home.

From the small ornaments that sat on the window frame or the chest of drawers, to the pictos hanging on the walls.

It was a home full of love and warmth.

He turned the corner and there sat in a wooden rocking chair was to only he could assume was “Granny” that Aryll had spoke of.

And if Aryll was Wind's brother.

And this was her grandmother.

Once again Warriors felt sick. No longer did the calming waves remove any footsteps in the sand, but they instead washed up those feelings of despair and anguish.

“You'll have to excuse me dear, my old bones aren't quite what they used to be so getting up is a bit of trouble… Are you okay?” Her voice was so gentle and smooth.

Warriors could feel his heart break as his chest began to ache.

He gave her a faint nod as he stepped towards her, her hand extended out for him to take.

“I'm-” How could he say anything to her… he didn't deserve her kindness, her trust, not after what he had allowed to happen.

“Oh, such a strong handshake. You remind me so much of my grandson with that blond hair and green clothing of yours.” With her other hand she pointed to a chair next to hers for him to take.

“You have a grandson? I wouldn't have ever thought you to be of that age.” He joked, taking a seat and still holding onto her hand.

Honestly, he didn't want to let go.

He had already let go once.

She gave him a small chuckle, the wrinkles in her face moving, and shook her grey haired head. “Oh you, you're far too kind, but yes I do have a grandson. He's off exploring the seas and being a hero all on his own. It's been some time since I last saw him but I know he'll be home soon. He promised me he'd come back.”

Warriors choked on the words in his throat, the feeling around his heart and lungs tightening like vines and making it hard to breathe.

‘How am I supposed to tell her?’

He gave her hand a small squeeze, his head drooping as he looked down once again to the blue material that had pooled on his lap. It was clean.

“Can you tell me more about him, please? He seems like a good kid.”

Granny gently placed her other hand on top of his, giving it a small pat as she glanced out to the sea outside her window.

“His name is Link, and he's such a bright boy. Always smiling and laughing, and he's oh so expressive! He does everything he can for those he loves and cares for, and I'm glad that my daughter's son grew up to be such a brave boy.”

Wet.

Warriors could feel wet on his face, warm and heavy as the tears finally began to fall. His shoulders shook softly as he silently sobbed.

All the unshed tears from the night before finally came to the surface and it wrecked him. To hear Wind's grandmother speak of him just like he had spoken so fondly of her, so proud and hopeful…

It broke him.

The image of Wind's dying body once again filled his mind, his quivering lip as he spoke and shaky arm and he moved.

The image of Wind's lifeless body once again filled his mind, still cradled in his arms and hidden under the blanket.

“He sounds like such a good kid.” He finally managed out, his voice wavering as he tried not to become obvious that he was crying.

She squeezed his hands again and made a small humming sound in agreement.

“He is. Always looking out for others, putting them and their safety before his own. I know him well, but even when he was scared he went out and did so much for the sake of another person.”

Whilst it may have been a beautiful day outside with gentle blue and warm waves lapping at the golden sands, with the shining sun above them and pleasant warm breeze allowing for everyone to enjoy the weather, inside of Warriors head there was a storm.

A vicious and dark storm causing the deep blue waves to grow heavy and violent dragging him beneath into the icy depths. There was no warm sun or gentle breezes, just darkness and heavy winds knocking him all around as he tried to stay above water.

“I'm so sorry.” The words fell from his mouth before he even realised what he had said. She just shook her head again, turned back to him and sighed.

“Oh my dear boy, whatever do you have to apologise for? Worry not if you think you've made me miss him more by talking about him, that isn't the case. If it's something else, then whatever it is I can assure you that it wasn't your fault. Now, would you like some soup?” Slowly she began to get up from her chair, both her and the wood creaking with the movement. He nodded, watching once again as his scarf changed colour from a pale blue into a deeper one from his fallen tears.

She passed him a bowl, and when he looked up to her, she gave him a knowing smile.

Wind - no, Link - was dead.

Twilight and Wild were still gone

And Warriors was alone on Outset Island eating the very soup that Wind once talked so highly about.

One.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe au #linkeduniverse au

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mrfutureboy · 3 years

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i need to make more traditional art. i have so many canvases and so much bristol board. but i also have several digital art wips rn

#original entry #i also need to get refill ink for my e00 copic bc i use it a lot #i worked on two of these wips today. well.#i worked on one and then started a new drawing that is NOW a wip #they r both bttf pride related. one is just jr and marlene again and is very similar to the one i posted today #the other is fun bc it will have all of them in it but its very silly #i imagine ill color it but idek i might just leave it as lineart. we’ll see #i started a little painting last week but i havent gone back to it #i keep thinking abt it but idk i didnt sketch it out so its got me nervous #i thought ‘oh lemme do a quick underpainting instead’ which was not my best move #could probably b worse tho #and its acrylic so it covers easily #oh i also have a wip thats marlene and marty sr but its been a while since i worked on that #also technically my comic idea is a wip but its kicking my ass tryna plan it out as a visual thing #wish u guys could just see whats in my head

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littlebellaperla · 6 years

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Into the belly of the beast

Especially when the beast got a makeover

Especially when the belly is full of other people who called themselves “tribe”. Family. “your my daughter” “my little buckeye” “my favorite doctor” whom you havent heard from in months.

People are so fucking fleeting.

You know object permanence? That thing babies lack? If it isn't in front of my face I wont know its there, hidden in plain sight they completely miss the toy”hidden” just under the blanket in front of their drooling moon face. They threw a blanket over me and called it medical leave. The babies immediately forgot I existed.

The tribe, family, mothers, daughter, friends, colleagues, gone. For months. Then rumors. Im crazy, Im dying, Im a drug addict, I had a break down, Im anorexic and in treatment....

Taking a hack saw to my social media pages while crying, Deleting friends I loved so much in fear they would use red hair or a picture of a snake as some sort of ammo against me, in the medical world we call this CYA. Cover your ass. Burn it all. This is my career and obviously these people didn't care.

Cue my re-entrance. “Be Beyonce, be Michelle Obama, give me Oprah” to these people? And the texts pour in about how excited they are to have me back and how they missed me and how God has worked miracles for me (what? you mean i found a doctor willing to treat me for the only things wrong with me, ADD, insomnia, anxiety, without labeling me as manic and accepting my aspergers??? Okay fine I can thank god for that...) I throw my expensive lifeline of a smartphone across the floor (its carpet its fine) because I cant. It makes me want to vomit. Where were they when I was getting stuck weekly, scared that all tests pointed towards autoimmune?

Can you imagine 29 working your entire 20s just to get a career and being scared its going to be ended by some disease? I mean I knew Id die early as a kid but come on that one would be really unfair.

Can you imagine learning it was all stress and a sinus infection causing a white blood cell spin out? Stress from the job you love? Can you imagine looking back and thinking wait, they made jokes about me burning out but scheduled me heavier, they saw me lose 100lbs in a year yet scheduled me through lunch while others got to eat, they laughed at how much I carried and never took me up on my offers to streamline, they emailed me about issues on my contract but never answered back when I asked for meetings with agendas to fix said issues. Then forced me on unpaid break. Everyones backs were turned and I was alone.

Am I crazy to have wanted to connect to someone when everyone in my life besides my partner was there for me during this? Is making your hair red finally after a childhood dream crazy? Is a strangers snake at a bar crazy? Okay yes that last one a little but really I went from 50 hours a week to NOTHING and my ADD Aspie brain cannot deal with a life without taking small technology apart, fucking around in programming, drilling holes in shit, organizing, spreadsheets, etc....so I garden and craft and paint and color and slowly go FUCKING INSANE until they need me back badly enough and the money is fastest here so....

Today Im supposed to Oprah sashay to my new building and see my new beautiful testing suite and future consult room and all the gorgeous arts and plants. Ill also see a lot of snakes. Not bar snakes either. I cant trust anyone. When I did it was used against me. Like cops. Im ready to puke just thinking about some of the looks Ill get. Theres no way to dispel that kind of rumor after so long. Would I want to? Is this who I want to text when Im scared or drunk or alone, who Id want to come over when Im too sick from medication switches to move and bring me soup? I have had approximately three of them remain friends. Three people who would offer a place on their porch, a couch, a walk, bring me food and force me to eat it even though I wanted to puke up every bite, who wouldn't judge my tears or panic or rate of speech or topic jumping. Cant I just start a practice with them?

Now Thats What I Call Rambling, 2018 greatest hits.

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bigbrothernetflix-st · 4 years

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EPISODE FOUR

“ ‘something will be unleashed’ are u gonna start KILLING PEOPLE??” - saira

HOH: Nick UPSIDE DOWN: Emma & Kiki NOMINEES: Monty & Saira POV: Jev FINAL NOMINEES: Monty & Saira EVICTED: Saira (1-0)

JOSH C

well, we just voted out GINA and i'm feeling some kind of way about it. i feel like the push to save emma was VERY quick and i think there are a lot of alliances going on that i'm not involved in which is FINE but it's just something i need to watch out for. i know i talk with almost everyone constantly so i think i'll be okay for this week, but i'm just worried about the people that i enjoy.

a lot of people have said they don't talk to saira or brianna so i wouldn't be shocked to see them both go up, which is FINE i guess but i enjoy both. i don't want saira to leave at all but i don't think she has as GOOD of a social standing as brianna does. which is worrisome because i know this is her first game so she doesn't have any pre-existing relationships to save her which is.. not ideal.

i'm finding things a BIT frustrating because i have to navigate not ONLY game thoughts but people's pre-game relationships. not that i'm knocking anyone for them but almost everyone i've talked to says they don't talk to monty but they wouldn't want to see him nominated. i just don't FULLY understand why we can't nominate him but they're friends with him so he's a bit UNTOUCHABLE. i might push it anyways because he's the only person i don't really talk to anymore. WHO KNOWS.

i've felt like a deflated balloon for most of today so maybe i'll just go with the flow on this but i need to make sure i'm not just voting out all the people who will be votes for me later on.

ARIA

Im small, bitter, and very angry...but spite is the best motivator and im going to use it to win this season. Anyways i miss saira im SICK of trusting nicks, i see a nick i FLOOR IT!!! I refuse to have a nick fuck me over in a game again i am so over it. But hehe anyways lets get into the info spilling section real fast and then i can analyze because my position has drastically changed from last time-

also sorry for repeated info but sometimes i forget things or people say it again so..

-nathan leaked "all" his alliances to me (Screensht is cut weird i think theres one he cut off)

-Jacob found out my gina connection

-perfect voting record is dead (told jacob i voted out gina tho idk why hehe)

-kiki-joey connection

-emma knows about bri's backups because jake leaked it to her before he left

-josh c IS EVERYWHERE

-nick says they havent talked to bri

-nick likes jev

-nick wants (more so wants others) to take a shot at kiki/nash

-nick said nathan is a wildcard

-joshua nommed monty and nash

-STOP UNDERESTIMATING JOSHUA

-told josha jacob is protecting him

-joey exposed saira's deal to me and bri

-joey wants a larger alliance

-bri said they like nick,,,but that conflicts earlier info so im thinking peer pressure or just bri is too sweet for this cast and i adore her-

-bri told nathan her noms

-nathan hates bri and for wHAT??

-jacob has a dpov and used it to cement a f2,, AND DID THE SAME THING WITH BRI FFS

-jacob scared of nick and jev

-kiki and nash tell everything to jacob

-jacob said emma and joey have a connection??

-jacob thinks nick is gonna join the emma jev joey side (his words)

-jacob thinks monty is a threat

-jacob ranked the players in tiers as follows:

A kiki jev bri

B joey joshua nathan

d: nash saira monty

-bri talks a lot with kiki and josh c

-told bri about the trio between jacob kiki and nash

-joey told me yesterday he wants to win,,,but then just said to take him out

-planting seeds against joey to bri

-jacob wants to bring dpov up with alliance at f10

-joshua and jacob were shook saira was evicted

-told jacob that joey asked to throw

-jev and jacob are getting closish

-jacob is so threaten by nick

-jacob told bri that nathan doesnt like her

and thats where im at currently. Lots of options and lots of interconnections I have to navigate but i think im gonna be fine for the time being which makes it super easy to just be complacent and float my way to jury BUT!!! I want to try setting myself up well where i dont get clocked at f9/10 and wabam im out. Im trying to set people against each other subtly but honestly i think im overestimating myself here but at least i know im safe. I mean for now im trying to set up this side of jev emma joshua to at least form together as a group but im STRUGGLING i might just have to settle for them keeping each other safe without a solid alliance ig. At the same time I think i really have two actives pieces of info im working with which is emma knowing about bri's backups and then me and bri knowing about jacob's dpov.

So i think what I want to happen is that Jacob wants to dpov nick out at f10 so i'll let that happen probably which puts a huge target on jacobs back, idk if its anon but if it is ill make sure bri leaks it kinda framing it in a "if you leak it and i pretend to not know i can analyze how other people respond so we'll know what everyone thinks" and once jacob leaves emma can leak the bri's angels (which should be weaker at this point since jacob is the glue that holds it together a bit) which #1 makes a bunch of good players house targets and then forces those people to solidly stick together as well. Not sure how im gonna play both sides but,,,,if i can play it off kinda like i did in pasio somehow maybe i'll be fine but who knows. Either way im here to have fun (and hopefully win for gina/saira)

WELL WELL!!! just did a vc with jacob, he decided to take matters into his own hands and be totally cracked and now thinks nick/monty/nathan are a side,,,,which,,,,idk yall nathan did show me all of his alliances and none of them were that but who am i to stop jacob from making himself a target by leading this charge against them uwu. I do need to be more proactive about leaking tho but im not sure how im gonna work that. Also im not sure if i want nick/monty/nathan all gone, i can live with monty gone bc they probably think i nommed them and might want revenge but also nick and nathan are kinda cute numbers for me,,,

I mean idk because at this point i have a game relationship with mostly everyone left in this game and im just not sure which path i need to take to get to the end yet and its kindaaa stressing me out a little bit. I can feel myself starting to drop in peoples trust rankings a little bit and god its kinda annoying how jacob has this game wrapped around his finger, however i dont need to be in a dominant position this entire game i believe in myself!! I got this easy peasy!!!

JEV

My reverse psychology paid off and I won the veto so I'm loving that for me, I'm not going to be using it because I'd preferably like to see Monty leave because I just... never see them and I think Saira is much more deserving of her place here than Monty is. It's frustrating that Monty is cruising through this game so easily because we haven't spoken to eachother since day one, and they haven't even bothered to come and speak to me to campaign for me to use the veto. Like, do you want to be here or not?

Thinking about it more, I'm super happy I won the power of veto. I managed to ensure myself and those I'm closest to in this game weren't going to be named as renom and kept Monty up there as a final nom, which I'm worried otherwise wouldn't happen during this game since people seem either threatened by Monty OR a little over-eager to keep him around in this game, which annoys me but whatever. I just hope whoever wins HOH has the balls to make the right decision, better to get him gone now rather than later.

JEV

So I think I've had a little bit of a brainwave/breakthrough. This is gonna be longwinded so hear me out.

Apparently from what I've heard, the nominations this week were revealed in order of who recieved the least to the most nominations from every

one. This is extremely interesting to me, as I've taken note that Nick, Aria, Jacob & Brianna were 10th-8th in the rankings of votes respectively.

First of all, I haven't made secret that I think something is going on with the Pasio alumni. This was highlighted when I was asking around for what people were doing for nominees, and from everyone I heard Saira/Monty, but from two people I heard Saira, Nash, Joey & Monty -- with Monty strategically placed last in the ranking, to give the illusion his name was the least uttered. Funnily enough, the two people I heard this format of the names were Nick and Aria who just happen to be Pasio alumni... interesting, right?

So looking at the ranking, I'm thinking "okay so they obviously didn't do eachother, and with Nash/Joey in 3rd and 4th respectively, they must've not expected so many votes on Monty and didn't plan accordingly, and so split the votes too much and didn't have enough to put up Nash or Joey over Monty. So I'm thinking, I know there's a connection between Jacob and Monty because I used to play orgs with them on Skype. Jacob used the veto on Brianna last week, this has brought me to the conclusion that Monty, Nick, Brianna, Jacob & Aria are working together with the possibility that Josh C is either playing both sides or is fully with them too, hence why he recieved the least votes.

That places Myself, Emma, Kiki, Nash, Joshua, Joey & Saira on the outside, and Nathan too as I'm guessing he's strayed from their alliance and/or wishing to work with them, hence why he recieved 5th most votes.

I'd love to make an alliance with this group of people, but it's still only pre-jury and I don't want to be seen as playing too hard too soon.

(cont.) So I initially wasn't going to go for this HOH, but I feel like I need to because I can't trust anybody else to make the move to take Monty out, and I'd rather see their numbers thinned sooner rather than later. It would paint me as their #1 target for next week probably, but if someone I trusted won HOH next week then I could go to the upside down and not have to worry about it.

JEV

Yes again I'm so sorry, another thing that was interesting to me was that I mentioned to Aria that I was close with Emma, and she asked for an alliance with the 3 of us almost immediately after, stating that she was also "very interested" in working with Emma too. This tells me she's the mole and wanted the alliance to try and get intel from us, I don't believe for a second she did Saira/Monty along with me and Emma at all, which is why myself and Emma are hesitant to say too much in that alliance chat. So I like Aria, but I don't trust her as far as I can throw her.

HOST WEEKLY CAST ASSESSMENT

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hL__dyRaq2E&list=PLFEwPPy8j010XXwntq80VSU0qLNTNpSIN&index=5&t=0s

#bbnetflix st

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kristie-rp · 5 years

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Promise

Triggers: Suicide mention, drug mention, overdose mention, prostitution, gun mention, kidnapping

“I’ll take care of you,” she had promised. She can’t regret the oath, but she does regret what it drove her to, the desperate need to prove she could keep the promise.

Kara gets into prostitution because her little brother is eleven when the last of their parents vanish. She is seventeen, and she knows enough to be aware that the big motivator in Blacklight is money, and when her dad ran out, this is what happens: there’s no point trying to force a payment from a man with his head barely above water. She knows without a body being found that he is dead. Kara has her savings, her college fund, and that’s it. It’s not enough for two kids to live off, and her part-time job at a clothing store isn’t going to keep them afloat, and no one she wants her brother anywhere near is going to hire an eleven year old.

So – so she starts to prostitute herself, an amateur working cheap by Blacklight standards. She learns how much to charge without drawing complaints, she learns how to balance senior year and ‘work’, and she learns that many clients will pay more for the thrill of her being so much younger than the average whore. Enable a fetish and the cash goes up, enough to pay for school, for food, for a roof. At eighteen she gets sole custody of Lionel, legally, without complaint. She fucks the judge to get it through quick, once they get caught by the system.

She spends too long in the bathroom, driving the water bill up and up and scrubbing her skin raw in an attempt to get clean. Lionel is twelve, and she’s learned enough now to know how to draw lines, how to enforce them without losing clients. He knows what she does, he knows how much she hates it, but she doesn’t bring her work home and he can’t complain, however much he might want to.

Eighteen is when the pimp for her district finds out about her working solo, cutting into his profits. Eighteen is when Craig gets his hands on her, and really, he’s not so bad, except taking off some of her profits. She explains to him her situation, barely thinking it’ll work but convinced it’s worth a try – and he listens. He gives her specific times to work, promises he’ll take only ten percent, a fixed rate. It’s – it’s not good, but it’s not bad, she’s got repeat clients who are sleazier than Craig.

And then Faust finds out about her.

“So you’re the infamous Caramel,” are his first words to her.

She’s standing as still as she knows how, wearing something revealing beneath a heavy, cheap coat. She’s going for allure, even though she’s just a little too far from curvy for the effect to work as she intends; this is her ‘uniform’, what she wears when she’s out during the hours Craig assigns.

“I’m whoever you need me to be, baby,” she says. Her voice is a rasp, quiet, but not subdued. There is a confidence in her tone that many whores have lost by the end of their first year – but she cannot afford to become less of a person, not with Lionel at home depending on her, not with so many people willing to take advantage of her.

Faust circles like a vulture, and she knows she is being judged. She keeps her eyes partially shut, as though heavily lidded, and watches him with pursed lips painted in a discounted dark pink. He’s not actually that old at this point, though definitely older than her – she guesses him to be around thirty, much younger than her year-dead father. He’s not bad looking, either. It won’t be a struggle to act like she likes it when he inevitably goes down on her, even if what follows is her usual routine of scathing hot water and too-long in the shower, worrying a brother who is getting more and more withdrawn in turn.

“I’ll pay you triple,” he says at last, “to stay overnight. I get twenty-five percent of your cut from clients who aren’t me.”

Kara raises a brow at him. “Craig might have something to say about that.” She doesn’t say that this is a rip off, that she’s not going to jump ship from her fantastic deal just because he offers better pay to start

Faust’s smile is soft, but there’s something in his eyes that stands out to her – something dangerous. Something that tells her this man is not a nice man, as if she hadn’t guessed from an awareness of who he is. “Craig can’t say much once he’s dead.”

Her blood runs cold, but she steps closer to him. He doesn’t back down; she runs a hand up his chest and grips the gaudy tie he is wearing, something only a Blacklight local would like. She doesn’t smile, but she peers at him from beneath the fake eyelashes she is wearing only for this meeting. The effect is that she is playing coy, with any luck. “Whatever you say, boss,” she breathes, and drags him down to kiss her.

She can never pick out individual moments of her time with Faust, not in hindsight. It’s either a self-defence mechanism or a consequence of everything blurring together.

After that first meeting with her, he puts a pimp, loyal to him and more obedient than Craig proved to be, in charge of the whores. The new pimp is an asshole in every way except physically; he does not do anything that might bruise. But the verbal and psychological, the demeaning, the ripping off all of them – Kara is the only one whose cut never changes, because she is not afraid to talk money with Faust, and she talked him into writing up a contract that means he takes a profit from her, not the new pimp, and only a set amount. It’s not good, and for the first time she wonders if maybe things with Craig were better than she thought – and those drained her of everything she had.

If she believed in gods, this would be about where she’d start praying.

She comes home the day of her brothers fourteenth birthday with a little cake and a spring in her step, for once. Faust has promised her the weekend off, written it into another contract in what she knows is both a power play and a source of amusement for him; his little whore with her obsession with promises being kept. She doesn’t care that he mocks her for this, because promises are the only thing she can keep.

“Hey, Li? You home?”

The front door is locked, but not deadlocked; she knows he is. He’s good at keeping safe, good at following rules a lot of people in Blacklight take for granted or ignore. Kara smiles to herself: it’s a Friday, and she doesn’t have to do any work until Monday, and this is going to be a weekend just for her and Lionel. She’s got some money stowed away, enough that they can rent a car – dads being long since gone – and get out of Blacklight, just for the weekend. Never has she been happier her brother is a summer born child; they can go somewhere with a pool, or somewhere on the sea. They haven’t seen it since the summer before their dad was killed, and it’s finally time – in her opinion – to move on.

The house is quiet, though. She figures Lionel has earphones in, because the budget ones that came with his phone are the best sound system they have. He saved for ages to get that thing, scrounging together the change from Kara sending him grocery shopping and the neighbours paying him to pay the lawn until he could afford a Nokia and a memory card, the better to store music on. He loves his music, and his dream is to go to a concert; there aren’t any on this year that he’s interested in, or she would be taking him to it. “Boys and their toys,” she murmurs to herself, fond. She’s been busy, forced to work more lately by Faust and the twenty-five percent, and she’s been looking forward to this for ages, both for the company of Lionel, and for herself. Too much Blacklight breaks people, after all.

She sticks some candles in the little cake, lights them and heads into the further reaches of the apartment. It’s a shoebox, but she can make rent more often than not, and they each have their own rooms, for better or worse. She starts humming the timeless classic in her usual almost-croak, long since over how a husky voice does not lend itself well to singing. Still, she sings anyway, a loud “Happy birthday to you,” that cuts off as she drops the cake in the doorway.

Lionel is collapsed on the floor, and she only prevents a fire because her bare foot stamps out the candles before the ancient carpet can catch fire. Her panic blocks out the stab of pain, and she dives to her knees beside her little brother, feeling for a pulse before grasping for his phone, dropped on a stack of pamphlets, dialling emergency services because it’s that or nothing, and she can’t handle doing nothing.

The paramedics ask her more questions than she can answer. Oh, she can answer the standard lot – medical insurance, none; patients name, Lionel Darcy St Claire; patients age, fourteen; patients date of birth, today; emergency contact, Kara St Claire – but when they ask her if he’s been showing symptoms of anything, she cannot answer. “I work a lot,” she explains, but it feels feeble to her ears, and she feels judged for this more than anything else.

Their weekend away turns into a weekend in the hospital, and the money she has saved to make the weekend worth more than most is set aside for hospital bills. Kara spends Friday night sitting vigil at his bedside, Saturday with her head in her hands and shoulders hunched, and Sunday is when someone finally decides to tell her what’s going on. There’s an excess of something in his system – something that usually results from an overdose of opioids , of painkillers.

“There weren’t any pills anywhere near him,” she says, something nagging at the back of her mind.

The doctor gives a tight smile, sympathy heavy in his eyes. “It can take a week or longer for the overdose to show any observable effects to others, especially if he’s trying to hide them,” he informs her. “This isn’t your fault,” he says, “but his liver is shutting down. Chances are that there’s nothing you could’ve done – we’ve had a lot of suicides lately. It’s unlikely that he will last out the week.”

It’s not reassuring, not at all. She gives the doctor a look that says as much, then closes her eyes. She wants to cry, but she hasn’t done that, not in years, teardrops burning away from the inside out under scalding hot water. She hears the doctor leave, but she stays there, still, with her brother and the beeping of the machines that are, apparently, doing nothing but delaying the inevitable.

She falls asleep in the armchair beside the bed, curled in on herself as though having any more warmth will make this all go away. When her phone winks onto standby after she has fallen asleep, it closes on a Google search result, the top few links showing they’ve been clicked.

is cremation cheaper than burial blacklight usa

Lionel, it turns out, has been having a much harder time than she has been aware. She reaches out to the boy she remembers as his best friend, and it is only herself, him, his sister, and two former classmates who liked having Lionel paired with them for group work come to the pathetic service she holds. She doesn’t believe in god or gods, never has, and while Lionel liked the idea of the comfort divine answers might bring, he didn’t believe either. So she can’t bring herself to hire some religious man to preach something she doesn’t believe, even if it might make the sting any less painful.

She leads the lot of them to the roof of the shoebox apartment she doesn’t need any longer but can’t bring herself to leave, high above the second-storey place she manages to afford. It’s a hideous rooftop, but the building itself is nine storeys, and the view isn’t awful. There’s a barbecue and some cushions discarded up here, an esky that’s more often empty than not, and on afternoons when Kara didn’t have to work and he found himself in the mood, they would sit up here and talk about nothing and everything.

It’s the place most attached to him that brings the least amount of pain, now.

“Don’t you want to say something? In his memory, or something?” the friend asks, when they’re standing there with the urn that holds all that remains of her brothers body. His name is Alex; he’s the most harmless person Kara knows, now. Certainly the most naive and the most delusional. His parents are moving the family to New Brightside, on the other side of Port Lyndon to Blacklight, before the end of the year, chasing job opportunities they’re lucky to have been offered. Kara cannot resent them for their escape, because she hates this city, this city that breaks the people who least deserve it; but she can add them leaving to the list of reasons she has started to write up about

Everything Kara wants to say has been said already, to a brother trapped in a medically induced coma until his liver finally gave out, because Blacklight is no different to America and doesn’t allow euthanasia.

“I remember,” she says quietly, “the summer before mom died. Li – Lionel was four. He was turning four, four years old, can you imagine? And he was – he was so damn happy. I was ten, I thought I was so damn cool, and I really, really wasn’t.

“We went to the coast for a long weekend, I think Independence Day fell on a Monday that year. And there were these teenagers there, probably – probably as old as you guys are now. Thirteen, fourteen, not old at all. I thought they were the most amazing people I’d ever met, and I was such a jackass to Li on the first day, wanting to impress them. Then, on that night, we had this little family campfire, just the four of us, and dad gave me this lecture about not being mean to my brother, about how it was my responsibility to look after him. About how I’d regret not being nice, sooner or later.

“And Lionel, he just – he got up and he sat next to me and he interrupted dad, this four year old, and he says, dead serious, ‘Kara just wanted new friends’. He didn’t hold a grudge at all, it hadn’t even upset him that I was such a – a selfish person. And I know, I know kids don’t understand that at all, they’d never see it as selfish, but usually, you know, the fact that they’re four gets to them first, and they’re all ‘my way is the only way’. But Lionel,” and she laughs faintly, bitterly, fondly; “Lionel just – skipped that stage. And it didn’t change. It never started.

“Blacklight needs more people like that,” she finished, swallowing, choking on the emotion welling up in her throat.

The service ends with everyone sad, the only dry eye Kara’s, and only because she forces it. She’s still clutching the urn, though she plans on emptying it. It’s useless to her, just another thing to decorate the apartment, but it feels more important than that. After all, it’s her little brother in her arms. So she shuts down the thoughts that have been driving her crazy, the ones insisting a pot of ash shouldn’t mean anything, that an unmarked grave would be worth more to her.

But it’s Lionel. He’s all she’s had for three years now, he’s the reason she’s a lower class citizen, and she promised she’d take care of him. She swore.

I’ve never broken a promise before, she thinks, and then flinches from the thought, closes her eyes to it, refuses to acknowledge it again.

She’s got work, anyway. This – this debate can wait.

Kara is three months from her twenty-first birthday when she finds out she’s pregnant.

It isn’t much of a discovery, really. It’s actually impressive it hasn’t happened sooner – she’s heard horror stories of clients and pimps sabotaging others’ birth control, which is why she takes her prescribed pills meticulously, always made sure she has a supply even when money gets tight. That’s something that doesn’t happen much, not anymore, she’s even got savings.

And, apparently, a child on the way.

Maybe I should consider those god things again, she thinks as she wraps and dumps the test. It’d certainly explain the number of things that are fucking with me.

Still – still. She’s been alone for long enough that a bastard child sounds like a good idea, or at least one she doesn’t want to dismiss out of hand. She puts a lot of thought into the technicalities, makes lists and checks them twice.

In reality, her mind is made up the second that little plus sign shows up – the planning comes with the knowledge that a whore isn’t going to make the kind of mother she wants to be.

“You have a daughter,” is what the midwife says, smiling warmly at Kara. Kara is exhausted, feels sweat soaked and disgusting, and there are textbooks at home she is supposed to be revising, unable to take time off even for this – she’s taken advantage of the break from whoring (“Can’t very well have you giving birth in the middle of a good fuck,” he had insisted, which was crass but meant she got time off from wor) to pick up the business course she found in the pamphlets in her brothers’ room, all those years ago. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Please,” Kara says immediately, tired and almost pleading, reaching for the infant. The midwife laughs, more open and affectionate than anyone Kara has spent time with in a long time, and gently arranges the baby in her arms.

“Have you decided on a name for her, yet?”

Kara hums. She’s staring at her new child, at her family, wonder in her wide green eyes. The baby has blonde hair on her head, like Kara’s, and her eyes, for the moment, are shut as she doses. She’s a beautiful little girl, bundled into the blanket and onesie the maternity ward provides. Kara is absolutely certain she’s never going to make anything this perfect again, and immediately feels immensely guilty that she’s stuck picking up on the whoring again just as soon as Faust tires of her sabbatical. All the more reason to finish this business course, to pick up on dreams she had back in high school, that, apparently, Lionel remembered in the week before he succumbed to his suicide attempt.

(She still doesn’t know what caused it, or what she missed, if she could have stopped it. She constantly faces what-ifs and dreams and nightmares of possibilities, subconscious images so realistic she wakes up waiting to tell Lionel about it – and then the memories hit and she curls back up, chokes back the emotion, refuses the tears she still hasn’t shed. But what-ifs are useless and the past cannot be changed: Blacklight breaks people. She has known this all her life.)

“Darcy Artemis St Claire,” she answers the midwife at last, leaning down to kiss her little girls forehead. Darcy feels right, which she didn’t expect, but it just – it suits the person in her arms, belongs to her in a way Kara has heard some mothers’ say is possible, but didn’t believe. The midwife says something about paperwork and vanishes to find it, pulling the crib over so Kara can put her baby to bed, if she chooses.

When she’s alone with Darcy, Kara presses her lips to the top of her babies’ head yet again. “You’re going to be brilliant,” she murmurs, almost silent. “You’re not going to have a life like mine. I’ll never let you feel alone, I promise. You’re never going to have to swear yourself to – to someone like Faust or Craig or anyone else. I swear, Darcy. We don’t know each other well yet, but we will, and it is going to be fantastic. I promise you.”

She should learn to keep her mouth shut.

Darcy opens her eyes more and more, and there’s something familiar in them. It’s only once Kara is forced to go back to work, cajoling the elderly neighbour into caring for Darcy for the few hours she has to be gone, that she figures it out.

She’s lying in bed with Faust, waiting for him to tell her she can get out, go home, collect her pay direct to a bank account she always transfers the money straight out of, when it comes to her. Darcy doesn’t have her eyes, but they’ve always been familiar. Kara has a lot of regulars, people she’s seen since coming back to work.

“She’s got your eyes,” she blurts without thinking, and immediately starts cursing herself out internally, more than she usually does. She promised Darcy she’d never owe herself to someone like Faust, and here she is, piquing his curiosity.

“I’m not giving you alimony. Keep your bastard child away from me,” he instructs.

She immediately wants to leap to her daughters defence, but she stops herself. She doesn’t want him in Darcy’s life, after all – she promised Darcy, and she’s never going to know that this one time, Kara didn’t defend her. “I don’t want your hush money,” she snaps, getting out from the bed he fucked her in.

She feels dirty, but that’s normal, after any time spent with Faust at all – any time spent working at all. She’s almost finished her course, though, and then she can work on starting a store, the way she wanted to as a teen. She’s almost out. Finally.

Kara isn’t exactly counting down the days, but she is closer to relieved than she’s felt for a long time.

“What’s this I hear,” Faust says, speaking very slowly, “about you studying?”

He says it like it’s a dirty word, but it’s Kara who is alarmed. She’s got a contract with him that doesn’t say it, but everyone knows that once Faust has you, you don’t get out. The contract doesn’t say it, but everyone knows the rules: no studying, no betterment of yourself, no terminating your employment. Whores get out only once they’re too old to be appealing, businesspeople get out when they can payout more than Faust thinks they are worth, mercs don’t get out.

The exception is when they get dead.

Who told you, is the first question on her tongue, but she doesn’t ask. Even if he answers, it won’t do her any good. “It doesn’t say anything in my contract about me not being allowed to pursue other uses of my time, as long as it doesn’t impact my earnings. It hasn’t, therefore, you have no reason to be like this.” She folds her arms over her chest, the better to hide her fisted hands.

He laughs, long and loud and cruel. “Your contract means nothing. I maintain the terms because it amuses me, but if you are betraying me, Caramel, then you need to be punished. You’re nothing more than a particularly pretty slut, spreading your legs for whatever cash you can get your hands on.”

Kara hates that name, but she freezes, and cannot move. He raises a hand and two men come in, along with a woman she’s barely aware of, some other whore, one of the older ones – one of the broken ones.

“Do it,” he instructs.

The men get between the two women, but it’s the woman who catches Kara’s attention. She’s tiny and hunched and doesn’t have an ounce of confidence in her movements – and she’s walking right for the room where Darcy is sleeping.

“What are you doing?” Kara exclaims, lunging forward. One of the men grab her wrist, the better to prevent her from moving.

“You want to take one of my toys away?” Faust sneers. Kara has never wanted to attack him as much as she does now. “I will take yours. After all, she’s half mine, isn’t she? What was it you said – she has my eyes.”

In the other room, the woman must have picked up Darcy; the baby starts to cry. There are quiet shushing sounds, but they don’t work – Kara and the neighbour are the only people who can get her to be quiet, once she starts crying. Kara doesn’t know if it’s a temperament thing or what, but she doesn’t mind, not as long as she can get there to stop it. “No,” she gasps, then repeats it louder, wrenching out of the grip of the lackey, “No! Don’t you dare, don’t even think about it, I’ll – I’ll go to the police, or I’ll hire someone to get you, Faust, just watch me – get off me – don’t touch her!”

The last shout comes from the older whore showing the wailing infant to Faust. And – yes, okay, he’s the source of the sperm that made Darcy possible, but he’s not her father, and he looks at the baby as though she is some new plaything. Figures, Kara will think later, but for now, she is too panicked, too defensive, too amped up to do anything. “Stop that,” he tells Darcy, but if anything it only makes her cry louder. He rolls his eyes and dismisses both the whore and the baby with a wave of his hand, and Kara is reminded again of how offended she was, when she realised who made her daughter possible. “You, too. Stop it,” he orders, not even looking at the crying child. “The police won’t act against me, and no one you could find would dare go against me. I own this city, I own you, and now, I own your daughter.”

“Fuck you, Faust,” she spits, tugging ineffectually against the grip of the merc. One of them shifts behind her, not that she can see it, and lifts something. Faust nods in front of her, and she opens her mouth to keep protesting, to keep yelling, to talk sense into the man who is kidnapping a baby he wanted nothing to do with less than a year ago.

Only something soft goes over her mouth and nose, muffling her shouts, and when she inhales the air is sickly sweet. Her eyes go wider, and she’s at once disgusted and horrified and incensed, but it doesn’t mean anything. After all – she isn’t immune to chloroform.

His words are a premonition:

The police do nothing. He has half a claim on a child, and if she can’t keep it safe from one little home invader, clearly she isn’t fit for custody, and less than a tenth of the police force in Blacklight aren’t in Faust’s pocket –

She can’t hire anyone to help. She doesn’t have the money, and she doesn’t trust the sort of people she could hire, and one in maybe every two hundred residents of Blacklight would maybe consider doing something that will piss off Faust –

There’s no one who will volunteer to help. She knows people who might not like Faust’s methods, but they are quiet and constrained and won’t act against him, and she couldn’t ask them to anyway, not without becoming as bad as him (which, honestly, wouldn’t be that bad, if she got her baby back) –

His words are a challenge:

He says he owns her, but she refuses to be owned by someone who no longer has anything over her. He took her daughter, and she’s not powerful enough to right the wrong, not yet –

But he can’t do anything worse to her now, so why should she listen to a word he says?

“Y’know,” X says. He’s a hulking figure, leaning against the glass cabinet she’s fixing the display of, completely at home in the meticulously kept almost-open store. “when we met, I didn’t think you’d end up at this point.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean, common whore – no offence – to the owner of a gun store? It’s almost a 180.”

Kara snorts, because that’s the best she can offer while she’s got her hands on an engraved Colt. She rests it gently on the cushion and slides the drawer shut, locking it tight before she looks up at him. “Says the guy who gave me the idea in the first place.”

“You were at a gun show, of course that’s why I thought you were there. It’s that or you’re a gun bunny.”

“That’s not a thing,” she says drily, because he’s been trying to make it a thing at least as long as she’s known him. He hasn’t succeeded, not yet. She’s not going to let him – at least, not around her. Not on her corner of this cesspool.

“It’s totally a thing.”

She scoffs hard enough that her throat feels raw, and almost chokes on nothing. He pushes the bottle of water on the counter towards her, raises a brow at her. “Thanks,” she says, once she’s got it down without coughing anything up.

“Don’t mention it,” he says. Then it’s his turn to laugh, and roll his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re thanking me for.”

There are a lot of things. She met X at a dark point in her life, and while things haven’t gotten any lighter, she still constantly feels as though she owes him. “Closing your shop to come help me open, obviously,” she says, but it’s only one of a much longer list.

He knows. The smile he gives her is soft, and he leans across the counter to tap her nose. “You’re going to figure it all out,” he says, “I know it.”

She manages a smile back at him. It’s hard to believe – but it means the world that he does already. Apparently, it’s just what friends do – and she’s been missing out.

#kristie's writing #kwriting #kristie writes #kwrites #ft. kara #ft. faust #ft. lionel #ft. darcy #ft. x

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