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sope-and-shine · 3 years ago

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Written In the Stars: Finale

-> SFW // Soulmate!AU // fluff, // Mummy!Namjoon, Moon Goddess!Taehyung

-> Pairing: Namjoon x Reader // Taehyung x Reader

-> Word Count: 7k

-> Summary: Life after losing a loved one is challenging, especially when you’ve had the chance to see just how long the two of you have spent passing each other by. With it only being a few weeks since your loss, you’ve found your life has become dull and despondent. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll be able to move on, even with the help of friends.

-> Warning(s): mild language

a/n: I can’t believe we’re actually at the end 😭😭 I’ve put so much time and love into this story and I’m both sad and happy that I’ve been able to finish it! I hope everyone enjoys!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Masterlist

“Ma’am, where’s the restroom?”

You turn and see a father holding a small boy in his arms, and you immediately jump into action, “Take a right out of these doors, down the hall until you see the blue traffic sign, and it’ll be on the right. There should be a Daffodil portrait on the wall right before your turn.”

The man heaves a happy - very relieved - sigh, “Thank you!”

“Of course!” You watch as he speedwalks out of the exhibit and takes off down the hall. You can only hope he actually makes it there.

The day shift has definitely been more exciting. It’s only been a few weeks, but your days have been filled with more excitement since you switched. You tried to continue with the night shift post, but the silence just became too overwhelming. Thankfully, Hoseok seemed to understand when you told him.

You switched back to the day shift in hopes it would help to take your mind off of Namjoon. You thought being surrounded by others would make you feel less lonely, but you can’t help but think about how your life has changed so drastically.

Adjusting to your new life hasn’t been easy. Everywhere you look, you’re reminded of Namjoon. You hear his laugh by the water fountains, you see his hair in crowds on the street, and you can still feel his arms around you at night as you lay in bed.

At first, you thought it was something you could handle. You thought if you embraced his goodbye, then you’d be content to live the rest of your life without him. But no one told you losing love would hurt this bad.

You’ve tried to do other things, like knitting and working out, but you’re not very good at either one - nor do you really like them. Cooking had seemed like a good idea until you realized that meant cleaning the dishes. With every attempt to move on, you seem to take 3 large steps back.

You find yourself going to places Namjoon would have liked. Spontaneous trips to the park lead to long evenings by the river. Extra hours at the museum have you wandering through the exhibits just to look at the art one more time. Even a quick trip to the store has you buying things you’ve never thought to try.

The one place you never go is the King’s exhibit. At least, not of your own free will. It’s only happened twice - once being today - because someone had to call out. And just like the time before, you find yourself at the aquarium.

A place where Namjoon was truly happy.

The touch tanks have quickly become a favorite of yours. They allow you time to think to yourself and drift off, to daydream about a handsome king with an endearing fascination for the world around him.

You like to visit the crabs the most. Mostly because you know Namjoon would if he could. He thought they were the cutest on your outing together, and holding the tiny creature in your palm you can see why.

“Ow!” You flinch at the small pinch from the crustacean. Your hands jerk, but you try to protect the crab the best you can without dropping it.

“Here-” A large hand reaches in front of you and plucks the crab from your hands, “These guys get a little finicky when you hold them up too high.”

You place your thumb over the pinch and turn to him, “Really? I can’t-” You pause mid-sentence.

Now, looking at the crab’s savior, you see him. Lilac strands poke out of the blue university hat he’s wearing. His khaki shorts are worn and just barely reach his knees, and his sneakers are all worn out. Even the socks he’s wearing have slightly lost their vibrance. His baggy t-shirt doesn’t hide the fact that he’s more fit than he was a few weeks ago, but a few weeks ago he had disappeared right in front of you. But there’s no mistaking that dimpled smile.

This is Namjoon.

You stare at him like a deer in headlights, and you must look exactly how you feel because his smile turns to concern, “Are you okay?” He asks.

You nod, “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine…” You’re not. You’re absolutely stunned and he doesn’t seem to recognize you. They do say everyone in the world has 4 people that look just like them. How unfortunate that you’ve found his. “You just...look really familiar.”

“Really? Well, I guess that means I have a memorable face then.” He muses, chuckling to himself - Exactly like Namjoon. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You take another selfish moment to look at him, admiring how gentle he is with the small creature in his hands. “You really seem to like the crabs.”

“Yeah, I do!” He nods enthusiastically, “I really only applied here as an excuse to play in the touch tanks.”

“Something easy to wind down from classes?�� You ask.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he turns to you as if you suddenly grew 2 extra heads, “How’d you know?”

You giggle, “You’re wearing a university hat with your grad year.”

“Really?!” You nod and he pulls the cap off of his head, letting out a frustrated groan when he confirms he’s wearing his university hat, “No wonder my supervisor straight up ignored me this morning. This is the third time this month I’ve grabbed the wrong one.”

“At least it’s a nice hat.” You assure him, trying to remain positive.

He places the cap back on his head and sighs, “Tell that to him.” He brings the small crab still resting in his palms eye level, “This little guy knows exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t you, buddy?”

“Don’t tell me you speak crab.”

“Of course I do! You just have to know how to listen.” He says matter of factly.

“Alright then. Ask him how he’s doing.”

“I will.” He turns to the crab and stares at it as if they’re having a staring contest, “How are you feeling, little guy?” He moves the crab up to his ear and acts as though it’s whispering to him, nodding and humming disagreement, “I see...I’d be pretty frightened too.”

You narrow your eyes, “What did he say?”

“He said he was having a great day until someone came and held him up too high.” He teases.

“You’re taller than me!” You argue.

He looks you up and down, nodding, “You’re right…” He seems to contemplate for a moment before he shrugs with a sly smile, “He probably just likes me better.”

“Oh, really now?” You challenge. He nods proudly and you scoff, “Well, what’s your name? Resident Crab Whisperer?”

“No! That’s way too long.” He laughs. He extends the hand not cradling a crab towards you and smiles, “My name is Kim Namjoon.”

“Well…” You hesitate, trying your best not to react. You swallow your nerves and shake his hand with a smile of your own, “-It’s nice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. Any relation to the mummy at the museum?”

“That hopeless romantic from the Seoul Museum?” He jokes. He takes this moment to place the crab back into his touch tank, “Yeah, he’s like a great-great-super great uncle or something like that.”

“Well, you look like him.” You say. He gives you a confused look and you’re quick to back-pedal, “His portraits! You look like his portraits.”

“I do?” He asks.

“Besides the purple hair, I’d say you’re the spitting image.”

“I’ll have to check it out myself then.”

“Well, their hours are 8am to 10pm Monday through Saturday and 12pm to 6pm on Sunday.” He gives you a pointed look and you shrug, “I’ve been the night guard the past few years. I just switched to day shift.”

“Really?!” He asks in disbelief, “Isn’t it creepy working the graveyard shift? It must be way too quiet.”

“Not really.” You think back to the nights you spent with your Namjoon and how he made you laugh. You remember asking him the same thing one Saturday night after the museum closed. You two were much closer than his first Sunday there, but you couldn’t help but worry about how he must get through the night alone. But Namjoon was a king. He wasn’t worried about a bit of peace and quiet. “A friend of mine once told me that silence is more reassuring than anything. It means peace.”

“They sound wise.”

“He was...” You can’t help but think about Namjoon’s absence.

This always happens when you think about any good times you may have had, remembering how much fun you had and how you’ll likely never have it again. Being in front of this Namjoon does nothing to help you feel at ease.

“You know that movie-?! It’s-Oh...What was it called…?” The lilac-haired Namjoon suddenly claps his hands together with a proud smile, “Night at the Museum! Anything like that happen after hours?”

You chuckle to yourself, knowing better than anyone how Ben Stiller’s character felt during that movie. Of course, the Namjoon in front of you would never believe you, “I wish. It’d make some of the exhibits a lot more interesting.”

He nods, “I bet they’d be pretty interactive too…Could you imagine history telling itself?!”

“Please, I don’t want to hear about the love-life of a thousand-year-old mummy.” You joke, knowing full well you already have.

“Yeah, I guess that would get annoying after a while...always lamenting about love and what-not…” He seems slightly disappointed, but his smile comes right back, “Why don’t you let me show you around and I’ll tell you about our exhibits instead?”

You’re taken aback by his boldness, “Oh, are you sure?” He nods, “I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything.”

“Don’t worry about it! My shift ended like 30 minutes ago and this place is only open for another 3 hours.” He assures you, “So, what do you say?”

Maybe it’s because he’s the spitting image of Namjoon, or maybe it’s the similarities in their personas. Maybe it’s just the way his dimples appear every time he laughs and his laugh sounds just like his. No matter what it is that’s drawing you to this Namjoon, you find that your heart has taken over for your brain and it’s putty in his hands, “Sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Namjoon breaks into an excited grin, dimples on full display, “That’s the spirit!” He straightens his posture and holds his arm out for you as if he were a butler or an escort, “From here until the aquarium closes, consider me your personal tour guide for the rest of the evening. There won’t be a bench you haven’t sat on by the time we’re done!”

He’s confident.

But perhaps he’s too confident…

He takes you to places you’ve been before, educating you on every animal in great detail. He doesn’t miss a single species, and he takes great care to make sure you see what he’s talking about - guiding your head and pointing in the right direction. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you could listen to him talk for hours. He’s so well-spoken, and he describes everything in such wonderful detail. It comes as no surprise to you when he mentions himself to be a literature major.

He has such a unique personality and the most terrible humor. He tells you about his bike and how much he enjoys riding by the river and through the park. He tells you about his love for moon jelly and how it’s like looking up at the sky when you see them. Everything about him is just so uniquely him, but you can’t help but see all of the similarities he holds to your Namjoon.

His physical features are all the same: his eyes, his nose, his lips, his dimples, his height, and even his haircut! There’s no doubt that this Namjoon would look identical to your Namjoon if his hair were the same dark brown. His interest in the Moon and his love of literature. Your Namjoon would have excelled academically in this world just like this Namjoon. Even his love of small creatures and terribly out-of-date dad jokes is exactly the same!

He’s Namjoon.

But he doesn’t hold the memories of your Namjoon…

Taehyung had told you how Fate had tried to warn him several times. How Fate couldn’t change what would happen, and she could only hope to guide everyone to the best outcome without ruining the future herself. But how cruel could Fate be to have another Namjoon this close to you yet not be yours. To thrust this on you so soon without even a few months to grieve more.

How could someone be so heartless?

---

“And this would be the last bench of our tour.” Namjoon says as you exit the aquarium, extending an arm as he presents it to you.

“Oh wow...” You thank him and take a seat, playing along with his charade - as you have all night - as you pretend to admire the bench. You admire the dedication plaque for just a moment before you turn to him in mock disappointment, “I thought you said we’d see everything on this tour?”

He shrugs, “I may have rambled here and there...” He seems almost sheepish as he realizes how he went on and on over every topic the two of you talked about, “Sorry about that.”

“No worries here.” You assure him. You’d take 5 more tours just to listen to him ramble on and on for hours, “Now I know that fish talk through make sounds by vibrating their muscles against their bladder. Pretty weird, but I wouldn’t know that if you hadn’t told me.”

“Well, I’m glad I could educate you a bit.” He seems nervous, shoving his hands into his pockets as he shifts from one foot to the other, “Maybe we can do this again?”

“Uh…” You hesitate, “Yeah. Maybe.”

It’s just a tour. No harm in that.

“Maybe...I could take you to dinner too?” He asks.

There’s some harm in that.

He already seems nervous so you try to find the right words to say, “Oh, I-” But your face seems to give you away way too easily.

“You’re not interested.”

“No-!”

“It’s okay! I get it, I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” You stand up and try to explain, but he seems to already have your rejection in his mind.

“No, please, don’t feel like you have to. I’ve been told I can be a bit pushy.”

“No, that’s really not it! I’d love to go to dinner with you!”

That seems to catch his attention.

“Really?”

You nod, “Yeah! Just not now, or like-...anytime soon.”

The last of Namjoon’s hope turns into skepticism, “Are you sure you’re not just saying that?”

“I know how it sounds, but please-!” You stop yourself before you can blurt out the wrong thing and scare him off entirely, “I lost someone really special to me recently. His loss hasn’t been easy for me, and I don’t want to jump into something too soon. I don’t think that’d be fair to you if I’m still hung up on someone else.”

“Oh wow...I’m really sorry about that.” You thank him and take a moment to breathe, holding yourself back from the tears that want to break free, “I went through a loss not too long ago too! You’re taking the right steps, and I appreciate you thinking about my feelings.”

You smile, “Of course! Everyone deserves that.”

“Well, no dinner then, but maybe another tour next weekend? Same time?” He asks, “Strictly hanging out though. No dinner.”

You nod, “I’d love that.”

“Then it’s a date!” He says excitedly. Though, as soon as the words leave his mouth he’s stepping over himself to correct what he’d said, “Not a date! Absolutely not a date. No, ma’am.”

You can’t help but smile fondly at how endearing he is, “I can’t wait.”

You squeeze the strap of the bag on your shoulder with one hand and wave with the other, turning and departing from the current Namjoon. Maybe in time, you can fall in love with this Namjoon for who he is and not because he reminds you of your Namjoon. At that point, then this lilac-haired, crab-loving, literature enthusiast would be your Namjoon.

You can only hope that day comes sooner rather than later.

“So, that’s it then?”

“I’m sorry?” You turn around confused, only about 50 feet away.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to be nice to this me, but not the one that waited 1,000 years for you!” He explains.

You’re so confused that it takes a second to grasp what this Namjoon is saying, and then it hits you. This Namjoon isn’t just any Namjoon.

He’s your Namjoon.

King Kim Namjoon.

The Hopeless Romantic from the Seoul Museum of Art and History.

“Namjoon…?” You ask. You know it’s him, you’re confident. But it still seems like it’s way too good to be true.

He nods, “It’s me.”

In an instant, you’re running towards him. You fling yourself into his awaiting arms and squeeze him as tight as humanly possible, burying your face into his neck as the tears begin to form in your eyes. You let your hands thread through his soft, purple locks and allow yourself to relax with his arms squeezing around your waist.

You bask in this overwhelming feeling of being whole again. You feel light and complete for the first time in weeks and it fills you with so much joy that you can hardly contain yourself. The embrace feels like that first kiss all over again, and you just never want to let him go.

As you calm down and you come to realize that Namjoon isn’t going anywhere, you pull away just enough so you can see his own tear-stained face. His cheeks are red and his eyes are puffy, but his smile is unmistakable with those gorgeous dimples of his.

Looking at him, it’s now that you realize…

He remembered you this whole time.

You smack his chest - not enough to hurt him, but enough so he knows you mean business - and he flinches, “How dare you play with me like this, Namjoon? Do you know how hard the past few weeks have been for me?!”

“I’m sorry!” He apologizes. He runs his hands up and down your sides affectionately, trying to keep you close - and not angry with him, “Trust me when I say this wasn’t easy for me either.”

As much as you would love to be mad with him for pretending he didn’t know you, you can’t. You’re just happy he’s here more than anything. But that still begs the question, “How are you here?”

“I’m not supposed to say much, but I can tell you the other deities had a few tricks up their sleeves.” He explains. He takes a moment to admire your features and leans down to press a kiss to your temple, “But I think most of the thanks needs to go to Taehyung.”

Your eyes widen in shock, “You know about him?!”

He nods, “It was a shock, but he and the other deities explained everything.” He pulls you closer and uses a hand to cup your face, “They gave me a whole life to share with you.”

You lean into his touch, but you’re still reeling from everything that’s happened in such a short time, “And you just remember everything?”

“They gave me the memories back.” He corrects. He’s so close now and you want nothing more than to start where the two of you had left off before you broke the spell, “I guess Fate had a backup plan for him.”

“Thank Fate for that.” You say before giving in to your temptation and pulling your soulmate in for a much needed, long-awaited, proper kiss

* *

“You wanted to see me?”

You look up from your paperwork to see Taehyung standing in your doorway, wearing his favorite emerald 3 piece suit. His fist is raised to the door frame as if he knocked just before he spoke. You must not have heard him.

You wave him in, “Yeah, come in! I’m just finishing up with this finance report.” You expect him to come right in, but he seems hesitant to do so. “Are you okay?”

“Am I not in trouble?” He asks.

Your brow raises in confusion, “Why would you be in trouble?”

“Well, Jimin said-'' Taehyung stops. He remembers the other day after work when he’d come home to Jimin and Jeongguk, going at it in the kitchen for the 4th time in 2 weeks. He’d thought it would be funny to dump water on them - and so had Guk - but the Earth deity had apparently been unamused. Of course, him being the pettiest individual he would settle for a payback that would absolutely scare him. He sits in the chair across from you and throws one leg over the other, “Nevermind. I know what happened.”

You chuckle, “Well, I have a surprise for you. That’s why I asked for you.”

“Oh, really?!” He’s definitely surprised, “What is it?”

“Well-” You move your finance report to the paper organizer on your desk, grab your bag at your feet, and stand up, “-why don’t show you?”

He uncrosses his legs and stands, “We’re going somewhere?”

You nod, “If you’re up for it.” You hold your hand out for him, an action that’s become normal between the two of you.

He takes your hand and you both exit your office together, leaving the human way. You make your way downstairs hand-in-hand, passing patrons that still roam the halls or meander up and down the stairs taking pictures to their heart's content. It all makes you feel human, and feeling human makes you feel happy.

On your way through the lobby, you catch sight of Eunha talking to another security guard. She’d made a request to switch shifts, and you made sure to have Hoseok take over her position under the guise of someone else. She looks happier, but you know better. Thankfully, her shift will be over in a few more hours.

“She’s pretty strong.” Taehyung comments, seeming to already know what you’re thinking. “I talked to her this morning and at lunch. She’s holding it together.”

You manage half a smile, “That’s good.”

Seokjin spots you walking together as you get closer to the exit and his smile widens, “Goodnight, (Y/n)! Goodnight, Taehyung!”

“Have a good night, Seokjin!” You respond, offering a small nod.

“See you tomorrow!” Taehyung waves. Seokjin gives him an indiscreet wink and you pretend you don’t see it even when Taehyung gives him an even more obvious wink back.

You playfully bump him with your hip and he pulls you with him, raising your joined hands above your head and resting them on your opposite shoulder. You squeeze as tight as you can together to fit through the door frame and out to the open air.

“I heard you promoted him.” Taehyung mentions as you make your descent down the large staircase.

You shrug, “There was an opening available.”

“Was there?” He asks, nudging you with his elbow.

You nod, “Yes. There was.” You nudge him back.

“Are you sure~?” The blonde asks again, “I’d hate to see you fall victim to those silly human emotions~”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you are something else!” You drop his hand and rush two steps ahead of him, but he’s right behind you.

“I’m just looking out for you!” He defends. He rushes down the steps to the bottom before you make it to the last step and he puts his hands out to stop you, “We wouldn’t want to upset the council, would we?”

“I think you’ve done enough angering the council to cover me.” You remind him, poking his nose with your pointer finger, “Besides, maybe I want to get under their skin.”

“All of them? Or someone specific?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

You sigh, “I’m not saying Seowoo deserves it, but that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I can’t argue with that.” He agrees. He looks both ways down the sidewalk, “Which way?”

“This way.” You point towards the side of the museum where the street light is out, the darkness wrapping around the corner and making the perfect disappearing point.

You take his hand and together you both walk into the shadows, walking into the darkest section of the sidewalk before disappearing at the corner. You round the trunk of a cherry willow, a sliver of distant light shining through the drooping branches.

Taehyung runs his thumb over your hand and stops, “Are you wearing rings?” He pulls back to check and does a double-take when he sees you in the dim light, “Why’d you change?”

“We’re at a university.” You explain. You’ve changed from your work clothes to a university sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, “I’d rather look like a student than a teacher. You should probably change too.”

“Oh...sure.” In his own fashion, he changes into a white shirt under a baggy, light beige sweater vest, a pair of jeans, and orange converse. He looks himself over once before fashioning a pair of gold-rimmed glasses to finish his look. “Where are we?”

“Eunha’s college.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen in surprise, “Why are we here? She’s still at work.”

“I want you to meet a friend of mine.” You explain.

“You have friends?” He asks, earning an unamused glare from you, “Sorry.”

“This way.” You lead Taehyung off the grass to the actual path and walk under the lights back towards the main building. When you reach a fork in the path you make a left to go around the side of the building between another series of buildings on the other side of the path. You keep walking until you reach another large area with benches, tables, and a fountain.

Sitting on the side of the fountain with just enough light that you can see them, is a trio of 3 men with different hair colors. One with midnight blue, a pastel pink, and lilac. Of course, you recognize them all without a problem at all.

“Hey, guys! Sorry, I’m late, I just had to grab Taehyung.” You call out.

The pastel pink head turns to reveal Hoseok - who’s changed from his normal all-black outfit to a black t-shirt with the word obey in colorful letters, bright orange pants, layered necklaces, and a pair of black, yellow-tinted glasses resting on the top of his head, “No worries, we haven’t gotten started yet.”

“Yeah, Joon was just telling us about the assignment we missed.” Yoongi agrees, revealing himself to be the midnight blue head of hair. He’s wearing an all blue, leaf-patterned outfit with a TuneSquad jersey underneath his top.

“You wouldn’t have missed it if you made it to class on time!” Taehyung freezes as soon as he hears his voice, pulling you to a stop as well. He knows that voice better than anyone, knowing damn well it belongs to someone that’s supposed to be dead.

Hoseok shrugs and leans back, “What can I say? I had priorities to attend to.”

“I just wasn’t interested.” Yoongi stands up and takes a few steps to stretch, revealing Namjoon sitting at the end of the three.

Namjoon is wearing a pair of light wash jeans and a black belt with a white shirt tucked in and a light blue button-up over it. He sighs, “How you have the highest marks in the class I will never know.”

Taehyung looks between the three of them, going back and forth between the two deities and Namjoon before settling on you, “What is going on right now?”

You squeeze his hand, “Just don’t say anything.” You pull him with you to join the others, coming to a stop in front of all of them. You point to the blonde and then to Hoseok, “Taehyung, this is Hoseok-”

The walking gumball throws up a peace sign, “Sup.”

“-Yoongi.”

“Hey.” He gives a small wave

“-And Namjoon.”

Namjoon is the only one to stand and walk up to Taehyung to offer his hand, “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” He asks, shaking the old king’s hand.

“(Y/n) hasn’t been able to shut up about you,” Namjoon explains with a devious smile. You visibly freeze and that only eggs him on more, “She said you were annoying when she first transferred into our class, then she said she thought she was in love with you.”

Taehyung gives you a look and you completely ignore him, “Namjoon!”

“Of course, we all knew she was,” Hoseok adds with a teasing smile of his own.

“Hoseok! Shut up!”

“How interesting.” Taehyung chuckles, happy to know how you feel even as you pretend you don’t exist, “Well, it’s nice to meet all of you.”

“Why don’t we all move this way? Maybe grab a bite to eat?” You suggest, hoping to move on from your own embarrassment.

“Yes!” Hoseok jumps up and throws his arms in the air before dropping them back down to his sides, “I’m starving!”

Yoongi scoffs, “You’re always starving...”

“I’m growing. I need sustenance.” Hoseok defends, patting his stomach for emphasis.

You walk up beside him and pat the back of his head, “I think all of that food is going right to your head.”

Hoseok looks like a kicked puppy and Namjoon sweeps into his defense, “C’mon, guys, don’t pick on him!”

“Yeah! Don’t pick on me!” He pouts, crossing his arms.

“He can’t help it if he loses brain cells without food,” Namjoon says, turning and grabbing his belongings while you and Yoongi laugh at Hoseok’s expense.

“Do you want me to swear at you?!” The poor god of Death looks absolutely appalled and utterly betrayed by the lilac-haired man. He huffs, “You children have no respect for your elders.”

“Can I quote you on that?” Yoongi asks, walking past Hoseok to grab his own bag.

“Absolutely not!”

Taehyung watches the dysfunctional chaos before him, in awe that the 3 pillars of balance could act like humans. Not just with each other, but with someone he himself once called a friend. You’re all so different than you are at the museum and the council meetings, it’s like you’re not even the same people.

“Tae?” You ask, pulling him out of his confused state. You hold your hand out to him, asking him to join you as the others continue to walk ahead. He accepts.

The 5 of you walk together, further away from the buildings on campus to the fence that lines the end of the property. You all forego the sidewalk for walking across the lawn, getting further away from the lights as you go.

Hoseok comes to a stop in the middle of the grass and Taehyung almost walks into him, “Do you think this is far enough?”

Yoongi looks around and shrugs, “I don’t think anyone will notice.”

“Notice what?” Taehyung asks.

“Way to sound like we brought him here to murder him.” Namjoon jokes.

“Namjoon. Hold my hand.” You say, dropping Taehyung’s for his.

Hoseok and Yoongi hold hands across from you and Namjoon laughs, “Oh, are we having that seance now?” He looks at Taehyung and winks, “Sorry, I guess we forgot to mention this part.”

“Just hold my hand.” You demand. He does and Hoseok takes his other, creating a chain between the 4 of you.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and sighs, “Alright, let’s do it.”

You and Hoseok nod in agreement and Namjoon nods as well, acting as though what you’re all doing is just a practical joke you hadn’t let him in on. It’s only when a soft golden light starts to travel between your hands and to him that he starts to get worried.

“What are you guys doing?” He asks, fearful of what’s going on. He tries to pull away, but you and Hoseok are much stronger than the poor human. The light only continues to grow brighter, and the brighter it glows the more concerned Namjoon becomes, “Guys-?!”

The light washes over him like a wave and it’s like someone has opened his eyes for the very first time again. He takes a deep breath, and then he’s looking around at the others and at himself and at Taehyung and it’s like he’s experiencing life for the first time all over again.

“How did-? But I thought-” He struggles to find the right words to say, unsure where to start, “What’s going on?”

You step in front of him, placing your hands on his shoulders, “Namjoon, I’d like to formally introduce myself. I’m (Y/n), and I’m Fate.”

His eyes widen, “Fate…?”

You nod and Hoseok pushes you out of the way to make his own introduction, “I’m Hoseok, but you’d know me better as Death.”

“You’re Death?” Namjoon asks, obviously not able to believe that someone like Hoseok could be something as dark and daunting as Death.

“Death equals mercy,” Hoseok explains. Both you and Yoongi push him from both sides and he chuckles, “Sometimes…”

Namjoon nods, not yet believing it but going along with the information anyways. He turns to Yoongi, “Does that make you Life?”

“Was it my sunny disposition that gave me away?” The blue-haired deity asks, earning a laugh from the king.

You move in front of Namjoon again and gently take his arm, “And this is Taehyung.” You pull him to where the blonde stands, still in shock, “You two have already met before, but you might remember him a bit differently.”

You place a hand over Taehyung’s head and down his front, revealing how he looked the very first time he had met with the king, “Jihye…”

“Hey.” Taehyung smiles sheepishly, waving shyly as his old appearance morphs back into his college boy disguise, “It’s been a while.”

They both just stare at each other, one nervous and the other in disbelief. Taehyung can’t help but think of all the things Namjoon could want to say to him. How disappointed he is. How upset he must be. It comes as no surprise to anyone when Namjoon moves forward and pulls Taehyung into a hug. His arms cross behind his head and he pulls Taehyung as close as humanly possible without hurting him, “I’ve missed you.”

His words are like a breath of fresh air and Taehyung finds himself relaxing into the embrace and holding his friend back just as tight, “I’ve missed you too…”

It’s a special moment, one Taehyung never thought he would get. His first friend is back and it’s thanks to 3 very unlikely people.

“Why didn’t you come to see me after the spell worked?” Namjoon asks, pulling away.

Taehyung looks down, slightly ashamed, “I didn’t want to mess up again.”

“Again?”

“Like the first time. We’d been so close, but even if I had made it work you still would have-” He stops. He doesn’t need to say it. Not when everyone already knows what he’s going to say.

“But I thought once we broke the spell I’d have to wait until my next life?” Namjoon asks, reiterating what both he and Eunha had put together.

“Technically, this is your next life.” Yoongi mentions.

Life’s revelation comes as a shock to both Namjoon and Taehyung, “What?”

“You were supposed to meet in this life, but because you two just had to make it happen sooner-” Yoongi makes sure to glare so hard in Taehyung’s direction that his planet might even shiver, “-the spell tore your soul away from this one and placed it with your previous body once the spell took hold again.”

“With the spell broken, we were able to put your soul back in this body and merge them together.” You explain. The 3 of you have been sitting on this plan for weeks, and you’ve carefully crafted a friendship with this Namjoon since his soul left his previous body just to ensure you’d be able to make this change happen altogether.

“You’ve been able to do this the whole time? Why didn’t you say anything?!” Taehyung asks, completely shocked. You give him this ‘are you kidding me right now' look and he seems to get the hint, “Right. Fate’s strings…multiple outcomes.”

“I can’t believe this…I can’t wait to tell Eunha.” The modern king is still entranced with himself like he’s never looked at his body before. And then his words hit him and he realizes that Eunha isn’t here and has no idea that he’s alive, “I have to go see her right now-!”

He turns to take off in a sprint and Hoseok places himself in front of him with a hand on his chest, “Not so fast, deadman.”

“Huh?”

Yoongi groans, “You cannot just go hunting her down.” He’d spent far too much time conversing with young adults and various incompetent professors just for this plan to work and he was not going to let it all boil down to nothing.

Namjoon however, doesn’t understand exactly what’s at stake, “Why not? I need to tell her I’m alive and that I’m okay!”

“The magic that brought you back is still fragile. If you go to her now then the whole thing could blow up in all of our faces!” Hoseok explains in his own, dramatic fashion.

“So, what? I’m supposed to just wait?!” The king asks in disbelief.

“It will happen as Fate allows.” You remind him, “You’ve waited this long for a miracle, I think you can wait just a bit more.”

Your words are simple and still just as cryptic as always, but they put him at ease and bring him back to his senses. He nods, “Right…”

“Geez, why couldn’t you have been that easy?” Yoongi says, turning to Taehyung.

The blonde scoffs, “I am easy!”

Hoseok laughs, “I don’t think you actually know what that means.”

Taehyung crosses his arms, “I’m doing my best, okay?”

“Well, now that we got all of that settled-” Hoseok claps his hands together loudly and rubs them together, “-let’s go get some grub.”

Yoongi turns to Hoseok in disbelief and hits his arm, “Are you serious, right now? You don’t need to eat to survive!” The blue-haired deity reminds him.

“But Namjoon does! I’m sure Namjoon would love a nice warm meal.” Hoseok turns to the poor human with a look that resembles a kicked puppy and it’s like they’ve gone back to being undercover again.

“I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat I guess?” Namjoon caves, the god of Death breaking into celebration while the god of Life can only sigh in disappointment, “If we go to that one place downtown we can order drinks at the student price.”

The offer of a few beers seems to peak Yoongi’s interest much more than a measly human meal, “Hoseok gets to pay for everything.”

Hoseok shrugs, “I don’t care. It’s not like I can’t create my own money.”

He turns to get back on track for the gate to leave campus and Namjoon trails after him, “Wait you can do that?! How does that even work?”

“Oh, don’t get him started. Just blame magic like every other human and let’s get to the bus before it leaves.” Yoongi calls out, starting at a slower pace behind them. They leave you and Taehyung to take the back of the group, the both of you trudging along at a slow pace behind them.

“So, are you going back to your duties now that everything is done?” Taehyung asks. A part of him hopes that you’ll stick around or maybe even come to visit him on his own planet, but he knows that you have your own duties to attend to.

But you’ve thought about this as well. You knew that once Namjoon’s memories were merged and he’d be left to go and find Eunha on his own, that you’d be free to go back to how you were before this fiasco started. But things are different now. Now, you have Taehyung who’s snuck his way into your heart and made you feel emotions that you’d left reserved for humans. He’s helped you understand how to feel without letting it interfere with your job, and you don’t want to let that go just yet.

You sigh, “You know, I don’t have a planet of my own. I really just drift freely within space when I’m not doing anything.” You kick at the dirt, “Maybe I could stay here on Earth. Do what humans do.”

He’s shocked, “You’re staying on earth?”

You shrug, “Yeah. I heard there’s this museum with this ancient mummy exhibit.” With a mischievous, all-knowing grin you ask, “Wanna go check it out sometime?”

Taehyung can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face. He takes his arm and wraps it over your shoulder, pulling you into his side, “I’d love to.”

You may not be able to look at your own future together, but at least you know that the both of you can do it together.

Maybe Hui was right.

Maybe for Fate, the future is written in the stars.

~ Thank you for reading ~

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fallen-in-dreams · 4 years ago

Text

Mon Amant

Also on AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Kakashi. Summary: She wasn't a fantasy to him. She wasn't a wet dream. She was the real thing. For KakaSaku Month 2021. Post-war. *Mon Amant - my lover* Prompt: (Week 2, Day 4: May 13) The Heart Wants What It Wants. Rated: Mature Words: 7,346. Status: Complete.

Author note: Lots of angst and post-war life evaluation and some smut.

Thank-you so much @kakasaku-haven for hosting this. It’s already the 13th where I live so I hope it’s okay to post this now. :)

Enjoy. ^_^

. She bit her bottom lip in both nervousness and consternation. All these warm bodies gyrating, and she was beginning to think this party was just an excuse to hook up. But the funds raised were going to a good cause, so there was no point in complaining. Everyone wore their masquerade masks well, especially the man currently holding his hand out to her, silently asking for a dance. She smiled and accepted his hand, letting him lead her to the dancefloor. He had a henge on and so she couldn’t tell if his mask covered his upper or lower face, which was frustrating. But he held her delicately, danced like he owned the stage, and looked at her like she was the world, and she was quickly and easily enamoured. And when they slipped out the back to fuck, everything just came naturally. There was groping that came with one-night stands in alleyways. There was murmuring but very little kissing, as one would expect from clandestine trysts. And when she wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning at the wonderful feeling of him filling her, there was no pretending she didn’t like it rough. He was still a mystery to her, then. There was no way that he didn’t know exactly who she was, but his mask stayed on his face the entire time. .

Images of her wrapped around him, biting her bottom lip, clawing his back and scrunching her eyes as he came inside of her...they tormented him. Not because his lusting after his former student was some wet dream fixation he couldn't get out of his head. Not because he couldn't have her, and imagining her breasts bouncing as he fucked her against some random wall was a major factor of his night-time fantasies. She tormented him because he couldn't get enough of her.

The first time they had sex was in the back room of a bar during the first annual allied shinobi celebrations – a masked function that was so successful that the powers that be decided to keep the theme for every event. It was supposed to maintain the appearance of cooperation and friendship between the nations while giving people the freedom and confidence to mingle without previous prejudice. During the seven days leading up to it there were competitions and friendly tournaments but on that final (and only masquerade) night, the lines between their countrymen blurred and the drink flowed as heavily as the reduced inhibitions did.

Relations between nations had never been so good.

The original plan was to hold the masquerade in neutral areas until Naruto suggested they rotate the host between each nation. That meant that it would take five whole years for every village to have their turn, and five whole years of people hooking up with a foreign shinobi; the allure of the mystery and no-strings-attached sex brought in hordes of ninja. Not to mention the village pride that spiked during the friendly matches leading up to it. They had to have multiple festivities and new buildings set up to cater to everyone. Which was also seen as a competition between the Kage on who could hold the best event. And who could help out war victims more. And who had the best booze. The list of things they competed over were endless.

If it meant peace would reign, it was worth it. But Kakashi’s problems were more important.

Every year and new festival brought him closer to Sakura. Each time he’d don his henge and backwards mask he’d take her to a secluded area and do things to her that he’d never imagined she would love to have done to her.

Every inch of her skin was his to worship.

But the months between their trysts were the hardest. Lonely nights remembering how she felt wrapped around him were driving him mad. She would never accept him in the light of day, so he was resigned to taking those annual moments when Sakura Haruno let loose enough to fuck a complete stranger.

And he was an impatient man as much as he was a self-hating masochist.

His heart wouldn’t be able to take it forever.

.:.

As she came down from her high Sakura gripped his butt with both hands and squeezed, giggling when he jerked slightly. It wasn’t a teasing, flirtatious smile that adorned her face when he looked down at her, surprised. Was she making fun of him? She’d never done that before. Sakura giggled again, and she pressed herself further into him. She let herself relax. He was still inside her and softening but she liked it. The slow circles she traced over his back were born from laziness and contentment. It felt like she was attempting to haphazardly cover him in ninja symbols but due to the drag of her movement, he couldn’t tell which ones. “Are you drawing jutsu on me?” Sakura pulled back and looked up at him. His voice was deeper than usual. She smiled. “Are you pretending to be a shinobi?” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe I am.” “Hm. And I’m pretending to be Cinderella. Fuck me until midnight, but I’m the one that turns back into a pumpkin.” That was a weird thing to say to someone you thought was a stranger. He frowned. “Who does that make me?” “The Prince-who-isn’t-actually-Charming.” “Huh.” He smiled at that. “That sounds like me.” She just hummed, wiggling her butt as it started to numb, pressed against the brick-and-mortar wall behind her. Her fingers grasped at his chin, feeling bare skin and her question on what type of mask he was wearing behind that henge was answered. Kakashi’s hand flew up to grasp her quickly and she gasped at his speed and the intensity of it. He didn’t want to show her. He’d flee if she pushed him. She released her hold and he reciprocated. But Sakura wasn’t finished yet. She would push him in other ways. “Why the disguise?” .

And fucking her was the only thing keeping him sane.

That was a bad thing. He should be able to handle this post-war funk he'd found himself in without banging his former student. He was a sick, sick old man. And to top it off, she didn't even know it had been him. Every. Single. Time. They. Fucked.

Made love...they made love.

Kakashi shook his head, trying to dispel the thought from his head. It wasn't making love; they'd only ever fucked in crowded pubs and clubs or the back alley of said establishments. The end of the war saw a rise in celebrations, and everyone knew that Kakashi Hatake didn't do celebrations. He always made his excuses on that masquerade night and disappeared until dawn. He didn’t do big crowds and frolicking, so no-one questioned him.

I just do Sakura.

Bad thoughts...he covered his eyes with his right hand, fingering the flask of sake in his left hand, and groaned out loud. Sakura didn't know her mysterious lover was him. But he knew full well it was her. He was taking advantage of her. He had been since she turned eighteen, and he hated himself for it. Their first time had happened because Sasuke had rejected her and refused to let her on the list of approved guests during his stay at the new allied prison – and then when he got out, he treated her like she was a stranger; the only times he acknowledges her was in team missions, outings and spars. She had been suffering that night, which was why she’d gone to the masquerade, and Kakashi had known it.

“Kakashi?”

He didn’t turn to acknowledge Yamato; the other man had made it his mission to get Kakashi out of his funk, but it wasn’t working. Sometimes Kakashi day-dreamed about strangling the wood style user with his own jutsu. Wrapping vines around his throat while pretending he couldn’t hear his cries for mercy calmed him enough to not try it. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Just thought you should know that the council is trying to make you Hokage again.”

Kakashi groaned loudly; it was the only reaction Yamato was going to get from him, so the wood style user quietly shuffled away.

Maybe he’s finally learning to just leave me alone.

Or maybe it was just his only reason for hunting him down this time. It didn’t matter. His turbulent thoughts weren’t large enough to house concerns over Yamato’s interruptions as well. Kakashi set aside time to wallow in self-pity – over the years he’d perfected that art – and didn’t like being interrupted while doing so. But after the war that self-pity had turned into anger which eventually morphed into fear (of the future) and finally settled into what he supposed was a mix between wistfulness and regret. Add Sakura to the pile of things he did to hurt himself and something was going to burst soon.

How had his life come to this?

Kakashi frowned down at the broken memorial that once held Obito’s name. How could a rogue ninja have screwed him over so thoroughly, twice, that the only time he felt whole and complete was when he was fucking his former student? Obito’s pain had turned him into something twisted and blind but Kakashi had promised himself never to take that path. He’d fight that lingering darkness even if it meant taking something he didn’t deserve.

He groaned. That was enough whining for the day.

“You got off easy,” he told the epitaph before teleporting away.

.:.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk.” She frowned as he ran a hand down her side; letting out a sigh of anticipation. What kind of line was that? Did that really work on other women? But oh gods, when he rubbed her clit just like THAT she couldn’t complain. He hit her hard and fast, moving those talented fingers right over the spots he’d learned were her weakness. Fuck it, she needed him. But they always did it against a wall and she was beginning to think he believed it was the only way he could take her. What about a bed? What about letting her on top? But those rebellious thoughts quickly lost cohesion as he drove into her. All she was now, was a puddle of wet, slap happy moans and quivering pleas to an unknown deity. She was definitely going to have trouble walking after this. When she did finally come down from the white-hot bliss that Kakashi never failed to provide for her, Sakura decided she’d bug him about changing things up next time. But twelve months was a long time to wait for what she desperately wanted from him. .

The war had left many orphans, shinobi or not, and the homeless outnumbered the dead – most of which were civilian. This count included all nations, as it was public knowledge that the world's shinobi force had been cut by the thousands. So, in light of this, the great nations set up a number of fundraisers, the funds would go to rebuilding homes and replacing personnel. Even the Feudal Lords were getting in on it, donating money to make themselves look good – it was a political move, given that they hadn't had anything to do with the success of the war. But it was still welcomed. And needed.

And nobody deserved that praise more than people like Kurenai. She was determined to find love again, one day, after Asuma, but for now her attention was on all the children also caught by the ravages of war. She had her daughter as inspiration and Yamato’s help to set up a new complex on the outskirts of Konoha – the existing orphanages were too overrun to take them all.

It became her raison d'etre.

Kakashi knew all this because he’d volunteered his dogs as a weekly entertainment for the little brats. After the first few months he let himself be dragged into babysitting a few, nostalgic for the good old Team Seven days when someone was both surprised and in awe over his charming wit. Kurenai must’ve been doing something right because these kids were far more well-behaved than his old team had ever been.

Sakura.

Unbidden thoughts were best shoved to the back of his brain.

Kurenai’s Home for the Homeless also took over a portion of Kakashi’s life. After his role in the creating of the war he needed to give back something. The ninja nations would quickly recover their old strength, but the civilians would be slower to mend. So, he focused his efforts there.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of helping us this time,” Pakkun warned him.

Kakashi gave him his best smile. “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Pakkun huffed at him but said nothing more as he dived into the group of kids who were waiting for him. Their laughter and squealing made Kakashi’s eye twitch, but he kept the smile plastered to his face. And even with his mask on – which the kids had already repeatedly tried and failed to remove – they could tell it was a genuine smile, nonetheless.

This was his seclusion away from his ninja life. So, when Sakura came into the home one late Monday afternoon, Kakashi had a moment of panic – he’d gone out of his way to either avoid her or schedule their unavoidable interactions and he never would’ve believed that homeless shelter was a place she’d willingly visit. Sakura had her own demons regarding the war; her failed attempt at a relationship with Sasuke was the least of her concerns it seemed. She frequently woke from nightmares. And he’d heard she’d had some bad news regarding her fertility.

I’m such a stalker.

So, the reminder of innocence – the children who bore the brunt of the fallout of a war that should never have touched them – should be too much to bear, right?

She looked over at him and smiled her tired smile. He found himself instinctively smiling back. A tugging sensation began at his navel and twisted and heated up as it quickly travelled south.

Not now.

But then Kurenai caught her attention and that coil snapped.

Kurenai.

Kakashi contemplated mimicking Kurenai and trying to move on from his pathetic mindset. He could ask her out, or someone out, and forget all about the calming warmth and somehow simultaneous ferociousness that Sakura invoked in him. But he knew from experience that he would just mope. He would just use it as an excuse to internally ramble about his life mistakes and hate himself. He was still going to Obito’s so-called grave, after all. The man had murdered innocents and started a war but Kakashi still mourned him.

He wasn’t ready to move on, though. Not yet. And certainly not with anyone but Sakura. Or with her.

Kakashi sighed, rubbing his eye where the Sharingan used to be. And he was still moping.

.:.

The fundraiser was in full swing again; the familiar sight of shinobi from all nations done up in masquerade and dancing and drinking warmed even the most aloof and stubborn hearts among them. The Raikage had outdone himself with floating baubles and lanterns with music that played off the masked theme. He’d imported some band from across the Northern Sea to play until midnight. Like it was some Cinderella ball and the Raikage was looking for his own prince. Sakura smiled at that as she made her way through the streets of the village hidden in the cloud. It was her first actual visit to this part of the land of lightning and she was buzzed from the excitement of it all. Ino was off doing her thing – or doing some cloud ninja, who knew – and Sakura was content to lazily explore the village while keeping her eye out for her ex-sensei. He always made excuses to not directly participate in the festivities, but he was Hokage now. He needed to at least be here. She pitied the ninja who had to remain in their home village as a part of their skeleton crew during these festivities. They were mostly just lower levelled shinobi (and those who either didn’t want to travel or couldn’t) anyway. Ones that didn’t participate in the war were usually shafted to that position too. These festivities were mostly for the survivors. It sounded elitist, but Sakura wasn’t too worried about that. They deserved this. It took her an hour to realise she was being followed – she blamed the alcohol now swarming in her system. But like she couldn’t tell who he was, the baka. He never did fully appreciate her natural talents with genjutsu. She led him on a bit of a merry chase and allowed him to catch her near the temporary accommodations for foreign ninja but the moment his hands found her waist he manoeuvred her toward the nearest alley way. What was with him? Sakura could do little other than moan as he pressed her against the stone wall, face first. He worked on her clit as he grabbed her tits, seemingly not wanting to be tender, again. When he did let his guard down and be gentle with her, they headed into territory that neither was ready for. Okay. She could go with this. Sakura pushed her arse into him, rewarding him for his attentiveness to her body. “Yes, fuck, like that! Please!” He quickly dispensed of any more formalities and Kakashi undid his pants in record time before driving into her, squeezing his eyes shut to the hypocritical mantra in his head. He didn’t want this but so desperately did at the same time. Sakura didn’t bother keeping quiet, ignoring the occasional passer-by of the alleyway who was momentarily drawn by the sound of her cries. When they realised it wasn’t someone being attacked, they quickly scuttled off. She didn’t even care if any of them recognised her as the former Hokage's protégé. Sakura came hard at that thought and trembled as Kakashi rode out the last few strokes whispering naughty things in her ear. She didn’t want this to end here. It wasn’t her orgasm making her tremble as the thought occurred to her. She wanted to see ALL of him. She pushed him to pull out of her and then shakily spun around on the spot. Sakura sucked in a deep breath for courage and forced herself to sound calm as she asked, “my place or yours, next?” Her fingers were like fire as they caressed his arm. Kakashi could only pant in response, struggling to hold himself up as she put bad thoughts in his head. She waited patiently, clearly expecting a response. Did he dare to hope? Maybe she was just basking in her own afterglow and didn’t mean it. Because she had no idea who he was. But when he finally recovered enough to pull back and stare into those unfathomably beautiful, emerald eyes of hers he realised she was serious. She wanted to know who he was. There was no doubt he was the same man she’d been fucking annually, this whole time. And she was ready to really know him… maybe? Kakashi felt shame and fear rush through him. And fled .

He was such a coward. It was so easy to love and leave her. Much easier than admitting how he felt. And infinitely easier than removing his henge and accepting whatever recriminations she had for him.

“You still sulking?”

Gai couldn’t come and annoy him as often as he used to so Yamato had taken up that mantle. But at least he didn’t wax poetic about youth and all that crap. Not that Kakashi wasn’t feeling like he didn’t need a pick-me-up, but Yamato’s style was decidedly less annoying. When sober.

He decided to humour him, since masochism was the least he deserved after that last run-in with Sakura.

“Just about the naughty fun I had in Kumo last week.”

Yamato scoffed. “I don’t drink nearly enough to be hearing that.”

“You drink enough for the both of us.”

He wasn’t going to pull the I-missed-out-on-the-war-so-I-get-to-complain-more-than-you card. Yamato may have been captured but he didn’t watch his comrades die in front of him. Not this time, anyway. Kakashi had no idea how much of the experimentation Kabuto did on him that he remembered. Did it change his chakra? Did it leave him with nightmares? Did he have to buy new sheets for his bed every week because of how much he tore them up when he could actually get some semblance of sleep?

Did he remember nothing at all?

Kakashi would’ve liked to have slept through the war, if it was still a guarantee they’d have won. That Infinite Tsukuyomi might have been beyond stupid, but the lure of peace was enticing. Still, he bore his pain. Even if he did run from it from time to time.

From Sakura, you mean, old man.

He chuckled, surprising Yamato.

“Did you hit your head, Kakashi-senpai?”

“You know you don’t have to call me that anymore.”

He was Hokage now, after all.

“Some habits are worth not breaking.”

“Hm. If they annoy me, you mean.”

“That’s the spirit. Laugh at my expense, like you always do.”

Kakashi looked over at him and felt himself relax at the teasing look on the other man’s face. It was a welcomed respite that he knew he didn’t deserve. “Right.”

“By the way, Sakura’s looking for you. Might want to head on over to her place later to find out what about or risk the almighty wrath. See you later.”

Yamato left him to his thoughts then, not knowing how dark they’d turn in his absence.

As far as he could tell she wasn’t dating anyone, though he didn’t stalk her enough to know if she occasionally scratched the same itch that he scratched every year. He didn’t want to know if some other guy had been inside her.

Kakashi was well aware that the best way to combat this would be to confess to her and hope she didn’t pound him into the ground, but like he said: he was a coward. He was too used to seeing her as his student. Too used to the self-flagellation of only getting to hold her once every twelve months. He was too comfortable with the barely-see-each-other routine they had going that didn’t make his heart race. He didn’t even know how to begin that conversation with her.

And the Hokage shouldn’t be dallying with a former student.

Kakashi sighed again, running a hand along the graffiti on Obito’s memorial.

As the years droned on so did his monotonous excuses.

.:.

This time he let her pin him to the wall. Because she liked it. And because she could. He groaned into her mouth as she worked her hand over the bulge in his pants, her knees on either side of his left leg. Dry humping seemed to make him even harder, so she kept at him, working him into a tizzy. It was going to be even harder for her this time, if she didn’t slow down. But Sakura was the one in control, so she used her strength to keep him from flipping their positions and taking charge, kissing her way up his bare neck as she did so. When she bit his earlobe, he bucked against her and Sakura slid her hand back down to his pants. But this freed him up somewhat and the disguised Hokage grasped her hips and pressed so hard she knew come morning there’d be a bruise. “Let me show you how much you deserve to be fucked.” Old words that never failed to turn her on, regardless. The fucking part of this interlude was over and before she knew it, her back was against the wall again. So he’d only let her take over for the foreplay? Arsehole. Sakura was feeling petty as Kakashi lifted her left leg over his hip and pushed into her with no more preamble. She gripped his butt harder than necessary, scratched down his back knowing it was going to scar if she didn’t heal it soon, and bit his lip when he leant into kiss her so hard, she tasted blood. “Fuck.” And he liked it. “Fuck,” She echoed his sentiments and cried into his mouth as he took her in the familiar position. She focused on hurting him wherever she could and was rewarded with his groans and fast approaching orgasm. There was no way Sakura was letting this become a once-a-year thing anymore. She wanted this forever. She needed him. “Kakashi…” Did she just…? It didn’t matter, his orgasm was ripping through his body and he was helpless to focus on anything else. Her sudden need to cause him physical distress didn’t bother him – he already had too many scars, anyway. It was a form of masochism and he wondered, as he spilled into her and screamed his release, if she would be up to donning the master title if they ever took this to the bedroom. He could be a very good slave. Fantasies drifted away from him as reality sunk in and he pressed the full length of his body against hers, his face in the crook of her neck as he breathed in her unique scent. It never failed to do him in. But this, whatever it was, needed to either stop or become something more. Sakura was the first to move and adjust her clothing. He stood there, his dick hanging out and unabashed about it, and watched her tuck her knickers back into place. “I won’t wait much longer,” she said enigmatically before turning away from him. Did she realise she’d called out his name? Sakura sashayed away from him. He watched her hips as she went. And narrowed his eyes at her. Yes. She knew. .

Sakura pressed a hand to Bull’s head as the dog stared at her blankly. Kakashi’s ninken was warm to the touch, unlike the man in question. He’d been so cold with her, except for those nights. The annual celebrations had become her ritual too, not just his. One night to forget who she really was, who she was supposed to be. To put her troubles aside and just feel again.

But her time of mourning was over. Even if she did occasionally flit between this fact and her self-pitying thoughts in her head.

Kurenai watched her quietly. As the only person Sakura had confided in, regarding her feelings for Kakashi, she was also a very good listener. The older woman didn’t know they fucked once a year, but she knew more than anyone else.

Sakura removed her hand from Bull and returned it to the brush she’d been using.

“You should ask him out.”

“He deserves better.”

“Maybe you are that better,” Kurenai said, smiling at Sakura’s snort of derision. “Just because Sasuke didn’t have the good taste to like you back doesn’t mean you’re not good enough for anyone else.”

Sakura stilled, the hand brushing Bull now shaking slightly. Sasuke had done more than just not like her back, but Kurenai didn’t know that so she forced herself to keep brushing. The repetitive motion was cathartic, and she took a deep breath, finding herself calming as she inhaled the lingering scent of Kakashi that all his ninken had.

“This isn’t about Sasuke,” she said.

Kurenai sighed. “No, I suppose not.” She stood up. “Need anything, kiddo? I’m heading to the cafeteria.”

“No.”

“Mummy!”

Sakura watched as Mirai came running in and jumped at her mother. She paused in brushing Bull to smile and take in the wholesome moment of the two talking animatedly as they slowly made their way out of the room. She knew that she and Kakashi deserved their shot. She was just so used to waiting a whole year that Sakura sometimes forgot that he was waiting for her, too.

She smiled and returned to her chore. The dogs got weekly baths from Kakashi – one of the few things he wasn’t lazy about was his ninken – so they didn’t need the pinkette to fuss over them. But they seemed to enjoy it so she kept at it. It had been a whole year since she’d first walked into this place. She’d done it to have an excuse to spend more time near Kakashi. Even though the man in question wasn’t here right now, she still did it.

Avoiding this place for her own personal reasons were no longer necessary. She could move on.

“Next?” She asked, when done with Bull. He reluctantly moved away and Guruko bounded up to her, his tail wagging in anticipation.

It was over an hour before Kurenai returned, glowing with happiness while apologetic for how long she took. Sakura simply waved her concerns away. She’d finished the grooming herself and was content to sit back and watch as the kids played with Kakashi’s ninken. The dogs were so sweet to let them pull on their ears and snuggle, the way they did. The kids adored them.

Shiba started telling them a story about how he saved Kakashi from an evil ninja by biting his bum. It had the kids in giggle fits and the other ninken rolling their eyes. Sakura knew, because she’d been there, just how embellished this story was – though Shiba had indeed bitten a rogue ninja who was about to skewer Kakashi, it hadn’t been on his arse.

“Reminds me of the good old days,” Kurenai said, interrupting her thoughts and giving Sakura a cheeky smile. “Asuma and Kakashi would argue over who had the best stories and both of them always embellished.”

“I can imagine.”

“Yeah, they were such polar opposites in so many ways.” Kurenai lost her smile and stared off into one of the adjoining rooms, where Sakura assumed Mirai was playing with the art supplies (she always did that instead of joining the time with the dogs, like she was trying to hog them; it was cute).

The older woman sighed. “One related to a Hokage and rejecting that connection, the other Hokage material who’d take the role readily, even though it never appealed to him.”

Sakura fingered the hem of her skirt absentmindedly. “He’s still griping at Tsunade for being named the sixth Hokage.”

“Who was it that really put him forth for Hokage?” Kurenai asked, teasingly. Tsunade liked making fun of the now-Hokage for not liking his position but it was clear to everyone (except Kakashi, it seemed) that the blonde had had nothing to do with it.

Sakura looked away from her, her face tinging pink. It hadn’t been until his inauguration that she found out he hadn’t actually wanted the position. Why must he hide his feelings so much? “I did.”

.:.

He left her a message to meet him at his favourite drinking spot. It was a place with a similar look to it as Ichiraku, except it sold alcohol – to shinobi only. Her shishou also knew about it and Tsunade raved about the place – it was apparently a new stall set up in the last few months. It was called Shochu, or something like that. Sakura glanced up at the sign before ducking under the flap, half expecting to see Teuchi and Ayame; it was that similar to Ichiraku.

“Welcome!” The owner beamed at her; his eyes squinted closed as a genuine smile graced his battered face. “What’ll you have?”

She glanced at the menu. They also sold Onigiri sandwiches and Renkon chips which made her mouth water just looking at. Sakura decided to splurge, since she’d arrived on time and Kakashi was bound to be late, even to this.

She swallowed nervously. Whatever this was.

“A bowl of Renkon chips and Amazu sauce,” she said, forcing a smile onto her face. “No drinks, please.”

“Coming right up! Oh…”

Sakura frowned at him as the man’s eyes opened and widened. He grinned. “It’s on the house.”

“Uh…”

“The name’s Kohaku.” If possible, his grin only widened. “And you’re Sakura Haruno. The beautiful pink haired kunoichi with a dazzling smile.”

“Uh…” She felt her face warm.

“Lunch has been paid for,” he continued. “By a secret admirer.” He handed her a note. “He also said to open this only when you’re done eating. Oh, and I’m adding a sparkly to your order. You’ll need it.”

He winked at her and she palmed her face, embarrassed. Did Kakashi set this up? And why?

As Kohaku got started on her order, Sakura fingered the note, feeling Kakashi’s chakra embedded into it. Her heart was fluttering, and she squirmed in her seat. She hadn’t realised he had a romantic side. But why lunch here? And why alone?

“Sakura?”

Her head snapped around at the other patron, not realising until now that she wasn’t alone.

It was Yamato.

“What are you doing here?”

“Eating.”

He grinned, holding up a beer. “Drinking.”

“Damn you, Kakashi,” she whispered.

Yamato frowned. “Yes, he said he was joining me for lunch this time. Even told me to tell you it’s his treat for all those times you paid.”

He burped loudly and Sakura realised he was already drunk.

Yamato seemed kind of bummed out, too. She also just noticed he had a few glasses of sake next to him, too; the beer had run out. Downing another glass before turning back to Sakura, he side-eyed her, like she was the one responsible for all his problems. “Are you just going to sit there sulking all day or is there something you need of me, senpai?”

“Senpai?”

He narrowed his eyes at her, his vision clearly becoming impaired. He thought she was Kakashi, maybe? The wood style user was beyond drunk, it seemed. And in the middle of the day! She bit her bottom lip, wondering if he’d been like this since the war and she’d just not noticed. Shame filled her and she made a mental note to get the hospital psychiatrist to track him down.

Just to talk.

Or strap him down then talk, as he’s likely to be stubborn about it.

Yamato shook his head. “Oh, it’s not him. It’s you.” He patted the stool next to him. “Sit, I don’t bite my teammates.”

Sakura wasn’t convinced.

He sighed. “Lady Tsunade told me to kep… I mean keep an eye on Kakashi. He was supposed to be here drinking but in-instead I got you.” He patted the stool again. “Sit, blossom tree. Sit.”

He had to be harmless when drunk. Sighing, Sakura got off her stool and instead sat down next to him, grudgingly. “She mentions he’s over drinking.”

“No, he hasn’t. But I have.”

She sighed again. “That’s what I meant.”

Yamato just shrugged and loudly ordered a bottle of sake and another glass.

“I’m not drinking with you.”

Yamato swayed and shook his glass in her face. “Who said it was for you?”

She didn’t need this. “I’m going.”

“No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-no! I’ll behave!”

Sakura was half-way off her stool when Yamato grabbed her hands and pouted at her. She sat back down to avoid making things worse and he brightened up, humming and grinning when the sake bottle and glass arrived. He slid the glass to her and, unsurprised, she accepted as he poured her shishou’s favourite drink into it. But she didn’t drink.

They waited in silence and Sakura eagerly accepted her food when Kohaku handed it over, complete with a smile and twinkle of his very white teeth. Maybe he was related to Gai sensei?

Yamato watched her closely as she ate, then darted his eyes away when she glared at him. He kept throwing her weird looks but waited until she was done and had the bottle of bubbly in her hand before asking, “so, what’s got you looking f-for drinksies?”

“I was looking for…”

Him.

They’d been shagging on the alliance celebrations for five years now and she knew very well that he knew very well who she was the entire time. Talking with Kurenai about moving on and finally being able to put Sasuke behind her, she felt different. Like she was coming out of a black haze of morosity that had been engulfing her and Sakura was finally waking up. Giving into Kakashi every year and spending the rest of the twelve months pretending nothing happened had broken her more than she realised.

And now.

Now she wanted her life back. Kakashi was a loose end that needed to either be severed or restitched. She knew which one she would choose, so the resolution to this weird tryst would depend on what he wanted from her.

Why does my love life always have to be in the hands of others?

Yamato made a grumbling noise, breaking her thoughts and mumbled something she couldn’t quite catch.

"What?"

He slammed the drink down on the counter and eyed her suspiciously. "I s-saaaaid, he has a fuck bu-buddy."

Sakura sighed, nursing her drink and wishing she didn’t have to deal with this; she didn’t really want to hear about how Kakashi had found himself a new piece of arse and how his friends were so happy for him. She knew very well that she was the piece of arse and didn’t want to know all the lewd things her sensei had told his friends.

And then it hit her.

She was just another fuck.

She was usable.

She was recyclable and replaceable.

She was disposable.

Sakura had never pictured Kakashi having a sex life – the man was so reserved; she’d begun to think his only lover was those Icha Icha books of Jiraiya’s. It was why she’d been surprised the aloof man had instigated their trysts. How often did he sleep around? She felt her stomach twist at that thought.

Am I just another toy? Is that why he’s been so reluctant to reveal himself? Is he ashamed?

She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to stop the tears. This was ridiculous. A drunken comment from her former taichou didn’t determine her worth to Kakashi.

“Some of the guys thought he was gay or asexual for a long time,” Yamato went on, and the pinkette found herself frozen on the spot; her body rigid and the drink getting warm in her hand. “Not that there’d be anything wrong with th-that, you… you judgy… uh, thing.” He gave her the stink eye.

The wood style user balked for a moment, as though he was about to vomit in front of her, but then seemed to get a hold of himself, throwing back another shot and coughing loudly. “Uh… that smarts.” He wiped his mouth. “Where was I… oh yeah, turns out Kakashi-senpai has a fuck buddy.”

Yamato spun around on his stool and stopped after the second spin, peering closely at Sakura. “You look awfully familiar.”

“Hm.” She found her voice only to clamp her mouth shut.

“Well anyway,” Yamato went on, indicating to Kohaku.

But the older man shook his head. “You’ve tapped out.”

“Whaaa?!” Yamato grabbed his bottle and Kohaku swiped it out of his hand.

“No,” he said fiercely. “No more for you. I told you only three bottles.”

Yamato pouted but it got him nowhere. He turned on the stool, looking like he was going to stumble away, but he didn’t budge.

“Sakura?”

“Y-yes.”

“Why does Kakashi-senpai get to find someone special and I d-don’t?”

“Special?”

He nodded. “Wants to spend his life with her. ‘Fraid he won’t be able to.” He sighed and smacked his lips together. “I want that someone t-too.”

He groaned, turning back to the bar and flopping his head down on it. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

Sakura wasn’t paying attention to him now, sliding off her stool. "I have to go. Sorry!"

Yamato groaned; pushing his glass toward the bemused barkeep, he tapped it, silently demanding more even though Kohaku had just told him no. "Fine!" He yelled, waving his other hand at Sakura's retreating back. "Stick me with the bill like you always do, Kakashi-senpai!"

.:.

The note had very little to say, but it was his chakra that led her on. Sakura ran like the wind. This was a jutsu she’d never heard of and he was so teaching it to her later.

But right now, she needed answers from this adorably annoying man.

It didn’t take her long to realise it was leading her to his apartment.

“My place or yours, next?”

Her desire to get him into a bed had started so long ago. Was he finally relenting? She wanted more than the sex though, so if that was all he was really after…

Stop obsessing.

She slowed down as his apartment loomed in front of her and walked a natural pace up the stairs and to his door. She gasped as he opened the door and Sakura focused on the man in front of her; he looked tired by happy.

Did he really want this?

He smiled but said nothing, clearly waiting for her to start talking.

But Kakashi was averse to blunt confessions. And if she learnt anything from Sasuke she knew that emotionally stunted men – even if they were as emotionally needy as Kakashi – needed a lighter touch. Like a startled animal in the wild she needed to approach with caution.

Play it cool.

“So,” she drawled. “Shochu huh? Couldn’t afford a fancy restaurant?”

He huffed and stepped aside. “Would you like to come in?”

“I don’t know, I’ve already eaten.” He raised an eyebrow and she ignored it, continuing. “What other reason could I have to enter your apartment at this time of day?”

He chuckled suddenly, startling her. “You’re not subtle, Sakura.”

She groaned and stormed in. He closed the door and turned to face her, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You sent me the note, Kakashi. The ball’s in your court.”

“Is it?”

She swallowed heavily. How could he look so calm about this? Okay, no more preamble bullshit. She wasn’t going to try (and clearly fail) to be subtle about this anymore. She stepped over to him, palming his chest and smirking as she felt his heart race under her fingertips.

“Sakura?”

“Hm?”

“What are we doing?”

“I have no idea.”

He smiled under his mask and didn’t pull away when she touched it gently.

“But I’d like to see where it takes us.”

Kakashi tugged on the edge of his mask without pulling it down. “I don’t know. You might not like what you see.”

“I’ll close my eyes.”

“Then you won’t see all the good things, Sakura-chan.”

“Drop the chan.” Sakura inhaled deeply; the look on his face, from what she could see, was amusement. “And drop the mask.”

They’d danced around each other enough. She could feel the tension in his body as she pressed against him. He was as worried as she was, just hiding it better.

Indeed, Kakashi felt very little other than trepidation as Sakura demanded he let it go. For five years he’d hidden behind a masquerade to take what he wanted not knowing if it was what he needed. So, he talked a big game, but could he let go of the angst and self-loathing he was so well-known for?

He trembled as her grip became mildly painful. She was determined but scared, her eyes widening slightly as she stubbornly held his gaze. This was so much harder than whispering dirty words in her ear and fucking her warm, writhing body into a non-descript wall. This required courage.

But he needed to do this.

One step at a time.

And the first step was dropping his mask and kissing the woman he loved. Without shaking like some teenage virgin.

But once his face was bare, she took over.

Her mouth was on his and an instant later all the tension left his body. They pulled each other in, gently and lovingly caressing; there had been enough rough fucks, this wasn’t about that. This time they could take it slowly. And do more than just stand against walls. He steered her toward his bed as she started exploring his mouth and finally, he leant into the kiss with no self-pity or angst. Only with hope for the future.

…

#KakaSaku #kakasaku month 2021 #kakasaku month #my fanfiction #fanfiction

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silverwhiteraven · 4 years ago

Text

Wings of Broken White - Ch. 3

Tag List: @marichatmay

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 2 ] [ Chapter 4 ]

[ Summary: Literal and Metaphorical dirt. ]

Hawkmoth had learned the lesson Monarch did not. Do not mix the positive power of a Blessing with negative emotions. Instead, enhance those negative emotions with the power of something else. Let his Champions be fueled by the opposite of a Blessing, something that haunts and feasts on darkness.

Give them Demons; give them an Akuma.

But still. He knew that he had to pick carefully what emotions he harnessed and the people behind them. Hawkmoth couldn’t afford to lose control of another Champion. And Gabriel refused to risk his son.

So he bided his time, researching and studying whatever he could. And while he waited, he built his public empire, funding his underground renovations and the care needed to keep his wife healthy.

Still alive, Emilie was kept that way in a chemically induced coma to prevent further deterioration. To the public, she was missing. In private, she was under the care of doctors from the world’s best medical center, Mayo Clinic.

Adrien would have been aware of her whereabouts were it not for the mistake and loss of control over Monarch’s Blessing. Gabriel had delayed telling his son the truth, and now there was no way to tell what would happen if he knew; what powers White Rose had truly gained beyond what was originally planned.

The thing is, Hawkmoth would have never surfaced if Gabriel could have prevented it. He was ready to let his wife go. But he still needed to find a way to remove the Blessing from Adrien, so he continued to use the Butterfly Miraculous, continued learning about it and the others.

But Adrien just had to go missing one early morning, barely before the sun had risen. Gabriel couldn't find him, neither could Adrien’s ever-present bodyguard. So in an act of desperation, Hawkmoth was brought to be. He then Akumatized the worried and protective bodyguard, granting him an ability to track down their shared ward.

This only furthered things along and also put them to a grinding stop.

The wielders of the Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous arose to combat Hawkmoth’s Champion. Rather than admit why he was using the Butterfly in a dark way, he decided to reveal his last-ditch plan that he thought he would never bring himself to use, anyways.

He demanded their Miraculous. He was glad they refused, because he would not trust anyone so willing to give up such dangerous powers so easily instead of using them to protect.

So while plans to experiment with the use of Akumas were furthered, it was the mix of one Blessing and one Hero that halted everything.

Paris had very few albino citizens. It would be almost too easy to track down the potential civilian identities of Chat Blanc. But those white wings tipped in blue, so similar yet so contrasting to the black Starling wings of a younger Adrien? There was no way to deny such a similarity. And the Black Cat Miraculous itself would not change it’s own color scheme on a whim, either. Monarch himself had experimented with designs and color palettes, learning that only significant enchantments and magical interference could cause anything even a noticeable difference, not to mention such an extreme as turning Black to White.

The last nail in that theory's coffin was how Hawkmoth could feel the whispers of the Blessing influencing Chat Blanc. Certainly, it could have been a much older Blessing from a previous Butterfly Holder, but Gabriel highly doubted such coincidences could stack like this.

So, Gabriel accepted the facts. He felt heartbroken for his son that had to fight him, even if Chat Blanc didn’t know who he was fighting behind Hawkmoth’s mask. But he was so proud of him, too. Monarch’s Champion White Rose was doing what he was meant to; protect others from the harm of the Miraculous. And Gabriel’s son Adrien was free to be happy, as happy as he never was when inside the Agreste mansion, even when Emilie was still walking its halls. So Gabriel and Hawkmoth did nothing more than play his part as the fatherly villain.

He really didn’t mind how long it would take for it all to come to a close.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Despite her semi-disastrous first time as Ladybug, Marinette rather enjoyed the side-job.

Akuma’s were few and far between, and oftentimes could be talked down instead of fought head to head. Their abilities oftentimes got dangerous, yes, but Ladybug and Chat Blanc, not to mention the rest of Paris, were more than thankful that their Supervillain seemed to have at least some sort of moral code. He would prevent Akumatized villains from causing mass amounts of damage. Once, he had even taken back the powers and the Akuma that granted them, all because the Champion he had made was being unreasonably dangerous to innocent civilians.

Sometimes, she swore Hawkmoth would Akumatize students just so the whole district would have to let school out early due to the emergency. Maybe he had a soft spot for kids, maybe a child of his own? Either way, she appreciated the breaks.

Soon enough, a whole six months had passed since Hawkmoth first appeared.

The most recent attack had been earlier that evening. Marinette had to distract her Akumatized friend Nathaniel. He was akumatized because of Chloé. She had made fun of his art, at first. Then, to make things worse, she told him that he was right to have his and his boyfriend Marc’s hero-sonas to both be wingless, because the ones Nathaniel had were ‘wasted on his talentless existence’ and ‘if Marc wasn’t already wingless, then they would be utterly useless on him, too’. In general, it was a rather nasty scene.

Marinette had been quick to tell her to back off and leave Nathaniel and Marc alone. Adrien has sprung up right after her, telling Chloé not to talk to his friends like that, and even if she is his oldest friend he wasn't okay with her actions.

Marinette was proud of Adrien for standing up for others in the face of someone important to him. It was brave.

Unfortunately, their combined efforts didn’t prevent the Akumatization. Luckily, Evillustrator wasn’t a bad villain, he just really wanted to mess with Chloé with revenge-pranks.

Marinette got herself caught up in it by distracting him with other ideas. For example, using his power to create objects to set up a date with Marc. Chat Blanc had shown up part way into the setup of said date, and as a way to prevent Evillustrator from starting a fight, she had roped him into helping with the decoration ideas and music selection. He turned out to be a natural with romantic set-ups, and an even smoother talker, convincing Evillustrator to hand over his Akumatized item in exchange for them escorting Marc to the date’s location.

Marinette had managed to step away long enough while Blanc went to find Marc to transform into Ladybug, and called for her Lucky Charm just in case. It was nothing more than a red rose and she laughed happily to have a simple item with obvious intentions.

When Blanc returned, she showed herself and offered the rose to her partner, trying not to be flustered by her own romantic gesture. “Hold this for me, Kitty? I need to make sure their date goes well, and that means Nathaniel has to be here for it. Don’t want yours and Marinette's efforts to go to waste, now do we?”

Then, she took the Akumatized item from Blanc and broke it, purifying the butterfly within.

“What about the Lucky Charm?” Chat Blanc looked a tad confused. “As soon as you call for Miraculous Ladybug, everything Evillustrator made will disappear. Their date will go poof!”

Ladybug smiled knowingly. “Already thought that through. You hold on to that rose, okay? Or maybe let Nathaniel hold it? As long as I can find it again later, just make sure it’s safe. I’ll use Miraculous Ladybug long after their date is over, so nothing will get spoiled. Gotta go, Bug out!”

She returned to the scene as Marinette once more, finding a de-Akumatized Nathaniel on a successful date with Marc, and Chat Blanc still watching over them, happy for the couple. Satisfied, she made her way home, away from the setting sun.

Now, it was completely dark out and Marinette was drinking a thermos of hot chocolate on her balcony, wrapped in a warm blanket. The quiet night got interrupted by a shadow moving over the rooftops, followed by white boots lightly thumping onto her balcony. She sat up, surprised to see Chat Blanc still lurking about the city. He bowed theatrically with a gentle smile.

“Princess, what a lovely evening to see you! I presume I have found you safe and happy in your tower tonight?”

Marinette couldn't help but laugh. “You saw me maybe two hours ago, pretty-gryphlet, you know I’m perfectly fine.”

“True, but as your loyal, trustworthy, and handsome White Knight, I am obliged to check on you anyways.” He had bowed again and taken her hand, kissing the air above her knuckles ceremoniously. She had to fight back both her blush and her wing’s desire to flutter bashfully where they were hidden under the blanket.

“Silly gryphlet,” she smiled, before noticing his gloves were stained and had left some of it on her fingers. Then she noticed the dark spots on his boots and knees as well. She frowned in confusion, inspecting what was on her hand. “Why are you covered in dirt?”

“That dirty little secret,” he deflected the question easily with his pun and a cheeky smile, “I will explain soon. But first, I gotta ask, why do you call me ‘pretty Griflet’? I already know I look amazing, but is Griflet a reference to one of the knights of the Round Table? If so, I am honored to have such recognition.”

Marinette laughed and shook her head. “No, not a knight, a gryphon. You know, a mythological creature with the body of a lion and the wings of an eagle? You’re a cat, and you have wings, hence, gryphlet!” She explained proudly, before realizing how embarrassing it was to nickname one of the local Superheroes and retreated into her blanket.

Chat Blanc blinked owlishly at her explanation, but soon a smile bloomed on his face, and she could swear he was blushing under his mask.

“I like it,” he said softly, looking gentle and earnest.

“S-So anyways! Blanc Chat, I mean, Chat Blanc, I uh, You say were? Were saying? About the, uhm, dirt?” She turned away, grabbing her thermos to keep her hands busy.

“Oh! Right!” He brightened even more, his eyes starting to look like that of an excited kitten. “Come with me somewhere, Princess? I know it’s cold out so I won’t keep you long, but I wanted to show you something.”

She nodded, standing up and setting the thermos aside. Then she hesitated, once more remembering her wings. “I...Blanc, can you keep a secret for me?”

“Of course, what is it?” He looked curious and just so innocent. She couldn’t do it.

“Uh, never mind, next time, okay? I don’t think I’m ready. To say anything, I mean, not that I don’t want to see what you want to show me, but also I’m not ready to go yet for that either, wait, i meant-!” She closed her mouth with a snap, sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly. “What I mean is, let me just get something from my room real quick? I should really put on shoes and something warmer than pajamas. Then we can go!”

“Of course! I’ll be here when you’re done.” Oh Kwami, he was so patient with her, and understanding, too. Could he get any nicer, she wondered?

She fumbled her way back into her room, swiftly putting on a wing-binder, thick white leggings, and a warm long-sleeved baby blue dress. She remembered to grab some shoes, too. As she climbed back up to the balcony, she tried to ignore the fact that she had chosen to wear colors close to Chat Blanc’s. From the look on his face, he was probably trying not to think about it too much, either. “Ready, Marinette?”

“Ready. So uhm, how are we going to get there?” she shuffled on her feet, hands fidgeting.

He grabbed the thermos she had set down and put it into her hands, warming them, and subsequently her cheeks, too.

Politely he asked, “Permission to carry you?”

“Granted? Wait, carry? Like, on your back carry or- Woah!” He answered by sweeping her into a classic princess carry. “Uh, works, I guess, this does? I mean- Okay,” she finally squeaked out.

He chuckled and held her securely, but gentle. “Let’s not waste time. Hold on tight!”

She didn't scream dramatically when he jumped from her balcony, but she also won't admit she might have squeaked again from the unfamiliar feeling of jumping over rooftops while untransformed, let alone while being carried.

But the trip to their destination really was rather short, as only a couple minutes later he was setting her back down on her own two feet.

The rooftop was surrounded by decorative iron fencing. Candles, protected from the wind in glass jars, lined the top of the railing and between the bars. What really caught her eyes, however, where the Lily-of-the-Valley flowers spread around decoratively. She couldn't help but gape at them. The scene was gorgeous, and she wondered why Chat Blanc had brought her here. Did he do this? Was this why he was covered in dirt? She turned to him where he stood looking almost nervous for her reaction.

“Chat...It’s beautiful. Did you set this up? Did you get these flowers yourself?”

He perked up, glad to see she wasn’t reacting badly. “I did. I also learned I’m a really bad gardener,” he chuckled, and she smiled, amused. “And don’t worry, I didn’t steal any of this stuff, it was all mine already. Well, sort of. The candles were my Mother’s, and I use them sometimes. The flowers came from our yard- They would have died soon anyways, the brief warm spell this week made them bloom too early, so I thought I might as well put them to use. So, you like it, Marinette?”

She giggled and nodded, looking away shyly. “Why set all this up, anyways? Special night?”

He nodded, his own gaze shy as well. “Sort of? Ladybug trusted me with something. And earlier today, this amazing girl I know helped me take down an Akuma. So I wanted to prove I can be trusted with Ladybug’s thing, while also getting to show that amazing girl how much I appreciated her, even if it is only for a little bit. Here,” he stepped to the side, bringing Marinette’s curious gaze to a small table she hadn't noticed before.

It had a few more candles and flowers on it, but there was a delicate vase in the center. She quietly gasped as she noticed the red rose, Ladybug’s Lucky Charm, sitting in the vase. Chat Blanc plucked it from its place and held it out to her.

“For the most creative and wonderful Princess in all of Paris,” he smiled, bowing as he presented the rose. He chuckled sheepishly, then, “Well, you can’t keep it forever, because it is Ladybug’s, but I figured that if anyone was worthy of keeping it safe until she needed it, that person would be you.”

Dumbfounded and flustered into silence, Marinette accepted the rose with her free hand.

“Well, I guess I should take you back home now, huh?” He asked awkwardly.

“O-Oh, uh, sure,” she agreed, still distracted as she held the red rose close to her chest.

This time, she was prepared for him to lift her, and she stayed quiet on their way back to her balcony. This time, she noticed how warm he was and just how easy it was to trust him even as a civilian. She wouldn't admit to being sad when he set her down again, though.

“Until next time, Princess; I hope to see you again,” once more he took her hand and gave the air over her knuckles a kiss, but before he could let go, she clutched his fingers tight, pulling his attention up to her eyes.

“Uhm- It’s cold out, and I barely touched my hot chocolate anyways.” She turned his hand over and set her thermos into his palm. “Take it with you. You can return it, next time we meet.”

He beamed at her and nodded. “It’s a date,” he winked teasingly, and she giggled. “See you later, then. Have a goodnight, Princess.”

And just like that, he was gone, and Marinette was left a blushing mess on her balcony until Tikki finally came out and told her to go to bed.

In the morning, the red rose was still where she left it on her desk, proving the night before was no dream. Tikki then informed her that it had slushed a bit while she slept, so she should be careful when she goes outside.

Ladybug went off in the early morning to check on Evillustrator’s reactions, only to find that they had been washed away by the sleet. It seemed that just like all other forms of art, even the magical creations of an Akuma were susceptible to the natural elements when exposed long enough.

So that morning, Ladybug returned an intact Lucky Charm to Marinette’s room, and Marinette got to keep the gift of an everlasting red rose.

#marichatmay2021 #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #chat blanc #marichat #ml wing au #wing-binding #willowbendt

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neverendingstories00 · 4 years ago

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Past The Point Of No Return (Ch.3)

Summary: Safin takes you on a tour of your new home and offers an interesting proposition.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: n/a

A/n: Guys, sometime needs to take my labtop away. Safin is 100% going to be the death of me. I cannot stop thinking about this pyscho man PLEASE rearrange my guts. Anyways, school is starting for me tomorrow (today since i’m posting this at like 2:30am). I’ll try and get Ch.4 out asap since that’s where the drama is gonna rise. Also, thank you for all the support and comments! I’m gonna respond to them all tomorrow, I promise. I love ya’ll and enjoy the story!! ❣️❣️

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Three days had gone by. You refused to leave your room after Safin’s temper tantrum. Three days in isolation weren’t the worst thing in the world even if you had no idea where you were. The room Safin had given you was elegant and bigger than your old flat. It was like if Japanese Zen had met modern times. A living room with endless books and plants connected to a bedroom and large bathroom. You felt like you were in a fancy hotel. Inside of the bathroom was a freestanding club that outlook a rock garden. Of course, you had tried to break the glass or crawl out one of the closet vents, but everything had been locked shut. At one point, you had felt the room had been made just for you (which it probably had been). Safin must have had a lot of time on his hands to be able to construct it. The books that were on the shelves were the same books you owned a home, the candles were all lavender and cherry blossom, and even the small amount of clothes he had offered and gotten your sizing in were accurate to your taste. It was oddly amiable, but alarming that he knew so much about you.

As you finished making your Feng Shi bed, you heard a gentle knock at the door. With years in the military, you had recognized footstep patterns. Safin had light but quick footsteps, his boots always making a clicking noise.

“Good morning Y/n.” He says, his cold accented voice slightly muffled behind the door. “I wanted to come and apologize for my uncivilized manner a few nights ago. I didn’t realize that you would be in such a sensitive state. I believe adjusting to new surroundings can be quite difficult. The way I acted certainly didn’t help with that. I did not mean to frighten you.”

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t even want to respond. If you could survive on your own in the wilderness for a month, then you could survive in a lavish bedroom in the middle of god no’s where until-

Oh right. There weren’t coming.

“It truly bothers me that you feel the need to isolate yourself in that room.” Safin. Instead of sounding condescending, he seemed genuine and even beseeching. “You haven’t had anything to eat or drink.”

“I’m fine, thank you though.” You coldy reply, seeing it as a facade. Safin was an anarchist, insane and cruel. “You’re a solid actor though, I’ll give you that.”

Safin sighs but doesn’t give in to anger or defeat. “For what I did to you, you have every right to upset at me. I’m upset at myself. I’m sorry for scaring you into isolation, my dear. It was not my intention.”

You refuse to respond, crossing your arms as you hear him let out a loud sigh. Safin looks at the nearest object to throw in frustration but stops himself for her.

“Y/n, I need you to understand that under no circumstance, that I will ever hurt you. You are a resident, not a prisoner. I want to show you my..” He freezes. It’s not a home, it’s a lair. But for y/n’s sake, it was there home. “I mean, our home. It will be short, and I will get you something to eat. After that, I will not bother you if you accompany me for just one hour.”

Two sides of you were battling with each other. The younger and more stubborn part of you wants to say a snarky remark and tell him to kindly fuck off. But the wiser and more calm side of you says that your starving and need to get out. You don’t sympathize with his actions and hate him more than anything in the world. The man threatened to hurt your friends and family if you didn’t obey his commands. But If he was going to hurt you, then why hasn’t he killed you yet? What was the point of keeping you there, knowing that you could possibly kill him with anything? Safin has stalked your whole life, from your clothing sizes to your military history.

You freeze as your fingers fiddle with each other. Letting the villain win always bothered you. But he offered you food and freedom for an hour. He had better kept to his promise. Looking at the door, you break the silence. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

He responds, “Take your time.”

Walking over the closet, you look at the outfits organized by monotone colors. Everything seemed the same as you searched for something that wasn’t oversized on you. Eventually, you came down to wearing a black turtleneck, light grayish blue kimono jacket, and olive peg pants with black boots. The clothes were oddly comfortable and looked more expensive than your shitty flat. You hated wearing tight and revealing clothes, so it was doable. Looking in the mirror before you leave, you see your eyes. They’re tired from crying and sleepless nights. Your body had no energy as your stomach rumbled and throat thirsted for water. The last person you wanted to see was Safin, but you truly had no choice.

Opening the door, you see him standing in front of it with a straight posture and hands behind his back. A subtle smile appeared on his face, seeing you walk out.

“You look lovely, y/n.” He compliments as you walk side by side. He thought you could pull anything off and still looking amazing. You looked at him and nod, a silent response of “thank you”.

As you walk down the hallway, Safin noticed y/n limping more than walking. He made sure Serrano and his men had there asses yelled at. They had done everything they weren’t supposed to do; treat you like an animal, hurt, and embarrass her. No wonder y/n hated him, he thought she was going to be a prisoner or some toy for Safin to fiddle around with. As much as Safin yearned for her beauty, he saw her talent and intelligence. She would be useful in many ways.

In an attempt to be a gentleman, he held his arm out for her for support. Y/n, being the woman she was, silently and polarity declined this offer. Safin found it darling that she was so stubborn, refusing the help of others even if she needed it. Seeing you limp and silently groan made Safin’s stone cold heart drop. He wouldn’t be a gentleman if he didn’t help this sweet, little y/n. In a devilish move, Safin tucked his arm under her hand, linking them both. Her clutched fist dangled in his tight hold, wanting to resist. Seeing her [y/s/c] burn up, Safin softly smiled at her. She eventually gave him as her fist unclenched, softly leaning onto him.

The hallways were long and large, lit by hidden lights. From what you could tell, it seemed like an abandoned Russian military site that had been reconstructed by Safin. It was all concrete and void of any color or life. The Architecture was Raw, brutalist, extraordinary. Taking you up a dark hallway, Safin showed you a bright hallway, full of mustard yellow art. Leading you under a dark tunnel, it revealed a large, empty room. In the middle of the room was a large low black table with cushions, and that was it. On the sides were rock gardens full of shrubs and bamboo. You could hear a running river disconnect the gardens from the concrete gray floor. A few guards stared at you for linking arms with Safin. Seeing them whisper made you look down. Safin had noticed and looked at the men, who had fear in there eyes as they stood straight.

Safin explained that his room was where he and Serrano (or other co-workers in his words) would discuss their ordeals. He saw the light in y/n’s slowly disappear, seeing her thoughts run to something else. There wasn’t really much to show considering that Safin was the only man who inhabited the submarine pen. The soldiers and Serrano resided on another part of the island. He didn’t want to bore y/n but wanted to make sure she was adjusted with her new home.

“Are you enjoying everything, my dear?” He asked, Y/n looked up and nodded in response. She looked exhausted and upset, trying to hide it. Her once glowy [y/s/c] skin was turning lifeless and grey. Safin could see that you were miserable and depressed. He knew being trapped in the submarine pen wasn’t ideal, he had been doing it for years and was ever so alone. Having the company of a woman was something he desired more than anything. Over the years his man had brought him women, but they refused to lay with because of his scars. Safin hated seeing the once joyful and bright light he saw in you.

No words came out of your mouth. You once again nod in response, forcing a faked and sad smile. Safin heart breaks seeing you so silent and upset. His grasp tightens on your arm, to squeeze some reassurance into your dying soul.

“My dear, please speak to me.” He gently cooed, looking into her [y/e/c] orbs.

“I’m fine, just please continue…” You sigh in frustration.

Not knowing what to say, Safin simply continues. It had been years since he had touched or even been close to a woman. Having you here with him was a dream come true. He hated having you sleep all by yourself that was in the opposite quarters of him. All he could imagine was y/n’s soft cries into her pillow from giving up on life. He knew what would hopefully cheer you up. Walking up a spiral staircase, Safin opened the door for you to exit. Upon exiting, you were greeted with a beautiful view. Safin allowed you to walk to the edge to admire the breathtaking view. Not one cloud was in the bright, blue sky. The top of the submarine pen was covered in the island’s rich plants. You truly were in the middle of nowhere, you could have been in the Medaterrian or off the coast of Africa. The Island was so beautiful on the outside, yet so depressing and ugly on the inside. The sun shined onto your skin as you felt the gentle breeze through your hair.

You stand on the edge, seeing that the only island in the distance was you. You were surrounded by miles of water, along with the world’s most feared Anarchist. “It’s so..”

“Breathtaking.” He breathed, standing right behind you. You turn around, somewhat scared by how close he was. Your [y/e/c] met with his milky orbs. His face was grey and dark, his sleek black hair, and dark navy clothes were so dark except for his eyes. He had an usual and exotic face. But his eyes were beautiful and mesmerizing. “Just like you, my dear.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. What had been a nice moment turned into Safin trying to subtly flirt, or so that’s what you thought. “Can you please call me y/n?”

A small frown appeared on Safin’s arms. He’s confused about why you don’t enjoy his attention. “Why not, my sweet?”

“Because I’m not your partner,” You clarify. The way those words rolled over his lips made you squirm and your cheeks burn.

“Whatever you say, my little dove.” He smiles, holding you close. A disgusted “ugh” escapes from your mouth. The time you had outside makes you feel somewhat better. Feeling the sun and wind against your skin felt so normal in your little fucked up world.

Safin tried to pull you closer to him, but you pull away. Even if he was trying to be a “gentlemen’, he was still an anarchist who wanted to kill millions and overthrow the government. All you knew was that you weren’t going to fall in love with him, ever. You shrug him off, looking away from him.

“How did you find this place?” You ask to break the silence.

“Me and Serrano discovered this place when I had left Spectre,” He explains, looking around the gardens before back at y/n. “It was an abandoned communist Submarine Pen. Nobody inhabited it, so I simply took it as my own. I was based in Okinawa before I denounced, so I took slight inspiration from the gardens.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Denounced Spectre?”

“One of my targets resurfaced, a young woman. A woman who I spared...who I loved,” Safin stated, “I had let them go and let them live a comfortable life. She promised herself to me, but loved another man...and birthed his child when she was mine. Spectre wanted her alive, I wanted her and her whole family dead. When they didn’t let me kill all of them, I killed every agent I could. All of them.”

Chills had been sent down your spine. When Safin didn’t get his way, he used violence. You never knew Spectre’s downfall, but all along it had been his man. No wonder Bond was able to take them down; it was all because Safin had practically murdered half of them in a rage since he couldn’t kill his ex-lover’s family. Your thoughts began to race. If you didn’t do as Safin pleased, would he truly kill you? Who could have ever loved someone such as Safin? Too many questions came to your mind.

“So, that’s what you do.” You noted, raising your eyebrows. “Kidnap women and force them to fall in love with you?”

Safin’s face scrunches up with anger, “No, she was different. She was a whore. I never hurt her. I spoiled her and loved her. She betrayed me. But you...” He looks at you with his expressions softening. “Are different. Out of all the women I have encountered, you y/n...are different.”

“That’s all you men come up?” You snort, staring right into his eyes. “Say that were different and then only use us for our bodies? You’re different, Safin. If you don’t get what you please, you act out. You use violence and kill.”

Safin looked at y/n, seeing the smirk on her face. She knew how obsessed he was with her, the anarchist obsessed with the cyrptographer. Safin had no intention of killing you and couldn’t bring himself to kill the woman he was madly in love with. Instead of becoming upset, he saw through you. All y/n was doing was poking the bear, refusing to give into Safin. Safin knew her antics all too well.

“Your hands are not clean either, y/n,” He debated. “Three hundred and thirteen men is a large kill count for such a young woman…”

In your short time in the military, you had achieved one of the highest kill counts in your ranking. Everyone knew you as the girl who never missed. From surviving alone in Serbia and crawling out of building rubble in Iraq, you were respected and feared. But that had been in the past when you still were young and had sanity. Now you were older, wiser, and even more broken. The military had changed your life drastically.

Safin truly knew how to dig under your skin and make you upset. He wanted to see you weak and feel stronger. You refused to let him. A small voice in your head kept telling you, “ Don't play his game. Play yours.”

“ Safin, you’re the most accomplished stalker I’ve ever met” You chuckle. He’s oddly smiling like nothing was wrong.

“A beautiful bird cannot freely fly in a cage.” The anarchist response, a small smile on his face. He relinked your arms as you walked back inside of the submarine pen.

Safin saw y/n, once acting up again. Seeing her make small “hmphs” and look away softly made Safin chuckle. He kept telling himself that with time, she would fall in love with him. Y/n was a young and stubborn woman who didn’t go down without a fight. Once Safin had her, he wasn’t going to let her go. Y/n was all Safin’s now. All the anarchist ever desired was to have company in his lonely lair. Not only someone to love but someone he could talk to and even work with. Y/n was the woman of his dreams who he had yearned for. She had to fall in love with him. She didn’t have another choice.

Safin let her slide away but still kept their arms linked. A part of him wanted to carry her to there next location, but he knew that she would probably punch him. In his spare time, Safin spent hours preparing the submarine pen for Y/n’s arrival. The bedroom was designed to fulfill her needs, but that wasn’t the only place that was meant for her.

“Close your eyes,” He says as you arrive at a large door.

You look at him and raise an eyebrow, immediately protesting. “Your going to trap me in a room where I cannot escape, aren’t you?”

“You are a guest, not a prisoner.” Safin reminded. You roll your eyes, deciding to go alone. Closing your eyes, Safin’s opens the door and leads you in. Taking small steps into the room, you can bear water running and birds chirping. A light that wasn’t artificial was projecting onto your skin. Opening your eyes, you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

You were inside of a large glass atrium that had an open ceiling, showing the sun and cherry blossom tears. Their sakura petals fell into the garden, a few landing on your clothes and hair. Like all of the other gardens in the submarine pen, it was inspired after a Japanese Zen Garden but with color. There were Cherries, Bamboo, Camellias, Lavender, and a range of other flowers. Out of all of the places in your cold and unwelcoming home, this place had shined the brightest. It brought a true smile onto your face. Letting go of Safin, you walk down into the shrubs and are greeted with a small pond and a chabudai with a teapot and two cups.

“Would you like to have some tea?” Safin offers. You turn around and nod, a smile still on his face. Your not smiling at him, but the beauty of the garden. Before, the flat you had lived in was too small to host a garden (you also lived in the heart of Chelsea). As a substitute, your garden was a bunch of homemade terrariums and flowers. It felt like ethereal heaven.

The two of you sit down in the garden. Safin loves to see you so memorized with all of the plants. He had been in your apartment a few times when you weren’t there. He didn’t know how you managed to live in such a contained space. He had noticed all of the flowers and candles you had kept around and tried to replicate it best. He wasn’t doing something for himself, but his y/n.

“ Your smile is like the flowers in the spring.” He compliments. You look at him as you admire the diverse range of flowers that surround you. “It’s divine.”

“Oh..” You say as you feel your cheeks burn. This man was not going to stop until he got what he wanted. Safin went from kidnapping you to giving you a beautiful garden, along with subtle flirting. You weren’t really into dating much and never were hit on, even if you were a young woman. “Um, thank you..?”

He pours you a cup of Chai tea, and the two of you sit there, drinking in silence. Safin refuses to take his eyes off of you, admiring your every breath you take. Seeing you look at the flowers, fiddle with the cup, and small strands of hair fall into your face as you push them behind your ear. Everything about you was so magical to Safin. No matter what, Safin was going to make y/n fall in love with him. The two of you had enjoyed your tea in peace. Out of all of the madness, being in the gardens brought you peace.

Safin had let you enjoy the moment until he asked the question that he had been pondering about. “Do you love me?”

You nearly spit your tea out. Safin had been subtly flirting with you, but hearing him say the world love made you nearly choke. His face looked surprised, waiting for an answer. You had barely been around this man for a week, and he was already claiming he loved then. Then again, he did stalk you.

“I..um..no?” You spit, furrowing your thick eyebrows. The question had caught you completely off-guard.

Safin smiles, nodding at the response. Although upset at your answer, he knows that you will eventually have to give into him. Safin always got what he wanted, no matter the cost. “Fair enough, you will come around with time.”

The younger and more stubborn part of you would have loved to throw the tea into his hideous face and beat him. But it wasn’t so simple. Safin was a dangerous and mysterious man. The reason Europe was probably going to go into a civil war was because of him. M16 was probably going to have it’s a downfall because his blood became tainted on your hands. Not only were your friends were at risk, but so was your family. Safin had made a threat that if you didn’t comply, then he would...hurt them for you to love you. You couldn’t love a man that would hurt your family and drag them into your mess.

So you did the selfless act. You, a young woman, sacrificed yourself to Safin so your family could be safe from him. You would comply but at a price. No matter the cost, you wouldn’t give Safin exactly what he wanted.

Y/n was giving him the silent treatment again. Her face scrunched up as she looked away, annoyed.

“More like a thousand years.”

“Listen to me, my dear. I will strike a deal. Every night, I will ask you at dinner if you love me. Tell me no as much as you want. I don’t care how long it takes for you to come to your senses.” Safin proposes his plan. He sees y/n’s sudden interest with his “idea.”

“And when I do?”

“The next day will be your wedding day.”

Your jaw almost drops to the ground. Safin was an insane man; you already knew that. He was delusional enough to think that you were going to love him, but marry? That was a whole other level.

“You told Q in Athens you wanted to fall in love before you married, so I have given you however long you need.” He reassures. “But I know it will happen.”

You look at him with pure hate in your eyes. Words could barely process in your mind. You clench your teacup so tightly that you don’t even care if it begins to burn your palms. Safin had a smile on his face. He stood up and walked over to you, helping you up.

“I can get up myself, thank you very much,” You grumble as you walk ahead of him. Safin catches up and walks right beside you, seeing your anger. He pulls you closer than he did last time, tightly holding onto you. He knew that you weren’t going to protest if your family and friends were on the line. As you walk back to the bedroom, you feel relieved since being with Safin is emotionally exhausting. You mentally declare that he is one of the most insane men you had ever come across.

He stops in front of the door. A pissy “goodbye” leaves your mouth before Safin takes your hand, spinning you around. Your faces are even closer now. He smells like an expensive cologne with his haunting, big green eyes. The scars on his face aren’t burns, but horrid cuts that mutated his whole face. His hands were cold and rough from all of the scars. Safin doesn’t speak at all and just looks at your face in a creepy manner.

You feel his fingers brush against your skin as he puts a camellia behind your hair. Safin backs away, a smile on his face as he adores you. Out of all of the gloom in his life, y/n was ever so bright. She had been caught off guard when he placed the flower in her hair. His beautiful bride to be.

“I thought it would go well with your hair,’ He purrs as his fingers stroke it. “Anything would look lovely on you.”

Holding back at eye-roll, a soft sigh escapes your lips. “Thanks…”

“I hope you enjoyed our time together. The garden is for you and only you. Feel free to wander as you please. After all, this is our home now.” He slowly backs away, seeing your eyes watch him disappear down the fall. “I will be pack to pick you up for dinner at seven. Goodbye, my sweet y/n.”

Once he disappeared, you retreat back to your room and slam the door. You see yourself in the mirror with a bright flower in your hair. The hair you had combed had been touched by Safin, making you cringe. As much as you hated him, this new place was your home. This would be your life from now on, whether you liked it or not. Your family and friends’ lives were on the line. It wasn’t such a horrible life. The submarine pen was void of all life but lavish. If being in love with Safin meant your mother and sister would be safe, then so it be. You couldn’t believe you, a simple cryptographer, was the Anarchist’s, true love. Sighing in the mirror, you ask yourself a question that will never be answered.

What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

#rami malek x reader #safin x reader #safin #rami malek #no time to die #james bond #my writing

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lizzieraindrops · 4 years ago

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Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Destiny (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eris Morn/Ikora Rey Characters: Eris Morn, Ikora Rey Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Hello destiny sapphics; allow me to introduce myself, Femslash, if nobody is going to write the content i want to see then i will create it myself, listen. it's about perceiving the weak and wounded places in someone you love, and lavishing love and care upon them even when they won't admit they need it, it's about the Mutual Support, it's about being kind to them even when you don't know how to be kind to yourself, Light Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, oh and ikora has the most Distinguished Bisexual energy i've ever seen so jot that down, it doesn't come up but you needed to know, this is all just a bunch of softness and tenderness don't @ me okay

Summary:

Five storms Eris and Ikora weathered and one they didn't need to.

The Shadowkeep weblore lives in my head rent free. Set post-Taken King and mostly during Shadowkeep.

“As I told Asher, there is a storm coming...” “Oryx is dead. We’ve weathered the storm.” Ikora is upset. She has yet to understand the bigger picture. “Yet his sisters would see his will done. There will always be another storm.” “Then let’s weather it together.” -Shadowkeep Narrative Preview #1

Many thanks to @hencegoodfortune for the beta read and of course for the memes.

Chapter: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | +1 |

Set just after The Taken King.

Eris knows she is not in the Hellmouth. Although the Tower has never felt the same since her ordeal on Luna, she recognizes it easily nonetheless. At every moment, the freshness of the open air reminds her that she is here, she is on Earth. She has been for some time now.

However, she has never forgotten how to move like a ribbon through the darkness, arcing undetected round predator and prey alike. She doubts that she ever will. Sometimes the habit returns of its own accord, and she’ll find her feet and hands floating weightless as she moves. Joints and muscle and sinew flex in careful concert to absorb every sound before it is made. The lines of lightly tensed limbs spiral seamlessly into the coiled core of her, tethering her in perfect silence. At the same time, she remains ever ready to fight, ready to flee. How often has Eris’ last, Lightless life lay along the knife’s edge of a split-second choice, the divergence between action and stillness, vengeance or survival?

Somehow, the smooth stone of the Tower’s level floors is harder to walk quietly on than the rough winding warrens through Luna’s porous rock. There are no edges to test with the edge of her boot, no uneven surface to ease her soles onto by swift and silent increments. There is only the unsubtle strike of heels on a flat, unforgiving surface. She makes the most of it, as every Hunter here does. Still, it leaves her uneasy. Her feet cannot quite keep to the ground.

Consequently, she often finds herself pacing, wandering from her post in the heart of the Tower whenever she grows restless. Every step falls lighter than the last, chasing silence in a meditation on weightlessness. It does not make her feel any better.

After so long underground, she is unaccustomed to the plenitude of open space here. While she has traced much of the Tower’s perimeters, the negative spaces in the centers of broad rooms and vaulted halls she leaves less frequented. She is too exposed there.

Yet maybe she is less affected by the empty space than the sheer number of souls that so often fill it. After so long so alone, they are simply so many, pressing at her survival-sharpened awareness from every angle. Not to mention she attracts too many of their stares in the crowded plazas. Although detection here is not followed by shrieking howls or the lightning strike of boomers, distrustful eyes still make her hunger for shelter. The choice to endure or to withdraw still needs to be be made. And whether well-meaning or ill-intentioned, a close approach still makes her instinctively recoil.

Eris has scraped out a place for herself here, lingering close enough to share with those who will listen the knowledge she has gained at a terrible price. But it has been made clear enough that she does not belong here anymore, not as she once did. If the condemnation of the Speaker and the only begrudging trust of the Vanguard’s Commander were not enough to tell her that, then the wary regard of most of the Tower’s populace would. So she holds herself back, toward the edges of things. It is difficult to do so at her station so near the Hall of Guardians, the greatest locus of Guardian activity on the planet. She draws herself to her full height and stands there proud, but never takes the ground she stands on for granted. When it becomes too much, like now, she paces.

This time, her pacing has led her to the edge of the Tower where her ship was once tethered. With how wary she has grown of exposed spaces, the open sky above that lays bare every courtyard and balcony should send her seeking cover - and yet, it does not. If anything, its incomprehensibly vast expanse calls to her. Strange.

Eris has traversed the spaces between planets with her own fragile body, with only a ship’s hull to keep the cold from swallowing what remains of her. Yet from Earth’s surface, a few mere miles of atmosphere transforms that emptiness, and its beauty holds her spellbound. It scatters sun into prismatic slices of light. The stars’ unblinking gaze softens into a flutter of eyelashes. No longer can she see the narrow spectrum of colors that humans evolved to discern; it has all faded into endless shades of the same hue. But the contrast of such brightnesses against the dark have become sharper than ever. Indeed, daylight has become a blaze to truly blind her. These stolen eyes of hers were made instead for depths and shadows.

Even so, she often finds herself staring out into the searing sky until her head aches. The sensations make her remember. She is no longer buried beneath stone, lost to this cosmos. She is free now, in some ways.

Eventually, her wanderings bring her back to the shaded refuge beneath the stairs just outside the Hall of Guardians. She is glad for this, too. Her station provides some small respite for her sensitive, ever-weeping eyes. And there she stays, until exhaustion drives her to rest, or else grief or fear or restlessness or her ever-smoldering rage drive her to pacing once again.

It’s true that many other eyes pass by that shadowed alcove of hers. Guardians constantly sweep in and out on either side of her, running and jumping and gliding up and down the stairs with urgent reports and important orders and burning questions for the Vanguard. They are so bright. Few of them spare a glance for her, these days, save for startled new Lights.

There are a few, though, who look upon her not with distrust or fear or begrudging tolerance, but with recognition. Once in a great while, cousin Asher will grace her with his inimitable company. It gladdens her heart, even when he merely stops to exchange research notes or brief insults. He cleaves to his research with a passionate vengeance, as does she. Unlike most, he pays more attention to her knowledge and her current work than her past. With the way he helped care for her in the months after her escape from Luna, she has come to hold him in close confidence.

On occasion, her friend the Guardian, who avenged her fireteam upon the very souls of Crota and Oryx, stops to greet her. Sometimes they bring her news from Luna or Mars. Words are few with that one lately, though. These days, their outgoing ghost is the one who relays whatever tidings they carry. The change leaves a cold shadow over Eris’ heart. Therefore, she values their quiet presence all the more. She fears for them.

Of course, Ikora’s is the kind regard she is subject to most often. Eris has never forgotten that Ikora believed her since the beginning. Most met her genuine warnings of inbound danger from the Hive with distrust, dismissal, or fear. Ikora not only listened, but met her with endless kindness. Even now, as the Warlock Vanguard steps into nearer chamber of the Hall for a brief consultation with Lord Shaxx, she spares a moment and a smile for Eris.

Ikora’s smile has always been warm and real and reassuring, a balm on the fibers of frayed nerves. Among the very few who welcomed Eris back to Earth, that smile was a signal of genuine care and safety that she homed in on immediately. The one directed at Eris now is subtle, a mere quirk of the lips. Yet it hints at the vast depths of passion and compassion below the surface, like a ripple that disappears swiftly on the surface of a deep, deep pool.

Ikora’s outward cool composure that obscures that intensity is not a façade. It is more an ingenius piece of architecture, a mighty aqueduct capable of holding and channelling the endless font of her inner immensities. It is an elegant and functional work of art well-kept and expanded over centuries.

The warmth that must be behind such a small yet genuine smile is palpable; it falls on Eris like the creeping warmth of sunlight, sinking in deep even though it scarcely touches her skin. Even the lower half of her face, where her many layers do not shield her from long-lost Sol, is still sallow and nearly as grayed as the dust of Luna. She hadn’t known at first, with the changes to her vision, not until Asher had told her. He never does shy away from the speaking of truth. In those endless years of darkness, the lack of light and loss of Light took something from Eris, sapped something vital, and left something strange in its place.

Yet Eris can feel the sun again, now. She can walk out into the courtyard at any time of day, find a south-facing wall to lean on, and bask in the radiating warmth like an ectothermic reptile.

Even without leaving the cool shadows of her post, another warmth still reaches her. Ikora offers her one more smile as she goes to return to her own station. Eris stands a little taller under the aegis of her regard, her spine the stem of a sunflower lifting her toward its steady kindness.

Eris takes not a single one of these boons for granted. Each one is a precious gift far beyond what she ever expected to experience again, after her descent into the Hellmouth. Yet none of it can quell her restlessness, for it springs from the same source as her gratefulness. It always comes back to what happened to her on Luna.

Each time she returns to her pacing, the Tower feels a little smaller. The scope of the sky distracts her for a shorter time. Now, even after her sworn vengeance upon the Hive has been fulfilled twice over in double deicide, the path of her vow still pulls her feet forward. She does not know where its shrouded course leads, only that there is still a threat yet to be met along it. More and more, she is certain that she cannot wait here to meet it, or it will be too late.

However, she never expected to leave behind wounds when she leaves. After she departs to sight the next storm on the horizon, she is haunted as often by the surprised hurt that she left in Ikora’s eyes as by the memory of her smile.

#eris morn #ikora rey #destiny 2 #eris/ikora #erikora #ikoris #destiny the game #destiny fanfiction #lizzie's adventures in writing #destinewt #long post #fic #HELLO I AM FINALLY HERE WITH THE FEMSLASH #apologies if i misled you with the o14 this is actually my usual abode #it's mostly written so look out for updates soon!#happy season drop have some sapphics #it's a beautiful day in a non-femslash-focused fandom and you are a terrible little lesbian here to cause problems on purpose #please talk to me about these ladies i love them so much #; ;

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pkg4mumtown · 4 years ago

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Welcome to Hawkins PD (Ch. 5)

Chapter Title: We’re Your Family Now

Chapter 5 of 9?

Read Chapter 4 Here

AN: *drags self to computer to post this* I’ve literally worked on this one word a day since the last chapter. At least it feels like that. I either catch up on work and neglect art/writing or neglect work and have to work weekends. RIP. More soft shit, they’re still being chickens lol.

Warnings: awkward!Hopper? Cold weather? idk

Summary: You get to the station early one morning and are met with a pleasant surprise.

Taglist: It’s still just you, girl @kingphillipblake lmao

Over the weekend, I busied myself by making the trailer more homely and tried not to think about my boss or whatever had happened in the bathroom. I almost dreaded seeing his grumpy face at work on Monday, but then again, his face seemed to always be like that.

As was usual all week, I got to the station early for my run except I was far less cold than my first day. I let my mind wander as I watched the puffs of warm air leave my lips, letting myself fall into a trance to ignore the pain in the lower half of my body. I cut the run short as the cold air started to burn my lungs and spotted the Chief’s Blazer as I approached the station. I slowed my steps down as his truck door opened and he stepped out in Hawkins PD sweatpants and a jacket, not unlike myself.

A small smirk graced his lips as I approached, soon hidden by his mustache and coffee cup. He furrowed his brows as I headed for the front door, calling out my name to stop me.

“Hey, wait,” he called out, “am I late?”

I turned, laughing slightly and miming looking at my wristwatch but not really reading the numbers, “I start at seven-thirty sharp, Chief.”

Hopper made a face, checking his own watch and seeing that he was fifteen minutes late, “Jeez,” he rolled his eyes sarcastically.

“You know,” I trailed off, pursing my lips and thinking over something, “I think I can spare another fifteen.”

The corner of Hopper’s lip turned up as he opened his truck and placed his mug on the seat before slamming the door shut. He took a few steps toward me, so I bounced away on the balls of my feet, tilting my head toward the sidewalk.

“Try and keep up,” I teased.

Despite my teasing, I kept the same pace as him since I technically did invite him. He breathed heavily through out the jog and I didn’t blame him one bit. I heard him trying to control his breathing as I talked to him and I immediately felt bad, but he did have the ability to decline the run.

“What did you do this weekend?” he huffed, trying to take slower breaths so he wasn’t breathing so heavily as he talked.

“Uh, just cleaned a lot,” I shook my head, “that trailer was a mess. I’m sorry.” I laughed at his exasperated expression, which soon turned into large puffs of laughter. He started coughing, his throat probably numb from the air which was mixed with his smoking habits that have caused his lungs more years of abuse than mine.

“You don’t have to stay at this pace with me,” he took a shaky breath in and released a painful, growling wheeze.

“I invited you, Hop, it would be rude if I left you,” I nudged his arm with mine playfully.

The Chief slowed down to a walk; the heaving of his shoulders more evident when his entire body wasn’t in motion. He hunched, bracing his hands on his knees with the station just in range for a burst of running. The front and back of his sweatshirt was soaked through with sweat, turning it a darker gray and making it cling to his torso.

“I’ll tell you what, Chief,” I sniffled, cringing as the cold air was having more of an effect on me than I’d like. “Winner to the station buys coffee and donuts today,” I turned to him with a huge grin on my face and my hands on my hips in a challenge.

He turned his head toward me, his mouth parted and breaths huffing gently as he finally got his breathing under control. He pushed off his hands and stood up to his full height with a soft grunt, “Alright, you got a deal.”

He stuck his hand out, which I took and shook firmly. He tilted his head to either side, his neck cracking eerily loud.

“3…” I counted down, dropping into a loose running stance, and watching him do the same, though slightly more tense. “…2.”

Before I could get to “one”, Hopper took off in a sprint. His long legs aided him in creating a large amount of distance between us quickly. I stared as this huge man lumbered down the street as fast as he could go, my jaw dropping in surprise before by brain caught up. I finally broke myself out of my surprise and took off after him, able to catch up because of the academy training. I passed him just as we entered the parking lot, pushing as hard as I could to grab the door first since my arms were shorter than his. I stuck my hand out, ready to grab the door handle when I felt a strong hand grip my wrist and yank me backwards.

“Hey!” I shouted as I stumbled backwards hard enough that Hopper could get in front of me and turn around until his back slammed against the front door of the station. I tried to catch myself before I crashed into him but couldn’t stop my legs fast enough. I caught myself with my hands against his chest, cringing as the glass doors wobbled ominously.

Hopper sucked his lips into his mouth, trying to hold back a smile but failing and laughing out loud. I felt his chest vibrate against my hands and I had to stop myself from staring at the look of amusement all over his face.

“What!?” he chuckled at the incredulous look on my face.

“You cheated!” I slapped his chest softly and pushed myself away from him, forcing Hopper against the door briefly.

“I’m the Chief,” he smirked matter-of-factly. “I’ll, uh, expect my coffee and donuts when I’m dressed.”

Hopper winked and opened the door of the station, sliding inside and leaving me outside by myself.

Around lunch time, I yawned widely and kicked my feet up on my desk to rest my eyes for a bit. It had been another slow day with nothing better to do unless we felt like looking for lost gnomes for the eightieth time this month. I blindly reached for the newspaper from this morning and laid it over my eyes to block some of the sunlight.

As soon as my eyes closed, I felt something hit my arm. I knitted my brows together but ignored it until I heard something land on my desk. I sat up, letting the newspaper fall from my face with an annoyed glare gracing my features. Before I could lay my eyes on anyone, a wad of paper hit me square in the face. I clenched my jaw, seeing Hopper leaning against the wall of the hallway that led to his office.

He silently tilted his head toward the hallway and disappeared. I rolled my eyes, jumping up and following him while straightening out my uniform. I found him sitting on the corner of his desk, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for me. I closed the door behind me and stood awkwardly as I waited for him to speak.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” he asked after an awkward pause, not even looking at me as he asked the question.

“Um…” I trailed off and shrugged, not even knowing myself despite it being in a couple days.

“I assume you’re not going home. Not with how you described things…” he chewed his top lip, scraping his teeth over his moustache briefly.

“Definitely not,” I grimaced.

“Well, uh, no one really comes to the Christmas parties here anymore, plus I have my daughter. I—would you—if you want, you could celebrate with us. My kid, her friends, their parents are all going to my friends’s house. Uh, Joyce, you’ve seen her around I think,” he stumbled repeatedly.

“I don’t know…”

“I just don’t want you to be alone,” his voice evened out and softened, his eyes finally meeting mine. “We’re your family now.”

His soft voice had a strange effect on me, as I stood there in silence. His words meant more because he sounded so sincere compared to his usually loud personality. I felt tears prick the corner of my eyes and made a rash decision to step forward and throw my arms around his shoulders in a tight but brief hug. Hopper was too shocked to do anything but stand there, even as I released him and stepped away from him.

“I’ll be there,” I gave him a small smile. “Just give me the address and, yea, I’ll be there.”

I opened the door and made myself scarce, seeing his contemplative face as I shut the door and plopped myself back at my desk.

#jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x reader #chief hopper x you #chief hopper x reader #chief hopper fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction

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roswelldetails · 5 years ago

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RNM 2x05 - I'll Stand By You

So just a little note from me, the person behind the season 2 detailing. I am trying really really hard to keep emotion out of these posts...which is really really hard for me because I'm an inherently emotional person. I'm a glass case of emotion, ready to shatter at any given moment. (#dramatic) But I want to be true to the intent of this blog and keep my feelings, biases, and, you know, shipping out of this blog.

It was really really hard to do with this episode. Because I straight up ugly cried for like, 45 of the 60 minutes. 😂

So I guess, the point is, I'm proud of myself and sticking to the details here. My regular blog is where I'm doing the emotional flip out thing! 😂

EPISODE SUMMARY:

ACCEPTING REALITY — The discovery of some complications with Max’s (Nathan Dean) pod forces Liz (Jeanine Mason), Michael (Michael Vlamis) and Isobel (Lily Cowles) to confront the possibility that they may not be able to save him. Elsewhere, Maria (Heather Hemmens) and Alex (Tyler Blackburn) make amends. Kimberly McCullough directed the episode written by Alanna Bennett & Jason Gavin (#205). Original airdate 4/13/2020.

DETAILS:

Max/Isobel/Michael reunite at age 11 according to what Michael tells Alex in 1x10. So that would make the opening of this episode set in 2002ish.

Michael tells Max and Isobel, "I remember you. I don't know you."

"After nobody adopted me for a year they just stuck me with the name of that trucker who found us."

"I didn't ask you for anything."

This is like the thesis statement of Michael's whole history with Max in the flashbacks.

"Don't pay more than you collect, kid. Passing credit back and forth is a good way to get stuck with somebody forever."

Rosa's art.

What I can see says: "...what they all told me, but I didn't listen" and "Stand the shelter".

Rosa on her dreams

"I have not had any freaky dreams in weeks. Okay, Max is probably off haunting Isobel now that they're strong enough for their psychic twincest weirdness."

"How long has that been happening?"

"Um, I don't know. It's an old boom box."

"Rosa, have electrical appliances been malfunctioning around you?"

"I really thought it was just a side effect of the handprint."

"If being in the pod introduced a new protein into your system it could have altered your DNA too. You could be developing abilities."

"Liz, look. The handprint is changing. It's smaller."

"It's fading."

"Tell me this is a good thing."

"I don't think so."

Michael and Liz theorizing on why the pod shorted out:

"The pod's got a charge. It's like a battery powering the preservation process. This one's gone dead."

"Did the generator blow the electromagnetic threshold?"

"I think a surge came from the pod itself. But that pod has lasted almost a century. It shouldn't glitch out."

"Okay, well, then, this one did."

"All right, stop. It doesn't matter why the pod is broken. It just is. So how long does Max have?"

"My theory is that being tethered to Rosa through the mark is what kept Max from going brain-dead, and in turn the stasis process is what kept the mark from fading. So he could be gone by tonight."

"Okay, well, we have three more pods. So let's just put him into another pod."

"No. He's just gonna do it again. I haven't told you everything. I didn't want to scare you. I didn't want to be the one that took the hope away."

"Talk now, Rosa. Right now."

"I was seeing Max in my nightmares months before I told you about it, and he was begging me to stop you. He said that he was in a lot of pain in there."

"That's Noah's pod. Noah told us it was broken. It wasn't keeping him in stasis. He could feel time passing. None of us thought of that."

"We've been doing everything we can to make Max stronger. He pulled his own plug."

Note...as far as we know Isobel was the only one who knew about Noah's pod being broken. In 1x12 it was before Liz arrived at the house that he told them about the broken pod, so only Max and Isobel heard that part of the story.

Alex on his training. "NSA intelligence cryptology training".

Monitor screen in the secret lab:

Noah's heart is still too weak to transplant. Kyle says it needs at least eight more weeks

"I wrote a paper for a bioethics class on patients in vegetative states who feel pain. Sometimes it's all they feel."

As a non sciencey person, I was wondering if bioethics class was a real thing. Tonight I saw an interview on the news with a UC Berkeley bioethics professor on COVID. So yes, it's a thing.

Alex on Michael that summer post-Rosa's death:

Starting fights with jocks

Broke into the drugstore

Not going to UNM

Hasn't hung out with Max all summer

Got busted for stealing hubcaps (Kyle's hubcaps, we learn later)

Became a walking bar fight

Was in jail when Alex left to enlist

Michael on Max in 2008:

"It's more than that. And it's less than that. We were friends when we were kids, but now Max reminds me of a bunch of stuff that I'd rather forget. The only thing that we have in common anymore is Isobel."

Max's yearbook had a pencil stuck in the page with Liz and Max's photo in it. (The one we first saw in 1x03).

"Biology Club. Max hated science. He was in that club for four years just to watch your sister chew on the end of her pencil."

Max's mindscape:

First just desert, clouds, and then lightning strikes (destructive energy?)

Liz's antennae -- they disappear from Isobel's hands

Rosa describes it as broken

Crashdown special is Max's favorite "Little Green Man milkshake".

The Crashdown counter is kind of merged with biology lab equipment.

The juke box is there

The Crashdown booths

Jeep

Neon Crashdown sign

One of those claw drop game machines (from the Crashdown) but it's filled with baked good displays.

The yearbook

Later, everything else is gone except the one Crashdown booth, the Jeep, and the neon sign.

The distorted music they follow to find Max is the Cactus Groove song in the music list...just, messed around with. See @angsty-nerd's post here:

"I'm the hothead. You are the hero. It's always been that way."

"You stole the hubcaps off Kyle Valenti's graduation present. Both his parents are cops. Do you want to end up in jail tonight?".

👀 Tonight, specifically.

Michael seemed excited about the job at Foster's Ranch until he found out that Max set it up for him. Max found out about it from his dad (only like the 2nd or 3rd mention of his dad in the series so far).

"When I got back in town I asked Max why you and your brilliant mind hadn't changed the world yet. He said you didn't care about the world enough to bother changing it. He believed you could."

Max and Isobel in the mindscape:

"You're okay. I could feel something was wrong with you. Everything felt…"

"Cold. I know."

"You can't be here. It's finally ending. I can feel it. But I don't know what happens if you're in my head when I die."

"So it's true? You want this?"

"I could feel my connection to the outside world getting stronger, so I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. I released a surge. You have to let me go, Iz."

"I can't take it anymore."

"Okay."

"I am so sorry."

"I just want to memorize this."

"Okay. Okay. I need you to tell Liz something."

"You can tell her yourself. She and Kyle are prepping for surgery. They're going to use the faulty heart. She just wants to talk to you before you die."

"No. No."

"You won't be suffering. They're just gonna bring you back and then let you go."

"No you have to stop this. You cannot bring me back under any circumstances."

"Max? What is really going on?"

"I am dangerous. Whatever Liz is bringing back is not me. It's just some broken shell."

Maria on her mom's computer

"Her nurse said that for the two weeks before she went missing, when she wasn't trying to escape, she was talking to someone online."

The 21st birthday flashback

Isobel gets Michael to help move Max after getting drunk on tequila. He passed out in front of the tattoo parlor. It's the same tattoo parlor Michael goes to at the end of the episode.

Max's weird drunken statement.

"The thing is, there has to be there. Okay? There's always three. Until the very end. I'll show you...What it means is you should be here…'cause it's all broken without three. So we'll figure it out. You'll find your way back."

👀 Until the very end. Interesting.

On Max becoming a deputy:

"You know he did the whole police academy thing because of you, right? He thinks you're gonna get into the kind of trouble you can't get out of if you don't know someone."

Back in the mindscape:

"I figured it all out. She, there's an energy to suffering, there's an energy to death, and when I heal people, I absorb that energy. So when I resurrected Rosa, I took in ten years of emptiness. So if you resurrect me, you will be bringing back an infection. Don't want… I don't want to come back as a monster. I don't want to hurt anyone that I care about."

"That's what this is about? We've been hurting, Max. We don't work without you."

"You will! You will. You are stronger now than when I died. All of you are. You, Michael, Liz, you will survive this. The three of you. No, you need to stop them, Iz. Now."

"Okay. I love you."

"You too." Isobel disappears.

Max is using pretty similar wording to his drunken rambles in the 21st birthday flashback

We don't see that Max is chained down until this next exchange with Rosa. Isobel didn't see that detail as far as we know. Didn't hear the chains clanking when they stood and hugged. Only after Isobel left.

"I'm sorry this is happening."

"Isobel is lying. She is buying time. You know she'll never let me go. But you can feel the darkness too, right? That's why you don't like being in my head. Because you know it's real."

"I didn't want that to be true, but yes."

"I know my sister and I know your sister and they'll never give up. So you have to be the one to stop this surgery, okay? Or I will destroy everything that we love. You have to stop them to save them. Now go. Please, Rosa. Go."

Isobel explaining to Liz

"When he saved Rosa he absorbed all of that dark energy. He's gonna have to expel it."

"And he's afraid he's gonna kill someone when he does."

"Yeah. So we just need someone stronger than Max to take that hit...if he thinks he needs to protect us he obviously doesn't know how capable we are. Bring him back, Liz. I'll handle the rest."

"I get it now. It's gotta be the three of us."

"He would never pull his plug to end his own suffering. Unless he thought he was saving us from something. And I'm a little sick of his heroic martyr crap."

In case you missed it, Michael did not know that. At the beginning of the hospital sequence Isobel is telling Liz what she learned in Max's mindscape and says that she hasn't been able to get ahold of Michael. Michael figured it out on his own. He finally "got it".

The pacemaker:

Isobel with Max at the end… everything is gone except the Jeep. And Bright Eyes playing (the song he and Liz danced to on their first date back in 2008). And then his eyes close and Bright Eyes fades away.

“First thing I remember is the three of us. We woke up terrified and lost. But together. And then all of the sudden I was alone. I got real good at being alone. I had given up on people entirely. And then you found me again. Hell of hero move. You showed up just in time. When you are a kid who nobody loves, kindness is a currency. Friendship doesn’t means jack. Family just lies, and hurts, and leaves. I’ve only ever known love to be temporary. So yeah, I push people away. Every time someone threatens to care about me I test their love until they have to leave. Connection is conditional. Everybody eventually gives up on the guy who refuses to be rescued. But you were the only one who I couldn’t run off. You never believed me when I tried to be something I wasn’t. So this thing in your chest, it might give your heart a pretty solid kick every once in a while. Consider it payback. It’s my hero move, Max. If you wake up, you consider us even, okay? If you wake up, we can be a family.”

Good visual parallels during Michael's speech. Alex and Kyle drinking together during the "and then you found me again". Maria walking up on "the guy who refuses to be rescued"

Max is in the coma for three weeks. Wakes up at the secret lab (instead of his house, which is where he was previously. I'm guessing it was a planned wake up because he's no longer plugged into all of the IVs and whatnot.

"I begged you to understand."

"Max, it's gonna be fine."

"No… I told you to let me go. I can feel it inside me."

"It's...it's symmetry, okay? It's just energy for energy. We can deal with that. Fight it, Max. This isn't you."

"I don't want to hurt you. I need to get out. I need to get away from you, from everyone."

"I can't let you do that."

Max shoves Isobel and runs. When he shoves her there's a slight ringing like the sound they use when the aliens use their powers. Isobel follows and stops him with her powers.

"I made a promise that if you came back and you weren't Max, and you were actually going to hurt people that I would kill you. I figure, hey, you got to play God. Make life and death decisions all on your own. Well it's my turn now."

MUSIC:

1. Letters To Cleo "Here and Now"

2. Lady Antebellum "Love Don't Live Here"

3. Cactus Groove "Fallin"

4. James Talley "Big Thunder"

8. Ross Copperman "Stars Are On Your Side"

5. Lindsey Ray "Keep You Safe"

6. Tommee Profitt feat. Sam Tinnesz "With you Til The End"

7. Bright Eyes "First Day Of My Life"

The Cactus Groove song is the first song this season that I haven’t been able to find on Spotify… let me know if any of y’all had any luck with it!

#roswell new mexico #rnm season 2 #episode details #long post #rnm 205 #i'll stand by you

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prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

Text

Through His Eyes - Part 12 [M]

Summary: Losing your sight after your accident was traumatic, and Jaebum’s guilt of knowing it should have been him instead creates an intricate bond between you both, as you overcome adversity and try to find your way in life again.

Genre: angst / romance

Characters: Im Jaebum x female reader

A/N: This story is emotional and raw compared to some of the content on my blog. It is in no way an attempt to glamourise or undervalue the lives of those who suffer from something similar. This story is purely fictional.

Warning: Today, we have a little bit of a smut scene in this, but it’s not full on (sorry lol).

Through His Eyes will be posted every Tuesday at 10am NZST.

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 - FINAL

You sensed someone was there before the door even opened to the art studio. It was a skill you had adopted since losing your eyesight, the indescribable nature of being aware before you truly heard or smelt the change in your space.

So when the door opened, you angled your head, trying to decipher who would be here this late at night. You had promised your mother you would take a taxi home by ten and when you check your watch not long ago; you still had just under an hour left. Madam Cho had left early to head to a scheduled event she was hosting and none of the other regular students had booked timeslots tonight.

It didn’t take you long to recognise the all too familiar sounds of his footsteps, your breathing hitched in your throat. Were you imagining Jaebum turning up right now? It wasn’t uncommon for you to fantasise scenarios where he would re-enter your world. But as time passed by, each daydream seemed less vibrant, shrouded with the reality that he hadn’t actually appeared in front of you. So why would he now?

You were hesitant to believe the signals your brain was giving you when the smell of his cologne joined the sounds of footsteps but you couldn’t deny it when his arms wrapped around you from behind, the shaky breaths you had vaguely registered now heaving into your ear, the coolness of his drenched body burning against your warm.

You were stunned, why was he so frozen?

He began to cry then, you were certain of it, and it took every ounce of you to remain still. To not react, keeping your emotions within. You had cried too much over this man and experienced much anger toward him. And even more towards yourself for how you reacted back then.

Jaebum took a deep breath before he spoke and you felt the hairs on your neck prick up in anticipation. “I’m sorry I’m late to receive your confession, Y/N. Will you accept mine?”

You had thought this over so many times now. When you would finally meet with Jaebum again, you had wanted to thank him for always being at your side. You had craved to scold him for things that bothered you in your connection, and you wanted to cry over your denied feelings. Yet, not once had you expected him to say something as bold as that. You hadn’t allowed yourself to believe that Jaebum actually would feel as you did. Perhaps he still didn’t, and it made you perplexed the longer you processed all this, his arms around you overwhelming your senses, your body greedily lapping up his touch even if he was wet. Yet, your mind was still two steps behind and you didn’t know what to do for the first time in weeks.

Jaebum sensed your turmoil, his grip around you tightening, pleading for you to answer him with something. Shoot him down or accept him, he needed something from you.

Your hand raised towards where his chin was resting on your shoulder and you felt him shift towards it to meet your touch halfway, nuzzling into your hand affectionately. Your heart thumped noisily in your chest and a smile formed on your lips.

God, you had missed him.

“You are very late.”

“I know,” he murmured and you inwardly rejoiced when his lips pursed against your palm that he was still rubbing into as if he was part feline and craved your reassurance. Your smile grew into a grin as you gently ran your hand up the side of his jawline, threading into the ends of his hair lightly.

It was new.

All of this, you had craved. Sure, you had teased him during your friendship of how close he would get, his skinship towards you was natural. This wasn’t your first time ever touching him.

And yet it was as if you were learning more of him than you had over the past several months. You were allowed to touch him like this now.

You didn’t want to stop.

Spinning around on the stool you were seated on, you ran your other hand up his chest to his shoulder, anchoring yourself there. Jaebum chuckled. “You’re bolder than the last time I saw you.”

“I had to learn how to survive without you,” you told him, drumming your fingers against his shoulder, your other hand still content up in his soaked hair. “If I didn’t learn to advocate for myself, I knew I didn’t have you to fall back onto.”

He shifted closer, if that was even possible. You were growing dizzy within this vivid dreamlike state. “Will you fall upon me now that I’m here?”

You shook your head. You wouldn’t return to your feeble role in this budding connection. You had evolved from relying on him for your basic level of happiness. And yet, you knew you could blossom further with Jaebum being back in your life. You wouldn’t fall on him, but you would hold him, perch on him when you felt ready to take flight.

“What if I lean into you instead, can I do that?” he continued and you giggled.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”

He nodded, burying himself into you. “I don’t want to let go.”

“You don’t have to.”

For an immeasurable time, you just remained like that. Holding one another. Reconnecting. Flourishing. You could tell without seeing him that Jaebum had suffered. You weren’t sure why, though his negative energy slowly dispelled within your embrace, opening doors he had hastily closed on himself.

He felt vulnerable under your touch and it was mind-blowing to be the person who held him up right now.

Eventually, he started to shiver. Your own body was damp from soaking up the rainwater from his clothing and Jaebum reluctantly stepped back with a sigh. “I better get you home so you can warm up.”

“Me? You’re the frozen one.”

You heard the little breath he let out as he smiled. “I’m thawing out well, thanks to you.”

The sentence was deeper than the reference to his current temperature and you smiled back at him, sliding off the stool and reaching for your bag. And then you took his hand in yours. “Jaebum, you need to be warmer than this.”

“I’ll go and shower as soon as I know you’re home safe.”

You didn’t know why this didn’t sit well with you. Was it because in the past, he always put himself second to you? Some of that was due to your physical limitations, yet he had selflessly always prioritised your needs first. You had been grateful every time, however now with clarity, you realised how little you had done for him.

You craved to meet his needs before your own first.

Shaking your head, your adamant answer confused him. “Y/N, you-”

“You need to shower first.”

“But, how… I mean, I don’t think your mother would-”

You squeezed his hand and you received a tremble back. Was he nervous at your insistence? His mind perhaps travelling down a path he hadn’t considered before? It made you fall in love with him further. How naïve was he, when it was once you who would blush at the slightest of change between you both. Now you coveted confidence around him that surprised him, and you hoped it would be reciprocated by him sooner rather than later.

“We can go to my apartment,” he offered slowly, swallowing loudly. His grip on your hand changed, taking the lead as he once used to, directing you out into the heavy din of the storm and dashing through the weather together until you reached his car.

The drive to his apartment was electric. Jaebum hadn’t let go of your hand once, not that you would have allowed him to. His thumb ran circles over your skin, surges travelling throughout your body. You knew that you were moving through a realm of the unknown. Dating hadn’t been something you had ever put much thought into after losing your eyesight, not wishing to burden anyone with caring for you in a normal relationship.

Yet you couldn’t deny what your heart desired and now that Jaebum was back in front of you again, well, you weren’t going to remain juvenile about it. For one night, you were simply a woman who loved the man beside you. And you had spent too long apart to be separated because of finer details.

Jaebum led you up into his home and you were silent yet active. Your brain was rushing to record the steps it took, the feeling of the walls, the counting of the floors. You slipped into his home behind him, and he turned to you, his hands shifting to your waist as he kicked off his shoes. He laughed happily and you breathed in new air. “I thought you were eager to get me home?”

“Let me adjust first, I’m in a new space.”

Jaebum let you wander. Much like the time where he had taken you out to the park near your home, he hovered and pointed out things when you bumped into them. And then he left you to it, disappearing into his home as you navigated the small kitchen space.

He returned to wrap you up in a towel. “Please shower first.”

“You’re soaked more than I am,” you reminded, shunting him away. “I can wait.”

“You’re my guest tonight so you should wash up first. I’ve pulled out some clothes for you to put on when you’re done.”

“Will I remain just a guest when I’m at your home?” you wondered, taking the towel he offered and the question remained unanswered as Jaebum led you to his bathroom. You could tell he was affected as he explained the best way to navigate his shower and after turning it on for you, he left you to it.

Admittedly, you were grateful for the escape from your heady experience. As you warmed your soul, you contemplated if you were being too much for him. After all, Jaebum had been gone for so long and had only accepted he had feelings for you recently, from what you could tell. You didn’t know what his expectations were, hell, you weren’t even sure of your own. For a moment, you doubted your approach, overwhelmed in this new environment of his home and your inner thoughts.

You didn’t take long, knowing Jaebum was out there waiting to shower too. Reaching for the towel, you secured it around your chest, fumbling around for the clothing Jaebum had left for you. They seemed to have vanished and you yelped when your foot connected with the vanity.

“Are you alright?” he called from the other side of the door and you giggled. Had he waited out there the entire time in case you needed him?

You decided you would allow Jaebum to rescue you right now. “I need help.”

The door swung open and you turned towards the sound, trying to get your bearings back. Jaebum was quick to realise what you had been doing, thrusting clothing at you suddenly. “Here.”

His fingers brushed against your bare shoulder with the force he had thrown the clothes at you in his flustered state and it elicited another round of courage you had swept down the drain with the shower water. You failed to grab onto the clothing.

“Sorry.” You stepped closer. “Can you help me?”

Even without sight, you knew he was torn. If he felt even a fraction of what you did for him, Jaebum would be suffering. You decided to torment him further, raising your arms up lightly. “You put it on, please?”

You felt the fabric of the hoodie, Jaebum slowly slipping it over your arms and head, his breathing shallow as he did so. His hands travelled with the garment and inadvertently the cinch over your chest unravelled, the towel falling faster than the hoodie was. He let go, his gasp evidence that he had seen you.

It didn’t scare you.

The heat of your body soared and you realised his hands had grabbed onto the hoodie again, grounding him, supporting him through his desires. Without warning, his mouth found yours. The passion was immediate, arms encircling your body and pulling you towards his. You realised he had changed whilst you showered, but he was still cool to the touch. His mouth was avid, kissing you as if his life depended on it, tasting you, imprinting you, loving you.

And then just as swift as he had placed his mouth on yours, he yanked back, panting heavily. “What are you doing to me?”

“You kissed me; shouldn’t I be asking you that instead?”

He groaned loudly, his grip on you dangerously close to where the hoodie ended on the back of your thighs. He intentionally stretched out his hand, grazing against your skin again and you felt him shake his head. You slid your hands up his chest to link behind Jaebum’s neck, tilting your head up towards his. “Do you still need that shower?”

“Later,” he murmured and that was all you needed to hear to push your forearms against his broad shoulders, leaping up into his readying embrace. He carried you towards his bedroom, kisses melding one into the other until he gently angled you down to the bed, your grip unrelenting, pulling him down with you.

You expected commentary, you had believed he would voice how you were driving him insane. He had no words to give you though, his actions instead speaking volumes. His hands yearned for more, his breath unsteady, his lips now tasting more of you.

And you were thankful for the lack of talking. Whilst you were confident in getting yourself to this point, now you were entirely lost. In the darkness, you were left anticipating his actions, not able to tell what he would do next. Your own exploration of him grew stunted as you tried to handle how he roamed you. His hoodie was off though, which you had achieved with some effort. You wanted to feel every muscle that laid beneath his skin, to run your hands slowly over every inch. The lust enveloping you both didn’t allow for such a languid response, and you admitted defeat in doing so once you felt the exposed chill of the air when Jaebum rid you of the hoodie he had only just put you in.

Fisting the sheets beneath you to steady your anticipation, you reacted to his touch again. Each caress of his hands made your senses overload, your body seeking out more and still trying to keep up with what was happening. You relied on the feeling, your breathing staggered when he moved down your body to where you needed him the most.

You were certain you saw colours behind your eyelids when his mouth met your womanhood for the first time.

The night was spent searching for ecstasy repeatedly. You had painted the entire galaxy within your mind, your greyscale world now vibrant and rich. As the first rays of the sun brightened up Jaebum’s bedroom, you opened your eyes, accepting the harsh change of brightness as it felt dull in comparison to how heightened you had been mere hours ago.

Turning slowly in the loose way the man sleeping soundly beside you held you to his warm chest, you let your fingers delve into his skin, softly navigating their way over him. Without Jaebum’s constant unravelling of your mind and body, you could finally explore him as you pleased. He remained asleep initially, too deep within his dreams to notice your slow, methodical touch. You knew he had stirred when you were imprinting his shoulder blades into your mind, yet Jaebum allowed you to continue, laying there as you moved over every inch of his upper body. When you finally were gently taking in his facial details, his arm that was wrapped over your side tightened, drawing you into his body so you were flush against him.

You were giddy again.

“Are you certain you know every part to me now?”

You shook your head. “I have so much more to learn.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Didn’t you get enough of me last night?” you wondered and Jaebum guided your face towards his, mere centimetres away from placing his lips on yours.

“I don’t think I ever could have enough of you.”

_________________

[Final Part]

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

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eyessharpweaponshot · 5 years ago

Note

I really enjoy your fics and the fic recs you’ve done in the past, but with all the new ones for Big Bang and bingo I really don’t know where to start! Any pointers?

Hi nonny.

Wow, tough question. Bellarke Big Bang had so many wonderful fics submitted for its challenge (some that are still on my ‘marked to read’ section on ao3) and mine and @pawprinterfanfic challenge (Bellarke Bingo) has submissions almost daily so again, I haven’t gotten around to reading them all yet.

But I will try to form a fic rec for you based on the ones I have read. I’ll add the links, pop in the summary and then give a brief commentary (in italics) of what I thought/why the fic needed to be included in this rec list.

We’ll start with @bellarkebigbang:

1. Paint me in Trust by @pawprinterfanfic

Clarke is on the run. It’s 1997 in Britain, during the height of the Second Wizarding War. Voldemort is running rampage through the Wizarding World, fear is weighing heavily on everyone, and anyone who doesn’t side with the Dark Lord is in danger. Clarke was expected to side with him. She’s from a pureblood family that has decades tangled with the Dark Arts, after all. But, she didn’t.

So, she ran. Somehow, she finds her way to a safe house where she meets with other wizards and witches on the run.

All Bellamy wanted to do is to keep his sister safe. Instead of saving her, he’s stuck in a safe house with her. She’s a Slytherin, and she’s the daughter of a Death Eater. He doesn’t trust Clarke; why should he? Now, he’s stuck with her as they roam around the country, looking for places to stay safe and stay hidden. He quickly realizes that things could be worse. And… maybe Clarke isn’t as bad as he thought.

A Harry Potter world AU, written by my magnificent friend Essie. I’m not just putting this here because she’s my friend, this fic is actual gold. It’s so well written, like everything she writes, and I cannot get enough of it. Brilliance.

2. We were in love (now we’re strangers) by @raven-reyes-of-sunshine

Bellamy stares at his phone in concern. Asking him to fake date Clarke would be a weird thing to ask even if they were still friends. But they’re not. They hardly even talk anymore. But for Raven to be asking, practically begging, there must be a fairly good reason that Clarke needs a fake boyfriend for this wedding. It’s just not something she would be asking otherwise. Especially not something she would be getting Raven to ask him. It’s a lot and it has him concerned.

He’s not agreeing to it. He’s just saying that he’s going to need more time and more information and maybe a face to face conversation before he makes a decision. He and Clarke might not be friends anymore. But he’d known her forever. He can’t help caring. He cares with his whole heart. He can’t stop that. And he won’t lie. He’s a little curious. So he sends Raven a message that says they’ll discuss it when she’s sober and switches off his phone so he can sleep.

This girl was born with heaps of talent. I actually got the opportunity to pre-read a little bit of this fic before it was posted and it was agony waiting for the rest of it. It grips you from the opening line and I can’t sell this fic enough. READ IT.

3. Take Me to Your River (A Waltz in Three Parts) by @chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky

After the events on the Ground, Clarke and Bellamy no longer feel like the team they once were. They’re puzzle pieces that don’t fit, languages with no connection, and worlds with no peace. So when they venture out into the new planet to scout before waking everyone up, they have an opportunity to relearn who they are after all the time apart, discovering the people they’ve become.

Except when they stumble across an abandoned mansion in the woods from a distant piano, they discover this world has hidden traps that Earth never had. Now they’ll have to survive their own ghosts. Except what will they do when the real ghosts are each other?

The Day Trip 2.0 fic no one asked for.

I adored this fic from beginning to end. It had to be part of my rec list because it’s one fic that stands out in my head when I think of this challenge. And I also love the girl who wrote it too - such a sweetheart.

4. In A Pitch Black World (Anything Goes) by @talistheintrovert

Bellamy and Clarke fell in love in Cairo in 1943, and then Clarke broke his heart. In 1949, Bellamy is working as a Private Investigator in London when Clarke turns up on his doorstep claiming her grandfather was murdered. No-one is above suspicion and the killer is poised to strike again.Or, the Crooked House AU that I’ve been *dying* to write for months.

Is it really a fic rec if Talis isn’t apart of it? The artwork of this fic combined with the story is so so beautiful and I always remember it. It’s such a gripping plot and I’d re-read this until I die. Yeah, this has to make the cut!

5. A Watch With No Hands by @kinetic-elaboration

Bellamy has lived his whole life in space, in a series of 300-year old space stations known as the Ark. When an oxygen crisis sends the stations down to Earth, he flees the beginning of a military dictatorship, and discovers that his long-abandoned home planet isn’t as deserted as he believed it to be.

Clarke lives in peace with her people, making art that celebrates the beauty of the Earth. But a recent discovery by her best friend has opened up the possibility that the world was not always this peaceful, nor this beautiful. Wells’s subsequent disappearance, the surreptitious experiments of her neighbors, and the inscrutable silence of the village’s leader, all contribute to a growing sense of unease in her community. When she encounters a stranger in the woods, they give each other the answers they’ve each been seeking: about history, peace, trust, the Earth’s violent past, and its hopeful future.

This was one of the most intriguing and unique storylines that I read in the Big Bang challenge. The way everything was described, the detail - ugh, it’s just a masterpiece. I wonder why I bother writing when I read fics like this one, how could I compare?

6. Hung up on You by @eyessharpweaponshot

Bellamy Blake does not get hung up on girls. It just doesn’t happen. It’s probably why he’s out of his depth when his easy ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement with Clarke Griffin turns into something he can’t control. He’s heartbroken when she leaves town, leaves him, and he thinks he’s made a good effort to move on. However, upon her return, it only takes the mere mention of her name for the crushing realisation to hit: he never got over her at all.

I’m gonna plug my own fic submission to Big Bang here guys. Because, well, why not?

***

Okay. Onto @bellarkebingo. This challenge is obviously close to my heart as myself and Essie are hosting it and I will eventually get around to all the fics on there.

I, myself, haven’t even had time to complete anything off of my own bingo card yet but I’m so excited to do it. The talent that has come out of this challenge already is off the chain and sign ups are always open, so come on over and request a card to start writing.

Here are some of the fics I have been loving so far:

1. Melt Into You by @icantloseyou-too

Clarke might have underestimated the blizzard. What was supposed to be a late finish at the clinic to catch up on paperwork turns into a storm-stayed night with the last person she would have expected, but as she’s about to find out, a lot can happen in one night.

Wow guys, just wow. What people are doing with the tropes on their cards - I can’t deal. I have no fingernails left after this fic - I was hooked, obsessed, invested, heartbroken, intrigued and outrageously happy. I love this girl to death and she created thee most magnificent piece for bellarke bingo. Bravo!

2. guess it’s never really over by @captaindaddykru

“You want me to put a kitchen supply up my—”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he interjects, shoulders shaking with a chuckle. It fades and a heavy feeling of resignation settles between them. “Imagine how many diapers we could buy with that kind of money.”

Clarke crosses her arms over her chest, almost petulant. She knows he hates it when she gives him an attitude for no reason. “Well, what do you expect we do?” Does he wanna blow it off? He never used to be a quitter. She lets out almost this nervous chuckle, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she thinks of the most ridiculous option of them all. “The old-fashioned way?”

He half-shrugs, cool expression on his face. Still, she knows him too well to not realize he’s being completely serious. “It worked out pretty well for us last time.”

Or: Clarke and Bellamy think it’s a good idea to try and have another child together even though they divorced three years ago.

Right, for those of you who know me well, seeing ‘exes, angst and smut’ in a bellarke fic just basically shoots the fic into my favourites/will read again pile straight away. This fic more than lived up to it. The plot was awesome and something I’ve never read before and even just describing it makes me want to go back and read it again right now. Amazing.

3. dance away your fear of love by @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold

Life for Bellamy Blake hasn’t changed much in the past few years, not since his mother’s death and he took over her coffee shop in his hometown of Stars Hollow. That is until he receives a phone call from his ex, his high school girlfriend Clarke Griffin. Motherhood brings Clarke back home and from there they slip into new roles, while he battles old forgotten emotions.

This was everything I never knew I needed. The characterisation, the plot, the FEELS. This had to be on the rec list, there was no way I’d consider leaving it off of it. It was honestly perfect, from every angle. Not to mention that the author is a complete and utter babe.

4. to save a life I didn’t have by @kombellarke

Post 6.08 Speculation. Bellamy drags Josephine through the woods in search of Gabriel. He is confronted by a manifestation of his darkest fear and deepest desire, Clarke Griffin.

I have read other fics from this author and honestly, she just gets better and better each time she writes. Such an amazing, heart wrenching fic. It was one of the first submissions I read and it brought the biggest smile to my face to see such talented fics coming to our challenge.

5. Would Roses Bloom by @icantloseyou-too

Clarke was totally fine with being ‘just friends’ with Bellamy, honestly. Even on the nights they kissed they were just friends. Even on the nights they fell into each other’s beds they were just friends. So when Bellamy starts dating Echo it shouldn’t sting at all. It shouldn’t.

Another fic submission by this girl and honestly, I can’t tell you which one I like better. They are both phenomenal but this fic stands out majorly to me. I can relate to it on a personal level and reading it makes me feel like I’m actually living in the plot. My heart races and I feel the shame, the worry, the pain - EVERYTHING.

6. Sick of Losing Soulmates by @pawprinterfanfic

Clarke and Bellamy talk after the events at Gabriel’s. After almost losing her again, Bellamy intends to not let emotions go unspoken.

I don’t think Essie has wrote a fic yet where I haven’t shed a tear over it. This was incredibly beautiful and so well written. I’m so lucky to know such inspirational, incredible writers.

7. hanging all her hopes on the stars by @carrieeve

a month ago, Bellamy and Clarke slept together. a one-time, drunken thing and now they are very much not talking about it. in fact, they are not really talking about anything because Clarke is sure Bellamy doesn’t want it to mean anything and since she’s been in love with him for years now, this all feels pretty much like the world is ending.

the world, not one to be outdone, decides to show off and actually ends.

I just read this fic this morning and I couldn’t leave it off the rec list. It was so good, so interesting and a great concoction of tropes off of her bingo card. I’m very fond of Karolina’s fics and this did not let me down. So good and a perfect fic to end the fic rec with.

#bellarke big bang #fic rec list #eyessharpweaponshot #bellarke bingo #ask #answered #anon #bellarke fanfiction #jensficrecs

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smeraldos · 5 years ago

Text

blindside [pt. 3]

truth or lie: you can’t keep a secret.

go back [2] <

from the beginning [1] <<

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genres: angst, romance, simmering suspense

summary: You’re studying at Korea University and working part-time at Mint, Min Yoongi’s assorted art shop. That much Jeongguk knows. What he doesn’t won’t kill him.

hint: two bts members are indirectly mentioned in this chapter…comment if you think you can guess who 👀

a/n: shoutout to worldwide lovely/spicy fic writer @crystaljins for reading my draft! (more a/n at the end)

⌘

Halfway to the barbecue place for her sendoff party, Jiwon had taken a detour, promising you it would be quick. “What are you looking for?” you asked, following her into a clothing boutique.

“This,” she answered, showing you her phone. On her screen was a red puff-sleeved blouse adorned with small flowers.

“That’s cute.“

“I’d hope so,” she replied, flipping through a row of shirts. “It’s for my sister. She’s been whining about how Seoul has a lot more style than Jeonju. I mean, what’s the difference? They look pretty much the same to me.”

“Actually, they’re not,” you pointed out, putting back a red blouse with polka dots. “This is HQ material, of the highest quality.”

“Ah. I’m hopeless when it comes to this stuff.” She moved on to the next rack. “I just told her to study hard.”

“But if you’re getting this, wouldn’t she just bug you to buy something again?”

“That’s why I didn’t tell her. It’s just that…” Her voice trailed off. You turned to see her on tiptoe, straining to reach the blouse that matched what she’d shown you. It was on a higher rack, and because she was short, she could only grasp the hem.

When you tried, you didn’t fare much better.

“Excuse me,” Jiwon called out, catching the attention of a tall employee. “Can you help–”

“How much is this?” A woman farther off cut in, holding out a viridian dress. She soon gathered she’d interrupted Jiwon and apologized. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

To Jiwon’s surprise, the employee went to the woman first.

“Wait,” she protested as he walked past. “I–”

“I’m sorry, miss,” he said, barely half as sincere as he should have been. “She called me first, but I’ll get to you right after.”

You both watched him help the woman, who you now noticed was dressed in Hermès, a Chanel bag dangling carelessly off her arm. She was pretty in a haunting way: deliberately thin, more bone than she was skin. It was obvious why the employee had gone over to help her instead of Jiwon, who - despite looking cute in your opinion - didn’t appear wealthy or waiflike.

“Can you believe it?” Your co-worker fumed. “I saw him look at me first, and he–”

She marched over to said employee, but before she could reach him, you caught sight of the shoes on display.

“Hold on,” you said, rushing to grab the tallest, sturdiest pair of heels you could find. When you returned, you placed them in front of her. “Try these.”

“What?”

You met her puzzled look with an arched brow. “Don’t you have a blouse to get?”

⌘

When you and Jiwon arrived at the restaurant, Taehyung held the door open. Min was already inside, waiting in line to claim a number for a table.

91, you read from the slip of paper he flashed upon returning. The last number called had been 80, so you excused yourself to go to the restroom. Jiwon followed suit, but she didn’t go into a stall as you did. Instead, she stood in front of the sinks, gathering her messy curls into a high ponytail.

“So are you seeing someone?” She asked, seemingly out of the blue.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Well…we’ve known each other for a while, haven’t we? I just never really got to know you.“

Though it was true, she’d never expressed an interest in your life outside of work. Not that you minded – you were trying to keep a low profile, so you hadn’t opened up to her, either.

“I’m not,” you said, stepping out to wash your hands. “I don’t have the time.”

"Then who–”

“Who what?”

“Nevermind.”

Through the mirror, you sent her a long, pointed look until she gave in. "I bumped into a guy on my weekend shift. He said he was looking for you.”

“And you thought he was my boyfriend?”

“It was just a guess. He was wearing that same necklace you have, and I’ve never seen it on anyone else.”

You weren’t wearing yours at the moment, but you knew what she was talking about - the amethyst pendant you wore strung on a thin, silver chain. Its twin was an emerald cut into the silhouette of a dog, the zodiac animal claiming the year of your birth, so you could see why Jiwon had mistaken it for a couple necklace. In truth, it was your brother’s.

You hadn’t seen him in a while, and to be honest, you preferred to keep it that way. Yet as Jiwon described his wiry profile and ready smile, you knew that would no longer be the case.

“Did he say anything else?”

“Just if I could tell you to check your phone. Then he left.” Jiwon turned to you. “So is he a friend? It seems like you know him, and he knows you enough to visit.”

Shrugging, you said, “I knew him since we were kids.”

“And here I thought childhood friendships didn’t last. You guys must be close.”

You hummed. It was as much a yes as it was a no.

⌘

It was late when you returned to your apartment – your small, spartan place on the sixth floor of the complex. Climbing up so many stairs at once was a feat, but you didn’t feel accomplished. All you felt now was burnt out.

You unlocked the door to reveal your sofa, plush and orange, and immediately went to lie down. It was your favorite spot to rest after a long day, and you’d have stayed that way if you hadn’t seen the post-it on your fridge. check lease exp. date, you’d jotted in a hurry. It was sometime this month, but the exact day escaped you.

You got up and went to your room, crouching beside your bed so you could slide a box out from underneath. Inside it were your important files – the last place people would look for valuables was where they normally stashed things that weren’t.

You flipped through papers until you found what you were looking for: a letter, creased, bearing the logo of your residence on its corner.

Hastily, you scanned it for a date. 4/15/17. Not good. That meant you only had a few days to renew your contract or find another place, and with the way your apartment hunt was going, you doubted you’d find a new one soon.

Neither could you afford to pay your bills for the next year.

Not for the first time, you considered applying for other jobs. You’d have to find a way to work around your current ones at Mint and a high-end restaurant, but that wasn’t an issue. You’d done it before.

How long they could keep you afloat was a different matter.

At that moment, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out to see a light blinking purple, a color that belonged to only two of your apps: a fantasy game and a burner app.

You couldn’t remember the last time you played.

As it was, you opened the burner to a new message from Pink Panther. Just two images, to be exact. One was of gleaming red shoes; the other, their price tag.

You looked at the tag first, thinking he’d wanted to draw your attention to it, but the price was nothing special. Standard, considering the luxury brand. It wasn’t until you zoomed in that you noticed an unusually long string of numbers below the barcode.

0b1010111100101011110000000

You knew binary code when you saw it. Pink Panther had made sure of it, although he used it sparingly, and only in subtle hints.

This one translated to 22,960,000. In won, that would be exactly what you needed to cover your security deposit and rent for a year. How he knew was beyond you.

But you could care less. You were desperate, and you needed to respond before the timed message disappeared. And with it, the promise of keeping your home.

where can i get them? You texted back, a veiled reference to the money. As soon as you did, the images vanished.

Nothing. That was all you got in response.

You waited a while, then gave up, resigning yourself to your hapless future when an ellipsis appeared.

💬

Then finally: mirae, my face isn’t a secret. you’ll know where to find me.

...

a/n: hugs and thank you’s to everyone who showed this fic a ‘lil love and/or boosted it! hope you’ve had fun and i’m very sorry to any who were waiting - i had a lot to figure out and i’ll do my best to get the next one out as soon as i can 💜

if you’re wondering where jk is, i really wanted to put him in this part but he’ll appear in the next chapter! thanks for reading and until then 🔍

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook au #bts au #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #jungkook fic #kim taehyung #min yoongi #bts #my fic

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splendidlyimperfect · 5 years ago

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Six months after Jaskier leaves Geralt on the mountain, he finds another white wolf.

Chapter Summary: Jaskier heads back town for his horse, but realizes wolf Geralt can't come with him. Then he hears some unsettling news about the Witcher.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 Fandom: The Witcher Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier Characters: Geralt, Jaskier, Yennefer Tags: canon divergence, animal transformation, post ep6 fix-it (sort of), magic, wolf!geralt, bamf!jaskier, lots of fluff but also some angst

Inspired by this gorgeous art by @kayivy

-----

The walk to the town is refreshing. A gentle breeze carries the promise of spring, and now that the sun is higher in the sky, it’s warm enough for Jaskier to shrug off his overcoat. Geralt runs ahead for a bit, then circles back and trots up to Jaskier, barking at him happily before bounding away into the bushes again.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jaskier says affectionately as Geralt returns to him for the sixth time, having seemingly run off most of his excess energy. He slows to a gentle lope that matches Jaskier’s pace and the two of them make the rest of the trek in a comfortable silence.

It’s only once they’re within sight of the town that Jaskier realizes their dilemma.

Continue reading on AO3

“You,” he says to Geralt, who has sat down on his haunches and is looking at Jaskier with his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth, “are far too big to come to the inn with me.” Geralt cocks his head to one side, one ear tipping forward while the other stands straight up.

Jaskier sighs, looking down the hill with his hands on his hips. Bringing a wolf into the town is definitely not an option, no matter how well-behaved – or adorable – he is.

“You’re going to have to wait here,” he says as he scratches behind Geralt’s ears. “Can you do that for me?” Geralt whines at him. “Well, it won’t do either of us any good if I end up arrested for… honestly, I don’t even know what they’d arrest me for, but it would end in trouble and I’ve had rather enough of that for now, haven’t you?”

Geralt barks at him. “Well, of course you think that,” Jaskier says, shaking his head. “You can just eat anyone who looks at you funny. I, on the other hand, cannot. See?” He bares his teeth to show Geralt the lack of sharp incisors and Geralt huffs. “Just stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I have my horse.”

Geralt looks puzzled as Jaskier backs up a few feet, and when he stands to follow, Jaskier sighs. “No, you can’t come right now. Stay.” Geralt takes another step forward and Jaskier shakes his head. “Sit,” he says, but Geralt ignores the command and runs up to him instead, headbutting Jaskier happily and licking his hand.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, exasperated, and Geralt pants happily at his name. “You have to stay.” He points at the ground and Geralt immediately leans down, sniffing curiously. “Of course you don’t know what that means,” Jaskier says, rubbing his face. “You’re a wild animal.”

The only experience Jaskier has with dogs is a puppy that his sister had owned when they were little, and he’d hated the thing. It was tiny and mean and had bitten him on more than one occasion. This was something entirely different.

He crouches down in front of Geralt and puts his hands on either side of the wolf’s face. Geralt licks his cheek and Jaskier laughs, pressing their foreheads together. “Listen to me,” he says, and surprisingly, Geralt settles down on his haunches. “Good boy. Can you stay here for me? I’ll come back for you; I promise.”

Geralt lets out a loud sigh and flops forward, resting his head on his legs and looking morosely up at Jaskier. “Don’t look at me like that,” Jaskier says, standing up and dusting the snow off his pants. “I won’t be long, I swear.”

Then he turns down the hill and heads into town, trying to ignore the uncomfortable ache in his chest.

Buttercup is excited to see him – as excited as a horse can be, at any rate. She nickers and headbutts him as he strokes her forehead, then pulls an apple out of his pocket and hands it to her.

“You ready to head out?” he murmurs. “You’ll be surprised to hear that I made a new friend. I think you’ll get along, he’s nearly as stubborn as you.” She makes quick work of the apple and sniffs at his pockets for more. “I’ll get you another one, just let me settle everything with the innkeeper.”

True to their word, the couple from the road left a debenture, and the innkeeper is quick to offer Jaskier another evening free once he sees his lute. “It’s been mighty dead here lately,” the man says, looking around at the handful of patrons eating their midday meal. “A bit of music ought to bring in a better crowd.”

Jaskier shakes his head. “Unfortunately, I have other obligations,” he says, thinking about the wolf curled up outside the town waiting for him. “Perhaps another time.”

“Wait, aren’t you the Witcher’s bard?” The innkeeper’s eyes widen in recognition and Jaskier cringes.

“I’m nobody’s bard,” he says, voice steady. “We don’t travel together any longer. I haven’t seen him in…” It takes him a second to calculate the time, and when he realizes it’s been over half a year, a pang of grief fills his chest.

“Nobody has,” the innkeeper says, shaking his head. “Been gone for months, now. Some folks say he got killed by a dragon.”

“He wasn’t killed by—” Jaskier sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean, nobody has seen him?” He shouldn’t care. This isn’t his problem. Geralt isn’t his friend.

“Dagond said that Cegrirt heard word from a travelling merchant that the Witcher had disappeared. Folks ‘ave been looking for him but he hasn’t been heard from since afore the snow fell.” The innkeeper looks around the room and sighs. “We was hopin’ he’d turn up here soon or later. Got somethin’ pickin’ off the sheep up by the old farms, could use a hand takin’ care of it.”

“It’s probably just a werewolf,” Jaskier mutters. He taps his fingers on the counter, mind still stuck on Geralt is missing. “Who did you say had information on the Witcher?”

“Dagond,” the innkeeper replies. “Lives up at them farms outside the town. It’s his sheep what gone missin’.”

Jaskier sighs. “I’ll pay him a visit,” he says, picking up his pack and hoisting it onto his shoulder. “And maybe I can do something about your werewolf problem while I’m there.”

When Jaskier and Buttercup make it back to the hill outside town, the wolf is still waiting patiently. As soon as he sees them, he barks happily, then bounds over and starts sniffing at Buttecup. She appears nonplussed by the inspection, ignoring Geralt in favor of nosing at Jaskier’s hands for more treats.

“I don’t have anything else for you,” he says, stroking her nose. Geralt, apparently satisfied that Buttercup means them no harm, turns to Jaskier and starts frantically wagging his tail.

“I’m very happy to see you too,” Jaskier says, laughing. “I’m glad that you’re not in trouble – it appears your namesake is.” Geralt tips his head to the side. “Yes, I know, I’m sure he’s just fine. He can handle himself, and prefers to be by himself – I’m well aware of that because he made it extremely clear the last time we spoke.”

Geralt whines at him and licks his hand. “I shouldn’t care,” Jaskier says, voice softer. “I really shouldn’t because he’s a colossal twat, but he’s also...” He tips his head back and stares up at the bright blue sky, willing himself not to cry. “Well, one can’t stop being in love with someone just because the feelings aren’t mutual, now can they?”

Geralt shifts closer and leans against Jaskier, gazing up at him with a look on his face that’s somehow apologetic. “I know,” Jaskier says. ��Being in love with a Witcher, it’s a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?” Geralt huffs and Jaskier sighs, scratching behind his ears.

“Well, come on,” Jaskier says, looking down the road towards the farm. “We’ve got werewolves to hunt and a Witcher to find.”

#the witcher #witcher netflix #witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt z rivii #jaskier #wolf!geralt #update #new chapter #my fic

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winryofresembool · 6 years ago

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Love Can Melt the Ice, ch 23 (the Grande Finale)

Summary: I think the title says it all ^ it’s time for the goodbyes ;___;

A/N: This is it. The final chapter before the epilogue. I can’t believe we have finally gotten here. I’ve had a bit of a skitty day but at least I finally managed to finish this so I’m very happy about that. Please, please, review because now that we are at the end, I really want to hear your opinions. I guess that’s all for now. I’m probably gonna repeat this once it’s time for the epilogue, but thank you to everyone who has supported me and this fic through this long journey! Without the lovely comments, I wouldn’t have been motivated to continue. Oh, and special thanks to the amazing @roboticrainboots for the amazing art ♥

Now, get ready for a monster chapter (I will post this on ao3 tomorrow!). But make sure to read A Letter to Winry before that if you haven’t, because it has a role in this chapter.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5.5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 pt 1, pt 2, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

Next chapter: coming

Companion pieces (note: these are all post Olympics happenings so reading the main fic first is recommended): 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Words: 5700+ (yup.)

Genre: mostly floof.

Warnings: there is one scene where things get p close to M-rated but... there’s nothing explicit imo...

Most of Ed’s team plus Winry and Gracia gathered together to watch team Amestris’ ladies play for bronze. Winry was wearing her green jersey again, earning a cheek kiss from Ed, even though he refused to tell her what the kiss was for. Alphonse, who was sitting next to them, just giggled at his brother’s behavior before turning his attention back to the ice.

The first two periods of the game were even, with team Amestris tied 1 – 1 with team Drachma at the end of the first 40 minutes. Apparently, coach Olivier Armstrong managed to encourage her team in just the right way during the intermission, though, because in the third period the audience got to see a whole new team Amestris.

“Is it just me, or do they look like they’re almost ready to kill?” Winry asked when Rebecca Catalina gave a Drachman forward a particularly powerful tackle. A few moments later, Riza Hawkeye shot the puck from a spot she had never failed to score from, and the Amestrisian side of the audience got a reason to get loud.

“She’s better at that than I am,” Roy gawped at his long time “friend” who coolly fistbumped her teammates after the goal.

“That doesn’t really mean a lot, though, Mustang,” Ed remarked and made everyone laugh. “Isn’t your shooting percentage like… 0,05?”

“Funny how you remember stats like that… but you don’t remember how much I’ve sat in the penalty box because I’ve had to defend you.”

“Now now, everyone cool down a bit!” Hughes yelled over the roaring audience. “Ross is on a breakaway!”

And she was. She had managed to outspeed two Drachmans and was just about to get face to face with the goalie, when someone tripped her. A penalty shot was called, and Maria Ross used the opportunity to her advantage, making the situation 3-1.

“You guys could learn a lot from them,” Gracia teased, and the men around her couldn’t help but agree.

At some point Ed and Winry started wondering why Al was being so quiet, but when they turned to look towards him, they noticed Mei had finally arrived. She and Al were throwing disgustingly sappy looks at each other, something that Ed would probably call “eye sex” when Al wasn’t hearing.

Riza scored one more goal (from the corner of his eye Ed could see Roy’s badly hidden excitement), and team Amestris ended up winning the bronze medal with a 4-1 game. As they got their medals, no one on the ice looked prouder than Olivier Armstrong, and Ed guessed she would soon start sending smug messages from their celebrations to Roy. They had a weird rivalry going on, having known each other since they were kids. Ever since having to finish her playing career early because of an injury, Olivier had acted bitterly towards Roy and used every opportunity she could to brag him about her coaching achievements.

Roy didn’t care about Olivier’s expressions, though, because his and Riza’s eyes met and his expression turned softer than Ed ever remembered seeing.

“Could you be any more obvious?” Ed asked with annoyance, but then a familiar arm wrapped around his, making Ed forget all about the googly eyes around him.

…

Ed tried to talk himself out of the ending ceremony of the Olympics, because having played only one game and having to walk on the crutches, he thought he would feel out of place there. However, his teammates kept insisting, and when the goalie Armstrong offered to carry him on his back at the stadium, he knew he was fighting a lost battle.

Since it was a known fact that these were Gracia’s last Olympics, she got the honor of carrying the flag of Amestris as one of the most successful figure skaters the country had had so far. Her fiancé was next to her the whole time, gesturing towards her every time a camera went past. Winry, who also walked near her, glanced at Ed on Alex Louis Armstrong’s shoulders every once in a while. He looked a bit embarrassed but was still smiling and waving at the audience just like everyone else in their group. Winry knew he was actually happy to be able to participate and grinned at him when she noticed he was watching her.

A bit later, they were sitting in the stands next to each other, and when the fire on the giant torch went out, and the final fireworks formed colorful shapes above, Ed said: “Can’t believe it’s over.”

“Yeah,” Winry agreed. “But let’s not be sad that it’s over, let’s be happy it happened, right?”

“Sounds good to me.” Ed looked briefly down and saw Winry rubbing the knuckles of his real hand through the glove. Something warm that he couldn’t describe started bubbling in his stomach, making him happy he was there in that moment.

…

”Hey, granny!” Winry answered her phone at the airport. It was a day after the ending ceremony, and everyone had packed their things and left the hotel after the breakfast to start their trip back home.

”Hey, dear.” Pinako Rockbell greeted her granddaughter. “Are you on your way home yet?”

“We just arrived at the airport. Uh, that’s sort of why I’m calling.”

“Oh.”

“You see…” Winry started a bit hesitantly, “we get back to Central City quite late and there aren’t any trains leaving to Rush Valley until tomorrow…”

“And? Are you going to stay at the hotel for the night?” Pinako asked.

“Actually… I was going to stay at Ed’s place. If that’s OK with you.”

Pinako had to admit she still saw Winry as her little girl, but it was a fact that she was already 18 and way smarter than Pinako had been at Winry’s age. So in a way, it would be hypocritical of her to deny her this.

“Ed’s? So, are you two a couple now?” Pinako asked curiously.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Winry still blushed when she stopped to consider the fact that she really had a boyfriend now.

“Oh. I hope that runt is treating you well,” Pinako stated coolly.

“He is! I mean, he’s nothing but respectful…” Winry reassured her.

“Good. Well, you are an adult now so you have to make your own decisions. But remember to be careful. And use protection!”

Winry’s eyes widened. “Granny! Just because I’m staying a night there doesn’t mean… ugh… Sleeping is all we are planning to do. He’s recovering from a pretty bad injury.”

“I believe you,” Pinako said. Winry thought she could hear a bit of laughter in her voice. “Somehow, I still have a feeling that’s not the only reason why you are calling. You wouldn’t listen to your old granny even if I had said no. So, what’s on your mind?”

“Granny… I think I’ve made my decision about the next step in my career. But I want to hear your opinion before telling anyone else…”

“Go ahead, tell me.”

The two women spent a good while chatting about Winry’s plans before finishing the call. When Winry joined the others in the waiting area, Ed asked what Pinako had said.

“She called you a runt,” Winry snickered, loving to tease her boyfriend.

“She what?!” Ed looked mortified.

“Oh relax.” Winry waved it off. “She didn’t mean it like that. In fact, I think she approves of us. At least she allows me to stay with you.”

“Why wouldn’t she? It’s not like we…” Ed stammered.

“I know, Ed.” Winry sighed. “Anyway, I’m quite excited to see where you live. Although… I bet you don’t remember to clean and have sweaty clothes all over the floor.”

“Oh? I’ll prove you wrong then.” Ed smiled at his girlfriend mischievously and grabbed her from her shoulder, so she had to face him. Before he could pull her closer, though, Winry stopped him.

“Ed… There are cameras everywhere. Are you sure you want to do this?”

He looked around quickly, noticing that she was right. Clearly their group drew a lot of attention, with two Olympic figure skater medalists and two well known hockey player siblings in it. Sighing, he admitted: “Fine. Let’s save it for later.”

“Looking forward to it,” Winry ruffled his hair and turned her head to see what Al and Mei were doing. Clearly, they didn’t have any problems showing public display of affection. It looked like they had known each other much longer than the 5 days they had actually spent together. Mei was hugging Al tightly, and it wasn’t until then that it properly hit Winry that once Mei would leave to her own flight, they probably wouldn’t see each other in months. She and Ed had it easy compared to those two; at least they lived in the same country.

“So, how is it going with you two?” Ed asked when Al returned from the gate behind which Mei had disappeared. “Plans to move to Xing yet?”

“C’mon, brother, we haven’t known each other that long yet. I did promise to visit her in the summer, though. It’s not that far anymore… After that, who knows. She is from a wealthy family that is expecting her to make a name for herself… it’s not that simple for her to move to Amestris. Not that I’ve seriously considered asking her that yet,” Al blushed slightly. “It’s way too early. But I guess the summer will tell a lot…”

“I can’t wait to see dad’s expression when you just one day announce you’re going to move to Xing,” Ed teased. “Make sure to tell him when I’m there too.”

“Don’t be mean, brother. It might bite you back one day.”

“Har har. Anyway, we should go,” Ed nodded towards the gate where people had already started gathering to show their passports and tickets.

…

“So, this is where you live?”

“Yup.”

Winry looked around with mild surprise. She didn’t know what she had expected. A mansion? A penthouse in one of the most expensive apartment buildings in Central? Wasn’t that what most rich hockey players bought? She wasn’t stupid, she knew Ed’s salary had at least one 0 more than hers, because unfortunately female athletes still didn’t receive the appreciation they deserved. But when she stepped into Ed’s apartment, it was almost like she had come back to Resembool (if you ignored the view from the window); it was surprisingly modest, with only the “necessary” furniture such as a small wooden dinner table with a couple of matching chairs and a black leather couch for two in front of a TV and a video game set. The bed in the bedroom was thankfully big enough for two to sleep, Winry noted happily. The cover on it wasn’t the most charming, though; it was black and had skulls printed on it.

“Where have you gotten that from?” Winry pointed at it, looking quite amused.

“Do I sense a Judgey McJudge raising her head?” Ed set his hands on his hips and tilted his head a bit. “Anyway, I think I got it when I first moved away from home but it’s been a few years so I don’t remember which store it was anymore. Why? Do you want to buy one too?”

“Nah, just wondering which store I should bribe to never sell anything to you again.” Winry retorted and stuck her tongue out.

“Is this it?” Ed pretended to be shocked. “Our first real fight as a couple, over my bed covers? I guess it was fun while it lasted.”

Winry pushed his shoulder lightly. “You’re such a big baby. Keep that thing if you want, but please let me bring my own pillowcase and duvet cover here so I won’t have to see nightmares.”

“Y-you’re already considering bringing your stuff here?” Ed asked, this time actually surprised.

“We agreed to be a couple, didn’t we?” Winry asked pointedly. “Couples visit each other sometimes. So yeah, I’m just meaning my visits. I’m not planning to move here any time soon. I have my career and friends in Rush Valley.”

“Right. Of course. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” Winry softened, covering his cheek with her warm hand. “I know you don’t just magically get over your fear of commitment even if we did agree to do this. I… should also be better at remembering to not push it.”

“You’re pretty wonderful,” Ed gave her a gentle smile, very different from his usual one that went from ear to ear and often implied mischief.

“Thanks. I’m trying my best,” Winry said happily and continued taking in the rest of Ed’s apartment.

“I have to say, I’m surprised it’s this clean here. I expected a huge mess. You know, based on your hotel room and stuff.”

“Nah, it’s only because Al was staying here before the Olympics. Don’t get too used to this.”

“I’ll try to remember to thank him the next time we see him,” Winry noted. “Hey, is it OK if I use the shower? I’m feeling quite gross after that flight.”

“Yeah, go ahead. There are clean towels in that closet there if you need any.” Ed showed her the right door.

“Thanks,” Winry said before leaving her stuff in Ed’s room, grapping a towel and disappearing from his view.

Ed remembered the similar situation from a good week ago, when he and Winry had shared their first night together. Back then his thoughts had immediately gone to the dirty track, and he had secretly wished his leg wasn’t in a cast. But something had changed in such a short time. He understood now that what he felt towards Winry wasn’t purely physical attraction anymore. He respected her, admired her skills and personality and wanted her to be happy. Preferably with him, of course.

So while he still blushed fiercely at the thought of his naked girlfriend in the shower, he could focus on the more respectable details: the content smile on her face as the warm water eased the stiffness of her muscles after a long flight, the way she hummed happily one of her favorite songs while she rinsed off the soap (not that he’d admit ever hearing her humming).

Ed started taking in his surroundings, and something caught his eyes: a picture of his family, all together before his mother had fallen ill. For a long while Ed had hated that picture because it reminded him of what he could never have, what he so deeply wanted; a full family. But suddenly his parents’ looks towards each other caught his attention; their smiles told him they must have loved each other a lot. Briefly, he wondered if he and Winry could achieve that…

Love was something Ed understood only vaguely. Apparently, when you’re in love, your brain produces certain chemicals that makes you act like an idiot (or that’s what it sounded like in Ed’s opinion). Thinking back to his recent behavior, he certainly had acted quite weirdly (even more than usual, Al’s voice said in his head). He was blushing and stuttering and sometimes even sweating for no good reason, and he wanted to do things he had never wanted to do before (simply kissing had felt a bit absurd in his head). In Ed’s opinion, it was against all the chemistry rules he had learned so far. How could simply being with another person make your brain go drugged? But now that he was falling into that “trap”, he supposed not every reaction had to make sense. If being with Winry made him feel this happy, then to hell with equivalent exchange.

Was he ready to use the big and scary L-word yet? He was worried he would freak out both her and himself if he said it out loud (after all, it had only been 3 weeks since they were reunited), but he wished his actions were clear enough that she knew how he felt even without saying it. Winry had already been honest about her feelings and he felt he owed her for it…

Suddenly Ed remembered his letter. After Winry had asked for the break before her competition, Ed had decided to write down some of his thoughts to clear his mind, and wrote a letter for Winry that he however had never intended to give her. But with them leaving to their separate ways tomorrow, he thought that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all. He hopped to his suitcase that was yet to be unpacked and found the slightly worn piece of paper from one of its pockets. He added a couple of lines at the end of the letter before he heard the shower turning off, making him push the paper into his pocket. Soon Winry stepped out with only a towel around her, a smaller one around her wet hair. She sneaked behind Ed and wrapped her arms around his torso before leaning her head against his shoulder blade.

“That felt nice,” she mumbled. “You should probably take a shower too, though… You smell like sweat.” She let go of Ed and started drying her hair with the towel.

“Hey, it’s just my masculine scent!” Ed tried to protest but pulled his bandage protector and a folding shower chair that he had gotten from Drachma from his luggage and focused on getting the protector on. When he got up, he noticed Winry was sporting a silk robe she had gotten from Xing, only underwear under it. He may he already seen her nearly naked, but that didn’t stop his mouth from going dry as the robe didn’t really leave too much room for his imagination.

“You’re staring,” Winry pointed out suddenly, not knowing how she should react to the fact that her form seemed to cause quite some interest in her partner.

“Can you blame me? You are hot as… OK, let me rephrase that: I am one lucky bastard to have a girlfriend like you.”

“You hockey players are so cheesy,” Winry said as she ran a finger on his cheek briefly. From her expression, though, Ed read that she was actually quite pleased by the compliment.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’mma take that shower now.” He hopped into the bathroom with the chair in his hand.

Once he came out clean and refreshed some minutes later, he found Winry watching the picture of his family curiously.

“Why are you looking at it?” he asked.

“I’m just… trying to remember what it was like when we both still lived in Resembool,” Winry answered dreamily. “Do I remember correctly that you used to walk with stilts a lot? Because I was nagging about you being shorter than me.”

“I was not shorter than you!” Ed protested immediately.

“You were too!”

“Was not!”

“OK, let’s finish this before it stops being fun. I also remember your mum baking a lot of delicious pies, and my favorite part of hanging out at your house was always when she called us to get inside to taste them.”

“Yeah… it was nice,” Ed admitted, although there was a hint of sadness in his voice.

Winry sensed the change in his energy right away. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to talk about… I mean, it must be super painful to you… I should know.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry because I sometimes forget how much you have gone through too because you are so positive and helpful and energetic most of the time.”

“I… I don’t know how I do it sometimes. Maybe I’ve gotten good at putting on a smile even when I hurt. But I’m lucky to have such supportive people around me. It’s you guys who keep me going.”

She turned embrace him and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. Ed’s face heated again when he felt the silk against his bare skin and remembered she was wearing very little under it. He had to take the situation in control before something else would happen, so he broke the hug and tried to change the topic.

“So… Would you like to see more photos? I have some from our old house. Haven’t really looked at them since we moved out, but… who knows? Maybe you are in some of them too?”

“Are you OK with that, though?” Winry asked, trying to read his expression. What if the photos triggered some bad memories in him?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Maybe it’s time for me to face the past…”

“In that case, we can do it,” Winry accepted and soon Ed pulled a photo album from one of the drawers.

They sat down on the couch and started flipping through the pages. On one of the first pages, there was a picture from Ed’s fourth birthday party, and Ed recognized a familiar blonde-haired girl among the guests.

“That’s you! I can’t believe I didn’t remember…”

“You didn’t remember me when we first met at the Olympics, right? Well, we were really small back then…”

“True… Woah, look at this! Did you… did you just throw that piece of cake on my face? What did I do to deserve that?” Ed asked, faking offended.

“You were probably the same brat as usual…” Winry said with amusement. “We had played the donkey’s tail game and you were bragging because you managed to get the tail closest to its rightful spot… because you peeked. I couldn’t accept that.”

“Sounds like something I would do,” Ed laughed and turned the page. Suddenly he exhaled sharply, and Winry didn’t have to look at the photo too long to understand why. In it, Ed was around 15 years old, and he was smiling widely at a little girl playing with her big white dog. Winry guessed Al must have taken that pic when visiting Ed, because she doubted Ed would have saved anything that Tucker took.

“That’s her, right?” Winry asked, and instinctively took Ed’s hand into hers, to comfort him.

“Yeah, she is…”

“If you want to… I would like to know more about her. Some happy memories?” Winry thought that maybe remembering the happy times could help Ed to get over the guilt he still seemed to carry.

“Well…” Ed seemed to consider it for a moment. “When it was her 4th birthday, her biggest wish was to get a birthday cake. With a bastard father like that, and mother gone, it was no wonder she hadn’t ever gotten to eat birthday cake before that. Since I had no games that day, I had plenty of time in my hands and decided to make her wish come true. Yeah, you probably guessed right that I hadn’t ever baked before that. But I decided to take it like a chemical experiment, and weirdly enough, it became edible. When Nina saw the cake, her expression… it was the happiest I had ever seen on her face. She came to me, hugged me and said: “Thank you, big brother.” It was the first time she called me that. This picture was taken that day, Al came to help us eat the cake too and he had a camera with him. I didn’t expect that picture to… I mean, Al must have put it there.” He continued to stare at the living room wall with a blank expression.

“That was very sweet of you. You look happy in that photo,” Winry noted calmly to drag Ed from his thoughts. “You must have really cared about her a lot…”

“Yeah… Ugh, dammit!” He slammed his fist on the couch suddenly. “Even now when I see this… it makes me so fucking angry… It makes me wish there was something I could do, but…”

“Hey, what if I told you maybe there IS something you can do for her?” Ed threw Winry a suspicious look, so she continued: “I mean, I know they both are long gone, but… I’ve been thinking… we can still help to prevent other kids from suffering the same kind of fate.”

“How?” Ed asked curiously.

“Well, I was thinking of giving some of my prize money to this organization that helps kids of abusive parents… They search for kids who might be in need of help, offer therapy and just talking company, a safe place to be… and so on… What do you think?”

“I think that sounds amazing… So, can I ask you how much exactly you are planning to give away?”

“Well…” she blushed. “Most of it… I mean, it’s not like I need…”

That was all she managed to say before he crashed his lips against hers. This kiss was more passionate than any of the ones they had shared before that, stirring a brand-new feeling inside them. At some point the album fell on the floor because the couple’s attention was elsewhere. They leaned against the arm of the couch, Winry sitting between Ed’s legs trying to avoid touching the cast, her upper body pressed against his. As Ed deepened the kiss, his hands started traveling on her robe, going from the waist towards her chest. Before reaching her breasts, he stopped to meet her gaze.

“Yes, Ed, you can touch them,” Winry confirmed even though Ed hadn’t voiced the question. She raised herself from her spot to give him a better access.

At first he just felt them through the fabric, but the small gasp Winry made encouraged him to inch his fingers under the garment. He seemed a little too proud of himself when he noticed how much Winry seemed to enjoy the automail hand, but suddenly he stopped and put his hands down.

“Not this chivalry again,” Winry sighed. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.”

“Then how about you let me take the charge? We don’t have to go all the way, but a little exploration won’t hurt, right?”

The eagerness from before returned to Ed’s face. “You’re right.”

Winry stood up from the couch and offered her hand to him. “Should we go to continue in your bedroom? This couch is kinda small and uncomfy…”

Ed agreed, letting her help him up. She gave him his crutches, and he hopped into the bedroom after her.

They didn’t sleep for quite a while.

…

The next day, Winry, Ed, Paninya and Rosé all gathered to the Central Station, where the train to Rush Valley was waiting for the figure skaters. Ed was planning to travel to Resembool once he had gotten his leg rechecked at the Central hospital. Paninya and Rosé were already looking forward to the next Grand Prix that would be held in North City, Amestris in a few weeks and they wondered if Garfiel would give them any time to recover from the jet lag before they would be forced to return to the ice. Winry just shook her head at their attitude; while she admitted she was pretty tired too (the reason for which was probably something entirely different than jet lag, though. She blushed as remembered what had happened last night. They hadn’t gone “all the way”, but their physical relationship had still taken a step forward), she was also excited to return back to the regular life, with the familiar people and tasks around her.

Suddenly, she felt Ed tap a finger against her arm and saw him nod to the side, trying to tell her he wanted to say something without the others listening.

However, the words seemed to have a hard time coming out. Ed just stared at his feet for a long while, so Winry finally decided to break the silence:

“I know I’m not your mechanic yet but remember to take care of your arm! It frustrates me to no end when people don’t…”

“Automail geek… just listen to what I have to say, OK?”

“Ugh, Ed, I’m listening the whole time, it’s you who doesn’t say what’s on your mind…”

Ed shifted in his spot uncomfortably. “You’re not making this easy, are you?”

“When have I ever done that?” Winry asked sarcastically.

“I wrote you a letter,” Ed pushed an envelope into her hand, ignoring her question. “I didn’t know if I should give it to you or not, but… I think it might open my mindset during… this all… a bit. I wrote it before your competition. But I also added something new into it.”

“Oh… thank you…” Winry started opening the letter, but Ed stopped her.

“No, not now. On the train. Or whenever you have a peaceful moment.” Ed glanced at Winry’s two friends briefly. They had started gossiping about Garfiel’s new boyfriend and if Ed had to guess, that chatting wouldn’t end in quite a while.

“OK. Will do.” Winry put the letter into her bag , wondering what exactly Ed told in that letter that he couldn’t say aloud…

It was quiet again for a while. Suddenly Winry realized she hadn’t told Ed about her plan yet.

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Hmm?”

“My parents, they always put helping other people ahead of anything else. I want to do the same. That’s why I’m thinking I’m taking sort of a break from figure skating once this season is finished.”

“What? But I thought you love skating?” Ed asked with disbelief.

“I do!”

“What about all those people who come to see figure skating shows because they want to see you?”

“Just because I want to have a break from competing, doesn’t mean I’ll completely stop skating,” Winry pointed out. “No, I’ll still make sure to stay fit, and if someone asks me to take part in their exhibition, I might do it if it fits my schedule. There’s also a good chance I will continue competing after that year is over, only time will tell. But after hearing your story, I feel I want to do something more than just performing. I want to learn to make the best automail there is, to help the people who need them to smile again. Besides… Since I won’t have to travel that much… Maybe I can visit Central City more often.”

“I won’t complain about that.” Ed grinned.

“So… what do you think of my plan?” Winry asked cautiously.

“I think if that’s what you want to do, then I think it’s great!” Ed reassured her.

“Thank you.” Winry gave him a relieved smile.

“Now that we are on the topic… I have some plans too.” Ed noted suddenly.

“Oh? Tell me more.”

Ed started explaining his plan, and Winry had to brush a few tears away when she understood what the plan meant for him.

“So… will you be a part of it?” Ed asked finally.

“Gladly,” she answered before burying her face into his collar, smelling the earthy scent that she would sure miss while they were apart from each other.

It was so comfortable in that spot that Winry didn’t want to move for a while, until she heard Paninya and Rosé talking about the train leaving soon. She disentangled herself from Ed and took a few steps back so she could look at him in the eyes.

“I guess this is it…”

“I guess so…”

“Uh… you know… I had an amazing time at the Olympics… lots of it thanks to you… I know your tournament was a…”

“Disaster,” Ed helped. “No need to deny it.”

“But I selfishly hope I managed to make you feel a bit better.”

“You did. More than you know. And you taught me something important. I explain it in that letter.”

“Ok,” Winry said quietly, on the verge of tears again. “I’ll… I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too. But hey, didn’t someone say phones exist? I think I managed to figure out how to use it… Maybe.” Ed gave her a crooked grin, trying to comfort her.

“Idiot.”

That was all that was said before Winry closed the space between them again and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. It was entirely different from the kiss the previous night, which had been needy and passionate. Instead, with the kiss she was trying to tell him how happy she was to have met him. With the way he reciprocated, she realized he was probably trying to tell her the same thing. When she tried to pull away, he grabbed her arm, making her stop in her spot.

“Thanks. For everything. Let’s not say goodbye, let’s say ‘I’ll see you soon’ instead.”

“That does sound better,” Winry agreed and started fiddling with her bag to find her wallet. When she finally found it, she let out a small yelp.

“What’s wrong?” Ed asked.

“I think… I think I forgot to get cash before coming here… I was so sure I had some… How will I get my ticket now? They only accept cash…”

“I may have some…” Ed said slyly as he withdrew his wallet from his pocket. “But you will have to pay me back one day. Actually, I’m gonna make you buy me a ticket to Rush Valley at some point.”

“Huh?” Winry stared at him with confusion for a moment before she realized it was his way to promise her he’d visit her soon enough. “Oh! Right. You and your equivalent exchange…” she pretended to be annoyed as she accepted the money, even though she was happy to buy him that ticket. “Thank you. I really need to go now, though, so… see you soon.” She gave him one last kiss on his cheek before climbing into the train and turning to wave at him.

“See you!”

Ed was already about to leave the platform when he saw Winry looking at him from the window, and some weird urge made him yell: “Don’t you forget that promise! And read that letter!”

Winry just waved at him until the train started moving, and soon she didn’t see him again. She pulled the piece of paper from her bag and started reading.

“… I could continue longer, but Al is waiting, so I should stop writing. Just know that somehow, you have managed to break my shell even though I’ve tried to rebuild it so hard. But I’m not gonna do that anymore. It’s still too early, and besides, you need to focus on your competition, but one day, I hope I’ll be able to be brave enough to tell you this: I’m falling for you too.

Edited 23.3.: I realized I never said those words back to you, so here we go. You deserve them. And more.

To quote Mr. Magpie: “It’s funny how sometimes you have to fly away, so you can find your real home.” I think you know what I mean there.”

Winry pulled her phone from her bag quickly, and typed:

“I do know.

♥”

A/N: Here we are! What is Ed’s plan though? Find out in the epilogue!

#edwin #edxwin #edward elric #Winry Rockbell #Fullmetal Alchemist #lcmti #ice skating au #my fics #i poured my heart and soul into this #so please do review

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mayquita · 6 years ago

Text

Pictures of Reality (13/16)

Merry Christmas everyone!! This week has passed almost without realizing it but we’re already here, with a new chapter of PoR. As always, thank you so much for all your support and for continuing to give this story a chance.

Summary: Emma Swan returns to her birthplace, Storybrooke, in search of a fresh start after a life marked by abandonment and betrayal. After a year there, she finds the stability she needed and also the possibility of learning about one of her passions, photography. Killian Jones, a former British war reporter with a tragic past, establishes himself in the same town as an instructor of photography, following in the footsteps of his best friends, the Nolans. What will happen when their paths cross? Will their common passion for photography help them heal old wounds?

Rating: M (Language, mature themes, implied sex)

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, mentions of the loss of a limb in an armed conflict.

Other ships / Characters: Although, obviously, this is a cs fic, Snowing plays a major role here, mainly David. In fact, the story contains three different points of view, those of Emma, Killian and David. Also, Henry appears in the story as Regina’s adopted son but he is not Emma’s biological son.

Beta: I’d like to express my gratitude, as always, to my beta @jarienn972 I’m aware that you have had to deal with a monster of more than 100k words and English is not my mother tongue, so I value your effort even more.

Artist / art: Go visit @imagnifika’s blog and enjoy her amazing art. The art that accompanies this chapter includes one of Emma's post on her Instagram account. I’ve added it at the end, for reasons...

Art for the prologue/ Art for chapter 1 / Art for chapter 2 and banner / Art for chapter 3/ Art for chapters 4-5 / Art for chapters 6-7/ Art for chapter 8 / Art for chapter 10 / Art for chapter 11 / Art for chapter 12

Special mention to @saraswans , thank you so much for your perpetual support, for believing in me when I doubted myself and for offering ideas to make this story grow.

Don’t forget to go read and enjoy the rest of the amazing csbb stories and art.

Word count: ~ 7800 (116k total in 16 chapters)

Also on (From the beginning): Ao3 / Ffnet (Current Chapter) Ao3 / Ffnet

Tumblr: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

What to expect from this chapter? This is one of my favorites. In fact, it includes two of my favorite scenes from the whole story. David is involved in the first one. As for the other one… you’ll have to read it…

CHAPTER 12

My dearest Emma,

You probably would be surprised because today is not your birthday, Christmas or any other special event, but I felt the need to bare my soul and I have not found a better way to do it than through you, my dear daughter.

I may be a fool after so many years apart, but I still hold the almost vain hope that someday these letters, these little confessions in the form of written words will come to you. That's why I will not hesitate to continue writing to you until I exhale my last breath, Emma.

And I need you today, I need to hold on to something stable when my whole world falters and despair threatens to take hold of me, while I feel helpless, unable to protect my loved ones.

I have already talked to you on more than one occasion about Killian and how I have felt guilty several times because my paternal instinct, that which should have been destined to you, was directed instead towards that child who is now a grown man. On the contrary, my desire to protect him has not changed in the least as he grew up. When misfortune seems to prey on him, hit him again and again, my protective instinct grows.

That is why now the feeling of failure is more intense. Killian lost his love yesterday in tragic circumstances and my wife, your mother, lost a great friend. And I was unable not only to prevent it from happening but also I don’t know how can I comfort them, how can I help them when the pain is also consuming me inside.

It is hard to see how the flame of Killian's eyes is slowly disappearing without you being able to do anything to fan it. What can I do, Emma? How can I help my friend? My family?

I desperately hope that wherever you are, your life is full and that you have found happiness. Otherwise, what would be the point that we had spent all these years away from you if we didn’t manage to give you your best chance? I don’t know if I could bear the thought of failing you as well even more than we did when you were born.

As I told you in the rest of the letters, I keep thinking about you every day and I keep fantasizing about the idea that you and we are destined to meet sooner or later. Who knows? Maybe it's not too late for us or for Killian. Maybe one day we get to be a complete family. Until then, my best wishes go to you,

Your father who loves you deeply and who never forgets you,

David.

David Nolan. Storybrooke - March 1, 2018

"Emma, are you inside?" David knocked on the door again, with no response. Still, he didn’t want to give up now that he had come this far. "I've talked to Henry. I know you're home."

After a few more seconds of waiting, the door was still closed and there were no signs of Emma. Maybe she is taking a shower, he thought of a failed attempt to convince himself. Reluctant to leave without at least making one last attempt, he rested his ear against the smooth surface, trying to pick up any sound, however subtle, that told him Emma was indeed there.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he seemed to sense the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. That was all he needed. "Okay, then." A sigh of resignation escaped his lips. "I would have preferred this conversation to unfold without any barrier between us, but I suppose this is better than nothing."

He placed the box on the floor next to him as he stood in front of the door, his forehead and the palm of his right hand resting on the wooden surface. He swallowed, dragging down the lump in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, pulling himself together before beginning to speak.

"I... I didn't come here to apologize, nor to excuse any of our acts. I hope... I really hope we have the opportunity to continue this conversation when you feel ready."

David paused, waiting for some reaction from Emma. Still nothing. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the shadow of doubt crossed his mind fleetingly, making him question whether it was really worth continuing or was just a waste of time. He came to the conclusion that, although he didn't get any response from Emma, at least he would be able to expel those thoughts from his system.

"I'd like to talk about Killian today. I'm aware that you're mad at him, I... we understand your reasons. Our behavior was certainly inexcusable and it seems that we make one mistake after another in relation to you."

The grip of guilt and regret had not loosened the pressure on his heart over the years, on the contrary, from time to time it took a swipe at him, causing a bleeding wound difficult to plug. For that reason, he was forcing himself to defend his friend, as a way of putting a bandage on his wounded heart, as a means of atoning for his sins.

"He had no idea of your identity when he started the course. We didn't know you were going to attend either, so I guess it was just a matter of chance that you two crossed paths."

He breathed out on a shaky exhale before continuing, while he hoped to keep his voice stable enough now that the most painful part of his explanation was coming. "We... I took advantage in a certain way when he was at a low and vulnerable moment to ask him for help. Now I see that I should never have put him in that situation. You were our responsibility, not his. He has had that pressure on him, the idea of being a burden for us, of not being enough. I suppose that although, in a selfish way, I thought I was offering him the possibility of feeling useful. How wrong I was..."

David paused again as he pressed back his ear against the door. This time he did hear something, it wasn't his imagination. It was the sound of something or someone slipping down from the smooth surface, as if a person had been leaning against the door and was letting its body slide down. He imitated the position he thought Emma was keeping on the other side of the door and sat on the floor, aiming to be even closer to her.

"Confiding our secret and asking him to help us get to know you were a burden for him, reaching the point that he felt unable to handle the situation and was willing to leave to give us more time to figure out how to tell you the truth."

Once he had started with that exercise of sincerity he could not stop. "Regina told us about your past... Emma, I know I said earlier that I wasn't going to deal with that topic today, but let me tell you just this, I'm so deeply sorry..." David blinked a couple of times, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. "If I had known that you were going through this ordeal we... I don't know, there's no point lamenting now. We... we just were terrified of ruining everything you had achieved here in Storybrooke if we told you the truth."

David was aware that his voice sounded broken but also honest. He expected Emma to at least appreciate that. "It turned out that we ended up doing just that, not only with you, but with Killian." Before continuing, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Despite the inner struggle that Killian has been carrying these months, I had never seen him as happy as when he was with you. His gaze had regained its vivacity after so many years, so I beg you not to close the door to him for good. I'm certain that you are both meant to be together and I would never forgive myself for having cut off the wings of your future. I know that I'm placing a responsibility on you that you don't deserve but, if you feel the same for him, as I suspect you do, I only ask you to give him at least one chance to explain himself."

He rested the palm of his hand on the door, caressing the surface while he imagined it was his daughter whom he caressed in an attempt to comfort her. "Thanks for listening to me, Emma." He whispered as his gaze fell on the box he had brought. "You may not believe it or even find it insulting, but since I had the opportunity to see you for the first time when you were just a newborn baby, I never stopped thinking of you. You've always been with me, Emma, both in my mind and in my heart. When you open the door you will find proof of my words."

No sound or movement came from the other side of the door. After letting out a deep sigh, David finally got up and started walking away from the door, feeling that with each step he took, he moved further away from his soul, leaving it hidden in a box in the middle of a lonely hallway.

Only when he went outside and was hit by a cold breeze did he realize that his cheeks were wet from the tears that had finally escaped his eyes.

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - March 1, 2018

Emma remained in the same position, sitting on the floor, her back and her head resting against the front door of her apartment for what seemed like hours, as she let the tears fall freely down her cheeks.

By the time she had heard David's voice on the other side of the door, she had felt paralyzed, unable to react at first. Slowly, a wave of mixed feelings had begun to take hold of her. She wasn't prepared to listen to revelations about her origins or to relive her terrible experiences as an orphan. For that reason, she hadn't opened the door, but David's voice had attracted her like a magnet, so she had stayed there all the time, assimilating his words while her heart constricted in her chest.

His voice had given off a raw honesty that Emma had not expected. Even so, her anger had increased when her suspicions were confirmed through David’s words. Killian had been just another victim, who had made wrong decisions, but excusable because of the complex position in which he had found himself.

She could not forgive them, not yet, not when his confession and the little glimpses he had dropped were too painful to ignore.

But she had also been unable to stop her emotions, and after squeezing her eyes closed in an unsuccessful attempt to keep the tears for falling, she had finally given up. At least she had managed to swallow the sob bubbling in the back of her throat, both hands covering her mouth, forcing herself to remain silent.

She waited a few more minutes, terrified at the thought of opening the door and finding that David was still there. When she thought that more than enough time had passed for him to leave, she finally got up, but before opening the door, she looked through the peephole to make sure that the hall was empty.

There was something on the landing when she finally dared to open the door, a cardboard box, its size a little larger than a shoe box, with an inscription written in an elegant cursive on the lid of the box: Letters to Emma from her father, 1989-2018.

Quickly, she grabbed the box, feeling its touch on the tips of her fingers as if it burned, and went to her bedroom, putting it in the most hidden corner of her closet, while her heart pounded in her chest, warm tears gliding again down her cheeks.

She did not feel strong enough to deal with the content of those letters. She wasn't even sure that she would ever be able to do it.

There was something she was sure of though. She needed Killian, she missed him terribly, and after his friend's confession, her willingness to listen to his own explanations had increased. But before, she needed to sleep, that rollercoaster of emotions that she was experiencing since last Monday was taking a toll on her, leaving her so exhausted that she felt like her brain was unable to properly process everything that was happening.

Killian Jones. Storybrooke - March 3, 2018

The nerves gripped Killian's stomach as he rubbed the palm of his hand on his pants to wipe the sweat. He was there, in front of Emma's apartment trying to gain enough confidence to knock on the door. David’s experience in this same place two days ago made him hesitant, despite how he longed to see her again and only this small barrier separated them physically.

David hadn't offered him any details of his unexpected visit to Emma's apartment, only that Emma hadn't opened the door to him even though he was certain that she had been home at that moment.

Killian had also learned for the first time the existence of the letters that David had written to Emma throughout her life. His heart ached for his friend. He could not even imagine the suffering he had carried all these years, so he hoped that those letters would have an effect on Emma, if only to give them the opportunity to explain themselves.

But he would have to leave those worries for another time. Right now, he had to carry out his own mission. His jaw clenched, a sharp intake of breath coming through his teeth before he finally decided to knock on the door.

To his surprise, Emma opened the door before he even had time to process it. Suddenly, he found himself face to face with her and all rational thought vanished from his mind, while his throat closed preventing him from making any sound.

"Hi." Her lips drew an awkward smile, but at least her expression was softer than the last time he had seen her. While she watched him, a thin crease appeared between her brows. "You look horrible."

"Hey." A sound that seemed like a croak escaped his lips. He cleared his throat, hoping to get his voice back as he reached out to scratch behind his ear. "I can't say the same about you, Swan. You look beautiful, as always."

He wasn't lying. Her hair was pulled back in a sloppy braid falling over her right shoulder, her face was fresh, no trace of makeup, and although he could detect a slight reddish hue around her eyes, the green of her gaze was as intense as ever. The soft pink blush that appeared on her cheeks after hearing his words only caused her natural beauty to increase.

His surprise grew when she, far from looking defensive or cautious, stepped aside while offering him a shy smile. "Come in."

The corners of his lips rose slightly in an attempt at a smile as he passed by her side and entered her apartment with somewhat hesitant steps. Emma's attitude had caught him completely off guard. Instead of her being belligerent or distant, he had met a cordial Emma who at least seemed willing to listen to him.

"Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?" She asked as she made her way to the kitchen.

"A tea would be fine. Thank you, love." While waiting for Emma to return, Killian took off his jacket and placed it on the rack next to the door, then went to the couch where he sat on the edge of the seat, feeling the nerves gripping his stomach with even more pressure.

Emma returned a few minutes later, holding two steaming cups in her hands. She handed one of them to Killian before sitting on the other side of the couch, keeping a proper distance between them, but her torso turned slightly toward him as she held the cup of what he thought was hot chocolate with both hands.

An awkward silence fell over them while they pretended to be very busy with their respective drinks. A weird thought crossed his mind then, as he watched Emma hold the steaming cup in her hands. His gaze shifted to his prosthesis while he thought of the advantage of the absence of touch there. No matter how hot his cup was, he could always use his prosthesis to hold it, thus protecting his only hand from possible burns.

"Your friend David came here two days ago." Emma's voice broke the silence, freeing him from those weird thoughts.

"Aye, he told me." He nodded in a tentative motion, not quite sure that he liked the way their conversation had just started.

"Did he also tell you that he talked to me through the door? It was more like a monologue, as I guess you have already figured out." Emma's face remained impassive, though Killian detected a subtle hint of bitterness in her words. He suspected that the mention of David was intentional. Maybe it was her way of telling him that she knew some details in advance before he had to explain himself? And why wouldn't David have told him anything about that conversation — or rather monologue?

"No, I didn't know." He admitted. "He just told me that he gave you the letters he's been writing to you since you were born..."

"I don't want to talk about that right now." Emma cut him off abruptly. Killian was aware he had taken the wrong step when a stormy shadow crossed her gaze, darkening her features.

Again the silence fell over them, while they finished their drinks and left the empty cups on the coffee table. Emma pressed her lips together in a thin line as she rubbed her forehead with one hand. Then, she raised her gaze, looking for his. "What did you come for, Killian?" She asked through a whisper.

The moment of truth has come, Killian thought as he took a deep breath in an attempt to gain enough self-confidence to bare his soul once more in front of her.

"I didn't have the opportunity to explain myself the other day, you know... I've come to ask you to allow me to offer my explanation of everything that has happened. I only ask you to listen to me, Swan." Killian's eyes bored into hers, while he held his breath, waiting for her reaction.

Emma held his gaze for a few seconds, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she assessed his request. Killian detected an almost imperceptible nod of her head, as if she were trying to convince herself. After taking a deep breath, she finally agreed. "Okay, I'm listening."

That was the only sign Killian needed to finally open his heart and let go of all the worries that had plagued him in the last few months.

He told her about the first time he was aware that his friends had kept a secret from him from the beginning. The memory of that hungover morning after the anniversary of his brother's death and his confrontation with David still felt like a fresh wound.

Emma had been his confidant at that time, so nothing he was telling her was new to her. Still, she listened intently, her gaze never leaving his. She was also aware of the state in which he had found himself before knowing the truth, with that oppressive need to compensate his friends for everything they had done for him over the years, to feel useful in some way and not a total failure.

Before continuing, he swallowed hard in an attempt to drag down the lump that was forming in his throat. Then, he revealed to her how his friends had finally trusted him enough to share their secret with him. He saved for himself all the details of the unfortunate experiences of David and Mary Margaret as it was evident that Emma wasn't yet ready to face those revelations. Even so, he could detect a shadow of hurt crossing her gaze.

If he hadn't known the existence of that secret, it would have been unimaginable for him to think that his friends had gone through such a traumatic experience. They had always been his rock, his support. They had always offered him hope when he only saw a dark void in front of him.

"They only revealed your identity once they finished telling me their secret, when they explained to me the reasons why they needed my help."

Killian noticed how Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat, while she averted her eyes. He would have given anything to find a way to spare her suffering, but sadly there was not, so he had no choice but to continue.

"It was a shock to me, Emma, since I had already begun to develop feelings for you and, what's worse, you even had dropped some glimpses of your past. It was hard to learn some of those details from them instead of from yourself. It was as if, with that revelation, they had taken part of our history together." Emma's features hardened, as her gaze met his again. She remained silent, though.

"Maybe you don't believe it, but I think I've never felt so pressured in my whole life with the feeling that, whatever I did, I was already condemned. From the moment I knew the truth, regardless of whether they had asked me for help or not, I was destined to fail, either to them or to you, as it ended up happening." The last words were accompanied by a bitterness that he could almost feel on the tip of his tongue. Although he had tried to stay calm throughout his confession, he was about to break, so he felt the need to pause to try to gather his thoughts and pull himself together.

Emma took that pause as an opportunity to intervene. "Do you realize that they took advantage of you? That they used the moment of vulnerability you were going through to ask you a favor that you weren't going to be able to refuse?" The way she addressed him, with a mixture of resentment towards his friends but also with a determination to protect him, did something with his insides, his mixed feelings colliding once more.

He let out a deep exhale. She was right, but it wasn't that simple. "Aye, but they were in a desperate situation."

Emma huffed, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "Why? Why didn't they just tell me?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Now that she had finally decided to express herself, she continued speaking in a voice that, although controlled, showed glimpses of the endless feelings that she had been accumulating in recent days. "He, David, told me that they were afraid of my reaction given my past, that they didn't want to ruin what I had achieved here in Storybrooke, but what they got by acting that way is much worse."

"Emma..." He longed to reach her, to ease her pain somehow. He acted instinctively, reaching out and placing his hand over hers, the touch with her warm skin burning through his veins towards his heart. She didn't reject his touch, just stared at their joined hands until, with a move of her hand, she entwined her fingers with his.

Her gaze sought his again, the corners of her lips twitching into a tiny smile. That was all he needed to continue. "We made a terrible mistake, I'm aware, but I was the one who made the decision to help them, after all. They didn't force me." His voice trailed off for a moment, but he needed to bare his soul even more. "I can't even express in words how deeply sorry I am for all the suffering we've put you through." He was aware that he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, exposing himself to her with raw honesty.

"The day you introduced them to me... that was part of the plan, wasn't it?" She asked with a tiny voice.

He simply nodded, his lips pressed together as a new wave of shame swirled in his gut.

"The day of the snow was also a setup, and the party after..." She did not ask but confirmed to herself what she already suspected in advance. Although Emma squeezed her eyes shut stubbornly for a few seconds, she could not help a single tear sliding down her cheek.

He had never wanted anything so much in his entire life as he wished he had two hands at that precise moment, because he wasn't willing to let go of her hand, but the need to wipe away her tears was so compelling that he acted instinctively again, reaching out with his prosthesis and brushing the skin of her cheek with a light-feather touch. The way she leaned her head accepting his touch, caused his heart to swell with admiration towards her.

"Those were my only interventions. You got along with them right away. Everything else went smoothly." He admitted, while squeezing her hand lightly.

"And what about your sudden changes of attitude, like the day I confessed about Neal and Walsh?" There was no recrimination in her voice, he could only detect a hint of genuine curiosity, as if she needed to know and assimilate everything that had happened in the last few months.

He let out a humorless laugh. "It turns out that I'm a terrible actor and I couldn't pretend. Every time I looked you in the eyes and remembered the secret that I kept inside me, it was as if a force pulled me, almost leading me to confess." The memory of that day came to his mind in flashes. "And regarding that day, I felt terribly ashamed, a fraud. I was acting with you in the same way that those two guys did." He looked away, feeling a wave of revulsion creep up his throat.

"Killian..." This time it was she who squeezed his hand. "Killian, look at me." She urged in a soft but firm voice. Although hesitant, he agreed, trying to seek refuge in the intensity of her green eyes. "Don't you ever dare to compare yourself to those two assholes. You were always at my side, trying to protect me in some way, worried about my feelings. So no, it's not the same." Emma said with such determination that he had to invoke all his self-control to avoid pulling her towards him and kissing her senseless right there.

His mind then traveled to the crucial moment, the day when everything had ended up exploding. He felt the need to explain the reasons for his failed attempt to travel to London. "I wasn't leaving you, Swan." He assured. "But it was clear that I wasn't able to handle the situation and on my birthday when I saw you there, in my apartment, sharing a moment as a happy family... I simply couldn't resist it."

"Regina told me that you canceled the flights when I left for work."

"Aye. It was a stupid decision that was only going to cause more damage than had already been inflicted." He averted his eyes, unable to hold her gaze.

"Well, that stupid decision got us here, and although this week has been downright awful, look at me and you, finally having a sincere conversation."

"If you put it that way..." He admitted, casting a sidelong glance at her and catching a soft smile on her face.

They fell silent for the next few seconds, Killian gently stroking her hand while he kept lost in thought, wondering where this conversation left them from now on. Emma's firm voice brought him back to reality. "There can be no more lies or secrets between us if we want this to work, Killian. I mean it."

Killian's eyes snapped back to her face. "You do?" He mumbled, still in awe at the possibility that Emma could forgive him just like that.

"You don't?" She challenged, a special glint in her eyes.

"Aye, with all my heart, Emma." He assured as he finally released her hand and reached out to stroke her cheek, his heart hammering in his chest.

Both held their eyes for a few seconds, her bottom lip catching between her teeth, while she kept a thoughtful expression. "I..." She licked her lips as she lowered her head before continuing. "I also wanted to apologize for everything I told you the other day. I'm aware that my words might have hurt you."

"Emma... no." His hand traveled to her chin, his thumb brushing gently at her dimple as he pushed lightly to force her to lift her head. "You have nothing to apologize for. I deserved each and every one of the words that you addressed to me."

They rested their foreheads together while Killian closed his eyes and let himself be enveloped by the sensations, her warm breath caressing his face while her intoxicating scent penetrated his nostrils causing his head to spin. "Gods, Emma. I want to kiss you so desperately." He breathed out, unable to avoid a hint of urgency in his voice.

"There's nothing stopping you, Killian." She whispered, her lips only a few inches away from his.

Killian shortened the distance between them until their lips finally met and everything around them vanished. At the moment when the longed-for kiss began he was absolutely certain that, just as he had set himself as a New Year's resolution, he was never going to stop kissing this woman.

But now, without any secret lurking, without any lie between them that clouded his thoughts, the sensations were even more intense. Her lips seemed softer, her scent sweeter, her taste even more exquisite.

After that first soft and tentative kiss, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip to seek entrance. Her lips parted slightly offering him the invitation he needed. When their tongues began to dance together, he felt electric shocks of pleasure up his spine and down to his toes.

Feeling Emma's lips against his again was as if he had found an oasis in the middle of the desert. He devoured her mouth while she moaned against his own, angling her head to allow him deeper as he pushed himself against her.

They continued kissing, alternating languid kisses with others full of passion, for what seemed like hours. At some point, Emma ended up straddling his lap, her mouth sliding down his neck, her tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake as it traveled back up looking for his mouth.

He was so intoxicated by the sensations, lost in a sea of lust and bliss that he didn't even realize at the beginning that the sensual movements she had initiated had a clear purpose. Slowly, his mind cleared enough to break the kiss, and look for her gaze as he tried to catch his breath.

"Emma, love, what are we doing?" Killian asked, his voice raspy.

"What do you think we're doing, Killian?" She arched an eyebrow suggestively.

"But..." He was unable to prevent a groan from sliding between his lips, when the deliberate movements of her hips became more intense causing a delicious and at the same time tortuous friction against his arousal.

"Emma..." He tried again, his voice sounding still hoarse. "We... we just... we never... we just made peace." He trailed off in a breathy moan.

"Have you never heard of make up sex?" She asked before catching the lobe of his ear between her teeth, earning another groan on his part.

"But it would be our first time..." He alleged weakly. Something was definitely not working well in his brain.

"So..." She shrugged. "It will be a first time-make up sort of sex, then." Her brow furrowed slightly, as she searched his gaze. "You want this, don't you, Killian?"

He saw it clear then, the faint hint of vulnerability in her voice, her expression of ill-concealed frustration. He remembered all the times he had rejected her in a certain way during the last months. The mere thought of having his way with her when there was that secret beating between them was too repulsive. But now, there was nothing to prevent further progress in their relationship and yet he was still impeding her advances.

"Of course I do. I want it so badly that it hurts, literally." He directed a look full of intention to his crotch.

"So..."

Killian took a deep breath, locking her eyes with his, his hand tracing delicate patterns on the patch of skin exposed under the hem of her shirt.

"I wouldn't like this to be just a way to release the tension accumulated during this week. I don't want you to regret the next morning, darling."

"I won't." She stated categorically.

"You can't know that, love." He almost implored, desperate to do things right this time.

"Do you trust me, Killian?" He simply nodded. "I want to have sex with you and I promise I'll be here the next morning."

"Well, since we're in your own apartment..." Killian arched a brow playfully. The tension that he had felt, slowly fading away.

For all answer, she captured his lips again with hers as her hands began their exploratory path under his shirt. They continued kissing and caressing for a while until the pressure he felt was almost unbearable. He pushed himself up while holding Emma, who wrapped her legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" She murmured against his lips.

"I don't want our first time-make up sort of sex to take place on a bloody couch." He growled as he started walking towards her bedroom. The giggle that escaped her lips sounded like music to his ears.

She did not make his way easy, causing him to almost stumble, too distracted by the sensations, her demanding mouth never leaving his, one hand gently pulling at his hair, while with the other one she clung to him for dear life.

Once in her bedroom, he forced himself not to be blinded by the passion of the moment and took things more calmly.

He had come to her apartment with the sole purpose of apologizing and being honest with Emma. Not even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that the night would have ended just like that, with her vibrating in his arms in anticipation of what was about to happen. Despite the unexpectedness of the situation, that did not mean they could not make that first night together something special and unforgettable.

Killian lowered Emma until her feet touched the floor, both facing each other, their bodies only separated by a few inches. He allowed himself a few moments to observe her carefully, reveling in the effect their activities were having on her.

Her swollen and slightly parted lips were a perpetual invitation to be kissed. Some strands of her hair had escaped from her braid, framing her perfect face. Her cheeks were colored a soft pink halo, betraying her level of arousal. There was a fire in her gaze that made his blood run hot.

They began to undress each other in slow motion, without urgency, his gaze never leaving hers. A gasp escaped his lips when his eyes finally settled on her delectable, creamy skin, his fingers tingling, longing to brush against her perfect curves.

There was only a moment of hesitation when she laid her hand on his prosthesis, asking him, without needing to speak if he wanted to take it off. He shook his head slightly as his lips drawing a weak smile. He was not ready yet.

"I... I haven't remained celibate after losing my hand, but with all those one-night stands I never felt the desire to take off my prosthesis." He tried to explain himself.

"But I'm not one of your one-night stands..."

You're everything. The words died on the tip of his tongue before leaving his lips. Instead, he offered a soft smile. "Aye, I'm well aware of that, or at least I hope so. Let's say this is a promise of a future. The next time I won't need the prosthesis to be with you."

"Good." She nodded almost imperceptibly and continued with her task of undressing him.

"You're so beautiful, Emma." He rasped, while reaching out his hand to caress her exposed skin.

She closed her eyes at his touch, while she bit her lower lip in a failed attempt to suppress a moan. "You're not so bad yourself." She breathed out, opening her eyes again.

He couldn't resist it anymore. Cradling the back of her head with his hand, he settled the prosthesis at the small of her back, his lips finding hers again. He pushed her gently to the bed, getting her to lie on the sheets, his mouth never leaving hers as he covered her body with his.

"You can't imagine how much I've wanted to do this for the past few weeks. It's been torture, love. But I just couldn't, not like that." He mumbled before forcing himself to put his mouth to better use, traveling from her neck to her collarbone and back to her mouth, his tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake.

"I guess you had your punishment, cold showers, manual jobs and all that." Killian raised his head, his eyes searching for hers, finding a playful glint in her gaze as she bit her lower lip in that way that drove him crazy. He was amazed at the lightness with which she was taking everything that had happened to the point of even joking about the situation.

His skin hummed, feeling her body vibrating beneath his. He needed more, but before continuing, he needed to be sure that they were in this together.

"Tell me what you need, Emma."

"You. Only you."

"You have me." He assured, willing to demonstrate with his actions the devotion he felt for her, worshiping her body the way she deserved.

His mouth and hand began to explore her body in search of those places that would make her melt. The delicious sounds that escaped from her mouth and the way her body reacted to his touch caused his heart to flutter with satisfaction. He acted like a thirsty man who had just found a stream of crystal clear water. His thirst was only satiated at the moment in which she came undone by his ministrations.

He watched her features intently, her eyes still closed, her breathing shaken, a sated smile gracing her lips and causing his chest to swell with pride, as he wondered what he had done to deserve such a blessing in his life.

Waiting for her to come down from her high, he lay beside her, his fingers drawing delicate patterns on her bare stomach. He noticed she was catching her breath slowly until finally, she opened her eyes, a wicked grin adorning her lips. "I think it's my turn now." She muttered as her hand traveled south, until her fingers closed around him, causing a sharp intake of breath coming through his teeth.

She took the reins then, so he had no choice but to surrender to her, and follow her path.

After so many years of one-night stands, he wasn't used to that level of intimacy that could be overwhelming in some way. But he was completely consumed by her and by the power she had to make him shake only with the most subtle brush of her lips on his skin as the fire in her eyes made his blood run hot, his mind clouded by pure bliss and lust.

They ended up emulating the previous position on the couch, she straddling his lap while he rested his back on the headboard of the bed, their bodies almost fused with each other. If he was surprised by her choice of position, he didn't have time to express it out loud. The moment their bodies joined and began the first of — he hoped —many dances together, all rational thought left him. She had managed to bewitch him in such a way that he was now under her mercy. She was going to be the death of him - but what a sweet way to die it would be.

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - March 4, 2018

The first thing Emma noticed when she opened her eyes was the familiar feeling of an empty space beside her. Her brain still dragged the vestiges of the sleep, making her doubt if what had happened the night before had been nothing more than a sweet dream from which she had just awakened.

No, she still felt sore in the right places, noticing a slight burn on her skin while the sated sensation lingered in her system. Still, she couldn't help a wave of disappointment washed over her. She had imagined a warm body wrapping her when she woke up. Instead, she found the other side of the bed empty and cold under her touch.

"Good morning, love." Her body shuddered at the sound of Killian's voice coming from the other side of the bedroom. She remembered then that at some point in the night she had removed her contacts and now, when she rolled on her side, following the direction of the sound, she only found a blurred figure sitting in her armchair.

“See? I'm still here." She jocked, her voice slightly husky, as a reminder of her veiled promise from the night before. "Are you stalking me?" She added as she reached out a hand and fumbled blindly for her glasses on the bedside table.

He chuckled. It was a beautiful sound, something rare in the last weeks but that she hoped to hear very often from now on. "On the contrary, Swan. I was simply watching your sleep."

Much better, she thought as she put on her glasses, getting the vision she needed to see Killian in all his glory. She swallowed hard, the image of him sitting there wearing only his underpants and holding her camera causing a tug of desire settling into her gut.

"With my camera? That's sort of creepy." She teased, using a weird way to show her curiosity. In her defense, her brain wasn't functioning properly yet.

He rolled his eyes, smirking at her. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she observed his relaxed features, not a trace of tension in his body. He just seemed happy.

"I woke up early. I had never seen the sunrise from this corner of the town so, since I didn't bring my camera with me, I borrowed yours and took a few pictures from your window."

As he spoke, he got up, approaching the bed, still holding the camera in his hand. "And now I was just waiting for you to wake up and ask you to pose for me. The light is wonderful, here, Swan."

"Really? You want me to act as a model? Are you aware that I just woke up, I wear glasses and my hair is a mess?"

"Nonsense." Killian cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "That light has a fabulous effect on your skin and your eyes, and you always look beautiful, love."

She wasn't going to deny it, she had a weakness for the way he always praised her and for his passion for photography, causing her admiration for him to grow at times. After letting out an exaggerated sigh, she agreed, posing for him for the next few minutes, feeling like a model under the scrutiny of the camera.

"Are you happy now? Come back to bed, it's still early." She sued once the photo session ended.

“As you wish.” To her delight, he complied quickly, leaving the camera on the nightstand and crawling into bed, wrapping his arms around her.

The sensation of his body against hers brought to her memory their previous activities, causing a new wave of desire to take over her. She caught his mouth with hers and allowed herself to immerse in the incredible sensation of being kissed by such a skilled mouth. She could spend hours just like that, sharing languid kisses as Killian's arms cradled her.

"Any plan for today?" She managed to ask, her lips barely leaving his.

"In fact, I do." He admitted as he parted from her slightly, while scratching behind his ear, his cheeks flushed. "It's Sunday, remember?" The way he addressed her, in a soft voice and a tentative attitude, made her stomach tighten into knots. "I have lunch with... David and Mary Margaret."

"Oh." Suddenly, everything she had experienced throughout the week came to her memory, hitting her hard. She had managed to forget all those worries for a few hours of pure joy, but reality fell on her again.

"I can cancel it. They'll understand." Killian offered, clearly worried about her reaction.

"No." As much as everything about the Nolans still hurt, if she was willing to let her relationship with Killian prosper, and she really was, she must learn to accept the important role they played in her boyfriend's life. "I haven't yet forgiven them and I may never get to do it, but they're your friends, your family, Killian. I'll do my best to not interfere with your relationship with them."

Killian nodded and stared at her for a few seconds, that special glint in his eyes causing the butterflies in her stomach to flutter furiously. "We still have many hours ahead of us, Swan. What do you think if we make them worth it?" He offered, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Before she could answer, though, he added, "Just for the record. They may be my family, but you are, at least I hope you are, my future, Emma."

The emotion she felt at that moment was so intense that her throat closed, preventing her from forming any sound. Instead, she demonstrated how she felt with actions, pulling him towards her and capturing his lips, hoping to convey with that kiss how grateful she felt for that promise he just had offered, to which she was going to cling with all her strength.

TheLadySwan I know, I know. This is not a food photo account. But sometimes a plate of pancakes is much more than a simple food. Sometimes it means the beginning of a promising day, or a moment shared with that special person. Or sometimes it's just pancakes, a sweet and fluffy breakfast that will put a smile on your face :)

KJones This is a message from that special person (I hope), I'm looking forward to sharing more pancakes with you, in every way ;)

Thanks for reading. As you may have noticed, I'm not a smut writer, but I tried, sort of... Also, I just couldn't leave them separated for much longer. Let me know what did you all think :)

What to expect from the next chapter? If I'm not mistaken, I think the next chapter is the shortest in the whole story. We'll see how the relationship between Emma and Killian develops now that there is no longer any secret between them. Besides, will Emma be able to forgive The Nolans eventually?

#cs ff #cs au #csbb #captain swan #captain swan ff #pictures of reality #mayquita writes #my cs writings #csbb 2018 #cs au ff

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tasharii · 6 years ago

Text

Your Colors: Ch.9.

A/N: Sooo life caught up with me basically. I've got a new full time job in a new state that's taking some getting used to. But I'm not giving up! I love this story and I'm invested and it's killed me to not have time to write. This is my happy place. In order to accommodate and hopefully get a new chapter out every week, or every other week if things don't work out, my chapters are going to get a little shorter. I'm going to try and restrain myself, but still be proud of them.I hope you guys can work with me and stick around. I've got another Bucky story coming up involving ghosts and circuses...... BUT I'm forcing myself to at least finish a rough draft before I start posting it. This is the only story I'm going to allow myself to write on a week by week basis.Thank you guys so much for all the feedback on the last chapter and for giving me so much support. It really means a lot to me and I love hearing everything that you have to say. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Art was the one good thing between college, work, and the grey minutes in-between. Sometimes, it felt like she wasn’t alive at all. Just drifting. When she joined her new art class, she never expected to start experiencing everything in an entirely new light. All thanks to him. Or: Where Bucky Barnes gets more than he bargained from his new drawing partner.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 10K

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, unrequited love angst

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

****

Sharp pounding on her door drew her out of a very deep sleep. It dug into her temples and instantly pissed her off. Groggy, Y/N reached out a heavy arm and patted around on her nightstand until she found her phone. The light made her eyes squint, and she brushed her tangled hair back off her face. 10AM. It was 10AM on a Friday morning. Her day off. One of the few days she didn’t have anywhere to be until the afternoon. Just fantastic.

Annoyed, she tossed her phone beside her on the bed and groaned, scrubbing at her face. As if that would make the dust bunnies in her head clear up. Then the banging started up again. Growling, Y/N sat all the way up and kicked at the knotted blankets around her feet. They fell off the bed in a clump, and chills sliced down her spine from the brisk morning air. Pale blue sunlight filtered in from her drawn curtains.

Somehow, she managed to clamber out of bed and shouted, voice rough from sleep, “I’M COMING!” The knocking stopped for a minute, and she yanked at her tank top, straightening it. The air nipped at her toes, and she stumbled over to her bathroom door. Fluffy robe in hand, she loosely tied it on. Covering her bare legs, and underwear. Not a care in the world about how she might look. Just brushed a hand through her hair to get it out of her face and headed to the door.

Flinging it open, Y/N automatically glared at the three men across the threshold in the dimly lit hall, “Can I help you?” She asked, yawning halfway through. Words muffled by the hand over her mouth, she slumped against the door to keep herself standing.

The first guy gave her a very unimpressed once over, and scratched at his balding head, “We’re here to fix a leak.” He drawled. When she continued to stare at him, dumbfounded, he slowly elaborated, “Your landlord said you’ve been complaining about a leak in your kitchen.” Even from where she was, she could smell his abundant amounts of aftershave. See the sweat stains along his shirt. Could even count the little scabs littering his neck from nicking himself shaving. Yet he was looking at her like she was an idiot.

Blearily, Y/N blinked and glanced over at her kitchen in question before it finally dawned on her, “Oh! Ya, there’s this huge stain. Luckily, it just drips into my sink. Not the floor.” She nodded, happy the landlord finally listened after months of complaining, but then frowned, “He didn’t tell me he scheduled anything.” Eyebrows together, she stood up straighter and fidgeted with her pale blue robe, adjusting the belt. The man’s dark eyes were roaming across her just a hair more than she appreciated.

Shrugging, the balding guy, his nametag called him Rick, tilted his head, “Do you want us to fix it or not?” He asked. Behind him, the other two were playing around on their phones. Already checked out for the moment. Lazily, Rick glanced down at his notepad, and tapped at it with a pen.

She pulled her hair over one shoulder and bit her lip, “How long’s it gonna take?” The open doorway let a cool draft that fluttered the edges of her robe around her legs. Goosebumps covered her thighs, and she really wanted to be doing anything else but this.

Yet again, his shoulders bobbed up and then down, “Depends on the damage. Hopefully we’ll get it done today. If not, we’ll come back tomorrow. Got someplace you can go to kill some hours? We’ll be out no later than 7 tonight.” A hint of impatience made his words sharper at the ends. He scribbled something down with his pen, scratching it on the top corner like he was trying to get ink to come out.

Ya, Y/N had somewhere she could go. Just hadn’t planned on actually going today. It took her just a minute to think about it. To hesitate. There was no guarantee that her landlord would follow through with rescheduling. He was flighty like that. And if the leak got worse, she could see him trying to pin it on her. Make her pay for it. Say that it was her fault.

Reluctantly, she stepped back, and waved them in, “Ya, just let me get around. I’ll be out of your way in a bit.” When the door shut behind them, she tried to hide a grimace. Their shoes were muddy, and no one offered to take off their boots. Well, the carpet was already stained to hell. Not like it would be very noticeable. But it was rude.

After showing them the leak, Y/N disappeared into her bathroom for a shower. Took her time, and even blow-dried her hair instead of letting it dry on its own. Dressed and ready for the day, she could hear them banging around in her kitchen. Loudly. She peaked out and saw that they had started digging in the ceiling. Her kitchen had a dropped ceiling with panels. They had at least three panels scattered along her floor. Along with debris and questionable dust.

One of the other guys, David, spotted her over by her bed, and called, “It’s going to take us at least today to fix the pipe. Nothing too bad, but we want to be safe.” He offered her a thin-lipped smile. At least he was trying to be polite. Toolbox in hand, and handing supplies to the other two up on stepstools. Distantly, she wondered why it took three big guys to fix one leak. Rick cursed and yanked a wrench from David’s hand, growling out something she couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, it didn’t make David happy. He rolled his eyes and dropped the toolbox down on her counter, hard. Before she could get too stressed out, she turned away and tried to not think about the mess they were making.

Honestly, Y/N didn’t know a thing about plumbing, or maintenance and she didn’t care. Even if she should. So, she walked away and picked her phone off her nightstand and shot her landlord an email to thank him for finally sending guys over to fix the issue. And to also, subtly, verify that he did indeed send them. That they didn’t just pick an unfortunate mark for a robbery. Even if they had, she didn’t have much they could steal. Just some ridiculously expensive, used, art supplies that probably didn’t have a good resell value.

Legs crossed up on her bed, she felt a shot of pain twinge through her ribs. A quiet, tired sigh left her as she racked a hand through her hair and stared up at her ceiling for a second. Despite feeling better after her shower, Y/N’s stomach twisted as she glanced back down at her phone. Specifically, at her text messages. Bucky had messaged her around 9, before she woke up.

Bucky: Still want me to come over at 1?

No. No she didn’t. At least she had a legitimate excuse as to why he couldn’t come over. Before, she planned to just fake a stomach bug or something equally juvenile. Her thumbs hovered over her keypad, debating on what she should send back. If anything.

Things weren’t ok. Hadn’t been in nearly a week. Since last Sunday, she’d only seen him in class Monday and Thursday.

Monday had been the worst.

Monday, December 3rd

If it hadn’t been for the fact that they were presenting their final watercolor projects, Y/N would have skipped class. She felt sick enough. Dehydrated from crying. Exhausted from a restless night of tossing and turning. Between intermittent bursts of pathetic sobbing. It was obvious that she was nothing more than a reanimated corpse. Shadowed rings under her eyes, ashen skin, and she could barely manage to stand upright. All wrapped up in an oversized cozy hoodie, and unwashed hair scooped up in a tangled knot.

“Y/N?” Ramsey’s voice tickled her ears, and she blinked, looking over at him curiously. Standing only a few students away from her, annoyance radiated from the firm grinding of his jaw. Right along with the way his mouth disappeared in a fine line within the bushy hair of his beard. He raised his equally thick eyebrows at her, pointedly gesturing to the front of the room, “I was asking if you had any thoughts on Mr. Barnes’ work.”

Embarrassed, fiery scarlet crawled across her skin, and she reluctantly looked over at Bucky. Fully acknowledging him for the first time that day. The entire class was gathered, as usual, for a critic. She hovered near the back of the crowd, arms buried in her deep front pocket, barely registering the class at all. Everything was just white noise. Like flickering static on a TV set. And Y/N just floated above it all. A specter to her own life.

Bucky was staring at her, eyes shining with hesitant curiosity. She’d not said anything about his project since he got up there. Hadn’t even reacted. Which was uncharacteristic of their relationship. Even meeting his eyes made her want to cry. Like his mere presence was crippling. It was pathetic. She averted her eyes to the painting instead, taking a step to the side so she could see past an older guy in front of her. Nails digging into her palms to distract her.

The painting was good. Emotionally moving even. It was of a group of men. Soldiers. Walking together towards the viewer. They’re all beat up, and obviously exhausted. The color pallet was limited to brown, green, white and red. The red was used sparingly, careful to not muddy it up with the green and brown. She could just make out Steve and Bucky in the painting. They were the focus, closest to the viewer, and leaning on each other. Bucky’s arm was around Steve’s shoulder, using him as a crutch. The painting was so impressionistic, that Y/N figured most people wouldn’t even recognize Bucky in the work.

Just a group of men, walking into the light with their shadows stretched out behind them. Like they’re heading towards something better. Hoping to leave the worst darkness behind them.

Bucky had vaguely mentioned it was inspired by different events he witnessed during his time at war. Men grateful to finally go home.

Suddenly aware that she’d been silent for too long again, Y/N awkwardly shrugged, “It’s beautiful. Like all of his work.” The words were stilted and cracked somewhere along the way into the air. Chin down, she shuffled her feet. Tried to ignore the eyes on her. Ignore the momentary flash of disappoint across Bucky’s face, before it was buried again. He stared away from her too, at a point on the floor a few feet in front of him. His eyes distant, and expression perfectly chiseled into nonchalance. Like he wasn’t bothered by anything at all. Lately, he hid behind a blank mask. Just shut it all down.

If only she could too.

Ramsey stared at her, surprised, and waited for her to add anything else. It was her most pathetic critic ever, and she was entirely aware. But her head and heart both hurt. And when she accidentally met Bucky’s eyes again, all she could think about was the ache chewing away inside of her.

If it didn’t stop soon, there wouldn’t be anything left inside at all.

Pressing her lips together, Y/N hit call on her phone and held it up to her ear. Her hand was sweaty, and she hugged her free arm around her ribs. Like maybe she could hold back the overwhelming sense of dread if she just squeezed hard enough. There was a string of banging, and clattering to her right just past her dividing bookshelf. Along with deep, monotone strings of buzzing conversation. But she barely heard any of it.

Just let it ring to voicemail. Please don’t pick up. Eyes shut, she bit her bottom lip hard enough to almost drop blood.

It rang three times before Bucky answered, “Hey! I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep the day away.” He chuckled, the melody to unlock her heart. The smile in his voice made her lips turn up a little, making her teeth release their abusive hold. But hers was a bittersweet sort of smile.

“If only,” She huffed and covered her other ear to block out the noise filling her apartment, “I’ve got some bad news. My landlord schedule maintenance on the leak in my kitchen. Didn’t even tell me. These guys are gonna be here all day, so we can’t meet up.” Her toes curled under her thighs, eyes drifting up towards the ceiling. With every word, she wondered if he could hear the tremor of anxiety in her voice. It was so embarrassingly obvious to her.

Of course, Y/N didn’t mention alternatives. Like the library, or even one of the studio classrooms at Orion. Because she didn’t have the heart to see him. Or the heart to disappoint him by bluntly admitting to being too weak to see him. Neither felt like an option.

Bucky was quiet for a moment, but then he offered, “We can work at my place if you want.” He sounded hesitant, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. The offer made her suck in a surprised breath and sat up straighter.

To be fair, Y/N couldn’t believe it either. She’d never been to his apartment before. Had started to think she never would. Immediately, she had a war going on inside of her. She wanted to but didn’t want to. Was so damn curious about his place, but it hurt to even be around him at this point. Wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to do him the curtsy of keeping her emotions in check. She covered her face with her hand, and curled forward, like she might hide inside of herself. Elbows on her knees, she tried to calm her mind, blocking out the sudden blast of music from someone’s phone in her kitchen. Some obnoxiously loud rock band.

As of late, she felt like a ticking timebomb. One wrong word, or touch, and her façade would rip apart. Sometimes she wanted to scream at him. Other times beg for an explanation, or just cry like a baby. Then, every other minute, she was just numb, but that didn’t make for good company either. All those emotions were just barely held back by her fingers, and she was tired. So tired.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked softly, standing up and walking over to the window in her bedroom area. Restless. She parted the thick curtains and stared up at the heavy, grey sky, “They’ll be out of here by Sunday, you could just come over then.” If he’d just agree to a reschedule, maybe she could put herself back together by Sunday. Bury it all and be the friend he wanted her to be.

An early Christmas miracle. Afterall, it was December.

Sometimes Y/N wondered, if given the option to go back. All the way back to two months ago. To the moment she asked him to be her partner, what she’d do. Would she still ask him? Honestly, she wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it would just be easier to have never met James Buchanan Barnes.

“I really don’t mind.” Bucky replied, conviction getting stronger with every syllable, “You need all the practice you can get with acrylic.” He added, and he wasn’t wrong. Y/N fiercely loathed acrylic. It was the next section of their class, now that they were done with watercolor. And it was Bucky’s favorite. Which made his help very valuable.

Biting her bottom lip, she let her forehead rest against the cold window. It was starting to snow. Thick, heavy white drops drifted down from the darkening sky. Pure crystals that blotted out the muddy streets of the city below. Y/N huffed, trying to keep the frustration out of her words, “They want me out of here till 7. I don’t want to get in the way.” She tried. It was the last excuse she could come up with. At least, without making it obvious that she was actively avoiding him.

Another beat of silence passed. Despite the harsh weather outside, throngs of people passed under her window. Finishing their work before the weekend. Rick cursed behind her and yelled at one of the guys to steady the ladder. The sound of Bucky’s voice focused her hazy mind, “I’d really like to see you today.” It was a timid, sweet admission, that made her lungs stumble. He added, “But if you don’t want to, I get it. Really.” Of course he did, because he could read her well enough to understand. Understand that she was practically a raw nerve left out in the winter wind.

Closing her eyes, she swallowed the lump in her throat, “I’ll be over in a bit.” She wanted to see him too. Because the really fucked up part about it all, was that the person who made her feel better also hurt her at the same time. A perfectly figurative double-edged sword.

“See you soon.” Bucky finished before hanging up. For a second, he sounded just as grim as she felt. With just those three words. She pressed her phone to her chest and tried to ignore the bubbling excitement at getting to see him. Because right along beside it, was a flowing tar river of dread and heartbreak. Things weren’t getting any easier like she had hoped they would over time.

Desperately, Y/N wished she could skip the heartbreak part. Skip ahead to the point where she figured out how to be Bucky’s friend. Just his friend. Figured out what was ok to do and say. To a point where she knew what crossed the boundaries he was trying to set. To a place where she wasn’t an emotional ball of knotted string.

Bucky met her at the entry way of his apartment. Soft snow clung to her hair, and she dusted it off her backpack. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he stood up from the stairwell, coming over to meet her at the door. There was a moment where his arms came up, like he was about to hug her, but then he stopped. Let them fall, and gave her a small smile, “Just got to um, get my mail really quick.”

“Ok,” Y/N replied, ignoring the disappointment that he hadn’t hugged her. It shouldn’t be surprising. Since Sunday, he’d avoided most physical contact. Didn’t stand too close to her. Didn’t touch her arm to get her attention anymore. And, of course, hadn’t hugged her since Sunday either.

If it wasn’t for his obvious attempts to spend time with her, and talk, she’d think they’d only just met again.

He turned away from her, and she shuffled away from the door. Out of the way of a couple who were coming in from the weather. A gust of air chased them in and swirls of snow swept across the stained, tiled floor. The lobby was cold, and she rubbed at her gloved fingers. Bucky clicked the lock of his box, just to the left of the door, and she watched him quickly sort through the mail. Up ahead, the staircase started, and beyond that, under the stairwell, was the landlord’s office. As well as the laundry room. The building was old and drafty. Too much brick and not a lot of windows. If she looked up, she could see the twisting of the creaking staircase up all five floors.

The woman snickered as she started up the stairs, and then squealed when her boyfriend yanked at the tail of her scarf and chased after her. Y/N could hear them laughing and the echoing of their footsteps all the way up. Until a door slammed and cut off the carrying sounds of their joy.

Bucky glanced over at her, locking it back, and held up the mail, “Just junk and bills. Shouldn’t have expected much else.” She noticed how tense he seemed. Nervous and tired under the mask of content, casual banter. It showed in the deep circles under his eyes, and the jittery way he moved his hands and held himself too straight. Not too long ago, she’d concluded that Bucky didn’t sleep much. Somehow, it seemed he was sleeping even less.

“No one writes letters anymore.” Y/N mused, trying to mimic his casual pointless chatting. She could do this, “It’s a shame.” Hands tucked in her pockets, she shrugged, and took a step closer to the stairs. Part of her was excited to see the inside of his apartment, but she had no idea how she was going to survive 7 hours of this. Pretending everything was ok.

“Damn right it is.” Bucky snorted, waving for her to follow him to the staircase. Didn’t have an elevator, so she enjoyed a three story climb up the echoing, wooden and iron stairway.

By the time they reached the third floor, Y/N was winded. Bucky hadn’t even broken a sweat. He grinned cheekily at her over his shoulder, “When it gets warmer, you should come on jogs with me.” He pulled his keys from his pants pocket and shuffled through the ring with his free hand. Distractedly glancing between the keys and her as he stopped in front of a dark wooden door. His gloved hand tapped his mail against his thigh, impatient, or just nervous.

Unimpressed, she rolled her eyes, leaning against the pale green wall next to his door, “What? You gonna drive all the way to my apartment, and drag me to Central Park?” It would take him 30 minutes alone to just drive there.

Bucky’s smile didn’t fade as he unlocked his apartment door, “Maybe. Don’t tempt me.” He swung the door open and held it for her to come inside. When she stepped past him, she made sure to keep her arms close to herself. To keep from accidentally touching him.

His apartment wasn’t what she thought it would look like, but it suited him. It was about the same size as her studio apartment but broken up with walls. From the doorway, she stood in the small pathway between the living room and kitchen. The back of a couch to her right, and a counter to her left. The living room doubled as a studio. A couch, two black beanbags, and TV stand took up half the room closest to the door. To her left stood the small kitchenette, no bigger than her own, sectioned off with a counter. A hallway opened past the kitchen, disappearing around the bend. Likely leading to the bedroom and bathroom.

Bucky was watching her observing everything. Hands propping him up against the back of the couch. Mail and glove discarded on the kitchen counter. In a soft blue sweater, and dark jeans with paint stains he was the epitome of a dreamy artist. Eyes bright against the color of the shirt, and dark strands framing his face. Dried green paint clung to his fingertips, even speckling the silver of his left hand.

After taking off her soggy boots next to his at the door, Y/N dropped her bag next to the armrest of the couch. Bypassing it to cross the far side of the room. Next to the only window in the room, stood a wide wooden desk. A tall silver lamp and bookshelf beside it. The bookshelf was overflowing, and scraps of paper littered every available space. Sketchbooks were stacked haphazardly against the wall on the floor, most too big to fit into a drawer. Drawings and notes covered every spare inch of the cream-colored wall around the window.

Quietly, she studied every drawing she could. Some she recognized. The bakery where he worked, half sketches of the street view from his apartment, Steve, animals, scenery from the park, a girl she suspected was his sister from the dimple on her chin, and even a few of herself. And more. So many more.

Distracted, she unzipped her coat, slipping it off and holding it against her chest. After a minute, Bucky cleared his throat and she jerked, he was right behind her, “These are just some I’m proud of, or ideas I haven’t finished.” He explained, standing to her right. The grey light from the window made his eyes shine molten silver, “I was thinking, maybe would watch a movie while we work?” He lifted his dark eyebrows, gaze darting over her features, and rubbed the back of his neck.

Already feeling her nerves getting the best of her, Y/N nodded and made her way back to her bag. Just wanting to keep her hands busy, she tugged out her art supplies, “Sure, what you got in mind?” First her 9x12 Bristol sketchbook, then travel set of paints, pencils, bag of brushes and eraser. She sat on the couch, flipping to the page she’d already been working on. A drawing of the Brooklyn bridge.

Bucky’s lips flickered like he wanted to smile, but didn’t quite manage it, “I was thinking a Marvel marathon?” He grabbed his own sketchpad off his desk, and two cups for rinse water. He tucked a clean paintbrush behind his ear, his sketchpad under his arm, the cups stacked in his one hand, and a few other brushes in his other. Tubes of paint were already scattered on the coffee table, along with a pallet stained with green paint.

Pencil in hand, Y/N snorted, “Don’t know if we’ve got that kinda time, but sure. I haven’t seen Captain America in a while.”

They worked without talking too much until close to 6. Only stopping to pop a frozen pizza in the oven and eat sometime around 2. Bucky on one of the bean bag chairs closer to the left side of the TV. She ended up on the floor, back against the couch, so she could spread out her paints. The hardwood floor underneath her made her butt numb, but she didn’t have to worry about being too messy. It’d clean up easier here than her carpet. Which had plenty of paint stains she’d have to pay for when she moved out.

It wasn’t as unbearable as Y/N expected it to be, but every so often she still felt a knife twist around inside her. With a constant weight on her body, pressing her down like a shadowy shroud, every action was strained. She was attempting to paint a robin on a branch. Had given up on her bridge an hour ago. Was about to give up on the bird too. The feathers were getting clumped together, and kind of starting to look like a mutant falcon of some sort. Her fine pencil lines lost in her clumsy use of a paintbrush.

“I really liked your watercolor piece.” Bucky stated, pretty much out of the blue. Y/N paused and peeked up at him for the first time in a few hours. She’d made it a point to stare at her horrible painting the entire time, and even when she needed help, she didn’t ask for it. Because she didn’t want him to be as close to her as he would need to be to help save her painting.

It took her a second to pull her mind away from her work and focus in on him and his words. Her paintbrush stilled, and she lifted it up, holding the top edges of her sketchbook. Slowly, she stretched out her legs, flexing her ankles to regain feeling in her feet. The sketchbook came to rest flat on her thighs, and she frowned. Oh ya, her painting from Monday, “Thank you.” That was all she had to say to him Monday, and that was all she could think to say to him now.

Monday, December 3

Ramsey, spurred on by spiteful annoyance at her lack of response to Bucky’s painting, made her go next. Y/N didn’t want anyone to look at her, or her work. Didn’t want to have to try and explain why she did what she did. The heart behind her painting wasn’t there anymore.

“I um love Greek mythology,” Y/N started, words immediately failing her. Flying out of her mind like wisps of smoke, “So I chose to use Aphrodite, goddess of love, as my focus. White doves are symbolic to her.” She stopped, arms crossed and leaned back against the white board. Already finished.

Everyone stared at her, waiting for her to continue, but when her silence stretched on, they finally focused on her artwork. It felt like needles were pricking at her skin. Too hot all over, and mouth dry as the summer sun.

The painting had been one of her favorites. A beautiful woman with a flowing dress, arms back holding up the tail end of it like a cape. Serene while she glided forward across the canvas. Then two doves flew right in front of her, together like they’d come directly from her heart. The ends of the dress melted down into a stream of colors and brush strokes near the bottom. Shifting into a galaxy. The doves were mostly white and surrounded by darker colors to help contrast them out.

When she’d painted it, Y/N had been thinking about love. Not just Bucky. Love in general and how scared she was to fall in love. How fickle Greek gods were, just like emotions, and prone to mistakes in many of the stories. Love and gods were both tricky things. It was fueled with so many of her emotions, all poured out onto a page.

But now, she didn’t feel anything like before. Nothing but achy longing.

“I was just wondering if I could buy it from you. After the show.” Bucky’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she met his eyes, surprised. His sketchbook was propped against his knees, a pallet of paints on the floor to his right. Brush in the cup of water, he swirled it around and wiped it clean on a stray paper towel in a practiced motion. Not even looking down when he did it. Just studying her.

“Buy it?” Y/N asked, eyebrows pinched in confusion, “Why would you want to buy it?” Iron Man played in the background, the sound of him working on his first finished suit filled up the apartment. She set aside her bird, a lost cause, to dry. Despite the paintings being awful, she’d have to turn them in Monday. Maybe after it dried, she could clean it up some.

Bucky’s mouth curved into a teasing smile, setting aside his brush, “Cause it’s awesome? And I want to hang it up?” He asked slowly in return, like he was spelling it out to a child. Elbows propped on his knees, he pushed aside his own sketchbook. From where she sat, it looked like he was painting one of his original sketches of her. From her apartment. One of the poses where she sat in her recliner, reading.

Once again, he made her beautiful. Y/N could tell that much, even from where she sat.

Blinking, she shook her head, a bit reluctant to the idea of him paying her. Especially for that piece. Which had revolved around him so tightly. Tense, she sat up straighter and rinsed out her brush. The water was just a tint away from scarlet now, “Mn I guess so, but you don’t have to buy it. You can just have it.” Water dripped dark splotches from the brush onto her jeans before she wrapped it in a stained paper towel and dried it off. Dried paint coated under her nails, and fingertips. Coating them crimson.

Immediately, Bucky scowled at her, “No, I’m going to pay you for it. I personally know how many hours you spent on that. I’m not just going to take it from you.” He gestured with his hands as he spoke, sweater rolled up to his elbows, and scratched at his jaw. There was a smudge of paint across his scruffy cheek.

Flustered, Y/N stood up with her pallet of colors and cup of dirty water. Stepping around the couch, her socked feet slid just a bit against the smooth floor, “I don’t really know what to price it at.” She stopped at his sink, picking up a few dirty breakfast dishes, and setting them out of the way. Then she started rinsing off her supplies. Water cold against her skin, but slowly warming as it ran. Soft scarlet, black, white, and green paint swirled against the silver sink, and away with the water. Fingers against the pallet she scrubbed the dried paint off, and then picked as much of the paint out from under her nails as she could.

She figured once she was cleaned up, it’d be close enough to 7 to justify her leaving. AKA bolting. Bucky followed after her with his own dirty pallet and water, “I was thinking about 100. Maybe more depending on what you’re offered at the art show.”

Sputtering, she sat aside her pallet to dry and finally meet his eyes. He was suddenly close, and she had to take a calming breath. Or else her heart might stop beating, “That’s a little much don’t you think?” He was standing at her left and tilted the faucet towards himself, so he could rinse his own materials. Arm brushing hers, she got to feel that his sweater was softer than it looked.

Bucky shook his head, and she stepped aside so he could better use the sink, “No, I bet if you price it at 100 someone will buy it.” She wiped her damp hands on a brown kitchen towel.

“Someone crazy.” Y/N grumbled, but then shrugged, “I’ll make sure Ramsey puts a ‘sold’ sticker on it for you. You don’t have to pay me till you get it, though.” There wasn’t any good reason to justify her not letting him have it. If she was being honest, she didn’t really want to keep it. It just reminded her of dark thoughts that she didn’t need to dwell on.

Bucky nodded, and glanced up. It looked like he was about to say something else, but then he frowned, “It’s really coming down out there.” His eyes were over her shoulder, focused on something across the room. Hands dripping water, he turned off the faucet and placed his supplies next to her own and dried his hands on his jeans.

Y/N turned, following his line of sight towards the window. Her heart dropped into a pit, and she quickly paced around the counter, bundling her cold fingers against the hem of her shirt. Crossing the living room, she peered out the window over his desk. It was a blanket of white outside. No cars passed through the road, and the ones parked along the side were nothing more than little white hills. Barley distinguishable. Part of her, the artistic part, wanted to draw it. Try to capture the shining white crystals contrasted with the stark grey of the buildings. Splashes of cover peeking out, about to disappear under a blanket of freshly falling snow. But that part of her was background noise to the roaring anxiety that made her grit of teeth.

“Shit.” She groaned, racking a hand through her hair. Hadn’t even noticed that it was snowing so hard because she was too busy not looking anywhere but at her artwork. It was quiet too. That sort of peaceful silence that came from the snow dulling out noises.

Back over at the couch, she picked her phone off the cushion and sat down to investigate. Darcy had messaged her, sending a selfie of her snuggled up with a cup of something steaming, and the caption ‘Snow days rock!’. A little later after that, Peter had let her know that he was super bummed because Mr. Stark made him leave work early.

Her weather app had issued a ‘winter weather warning’. High freezing winds, lots of snow, and lots of ice. Y/N carefully shut her sketchbook, the paint barely dry but she didn’t have the time too care. Then began gathering up her stuff, “I better get going. Before the roads get any worse.” Before she got stuck there. Hastily, she unzipped her bag and stuffed everything back inside. Then hurried to the kitchen, snatching her damp pallet off the counter.

Bucky stood by the window, watching it come down, and turned back to look at her, perplexed, “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” His arms were crossed, fists fight against his shirt. Lips in a fine line, he kept glancing between her and outside.

Y/N snorted a very thin, awkward laugh, putting her tubes of paint in her bag, “What’s the alternative? Stay here?” Her heart skipped at the thought. It was ridiculous. No, she couldn’t do that. For her sake and his, it would be better if she went home.

“Well ya, I mean, you could.” Bucky shrugged, taking a couple steps away from the window. Arms still crossed, and shoulders tense near his ears. It was obvious he didn’t seem to like the idea either, and that only made her feel worse. Guilty, and uncomfortable.

She shook her head, “No, I can get a cab. They drive in all kinds of weather.” The weather app had said to stay off the roads and inside if at all possible. It was getting dark. Earlier than normal due to the heavy clouds blotting out the sun. But Y/N couldn’t imagine staying the night after this week.

Maybe last week it would have been a fantasy come true. Like in some stupid romcom, but now? After Sunday? It was a fully-grown monster of an awkward, awful idea. Complete with horns and a snake tongue.

At the door, she slipped on her shoes and zipped up her coat. Bucky grabbed her arm just as she was reaching for the doorknob, “Stay.” He stated, quietly, but seriously.

She glanced up at him, swallowing the lump in her throat the formed from being able to smell his cologne, “I can’t.” Y/N was surprised at how vulnerable her voice was. She hadn’t meant to sound like that. It was supposed to be stronger than that. More resolute. Jerking, she pulled her arm from his grip and shook her head again when he opened his mouth to argue. Hand on the doorknob, she opened the door and stepped into the hall. It was even colder now, and the dim lights overhead flickered, buzzing. Even colder without Bucky’s hand on her arm.

Only just making it to the stairs, Bucky caught the strap of her backpack. Y/N whirled around on him, “I can’t stay here.” She repeated, managing to be just a bit firmer this time. Not even flinching, he took another step closer to her. Her hands trembled slightly as anxiety started to pour into her veins, clawing at her head.

Cautiously, Bucky guided her heavy bag down. Taking it off her, and she found herself letting him. The way he stared unwaveringly at her, as if seeing the dark tidepool of emotions behind her eyes, made her face grow hot with bit back tears. He shouldered it, and placed a hand on her arm, “You can.” He took a breath, closing his eyes as if to gather his thoughts then continued, “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you out there.” Bucky squeezed her arm and then stepped away, giving her space back.

“But it’s,” Y/N’s breath hitched, panic making her stomach feel sick. The cold bit at her fingertips and her hands balled into fists. Nervously shaking her head, she tried to swallow all the wrong words and find the right ones to explain herself, “It’ll be so awkward after—”

“It’ll be ok.” Bucky assured, giving a light smile. It reached his eyes, making them shine with tender light, “We’ll just watch movies and have fun. I’ll even make you dinner.” Slowly, he took another step back, edging closer to his apartment door. A hopeful expression making his handsome face soft, and sweet.

It didn’t take much for her resolve to crack. Too exhausted and strung out to even put up a real fight. She let out a shuddering breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding in, “I can take the couch then.” With that, Y/N stepped past him and retreated into his apartment. Taking off her boots again, she cursed the weather. Cursed winter. Cursed her landlord. Cursed everything that led her into this position.

Bucky shook his head, going back into the kitchen. Her bag made a solid thunk against the countertop when he plopped it down, “No way, you can take my bed. It’s fine.” She wanted to argue some more but then he was opening the fridge, changing the subject, “I was thinking tacos?” Bucky offered, and she unzipped her coat, throwing it over the back of the couch.

Leaning against the counter, she watched him pull out a thawed pound of hamburger. Then shrugged, “Works for me. Guess this means you’re finally going to cook for me.” She couldn’t help the small upturn of her lips. Every time they were at her house, they usually ordered takeout. There were a few rare times where she made easy stuff. Like hamburgers, mac-n-cheese, or stir-fry. But not all that often. Whenever they first started working together, Bucky never stayed long enough to need food. Once they did start eating together, Y/N didn’t feel like she had enough skill to even try and fix anything for him. It was only recently that she got comfortable enough to try.

“You are a guest, and it is dinner time.” Bucky waved a spatula at her, flicking on his stove. A light blue flame burst to life under the burner. Once the hamburger was in the pan, he used his spatula to divide it into chunks, starting to cook it.

“Anything you want me to do?” She asked, and Bucky shook his head.

“Nah, why don’t you go finish the movie? I’ve got it.” He waved his free hand towards the living room. Then he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, rummaging through some of his cupboards near the stove.

Nodding, Y/N left him in peace. Somewhat relieved that she didn’t have to try and carry conversation. It was getting easier to ignore. The awkwardness fading back just a bit, but it still couldn’t be considered comfortable.

After dinner, which was delicious, Bucky disappeared with their plates. Y/N relaxed down into the couch, pleasantly full, and continued watching the Incredible Hulk. Since she was staying the night, they might actually make a dent in the Marvel franchise.

Bucky returned with a bottle of scotch and two glasses with ice. He set them down on the table in front of her and she eyed him, eyebrows raised in a silent question. He snorted, lifting the amber and black bottle closer for her to see, “Just thought you might want a drink.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” She asked skeptically but didn’t deny it. She wasn’t much of an alcohol person, even less of a scotch person, but a buzz did sound tempting. Y/N was a happy drunk. The giggly kind, and she liked how it made her feel. As long as she didn’t get too sad. If she got too emotional, then it didn’t go well.

Bucky poured himself a glass, and tipped the bottle towards her own, waiting for the go ahead. Huffing a sigh, she waved her hand towards him. He smirked and filled up her glass, “I don’t want you to get drunk. We’ve just never drank together. Thought it might be fun. A buzz and Marvel movies could be a good mix.” Then he screwed the lid shut and sat the bottle on the table, taking up his drink. Fluidly, Bucky moved back over to his seat on the beanbag, dropping down heavily. Not spilling a single drop.

She picked up her glass, stirring the ice with her finger to try and thin out some of the scotch, “Never been to your apartment either.” She quietly mused, crossing her legs up under her thighs. His apartment ran warmer than her own, but her feet were chilly even in her socks.

“Guess tonight’s just full of firsts.” Bucky agreed, sipping on his drink. They were sitting further apart tonight. Further apart than they had in a while. It made her heart heavy, so she took a drink as well. Bucky didn’t even flinch, and she full on grimaced.

“God it’s awful.” She laughed, shaking her head, lips smacking to chase the flavor away. It made her tongue feel dry and bitter.

Chuckling he took another drink and hummed, “It’s an acquired taste.” His eyes danced with mirth in the dim lighting of the living room, a smirk made his mouth tilt in a sinfully charming sort of way. She had to look away, back down to the melting ice in her glass.

“I think you mean that you drink enough until your tongue goes numb and then it’s not so bad.” Y/N translated, taking another mouthful, and flinching again. It burned all the way down to her stomach. Nose wrinkled, she blinked as her eyes began to water, but she tried to school her expression. Not liking that she could hear Bucky trying to stifle his laughter.

“Try not to let it hit your tongue so much. Come on, haven’t you taken shots before?” Bucky teased, eyes flickering from the TV back over to her. The light made his jaw sharper and caught streaks of his hair, making them almost blue. From her position on the couch, she could still see snow coming down through the window across the room. It glowed like fluttering glitter past the streetlamps. Not slowing at all.

She nodded, focusing back on Bucky, “Ya, some but I always had a chaser.” Her skin was already feeling honey glow warm. A little tingly. It was good scotch. Bucky hummed, the sound of the movie filled up the empty space between them. At least, it was empty if you ignored all the things left unsaid.

Over the next hour, Y/N finished her first glass, and poured herself another. Right alongside Bucky, who refilled his glass a few minutes before her. By then, she could tell she was tipsy. Giggling at some of the terrible humor in the movie, and really at anything at all. Until she found herself watching Bucky more than the movie. If he noticed, he didn’t say so.

By the time her body started to feel flickering warm all over, Y/N didn’t have a clue what was happening in the movie anymore. It was nearing the end, and the apartment was faintly lit from the kitchen. Mostly flooded with the light from the TV. It reminded her of their situation a week before, but she didn’t want to think about that. In fact, she wanted to focus on another problem at hand.

Standing up, Y/N felt her head swim just a bit, but she managed to walk perfectly fine. She wasn’t that far gone. Just the kind of buzz that gave a false sense of bravery, and horrible impulse control. Right then, she couldn’t understand why they were sitting so far apart. So, she closed the few short steps between them and plunked herself down on the second beanbag chair next to Bucky’s. His eyes widened, and he stared at her, snorting a laugh when she grinned cheekily at him. Then she wiggled in the seat until she was comfortable and leaned over to let her head rest on his right shoulder. All without saying a single word and took another sip of her half full drink. It didn’t taste bad anymore.

A few beats of silence passed, and she tried to focus back in on the movie, rather than the obvious fluttering of her heart. From her position, she could feel the strong muscle resting just under the sweater. Bucky finally shook his head in disbelief, the beads rustled as he relaxed back into his own chair, and asked, “Comfy?”

Y/N hummed and nodded, nuzzling against his arm because god he smelt good. And damn if he wasn’t cozy and perfect. Her hand curled loosely against his sweater, thumb rubbing the soft material. Knees up on the beanbag, and her body contorted into a small ball.

When she didn’t offer a verbal reply, Bucky didn’t push. Instead, he shifted his arm until it was wrapped around her shoulders, forcing her closer. Head on his chest, Y/N laughed again at the awkward adjusting she had to do to get comfortable again. Shift till she was halfway on his beanbag and hers. Legs stretched out further to balance, and her hand holding her glass rested up on his waist, other tucked underneath her to stay propped up. His arm around her shoulders, and other hand still holding his own scotch on his thigh. But then everything was flawless. And she didn’t want to ever have to move again.

“Why don’t we do this all the time?” Y/N asked playfully, fingers rubbing nonsensical circles against her glass. She could feel every breath he took, and faintly hear the beat of his heart under her ear. He was so warm and strong underneath her. It was comforting. The credits of the movie were starting to play, and she loathed the thought of one of them getting up to put in another.

Bucky tensed, but didn’t move. He rubbed his thumb against her bare arm. Sometimes it felt like everything he did was the most natural thing in the world to do. Like their relationship had reached a point where it should have been as easy as breathing. If he would just let it. Then he shrugged, the motion jostled her just a little, “I guess cause it’s not really what friends are supposed to do.” Words mumbled and stilted. Awkward. He wouldn’t look at her when he said that, just stared down at the cup in his hand. Metal contrasting against fragile glass. Both glinting in the harsh light from the TV.

Before he could pull back, she caught his wrist and sat up to meet his eyes. Her hand kept his arm around her shoulders, and she only adjusted herself just enough to look at him properly. Their faces were dangerously close, but she barely noticed, “But we do it, and we’re friends, so it can’t be too bad.” Her voice was soft, insistent. Eyes betraying the sadness welling up deep inside of her. It felt like the burning in her stomach was heading up into her throat. His skin was smooth against her fingers, and his arm was a reassuring weight over her shoulders. Bucky made her feel safe. Even when he was breaking her heart.

Bucky whispered her name like she was squeezing the life from his chest and sighed harshly. His eyes darted away from her own, lips pressed into a fine line, “Ya but it’s wrong, and makes things complicated.” He closed his eyes and tapped his finger against his glass, the sound sharp over the TV. She could already see his walls closing, shutting her out again.

“It doesn’t have to.” Y/N shook her head, clasping his hand tighter to try and keep his attention. His callused fingers were rough against her own, and she could see his chest rising and falling faster. Like he was trying to keep himself calm. Still, she pushed, “If it makes you happy, and me happy, and doesn’t hurt anyone, then why is it so wrong?” She spoke quickly, and her voice was starting to slur just a tad. Like her mouth was running faster than her head. The hand holding her drink gripped it tighter. Condensation making her fingers slick. Head tilted, she tried to make him look at her. Suddenly desperate to make him understand.

At that, Bucky did tug away. Stood up and moved a few steps over to the other side of the coffee table. He picked up the bottle of scotch and refilled his drink. Again. His hands were shaking just a tad, and he slowly put the lid back on and sat the bottle down. Then he waved his glass in the air as he tried to explain, nearly sloshing it over the edge, “Because it can’t happen. And that—” He jabbed a finger at the beanbag chair he just vacated, like it was an example, “Will lead to things happening, and nothing can happen between us.” He pointed between the two of them, face flushed, and took another drink. Eyes sharp and glistening, his hair fell across his forehead as he swallowed. Then he carded his fingers roughly through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. He sounded so sure. So stubborn and it just pissed her off.

“Does this make you happy?” Y/N stressed, gesturing between them. She stood up too, stumbling a little when her feet caught on air. Still, she steadied herself, head high, and finished her drink. When he didn’t respond, she sat her empty glass down on the coffee table a bit harder than necessary. It echoed over the music filling up the room with background noise. When had they started arguing?

Frustrated, Bucky groaned and turned so he wasn’t facing her. He shifted his glass to his right hand, knuckles white. Delaying time, he swallowed another mouthful, quiet. His shoulders were tight, the muscles rolling as he clenched his fist. When he glanced back at her, his face was blank again.

Seeing his emotional barricades up again made irritation burn the back of her throat like hot coals.

A whine caught in her chest, and she shut her eyes tight. The anger melted into something darker. Something harder to swallow that had her arms wrapping around herself, and made her shift awkwardly from foot to foot, “Don’t I?” Her tone dropped at his silence, vulnerable and nearly drowned out by the end credits music. Hurt at him shutting down again. Shutting her out again, “Make you happy?” Y/N clarified. Emotions switching on a dime as she stared at his broad back.

The TV cut out to the title page, and he turned, snatching the remote off the table and flicked it off. Then tossed it back onto the table, only for it to clash and skitter off the edge onto the floor. Shadows clung to the room, only pushed back by the small light from the kitchen and window behind her. Then silence pressed in on the room and highlighted all the words not being spoken. Ears ringing in the sudden quiet, Y/N tried to keep her breathing even and to stay quiet. Let him boil in whatever emotions were making him pace between the couch and wall.

In the cluttered space of his apartment, she felt small because he took up so much of it. When he got like this, she could see the soldier. Could see everything he tried to keep in control burning just beneath the surface. All the things he tried to never say. The panels of his left hand hummed and shifted, flexing into a fist and relaxing again when he finally stood still.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he brought up his hand to rub at his face, messing up his hair. When he glanced back at her, he grimaced, and exclaimed, “Of course you do!” His eyes were shining bright in the dark, glimmering with bit back pain. Eyebrows pinched and jaw tight, like he was fighting to keep everything in check. Even every perfectly measured breath he took.

“Just not enough?” Y/N asked, still soft and stepped closer. She reached down for the bottle, eyes never falling from his cooled expression, body swaying in a fluid motion as she stood back up. Bucky silently watched her as she unscrewed the top and watched him. Forgoing a glass, she took a drink from it. The edges of the cap bit at her fingers. Desperate to feel anything but what she was feeling right then. Maybe it’d numb her the rest of the way out. Make her pass out, or black out to a point where things just didn’t hurt anymore. With the way things were going it might be nice.

It’d be a blessing. Even for a minute.

“It’s not like that.” Bucky denied, words cracking in his throat at the end. Y/N edged just a bit closer, until they were chest to chest. The bottle brushed against his thigh where she let it swing at her side. She had to stare up to meet his eyes. He finished the last drink from his glass, then stooped to sit his down too. Every movement tickled the air around him and made her skin tingle from how close they were. His shoulder brushed her hip when he straightened back up. Then his hand cupped over her own and he took the bottle from her loose fingers. Forging his glass as well. His touch still burned. He didn’t offer to clarify what he meant. That it ‘wasn’t like that’ didn’t explain much of anything.

Instead of rounding another pointless circle with him, Y/N asked, “Why do you want my painting?” She crossed her empty arms, rocking back on her heels, but not moving from her stubborn position in front of him. Not yielding again. The scotch made her stupid brave, and she was cracking up. The façade she tried to keep up falling apart piece by piece. Part of her understood that this conversation would lead to nowhere good.

That she was tearing everything apart. Messing everything up. Spilling all their rotting issues out between them. Ripping up her heart for him to see as she desperately tried to understand his. But she couldn’t bring herself to shut up again. Too angry and hurt and frustrated and tired.

This had been a bad idea from the start. She should have just stayed in bed this morning.

That jarred him a bit. Bucky snorted incredulously, “Because it’s beautiful, and I love your work.” His full lips wrapped around the bottle and he took a swig. Rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand, he let out a slow breath. Disheveled, he dropped the bottle back on the table, almost spilling it. The cap still bit at her thumb where she pressed at it. Flipped it around between her fingers. Something to fidget with.

“Do you know why I painted it?” Y/N continued, licking her lips, mouth full of cotton. She rocked back forward, nearly toppling into him, but he caught her shoulders. Steadying her and almost smiling, but it died before it could reach his eyes. Her hands came up to balance herself and she dropped the cap to the floor. It clattered, but neither of them bothered to try and pick it up, “Why I picked the subject?” Her fingers curled against his chest, enjoying the touch and slow to pull back.

Bucky shrugged, shaking his head, hands running down her arms to her elbows before he released her, “You were pretty cryptic about it in class.” He took a half step back, but she caught the hem of his shirt, and stubbornly held onto it. Stopping, he glanced down at her hand, but didn’t force her to let go.

Willing her fuzzy mind to focus, she explained, “It’s about love.” She pressed a free hand to her chest, hysterical laughter bubbling from her as she continued, “It’s basically my heart poured on a canvas.” Y/N tugged at his sweater, voice cracking at the end. Jaw clenched like she could keep her words from shaking, she stepped forward challengingly, “Still want it?” Her bottom lip trembled, but she kept her head high and proud.

Bucky’s voice dropped and sounded rough like gravel when he replied, “Of course.” His eyes held her own, and she ground her teeth, exasperated. Nearly stepped on his toes when she let go of his shirt and threw up her hands, catching her fingers in her hair, yanking roughly.

“I was thinking about you.” Y/N whispered, flinging her hand in his direction, nearly hitting him, “Not just you, but enough. Doesn’t that bother you?” Bucky was quiet, so she continued, shaking her head as the words tumbled out, “It’s about how scared I am. To care about you this much. About how messed up these feelings are, and how happy I was.” The tears were coming now. All the ones she never wanted him to see. They caught in a knot in her throat, making her words thick. Her cheeks were wet, and she didn’t know when she started crying, “And I couldn’t explain it in class because I don’t feel that way anymore. It just hurts.” Her hand curled in the front of her shirt and she clawed at it, like maybe she could just dig out her beating heart and give that to him too, “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault, but I don’t know what to—”

The words were stolen from her lips. Immediately forgotten. Taken the moment she felt his breath against her mouth, and then nothing but soft warmth. His hands caught her wrists from where she’d been wildly gesturing, and he stilled her. Cold metal and warmth contrasting against her skin. He tugged her forward, arms caught between their chests, and his hair tickled her cheek when he stooped down. So much taller than her that he had to duck his head.

Bucky was kissing her.

Y/N’s eyes fell closed, and her lips parted against his. Everything floated still around her. His hand released her wrist, and cold metal cupped her cheek. Confused, she pushed her hands against his chest, pulling back just an inch, “Why? What—” Then he tilted his head and kissed her again. His teeth nipped her bottom lip and he crowded against her. A soft groan caught in her throat, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, stretching up on her tiptoes to be closer. Questions buzzed through her head, but her world was spinning too fast. Everything suddenly felt warm and happy with him anchoring her to the apartment floor. In that moment, she couldn’t imagine to trying to ask him again. Not while he was finally kissing her.

Bucky shuddered when her tongue brushed his top lip, and his fingers curled gently in her hair. Leaving her no room to move away again. For just a second, he broke the kiss, and let his hands rest against her shoulders, thumbs brushing across her neck. He kissed her forehead, and then her cheek, tongue lightly brushing against the tears still damp on her skin. A soft bubbling giggle left her. Relief mixed with euphoria and disbelief left her insides sparkling like liquid gold.

Nearly floating, Y/N fisted her hands in the back of his shirt against his shoulders. Then took a step back, making him follow her. Still bent over but his hands came to rest against her hips. A tender smile spread across Bucky’s lips while a grin made her beam back at him. Every step she took he matched. Never more than an inch apart. A breath of laughter escaped him when she stumbled, nearly taking him down with her.

When she sat on the couch, he pressed her back until he was hovering over her and kissed her again. It’d been a long while since she had a make-out session like a desperate teenager, but everything fell into place with him. It wasn’t hard to remember why she loved kissing.

Not when she was kissing Bucky.

Next Chapter

Tags: @boy-leave @wtfholland

#Bucky Barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #reader insert #artist au #slow burn #Fluff and angst #fluff and feels #tashariiwriting

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