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bleachhaven · 3 years

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Soutaicho’s Secret Admirer (Shunsui x Reader) — Part 5/6

Author’s Note:

It should be noted that this story is almost coming to a close...I’m sad to stop writing about Shunsui but it’s time to wrap this one up. So there’s maybe 1 or 2 more parts left.

Warning: A bit of smut ahead. One can only be seduced endlessly for so long without something happening about it.

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Read Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3 and Part 4 first!

Uncharacteristically, Shunsui was late to arrive at the office. It was almost ten in the morning when he finally strolled in. Nanao would have admonished him without a thought but the dark circles beneath his eyes revealed he had already had a terrible night. She didn’t want to make it a terrible morning as well.

Shunsui didn’t have the excuse of drunken debauchery at some late night party for his tardiness. The last party he’d been to had been Lisa-chan’s Valentine’s Day celebration and that was over two weeks ago.

It was more or less about how his loneliness and melancholy had kept him up late into the night. Something he definitely didn’t want to burden sweet Nanao-chan about.

He had found himself strolling randomly in seireitei at around three in the goddamn morning because simply staying in his bed staring at his ceiling felt impossible. He didn’t have these kind of difficult nights too often but when he did have them, they were quite terrible.

Sure, he missed Juu. But his loneliness was a bit more than that this time.

It has been over two weeks since he had received anything from his beloved Secret Admirer. Fourteen whole days of complete silence from her was quite unusual, and he felt it acutely. Where was she?

The darkest of thoughts had plagued him at night. What if she was sent on a dangerous mission? What if she had been injured? He hated to think it...but what if she was never coming back? Hadn’t he honestly lost enough?

The thoughts spiraled as the evening progressed into the wee hours of the morning, growing darker and more melancholy.

He knew he was not the greatest catch in the Soul Society. That title fell to Byakuya, uncontested. Shunsui was older than everyone in seireitei - a thousand years too old, he’d say. He was nobility too but he wasn’t one to truly fit into that mould, which deterred most noblewomen from considering him.

He wasn’t what one would call conventionally handsome either. He knew he wasn’t ugly...but he wasn’t exactly...whole. Not anymore. Maybe once he would have held some appeal and he had many lovers who thought him handsome enough to have a tumble with him... but the eyepatch never failed to remind him that he was never going to be good looking, by anyone’s standards, with a goddamn hole in his face.

Most days, none of this would honestly bother him. But last night it did.

His beloved Secret Admirer probably came to the conclusion that he wasn’t worth all the trouble after all. Surely, there had to be a reason why he had never been able to have a long term relationship. He blamed it on his job but...was that all it was? Maybe he was just not meant to have a happily ever after with someone.

As romantic as he was, he didn’t really believe in the concept of happily ever after. He knew relationships were work. It was a commitment between two people who cared about each other to work on staying together through whatever. With time, he had put any thoughts of a relationship on the back burner. With his duty to the Gotei 13, and his responsibilities as well as the added burden of maintaining his reputation as the Soutaicho...it was a practical choice.

But his Secret Admirer had made him want. Had made him yearn for a happily ever after for himself in a way he never had before.

He wanted to be loved and cherished as much as he wanted to love and cherish that one special person in his life. But did he really deserve it?

He knew it was her silence that had his latent insecurities rising to the surface keeping him up at night.

So as sleep deprived as he was, he came to the office with a plan. He couldn’t bear her silence anymore so he was not going to. With everything that had come up in the office, he hadn’t been able to finish up the letter he had started to write to her. At that time, it had felt futile considering there was no way to send it to her.

But he had a brilliant idea. He would have it published in the next installment of the Seireitei Communication including just enough information so that she would know it’s him while withholding enough details to still keep it anonymous. He could trust Hisagi-kun to be discreet.

He had a plan, and it could actually work!

If only he could actually find that bit of lavender paper he had left on his desk.

“Nanao-chan, did you remove anything from my desk by any chance?” he asked, opening up drawers and bending down to check under the desk.

Nanao looked up from the training schedule she was working on. “Nothing more than the usual paperwork. Why what have you lost now?” she asked with an overexaggerated sigh.

“My, my, Nanao-chan. You make it sound like I lose things on a daily basis.”

“The only thing lost on a daily basis around here is my sanity,” she said, rolling her eyes. Still she relented. A distressed Taicho always meant a distressed Nanao. “Fine. Describe it to me and I will tell you if I saw it anywhere.”

“It was nothing official. Just a bit of lavender paper I had been writing on…” he trailed off seeing the look on her face. “What? Did you see it?”

“You lost the letter you were writing to you Secret Admirer?” she asked.

“Nanao-chan! How did you…?”

“You forget, Taicho,” she said quite matter of factly. “There’s nothing that goes on here I don’t know about. But I haven’t seen it. Maybe it got mixed up in some paperwork and got sent to another division. I don’t think anyone would recognize your flowery handwriting which you reserve for your personal correspondence anyway. So nothing to worry about.”

Shunsui simply stared at her. He has known his little fuktaicho for too long to not notice that something was off. All this time, he thought she was just laughing at his expense because he was mooning over someone he didn’t even know. But now...that look...the way she said it without even having to think about it...it all felt fishy somehow. Nanao-chan was up to something.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she huffed, correcting the papers on her desk that didn’t need correcting. A nervous habit that always gave her away. “If you don’t have any serious work, I have a pile of forms…”

“You know perfectly well who it is, don’t you, Nanao-chan?” he interrupted her attempts to distract him.

“I don’t know what you’re…”

“Please, Nanao-chan. It’s perfectly obvious you know exactly what I am talking about. Just...tell me…” he said.

He was so serious and intent. Nanao had only ever seen him like that in the heat of the worst kind of battle. She dropped her pretenses as well.

“She and I have both left enough breadcrumbs for you as it is. So if you’re so desperate to know who she is, why don’t you do the work to actually find out?” she asked him. “Clearly the girl cares about you but is terrified to approach you. Who wouldn’t be considering who you are and the position you hold. She is a nice girl, Taicho. But as things stand, she wouldn’t be the one to approach you so maybe you should find out for yourself who she is and do the approaching.”

So Nanao did indeed know who his Secret Admirer was. He understood her reasons why she couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t really her secret to divulge. Shunsui had to respect that despite his desperation.

“Is my sweet Nanao-chan giving her taicho dating advice?” he teased instead.

“Yes, I am,” she declared with a raised brow. “For even I can see how far you’ve fallen that you need advice from me to get yourself a date!”

Shunsui gasped, buying into the friendly teasing. “Nanao-chan is so mean to her taicho!”

Finally, they both got back to work, but Shunsui’s mind was still thinking about what Nanao had said. Apparently breadcrumbs were laid out and he hadn’t even noticed! He clearly had to pay more attention.

He tried to outline the facts in his mind.

The letters were always lemon scented. It could be a shampoo or some kind of scented cream...but it smelled fresh, almost as if unintentional. Something to further ponder upon.

The gifts were always elaborate but simple and he hadn’t been able to trace it through any vendor. The chocolates were handmade so his little Secret Admirer was probably very good with cooking and baking.

The handwriting was very distinctive as well. Especially the way she looped all her Ls and Bs with a distinctive flowy curve.

So far, the facts didn’t fit well into place to identify her as anyone he knew...but somehow, it felt like it was just barely within reach now. As if it’s only missing one final puzzle piece for the whole thing to come together.

That night, sleep evaded him once more. He couldn’t deny it. He missed her! He couldn’t help but wishing that she was right next to him, romancing him with more than just her words. He wished he could cherish her in all the ways he desperately yearned to.

He took the letters he kept at hand in the drawer of his bedside table. He found that he liked to read them sometimes, and no matter how many times he read her words, they still managed to make him feel things. The shape of her words, the texture of the paper...it comforted him.

However, the sensual seductive ones were his downfall.

With all the time he has been alive, and all the experience he’s had, one would think he would be able to resist the temptation. But he often couldn’t.

Reading those letters, describing how she wanted to make love under the moonlight or how she yearned to taste him...it had him imagining soft feminine hands touching him. His hand would unconsciously reach into his hakama of its own volition and grasp his manhood, wondering what it would feel like to be touched by someone who ardently wanted to please him.

It wouldn’t take him too long at all. He would cum, gasping into the empty bedroom, wishing he had a name he could moan. Wishing she was here for him to hold.

Sated, he’d finally fall asleep. Yet though his body was satisfied, his mind wasn’t. He couldn’t help but feel alone on this big empty bed.

That coveted final piece of the puzzle arrived as, of all things, more paperwork. He was mindlessly flipping through some reports after lunch the next day when it popped out at him like well-lit beacon.

It wasn’t anything special. Just a request for more funds to be allocated for a better training ground for the 13th division. Except it was filled out by his beloved Secret Admirer. The handwriting screamed her identity at him, looping Ls and Bs and all.

“_____-san,” he whispered to himself, wondering how he could have missed it.

Suddenly, everything was perfectly crystal clear.

Everyone knew that while Kuchiki Rukia settled in enough to pick her own fuktaicho, the 3rd seat of the 13th was acting in that role in an unofficial capacity, putting her in-charge of all the paperwork coming and going from that division. A reason why she was always showing up at the 1st...giving her ample opportunities to learn his habits well enough to leave behind those delightful missives without ever getting caught.

The lemon scent was from all the lemonade he knew she made for her division and for some special occasions in the seireitei. It was her specialty, a way of creating comfort and homeliness for her subordinates. He had tasted her chocolates twice - once at the Valentine’s Day party itself and then when she gifted them to him specifically. Both facts which had been pointed out by Nanao-chan while _____-san stood right next to him. No wonder she had flushed red then. It hadn’t been out of embarrassment but possibly from thinking she might get caught. The little minx.

He couldn’t help but remember every encounter he had with her in the recent past. Her cute blushes...the way she gasped out “Soutaicho!” Come to think of it, every time he saw her, he felt like she almost called him Shunsui out of habit only to change it to his official title at the last minute. He even recalled the twinkle in her eyes every time she looked up at him.

He couldn’t believe it. He finally knew who his Secret Admirer was and she’d been right before his eyes, had he only known where to look. He couldn’t help smiling, thinking about all the ways he would get back at her for running him around in circles. He would torture her so, so deliciously…

“You have that dopey smile on your face. Should I be worried?” Nanao asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm…? Of course not, Nanao-chan,” he said, not really reassuring her at all. “I am heading out. Be back soon!”

“Taicho!” she called out but he was already gone.

...to be continued.

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bennomartens · 2 years

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Friday Five Post

(image via)

Here’s five things I thought were interesting recently. Maybe you will too.

I wrote on Wednesday about starting to read Pete Davis’s book, Dedicated, and the ideas he sets forth in first section about Liquid Modernity and Infinite Browsing Mode. As could probably be expected, I then started to come across all sorts of things related to these ideas in my reading and everyday life. For that reason, a few of the things I link to this week are going to seem like riffs on the theme, but I think that’s kind of the point of paying attention to things, don’t you?

This long read from Arthur C. Brooks about satisfaction and the human brain’s preprogramming for the hedonic treadmill over at The Atlantic is well worth checking out in its entirety. It helps to give more detail to Davis’s explanation for why we engage in Infinite Browsing Mode, Wendell Berry’s distrust of the future, and why committing to things is actually problematic from a biological standpoint.

The long and short of it comes down to how we derive meaning in our lives. Is it through intrinsic or extrinsic means? I know that too often I’ve struggled with this, as I’m sure just about every other human to walk the planet has.

After last week’s Snowmageddon, I really identified with this image above. We got somewhere between 10 and 13 inches where I live, though because of the high winds and drifting, the snow came up to my knee in some areas of my driveway while I was out shoveling. I’m ready for winter to be over, but there are still 37 days of it left - and here in northeast Ohio, the winter-like weather isn’t likely to disappear on the equinox. And a related thought: don’t wish the days away waiting for spring.

Working in small towns and rural communities, I’ve come to appreciate a good, walkable main street. Maybe it’s some weird form of American-1950s-good-old-days-nostalgia, but every time I find myself in one of these place, I can’t help but very pointedly think to myself, “I’d love to live in a place like this.” My life has pretty exclusively been lived in urban and suburban neighborhoods, so I’m not sure where that comes from.

The thing is, main street areas like that are usually the result of some very careful planning and, often, a big middle finger to engineers working for state departments of transportation, as this article from Strong Towns points out.

As the author says, “Small cities and towns everywhere should be thinking about what they can do to calm traffic and reclaim street life for people outside of cars. I don’t recommend that they get rid of cars, because people still need to get to these destinations. But making the downtown pleasant for walking and biking, and hanging out, will help the community to thrive both economically and socially. In this era of climate change, we need more walkable places.”

He continues, “It is time for a renewed effort to break down the opposition at state DOTs and implement more balanced mobility in the hearts of cities and towns across America.”

To which I would like to shout a hearty, AMEN!”

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions as a rule, but I do make a point of choosing 1-3 areas of my life that I would like to pay more attention to or get moving in a new direction every year when the ball drops. Last year it had to with my career, and that ended up with me in a new job, so it kind of worked to perfection.

This year I chose to focus on starting a writing practice once again (sort of the reason I’m here writing this right now) and on improving my overall physical health. Basically since college ended, I’ve worked in one office after another or been in grad school, and the typical American sedentary lifestyle put down some deep roots. It pains me to say that at age 41, I’m close to being in the worst shape of my life, and I only wish I had done something about it sooner.

But the past is the past, onward and upward, etc, etc, etc. My focus has been on my diet, my sleep schedule, and introducing daily activity into my schedule. So far, it’s actually working pretty well. I’ve lost weight, I’m sleeping better, and I’ve been working out (though “working out” might be overstating things a bit, it’s more like flailing around and cursing at myself in ever more imaginative ways).

The weather here hasn’t been great, as I mentioned, which has made getting out for a daily walk during my lunch break less-than attractive. But when things start to turn and I can get consistent with it, I’ve got a plan of attack thanks to this article I stumbled upon, which outlines the 1980s fad of walking with small weights in your hands. I got my walking weights this week, so I’m dead serious about this.

Thanks for reading this week here at The Edge of America. Hope you have a great weekend!

#friday five

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unichrome · 3 years

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I’ve been wanting to write down as much as I can remember from the month at the hospital in April, and this tumblr blog is the only thing I have that even remotely resembles a journal. So here it is, feel free to read and comment if you’d like, but please don’t reblog.

I was living in Copenhagen when this happened.

A few weeks prior, I started a new medication, an antipsychotic so the usual side effect was to be expected: tiredness. But I’ve been in this carousel before, I know the worst is over after a week or so. I did indeed become extremely tired, and this was during working-from-home corona days so most shifts I ended up napping in the couch at any chance I got. Easily slept 12+ hours per night. It kept getting worse, I couldn’t stay awake during the days, became extremely lethargic. And it didn’t get better after a week, it just kept getting worse. So I called my psychiatrist and told her the medication wasn’t working and I felt so very bad and tired.

I got a new appointment with her, which I can’t even remember really. She got worried and sent me off to the psychiatric ward, where they did the standard blood test. Then sent me off to a room. Luckily I had anticipated for something like this to happen, so I had brought the work phone as well as chargers, so I could call in sick to work. A while later, three people suddenly entered and told me I had to go to the hospital right now, two of them were from the hospital transport. They took me to Amager hospital, I was so confused and not really present at all. I don’t know what they told me, but I needed a blood transfusion immediately. I stayed there for a night, the only thing I can remember is going to the bathroom once.

The Amager hospital apparently wasn’t capable of providing the care I needed, I was transported yet again, to Rigshospitalet. The memories from here on are very blurry and sporadic. Eventually I heard that both of my kidneys were failing, when I was admitted on April 22nd, my kidney functionality was around 18%. If it drops under 20% it becomes lethal. Kidneys are also responsible for the production of blood, which wasn’t happening anymore and I had a very dangerously low count of red blood cells.

I’m super difficult to get blood from if the first attempt isn’t successful, as the poor nurses became painfully aware of after failing on the first try. During one of the first days there, when the daily blood test was to be taken, they didn’t succeed. Three nurses tried, eventually they called for a narcosis doctor to try with a ultrasound machine to find my veins, but it didn’t work very well either. They stung me all around the body, down to my feet and it took at least an hour to get the sample and my body had pretty much gone into shock since medical procedures and needles of any kind are one of my worst fears. Because of this it was decided to install a port for draining blood so this wouldn’t have to be repeated every day.

A kidney biopsy was ordered as well as more detailed blood tests to figure out why this kidney failure was happening. I would also have to call my parents in Sweden and tell them what was happening, and the fact that they couldn’t come and visit me, at all. I was in a quarantined zone of the hospital where no visitors were allowed, not even family. But also Denmark had closed its borders at the time, so they couldn’t even enter the country in the first place.

My only contact with the outside world was my phone that I treated as the most precious thing in the entire world, it was also pretty much the only thing I had with me. I would have long calls with my family talking about the most mundane and boring things but it was such a blessing to hear about, I would drag out the subjects as much as I could and so would they. I’d often cry after having to stop the calls.

The biopsy and tests revealed that I had antibodies that shouldn’t be there. My immune system was attacking the body, pretty much. This autoimmune disease is very rare, Microscopic Polyangiitis, and will cause kidney failure (and other organ failures) if not discovered and treated in time. Since I barely had any prior symtoms, it wasn’t discovered in time. My lungs were also examined as the disease usually targets kidneys and/or lungs, but no significant damage was found there luckily.

I was put on steroids (prednisone 60 mg) that would support the kidneys and dampen the damage from the antibodies as well as chemotherapy (Sendoxan 100 mg) that would shut down the immune system almost completely. Synthetic hormone injections every week to stimulate the production of red blood cells.

Every morning a blood test was done a 6:00, as well as checking the temperature and blood pressure. I was forced to drink 3 liters of fluid every day (which I logged on a paper meticulously - every ml counted) and I could only pick between water, disgusting orange juice or disgusting apple juice. Except during lunch, when I got a small package of milk - this became pretty much the highlight of my day. One glass of milk. That was like pure joy, it tasted so divine. In just a few days your entire world shifts in such a way that this package of milk is what you look forward to the next day.

All day I was bedbound and in a haze, time was entirely dependent on medicine, meal and test times like a work schedule, from the 6:00 tests to the final 23:00 medications, that left 7 hours of rest that was robbed from me because prednisone makes you unable to sleep well, even with the sleep aids I got. Despite being in bed almost all day every day, I was constantly sleepy and tired but I would never get any rest. Couldn’t even pee normally either, had to collect everything in a bottle for them to log.

But of course it would get worse. After about 6 days, my doctor came in and told me that the treatment didn’t seem to be working fast enough. My kidney functionality kept dropping, now at 13%, creatinine levels above 400 (it should never be above 80 for women, around 200 is kidney failure). They had one more weapon to combat this - plasmapheresis. This would mean connecting me to a machine that would take out my blood, clean it from the harmful antibodies, and put it back in again. Hopefully this would buy me time for the treatment to win. To do this, they had to cut up my throat to insert two tubes that would take in and out the blood. I had to be awake during the whole procedure to control the breathing as instructed.

I wasn’t connected to the machine all the time. A few hours every other day. It was noisy, sounded like a miniature washing machine, and I hated it so much. The tubes in my throat, blood going in and out of me, it was just pure terror even if the procedure itself didn’t hurt. I got some mild sedatives but they were way too mild and didn’t do shit. The fact that I didn’t have to be connected to the machine every other day became yet another highlight like the milk. I’d talk about how today was such a good day because it was a no machine day, like a holiday.

Showering was horrible too. Because of the tubes I had to avoid getting them wet as much as possible while still somehow washing the hair. Then the tape around the tubes had to be changed and I hated anyone touching that area. I went for as long as I could between the showers, up to 9 days.

I was quickly becoming very weak, as the medications and chemo ate away at my bones and muscles. My legs have always been strong, I’ve had no problems doing squats with a grown man hanging on my back. But one day when I was in the bathroom, I spilled some toothpaste on the floor. I squat down to wipe it, but I couldn’t get back up again. My legs were way too weak. I ended up having to drag myself up via the toilet and sink, it felt so humiliating I refused to use the button to call for help. I bet it took several minutes to get back up standing.

It was still very unsure if I would make it, the plasmapheresis wasn’t a guaranteed help. One day a psychologist came to talk to me, but the only thing I remember is that he asked if I was afraid of death. I told him that my current biggest fear was the damn tubes in my neck, the constant needles, every day the touching and prodding of my body, but it didn’t seem like it got through to him. Maybe because my Danish was so damn shitty too, I could barely articulate myself and what I felt in Swedish, much less in English or Danish, I think I was mostly rambling incoherently.

In the meantime my parents had been writing the hospital for updates and visitation possibilities, and eventually the kind nurses and doctors there started fighting for getting my parents to visit. They got granted an exception by the hospital to visit my room once per day, but they still couldn’t get into the country. My parents contacted the Danish police asking if an exception could be made since it now was entirely possible that this could be the last time they’d see me. They were eventually granted permission and now the final hindrance remained - getting there. Since they live far up north, the transportation options are limited especially during corona. There were essentially no flights, so the second best option was train for about 2 days.

As luck would have it, the plasmapheresis did help, my kidneys were slowly recovering and once I got up to around 25% functionality, I was free from the damn machine and the medications now had the upper hand against my stupid immune system. In the final days at the hospital, my parents arrived. And we could actually be happy because it seemed like the danger was over. I begged the doctor to release me and let my parents help me at home instead. I knew how to take the medications by now and it wouldn’t be necessary for daily tests anymore. She agreed but I had to come to the hospital every few days for a checkup.

And that concluded my first chapter of this disease and kidney failure. Thank you for reading all the way to here, I appreciate it.

#njursvikt #sjukhus

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queerchoicesblog · 4 years

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New York, At Last (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series)

So, folks, here’s the new chapter of the series. Thank you so much for your support, hope you enjoy it!

Little disclaimer-favor: especially since the tags don’t seem to be working anymore, if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Word Count: 3000+

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped @storyscapefanficarchive @marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako @everlastingchoices @indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @bornonawdnsday @nazario-sayeed @h-doodles @adele-serda @marlcasters @brightpinkpeppercorn @michelleconnoly @charliejane-blog @ghost-of-yuri @choicesgremlin @lanzhansguqin @orange-elephants

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon @nydeiri

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2, Ch. 9, Ch. 10/1, Ch. 10/2, Ch. 11/1, Ch. 11/2, Ch. 12, Ch. 13

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A thick fog rises and surrenders our ship as we sail towards New York. It lingers there, night and day, as if it's escorting us to our destination. We can hardly see the ocean anymore, we acknowledge its presence by the murmur of the waves, the breathing of the cold water beneath us. The captain must have given order to be careful because we proceed at low speed, "like in a funeral march" I find myself noting one day. I refrain myself from saying that out loud though. We are asked to stay below deck as much as possible as storms are announced. We sail through troubled waters: some of us get sick, others are too shattered to even register the rolling of the ship. The morale on board has crashed since our first day here. Both the crew and the passengers of the Carpathia have offered us help, sympathy and support. Some gave us their coats or whatever clothing item could keep us warm after we lost everything. They didn't ask for anything in return. Others helped searching for missing people: now a list of names is pinned in one of the halls. People check it regularly with a mix of hope and dread: hope to see their friend or loved one again, dread to spot a black cross by the name so dear to them. If someone cannot be found here on the ship is declared perished in the sinking. Unofficially, obviously, the mourning ones can still try and search them when we reach shore but most surrender under the weight of those tiny scribbles. Those black crosses are not just a quick sign on paper, they pierce through their aching hearts.

As our rescue journey is coming to an end, we are all mourning. The lucky ones who were reunited with their families and friends keep a low profile in respect of all those who lost their loved ones. Their grief is overwhelming, you can sense it, even breathe it in the grim silence that fill the night. Poor souls... I feel almost guilty when on our last day on board I accidentally bump into two familiar faces. I was looking for a steward when I collided with...Lawrence. Felix is right behind him. My heart skips a beat as I call out their names. Lawrence smiles at me and I am so relieved that we met again. We hug each other and I inhale the faint perfume of his eau de cologne. They survived, they survived... I repeat those words in my head as I pull Felix in for an embrace too. They both survived: I don't even start imagining what sort of pain would have tortured one of them if the other didn't make it. They wouldn't have allowed it: if there had been no way to save both of them, they would have gone down with the ship together. I know it, I saw it in their eyes when we parted on the deck. They told me how they stayed until there was no time left. Many of those who are here now owe them their lives: they kept directing women and children and even some men to the boats before jumping on the very last lifeboat at the very last minute. I couldn't be more proud of these two unaware heroes I am honoured to call friends. They are going to visit the little boy they rescued and his brother: the woman they entrusted them to is still taking care of them. Others passengers are helping too. No one has understood what language they speak or where they're from, where their parents are but at least they're safe. "That's all that matters now", Felix notes and I agree. If only the world could see what shining beauty my friends hold... Before parting, they ask me about me: could I find a spot on a boat fast? Did I succeed in speaking some sense into the thick skull of that officer? Is James with me? I share my last moments on the ship with them and when I am still in the middle of my answer, Lawrence reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. "Did you find Miss Carrem? Is...is she here?" he asks, concern written all over his face. Felix is grimacing too. Their expression relaxes only when I assure them that yes, we were reunited on the deck and she's now resting with her sister. Lawrence's face color up again as he lets out a deep sigh of relief. "We were so worried, Zetta! When we spotted her on the deck we immediately directed her to the lifeboats and to you...but we weren't sure if you two could find each other in the midst of all that chaos or get on a boat" he explains. "Yes, we pictured the worst...we're so relieved, Miss Zetta, so incredibly relived" Felix continues, smiling. I wonder what I did good in my life to have men like them on my side. Their affection and empathy soothe my troubled soul and make me wish to never part from them. I should invite them more often when we reach shore, yes we should see each other more often...things can change and will change now that we'll be all in New York. I ask them if they want to see Adele: I can wake her, I'm sure she will be more than happy to see them. They assure me it's fine and beg me not wake her. They will visit later maybe but for now they're just happy "she's here safe and sound". "And that you are together again" Lawrence adds with a tired smile. The soft warmth in his voice tells me what I already know: he knows, they know. How could they not? But my secret is safe with them and I am grateful to them for the genuine care they showed to Adele. And well, me. I hug them both one more time then we part ways. I hope to see them very soon. I must invite them over once our lives will slowly go back to a new normal. Maybe this tragedy will make us closer. When I finally find a steward, I am informed that we are approaching shore. "We'll be in New York tonight, ma'am" he announces with an encouraging smile as if to say that our troubles are over. I go back to my group and share the news. Adele and Hileni are still sleeping, only Teo, Jaime and Sabine greet my announcement with a nod but keeps quiet. I know what's going on in their heads, their thoughts are my thoughts: it feels so weird to hear these words after all we've been through. It almost doesn't feel right when so many of us are not here. Even when the news spread among the other survivors I hear no cheer, only sighs: could it be relief or grief, it's hard to tell. Maybe both. A silent question echo in the room: now what? Sabine shakes her head and gives a grim laugh. "I thought I would have been buried in work today, instead..." She looks down at her empty hands: my little Napoleon so efficient and fond of schedules must feel lost now. No scrupulous packing to do, no checking if our belongings are properly gathered or something is missing. She takes her job very seriously and - I realise it now- her job is her life. "Consider this a free day" It's Matteo speaking, he sounds absentminded but then he turns towards Sabine and meets her gaze. "Allow yourself to be the one being served, for once" he adds. He tries to smirk, one of his signature smirk I saw on his face so very often, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks tired and troubled just like us. As if on cue, a waitress approaches us and asks if we would like a cup of coffee. I see Sabine barely refraining herself from reaching out to help her: it feels almost unnatural to her being on the other side. The waitress is a young girl, I wonder if she's even twenty. She's chatty: she comments how nice coming home must feel after a journey like ours. She has relatives in New York but never visited the city properly although "it is truly gorgeous, isn't it?". She asks us if it's our final destination and wishes all the very best. She parts from us with an encouraging smile: she will come back later to bring coffee to Adele and Hileni when they wake up. It's evening when we enter the bay and proceed towards the pier, escorted by a scout cruiser. We move to one of the decks only to find it crammed with other survivors. We have to fight our way through the crowd once again to get a spot near the railing. We are all to see with our own eyes if our journey has truly come to an end. If we're truly safe. The lights of New York flicker in the distance despite the heavy rain. Now I know it's over, all the horrors and fears are finally over. A lump forms in my throat at the sight of my city, my home but I shake it off. I reach for Hileni's hand and guide her upwards, pointing her the sea of lights on the shore. "There, sweetheart, look! See those lights? It's America" Three long blasts of the ship horns frame my words. The young girl squeezes her eyes to see better; after a moment, a tiny smile crosses her lips and relief washes over me. "It's...shiny!" she notes. "Shiny is definitely one word for it" I agree, smiling at her naive awe. For a moment, I am reminded of myself, my young self when I first saw the city that eventually became my home. I wager I was around the same age of Hileni. And just like her, that sight filled me with a mix of wonder, adrenaline and vague hope. "Adal, come here, come see! It's New York!" she says, turning and calling for her sister. Adele is right behind. Hearing her name, she immediately approaches us. "So, this is it?" she asks, placing her hands on Hileni's shoulders and pressing a quick kiss on top of her head. "So unimpressed, huh, Adele?" I tease her but when our eyes meet a soft smile is on my lips. "I promise it gets better, give it time" Without thinking twice, I wrap my arm around her waist and move a bit closer. "Welcome to New York" I add and for some reason I feel my eyes welling with tears. My love keeps quiet but a weak smile draws on her face. She rests her head on my shoulder and we both look into the distance, towards our new lives to come. There is a grim irony in how bittersweet the end of our journey is. We were supposed to make a glorious arrival, a triumphant march towards America on the "Queen of the Sea" but there is nothing of that fantasy now. The Titanic sleeps at the bottom of the ocean with many poor souls, too many poor souls and we're proceeding towards our initial destination sombrely in a cold rainy New York night. The fog hasn't lifted completely so we must look like a ghost ship. A ghost ship approaching in the mist filled with us, ghosts among ghosts. The darkness around us is lit up only by the city lights at the horizon and the flashlights of cameras of a bunch of photographers on a tug boat following us to the pier. It goes without saying that the Titanic tragedy will be the talk of the town for weeks, months maybe...but I wish those vultures could have refrained themselves until we reach shore. We proceed in front of them in mournful silence, indifferent to the flashlights hitting our faces. When we finally dock and the vibration of the engines beneath our feet subsides, we all stand in disbelief. It's over, it's truly over now. We're in America. The Carpathia passengers are disembarked first: the Captain is afraid the scene will become tumultuous as we survivors, the main attraction for the press, will appear. His concerns are well founded judging by the loud buzz coming from beneath us. When it's our turn to go I take a deep breath and give one last grateful look to the crew waving us goodbye and whispering good wishes as we pass by. Heavy raindrops run down my face as I walk down the gangway but I hardly notice. As my feet touch land I shiver: I'm home yet...I feel like in a dream. I hold Adele's hand tight and we move cautiously forward into the crowd. I look around and all I see is a multitude of lost souls and flashlights. I don't hear what the men of the press are shouting, what the land officers are shouting back: all around their voices blend together and I can't distinguish who is saying what in this dissonant choir. "Let them pass, give them space for Christ's sake!" "What can you tell us about the sinking?" "A few words for the Tribune, please!" "Blankets, warm blankets, let me give you blanket, Sir" "How many people died?". I keep walking under the rain, following Sabine and Hileni proceeding arm in arm ahead of us. I think back at all those we left behind, like Charlie, my love's poor brave friend, and Mr. Andrews, defeated by his sense of guilt yet fighting till the end. All those desperate people screaming in the icy waters before surrendering to their grim fate. I think back of the upset young woman who was searching for her beloved Henry: I wonder where she is now and I pray a kind soul is taking care of her. We stop to let the medical personnel pass. They're holding a stretcher with a man buried under a pile of wool blankets. There are bandages around his head and his eyes don't seem to register what's happening around him. Another follows with a woman begging through tears the midwife holding her hand to call her husband. I shake away those thoughts before they can pierce my soul and I let my eyes wander through the crowd as we proceed. James is not far and so is Matteo. A few months ago I was standing on a pier just like this one, maybe this one waiting to start my journey. I was so relieved back then to get a break, to run away for a while...to see James again. So curious to see the "Ship of Dreams" everyone was talking about on my return trip. It all feels so hollow and distant now as if it happened in another life. Or maybe it's just me...I feel changed. I turn to Adele. My love looks like a stranded and forlorn Robin Crusoe setting foot on a foreign land: she keeps walking but she's lost, almost afraid of these new chaotic surroundings. She looks so fragile and different from the bold girl who stepped into my suite not so long ago. I feel like I could break her now if I hugged her too tight. I give her hand an encouraging squeeze and it seems to make her snap out of her misery. "Madam, the officers need to get the passengers names before letting everyone go, we asked around" Sabine's voice ground me. She and Hileni are looking at me, both getting soaked with rain. I'm grateful to my ever efficient little Napoleon for taking charge of the situation. "There are so many of us" Adele's sister notes grimly and she's right. No matter how few of us survived the sinking, the pier is packed and the press pushing in is of little help. "It will take hours to clear the pier" I sigh. That's when I notice Hileni trying and failing to hide a shiver. I am eternally thankful to the fan giving me one of her wintry coats on board as tonight New York is getting colder and colder and the rain keeps wetting our clothes, making it harder to fight the chill. I must reward my generous fan, I got her name and address I think... Adele's hand adjusts into mine and it's as cold as ice. She still has her blue jacket on and a thin blanket completely soaked around her shoulders. "You're cold" I wince. She tries to avoid my gaze, dismissing my concerns. She's just fine, she assures me but I know her well enough to detect a lie when I hear it. Even a white lie. "You too, poor thing" I add, addressing Hileni who wraps her blanket a bit tighter around her in full response. Maybe she wants to say she's fine too but I anticipate her. "No, no, we'll do something about it. We have to wait for a while here, huh? No sense in freezing us all in the meantime" I turn towards Sabine and add, with renewed resolution: "They're passing around warm blankets, right? You two stay here, Sabine and I will get some then we'll see what to do next" My little Napoleon gives me a firm nod and addresses some comforting words to Hileni, adjusting her blanket. "You don't have to, we're fine..." Adele voice is low and somber even if she's doing her best to conceal how shattered she feels inside. Her soft yet unconvincing smile makes my heart ache. She'll be good again when we'll be away from this chaos...it will take some time maybe, but she will be fine, truly fine again. I hate the idea of parting from her side but I'll be damned if I won't take care of her and her sister. Please allow me to, my sweet love. I cup her face and caress her damp cheek. She instinctively leans to the touch as if a little warmth was all she needed. "I won't hear it, love. Stay here, I'll be back before you know it" I whisper, a tender smile on my lips. Before taking my leave, I press a quick kiss on her forehead. Then I venture with Sabine through the messy crowd. With one last look above my shoulder I see the Carrem sisters holding hands and sharing a weak smile. Surprisingly, finding stewards with blankets is tougher thanI first thought. People are gathering and looking for other passengers and missing ones, indisciplined photographers pushing their way in to get a shot of the misery of the survivors. As we fight our way through and keep searching, I try to come up with a plan. "Once we sort all this bureaucracy out, we'll find a way to get out of here" I reason out loud with Sabine. I barely hear her answer. "I'm sure your fiancée Mr King is right here waiting for you, Madam-" "Adele and her sister can stay in the blue and green rooms...they should be comfortable there, what do you think?" My mind is racing as I scan the crowd. "The blue and the green rooms sound perfect, Madam. I'll have them ready in no time whe-" "Oh no need to, Sabine! I'm sure they're already in excellent state if I know you" We stop as an officer kindly asks if he could get our names. He smiles when I say mine. "Who wouldn't know your name, Miss Serda? It's good to see you here, safe and sound" A fan, obviously. After Sabine drops hers and he checks both on a list, we ask him where we can find blankets or coats for our friends. Apparently, we're not far from his colleague! We speed up following his directions and I think I can see a man handing out wool plaids to shivering passengers. "This way, Sabine, I see him!" I cheer. Then, out of the blue, a familiar voice calls my name. "Zetta!" I stop and turn towards the sound to see... "R-Richard?" I...completely forgot about him. I don't know how but I forgot about him. It only makes sense he would be here, I would have been to even if... I- I just erased such thought. He pushes his way through the crowd and runs towards me. He's crying, it's not just rain wetting his face. He pulls me into a tight embrace and bury his head in the crook of my neck. I feel awful for forgetting about him when he starts sobbing like a child, unafraid to show his feelings, his vulnerability. I hug him back and whispers words that I hope will make him stop crying and feel a bit better. No need to cry, I'm here. I'm here, Richard. It seems to work as he loosens up his arms and face me. It's the first time I see his face in months and vice versa he mine. I wonder what he sees. His hair are soaked, dark circles loom under his eyes and his lower lip still trembles a little as he cups my face and bring our forehead together. "I was so scared when I heard the news, Zetta, so scared..." his voice is shaky as he speaks. "I-I pictured the worst, I couldn't sleep, I-" "Oh Richard..." I wince. "I tried to get in touch with the Carpathia, to send Marconigrams, I only wanted to know if you survived but the communication lines were overcrowded-" I brush away a strand of wet hair from his face. "It's fine, darling, I'm here, I'm alive, we-" "You don't know how happy and relived I am that you are, Zetta! I don't know what I would have done if you weren't on this ship, if you died that night...I truly don't know-" He embraces me again just when flash powder ignites around us. Journalists. I don't even have to wait for their shoutings to know it's the greedy press. "Zetta, Zetta!" "A word for the press!" "Would you make a statement about the tragedy?" "How is it to be back?" "Is it true that the Titanic collided with an iceberg?" No, I can't do this. I don't want to. I hear Richard groaning like a wounded animal before turning towards them. "Please, leave her be, she's just arrived-" he says but his plea goes unanswered. Journalists are a famelic species and awfully stubborn. "Oh c'mon, you have no decency? Go away, I beg you" Richard rises a hand towards the cameras to protect us from the flashlights. His voice now betrays hints of anger but he's so broken that his words sound more like a prayer. I doubt this will work, knowing those vultures. He reaches for my hand and turns towards me, leaning close to be heard over the shoutings. "Come with me, lets get you out of here. James and his valet are with John, follow me" He pulls my hand gently but I freeze. I freeze as my mind race towards Adele. Adele waiting for me on the pier with Hileni. Adele to whom I promised to be back 'before she knows it'. "What?" It's all I can manage to say. My breath catches in my throat. Richard must think I couldn't hear what he says. He repeats his words and pulls my hand again. I don't move. "No, no I-I can't, I must go back, my...my friends are wait-" I mutter but I'm cut short by those vultures again. A flashlight blinds me: the vivid light hurt my tired eyes to the point I can't see for a moment, I cover my eyes and I'm momentarily surrounded by darkness only. I hear Richard shouting back at the journalist, he's angry and exasperated now. Then he wraps an arm around my waist and guides me away, shielding me with his body from the cameras. "This way, Zetta, Mademoiselle Sabine...." My feet move against my will. I don't wanna leave the pier yet I'm too exhausted to resist. I try though but my attempt is weak and can nothing against Richard's desperate determination to take us away from this mournful chaos. When I finally gets my vision back, I'm standing in front of two cars. John, Richard's right hand, is right there, holding an umbrella for Teo and James. He tips his hat respectfully and say words I don't listen but that I presume are some kind of welcome back, so glad to see you here or things like that. My eyes fall on my travel companions: Matteo displays a dignified yet somber demeanour -I wouldn't expect nothing less from him- and winces at me as I meet his gaze while Jaime...the expression on his face is completely numb. He's distant, somewhere far away from this pier and awfully quiet, the quietest I've ever seen him. Richard encourages us all to go before the journalists are back and guides me and Sabine towards a car, Teo and my nephew will ride in John's one. He opens the door and help my little Napoleon in then me. I throw one last look to the pier before taking my seat but I can't distinguish a single face. The sky is getting darker and the crowd is slow to disperse. I stretch my neck but it's useless...I can't see my love even if I know she's there somewhere out of view. Richard hurries in after me and hastily gestures at the driver to start the engine as the lights of the cameras approach fast. When the car cautiously moves towards the boulevard, he takes my hand into his and rises it to his lips. "It will all be alright, my love, I promise you. I'll take care of you..." I register the kiss on the back of my hand but I can barely hear him. I'm not here. I am sitting here in this car disappearing into the night but I'm not here, not truly. My mind is empty. All I can think of is Adele. My Adele waiting in vain for me in the rain. My Adele...

#titanic storyscape #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele #zetta x adele series

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kuriquinn · 5 years

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The Job Offer [part 2]

General Disclaimer

Rating: PG 13

Author’s Note: I was planning to do all random one-shots that weren’t connected to anything. But this was the only thing I could think of writing when I saw the prompt was “medicine”. So...here’s the next part of that mafia fic I started like two years ago. If you want to read the first part, you can find it here.

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“So, I hear you’re refusing your medication unless I give it to you,” Sakura says as she enters the private room without preamble, two IV bags in hand. “Care to share why? And it better not be some macho, stoic bullshit.”

She should probably be a little more polite, but she’s way beyond sleep deprived at this point.

Uchiha Sasuke is propped up in his bed, glaring at her. His chest is a swath of thick bandages, turning what she has learned is a stunning physic into a comically shapeless square. They are incongruent with the vibrant colours of sleeve tattoos that depict snakes winding up either arm against a black background with red clouds. She knows there’s something on his back, too, but she was a little too preoccupied with his life-saving surgery at the time to identify it; some kind of bird.

“Your people are refusing to allow my men in here. I can’t be sure I’m not being poisoned.”

“After the show they put on in the emergency room, they’re lucky they’re even allowed in the waiting room,” she grumbles and begins to set the bags into the apparatus. “Why do you trust me not to poison you? I mean, you’ve been a bit of a pain since I met you, so you’d totally deserve it…”

She chances a glance over at her patient, who hasn’t taken his eyes off her since she walked in. She has a brief moment of being lost in endless black, and then he turns away with a noncommittal noise.

“You’ve already proven you have principles. Since a dozen Uchiha-gumi couldn’t make you waver, I doubt anything else could.”

He goes quiet, staring at the wall with a slight frown in his forehead, and long bangs framing his face rather fetchingly despite the fact he probably hasn’t had a chance to wash his hair in three days.

He is really, unfairly and ridiculously pretty.

Sakura swallows at that thought, hastily grabbing for his chart so he doesn’t catch her looking.

No! None of that! Bad idea! That is the worst idea. Just look at his arms, they tell you exactly why this is a bad idea!

“What are you giving me, anyhow?” he asks. “I don’t allow just anything in my body.”

“I’m trying not to find that ironic,” Sakura quips. “Anyhow, these are your next round of antibiotics and painkillers—and no, it’s not morphine, you already made it clear to my interns what you thought about that.”

“As I said.”

“Yeah, well, you could have been a little nicer about it. I think Dr. Ise is about to go to the administration and tender his resignation because of you. And they’re in enough of a tizzy already, they’d accept it.”

Uchiha watches her face, and something flashes in his gaze.

“You haven’t had any issues, have you?” he asks, frowning. “With regards to your employment?”

Sakura’s cheeks flame. “You mean since your boys were trying to intimidate Senju-sensei and the rest of the Board of Directors?”

“It would be remiss of them to suspend your privileges considering the situation.”

“Do you know how much of a problem their interference could be for me?!”

“Was it effective?”

“In this case…yes,” she admits grudgingly. He smirks at that, like he predicted this, and she clenches her fists. “But the Board’s going to make my life hell in other ways from now on! Constant reviews and check ins and…” She sighs, reigning in her temper. “Look, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but you’re making my life more complicated—”

“Complicated enough to leave?” he suggests, and there’s something too blank about his face just then.

Suspicion rears its head, along with a memory of the night they met.

“So what? Just come work for me.”

“I’m not quitting my job. I have responsibilities—"

“Take a sabbatical,” he suggests. “I’ve heard that’s common among the medical profession, either due to burnout or the desire to research areas of interest.”

“Not to go work for the mob!”

He doesn’t appear to hear her. “You doctors engage in research, right? Life-saving practices, new methods?”

“…Yes?”

“And that requires funding, if I understand it. Which is difficult to come by, considering you don’t exactly get paid much…”

Sakura narrows her eyes. “Are you trying to bribe me?”

“I consider it more of an investment.”

“No offense, but even if I were at the point in my career where I was trying to get funding for something, I’d rather not have the money attached to my name and methods be dirty. Especially not if I want to be taken seriously.”

“We maintain entirely legal businesses,” he dismisses. “My branch of the family has a thriving private security business, which has been very lucrative so far. Any funding you receive through us would be through legal channels and with clean funds.”

Sakura blinks, not entirely sure she’s understanding what she’s hearing.

“Why are you trying so hard to recruit me?”

“You have a good image.”

“Excuse me?”

“Not like that,” he rolls his eyes. Then as if in opposition to what he just said, his gazes flicks up and down in a way that has her blushing and torn between wanting to cover up in a blanket or shrug out of her scrubs in front of him.

Oh. My. God. What the hell is wrong with me?

“You are small and unassuming,” he continues. “No one would know to look at you that you’re anything more than that. And in addition to being able to fight, you have medical skills and respect discretion. In my experience, that is hard to come by without a lot of money being thrown around. And money doesn’t buy loyalty. You already have principles, so money wouldn’t be necessary. You’re a warrior and a healer. That’s valuable.”

“I…”

What the hell do I say to that?

“As it happens, I’m looking for another member of my security team. Suigetsu’s wife is having a baby soon, and she’s demanding. I don’t see him being able to maintain his commitments to my schedule for the next little while. You have no family connections or commitments to speak of, nor any time-consuming romantic relationships most women your age do.”

“How the— how do you know that?! Are you— did you have someone look into me?”

She’s entirely thrown off balance by this.

“My brother is very thorough. He and my parents wished to make sure of your credentials.” There aren’t many yakuza that the general populace are able to name off the top of their head, but Uchiha Itachi is one of them. If any of the stories about him are true… “You will likely meet him when I’m permitted to leave here.”

Sakura is only just able to hold back the choke of fear, but her patient notices, nonetheless.

“There’s no need for you to worry about him,” he says, bored. “He already likes you, from what Suigetsu told him. Something amuses him about the fact you can—what’s the expression? ‘Get me to take my medicine’? Anyhow, he’ll have a formal offer of employment drawn up for you.”

He is looking at her with a superior look, as if to say, this hospital may be your kingdom, but I have my own domain.

That confidence is simultaneously terrifying and sexy in a way it shouldn’t be.

“You may have time to consider the proposition,” he tells her, indicating the door; a clear dismissal.

Sakura bristles a little at that, irritated. “And if I still decline?”

He shrugs. “Then you decline. I’m not about to have your fingers cut off because you’ve done something I don’t like.” His eyes rest on her hands, then flick up to her with something indecipherable in them. “That would be a waste.”

And then he smiles.

Sakura feels a surge of want slam into her and oh, whether she takes the job or not, this is not going to turn out well for her, is it?

栗

#sasusaku #ssm19 #ssm19day3 #prompt: medicine #kuriquinn #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #sakura pov #sfw #romance #drama #mafia #au

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k-popscenxrios · 5 years

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Didn’t Ask For This Pt 17 (Roommate!JK x OC)

A/N: AHHH!! Sorry this took so long to finally post!! I’ve been playing BTS World busy lately being social with friends and then I had to work, so it took longer than I wanted! But the wait is finally over, and I’m so excited to post this! The next part should be the finale, and I’m going to try and get it out before the 4th of July! Please help me stick to that goal lol

Summary: “I didn’t know you hated me so much,” he spoke as he grabbed my wrist and once again turned me around to face him, “and quite honestly, I don’t think I’ve done anything horrible enough for you to hate me to the degree that you do.” “You say that like the hate isn’t mutual,” I remarked as he shook his head. There was a bitter smile on his face as he took a deep breath, “I think you are quite honestly one of the worst human beings I’ve had to come in contact with.”

7.3k words | drama ✞ | fluff ♡ | mature themes ✗

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | Finale

⇨ Masterlist ⇦

Jungkook’s eyes refused to meet mine after finishing the story of what had happened. I wanted to be upset over it all because that tramp kissed my boyfriend, but I was more worried than anything. She’s transferring to his college, and who knows how often he might run into her? I had no idea the likelihood of that happening, but it was more likely than Jungkook and I running into each other during the school months, that’s for sure.

“I’m…” I started as Jungkook slightly flinched, “I’m not mad, Jungkook. I’m glad you told me what happened.” Jungkook seemed to release a lot of tension after I said that, and I softly smiled seeing him relax a little.

“I just want to know what makes you think it’s a good idea to try pushing me away?”

Jungkook’s eyes shifted to look into mine as I noticed him slightly tense again. Unease started stirring in the pit of my stomach as I watched him and his expressions very carefully. Why was that question so unnerving for him?

“I-I…” he stuttered as I blinked to try and keep myself calm. Everything’s going to be okay, and I can’t forget that. We’re going to work this out. I know we are...

“I’m afraid that I won’t stay faithful to you.”

His words were simple and short when coming out of his mouth, but the impact that they had on my heart was tremendous. We’d been so connected to each other the past few weeks of the summer, and nothing was separating the two of us. We’d argue and bicker, but at the end of the day, we’d be smiling and cuddling with one another. It's been so long since I had been legitimately scared for us. The last time I felt this horrible was when we had told Taehyung the truth between us.

We’d had our fair share of issues, but infidelity had never even come up between us.

“You think…” I nearly choked on an upcoming sob that I was able to suppress in my throat. My tears were begging to fall from my eyes as I looked down, “Y-You think that you’ll cheat on me?”

I could sense Jungkook’s panic at just how pathetic I felt after what he said. I couldn’t believe that this was even an issue he was worried about. I never imagined that he would have doubts about his self control.

“What, is Jennie that irresistible that you can only push her away for so long?” my sadness was shifting to bitterness as Jungkook’s wide eyes stared into my dark and depressed ones. “If you’re that horny, what’s stopping you from coming here to see me over some of your weekends? You have no reason to even look at another girl with lust when I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s the problem!” Jungkook choked out, his eyes pure fear, “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here and probably never going to leave.”

“I’m not leaving here until college is over, sure,” I nodded, but it was a strained nod, “But what’s stopping me from leaving here once that happens?”

“But you have three years of school left at least,” Jungkook shook his head. His eyes were telling me that this was killing him inside, but I wasn’t feeling any warmth coming from his body. I also couldn’t feel anything but contempt for him as his confession continued to play through my head. We were sitting so close to one another, but I felt like I was so far away from him. “I’ve been looking in the job market for after I graduate in May, and all the good jobs are hundreds of miles from here.”

“What’s wrong with the jobs in this area?” I asked, the panic in my voice very evident as I ran a shaky hand through my hair, “Jungkook, I know for a fact that they have plenty of jobs in this area for your degree.”

“Their pay grade is super low,” Jungkook stated as my mouth froze right before I spoke the words that I was about to say. The pay grade is low, huh?

“I see,” I nodded, getting up from his bed as I took a deep breath, giving in to my sobs that I had done such a good job of repressing until this moment. I had stood up to move out of his room, but with my back facing him and my body no more than a foot from his bed, I froze where I stood, “I’m the world’s biggest idiot for falling in love with you if s-something like a pay grade is keeping you from me.”

“Shit, Ari, I’m sorry,” he sounded shaken, but I felt no sympathy for him. “I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, I swear.”

“So you’re sorry for the pay comment but not about you being so eager that you’ll sleep with any girl that gives you even the slightest interest,” I spat, nearly running out of breath. I felt pitiful standing in the middle of his room, and I had to resist the urge to run and hide in my room for the rest of the day.

Jungkook started moving to get up from his bed as I suddenly felt very desperate to stay away from Jungkook. The more I thought about what he’d said, the worse I felt.

“Ari, I didn’t mean that, I just-”

I spun around and angrily wiped my tears away, “If that’s true, you wouldn’t have even thought of saying them.”

“A-Ari,” he reached out to stop me from leaving, but I was quicker than him. I backed away and turned to stumble into my room, locking the door behind me. It wasn’t long before I heard Jungkook press himself up against the door.

“I-I didn’t mean it, Ari. I really didn’t. I could never even think about cheating on you.”

“Then why the hell would you say it?!”

I didn’t mean to yell because quite honestly, I didn’t like raising my voice. I especially hated raising my voice at Jungkook. I just couldn’t handle just how he would even think to say that to me.

“I’m sorry, Ari, I’m just scared…”

His voice was soft and barely made its way through my door, but I ripped myself away from that side of my room. I gave him a chance to explain himself, and all he did was spew things out to hurt me. I had no obligation to give him another chance. I just needed to have some time to myself.

As much as I hated it, Jungkook and I were losing this day, too. I could only hope that we could work this through tomorrow… I could only hope that I’ll be willing to forgive him tomorrow.

Jungkook and I have the same cleaning shift today, and we're stuck working alone. When we initially got the schedule, I was thrilled to no end about working with Jungkook. It wasn’t often that we got to work together alone. We normally were either split jobs with him on concessions and me on cleaning, or we’d have a third and/or fourth person with us while cleaning theaters.

I reluctantly agreed to ride with Jungkook, and the only reason I agreed was because of Taehyung.

“You two are only going to be working together for so much longer,” Taehyung frowned and pulled me out of my room. I could only assume that Jungkook had told him about our fight the day before. I stayed in my room all day yesterday to avoid the two of them, but today I wasn’t so lucky.

Maybe it won’t be so bad to have these two toxic boys out of my apartment.

“You seemed awfully fine with keeping up Jungkook’s charade the other night,” I commented as we stepped into the living room. Jungkook looked up at the two of us from his phone screen, sitting on the couch with his legs pulled up on the couch under him.

“You two have to work this out,” Taehyung patted me on the back before shoving me in Jungkook’s direction. Both of our faces shifted to discomfort, but Taehyung wasn’t giving up.

“At least agree to ride to work together. You two need to talk this out.”

So here I was, sitting in the passenger’s seat of Jungkook’s car. It wasn’t an unusual setting for the two of us since we always drove to work together ever since we became an official couple. However, riding to work today was deafeningly silent, neither one of us wanting to say anything to the other person. I was still hurt from Jungkook’s infidelity comment, and he was still convinced that we’re better off breaking up before he goes off to college.

I couldn’t help but be pissed at him the more I thought about it. He promised me when we got together that we would work something out at the end of the summer, yet here we are.

“You know,” I tried to hold my tongue, but when it came to Jungkook, it was really hard for me to, “If I had known that you were going to chicken out of this relationship at the end of the summer, I would have tried to make it work with Hoseok.”

I noticed Jungkook’s grip on his steering wheel tighten at my remark. I knew that what I said would get to him, and quite honestly, I didn’t mind hurting his feelings right now. He’s made me so angry that I almost found pleasure in angering him. It was a feeling reminiscent of the beginning of the summer.

“Maybe you would have been better off.”

My breathing stopped short after that comment came out of his mouth. I had intended to make him jealous, but instead I just felt worse. I felt my eyes narrowing at the road in front of us as we stopped at a red light.

I turned my head to face away from his before uttering out my next words, “You’re probably right.”

…

Yoongi was very quick to pick up the discomfort between Jungkook and I. We had simply walked through the door to the lobby, and one look at the two of us had him narrowing his eyes at me.

“What was all that ish about making up with Jungkook, your days being numbered, and whatnot?” He started grilling me for information when I walked up to his station at the podium. It wasn’t often that Yoongi was stuck with tearing tickets at the theaters’ entrance, but tonight happened to be one of those nights.

“Well, I said all that before he told me that he can’t promise he won’t cheat on me when he goes off to college.”

Yoongi grimaced and looked at Jungkook who was quickly approaching us. It was as if he knew that we had been talking about him.

“Yikes. Kid’s a pretty big idiot for that one.”

“Ya’ think?”

We stopped talking as Jungkook finally came within earshot. He looked tense since he knew he was outnumbered standing here with Yoongi by my side.

“Anyway,” I sighed loudly and turned to Yoongi. His eyes widened as he noted the tone in my voice. He predicted what was about to come out of my mouth before I had the chance to say it judging from his grimace. “I look forward to rooming with you, Min. I’ll let you know when Jeon and Tae officially move out.”

I didn’t even glance at Jungkook after casually mentioning that Yoongi was planning on moving in with me. He didn’t dare say anything as he silently followed behind me.

…

The air was mostly tense as we cleaned the theaters together. I could tell that Jungkook was debating saying something to me at certain points of the night, but he would eventually decide against it.

It wasn’t until we had finished up our fifth theater that Jungkook conjured up the courage to ask what he had been dying to ask for the past thirty minutes.

“So,” he started, causing me to look back at him. I had just finished dumping my dustpan’s trash into the garbage as Jungkook moved to do the same. “Yoongi’s moving in after we leave?”

“Yep.” I nodded, answering short and sweet. I didn’t want to volunteer any information to him. I wanted him to ask if he really wanted to know bad enough.

“Oh.”

The conversation died there as the two of us continued walking with one another. I started to feel my heart aching at the silence, and I was nothing short of confused.

I dared myself to glance Jungkook’s way, my eyes locking into his to my surprise. I had been so indifferent around him up until now. I allowed my anger to get the best of me, but now…

The thought of Jungkook leaving in four days was something that I had failed to remember until the moment our eyes locked. It was something that my voice had been telling me in the back of my mind, but this moment was when I decided to start hearing it again.

This wasn’t the beginning of the summer. We didn’t have all kinds of time to argue and slowly forgive each other. If we don’t make up before these next days are up, things will never be the same between us. Jungkook will just be written out of my life as my first boyfriend and first love.

There was a huge part of me that was hoping that he would be my first and last.

As I looked into Jungkook’s eyes, I felt my jaw tighten. Those were the eyes of the man that I love and the man that I desperately want to be with in the coming years. I want us to grow and become better people for each other. I never want to imagine my life without him.

I was dying for him to feel the same way about me.

“Kook,” I spoke before thinking about what I was going to say. I had his full attention as we slowly walked into our next theater, stopping once we got inside. I could sense a shift between us as the mood became a lot less tense.

“I’m sorry.”

My mouth hung open as if I was going to say something, but Jungkook’s words had caught me off guard. I thought that he was still angry with me over my passive comments, but obviously I was wrong. He moved closer to me, but he didn’t reach out to touch me.

“I can’t stand you being upset with me like this. I thought pushing you away was the best thing I could do for you, but I’m so incredibly wrong,” his eyebrows furrowed as he took a deep breath through his nose. “I-I want you to have the best, Ari. I want you to have the best phone, the best car, the best house. I want to be able to provide for you all of those things. I.. I know that I could never cheat on you, I’m just scared. I’m scared of how it’s going to be once Taehyung and I leave. I’m just an ass and… and I was assuming that you might rather have someone else than wait for me.”

It took me several seconds of processing as my brain tried to catch up with his words. I wasn’t surprised that his comment about cheating was half-hearted, but I couldn’t believe that he thought that I cared that much about money. If I was that greedy, I would not be working the job that I am.

“Jungkook, I don’t care about having the best of anything if I don’t have you,” I took a step closer to him as he stayed rooted in place. “I don’t care about money, especially if that’s your reasoning for pushing me away. If you can stand working a job here with a lower pay while you wait for me to get out of college, we could move somewhere together where the job opportunities are better..”

Jungkook didn’t say anything as his eyes stared deep into mine. It looked like he was searching for something in them, his expression softening as I spoke my next words.

“And you’re such an ass for breaking my heart over that cheating comment. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, douchebag,” I kept my emotions in check with a few deep breaths as Jungkook swallowed, reluctantly reaching out to me. His hand brushed against my forearm on it’s way to rest on my hip. I looked down at the contact before looking up at Jungkook, my heartbeat increasing tremendously.

“I’m a fucking idiot to think that I could live without you.”

His words were like a spell as I felt all tension and remorse being lifted from the two of us. The air felt comfortable and enlightening as Jungkook’s hand slid to press against my back, pulling my body flush against his. My hands were quick to rest on his shoulders at the base of his neck as we silently stared at each other.

Just the simple action of looking into his soft eyes brought be back to the day he walked into my apartment with his duffle bag and his cocky attitude. He spent more time teasing me than he did talking to Taehyung, and that thought made me smile. Jungkook’s head tilted in slight confusion to my sudden smile as I looked down to try and hide it from him.

“You know,” I spoke against his shirt as I felt Jungkook bury his nose in my hair, “I would have never imagined that you would turn out to be a pretty decent guy. Thinking back to the beginning of the summer always amuses me. Mr. “I’m never wrong” actually apologized to Soomin despite everything she did to you. That’s a vast improvement of who you used to be.”

“I can’t believe you still talk to that tramp,” Jungkook mumbled as I silently agreed with him. Jungkook still hasn’t forgiven Soomin for telling Taehyung about us, and to be honest, I haven’t forgiven her either. She’s just such a mess of a person that I can’t help but at least try to keep her from falling off the deep end.

“Focus on the conversation at hand,” I scolded, poking my finger into his collarbone. I moved my head from his chest to look up at him as I felt my insides melting. He was looking at me with the softest, widest eyes he could possibly have as I leaned up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

I had intended for the kiss to be a short and sweet one, but once our lips made contact, something in Jungkook snapped. His soft hold suddenly became a desperate hug around my waist as I allowed him to hold me firmly to him. His pillowy lips applied more pressure to our kiss as I brushed my fingers along the bare skin of his neck.

It had only been a few days since we had last kissed, but it was the longest we had been without kissing the other since becoming a couple.

“I want you to come to Uni with me,” Jungkook pulled away slightly to look me in the eyes. He wasn’t kidding despite how ridiculous his request was.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” I let out a soft laugh, but it was slightly pained, “You said so yourself, I’m too dumb for your university.”

Jungkook didn’t crack even a small smile as I felt mine slowly fading away.

“What if you took a leap year?” he swallowed and gripped at the fabric on the back of my shirt, “You could come and live with Taehyung and I.”

“You two are living in the dorms, Kook,” I swallowed as I started thinking about the possibilities. It couldn’t happen, it won’t happen, and I didn’t need to get my hopes up.

“We’d get an apartment near campus. You could even apply to work at the movie theater in town. It would be like nothing changed.”

A nice as it sounded to not have to leave Jungkook, I just… wasn’t excited about the idea. I would be dropping school for a year to live in a place that I’m unfamiliar with. I’d have no friends to rely on when Jungkook and I got in an argument. I wouldn’t have anyone to spend time with or joke around with when Jungkook and Taehyung were busy.

I’d just sit at home and wait for them to get back from school. Not to mention that working at another movie theater would not feel the same as it does here. I have friends here, best friends who I love and enjoy working with.

Speaking of friends, I’d already agreed to living with Yoongi once Jungkook and Taehyung leave. I’d feel horrible if I turned him down after agreeing to live together.

“Kook…” his hopeful expression immediately fell when he heard the tone of my voice. He already knew what was coming, and he was sorely disappointed in my decision. “I can’t just pick up and leave. I’ve signed up for my classes this year and I’ve already made roommate arrangements. I have a lease on my apartment that doesn’t run out until December. Nothing aligns for that to seem like a good idea.

His disappointment made me feel horrible as I cupped his face in my hands. “I love you, Kook. We’ll be okay if we have to spend a few months apart. You can call me when you miss me, and nothing’s stopping you from coming to visit me over some of your weekends.”

He pressed his forehead against mine and tried to hide his disappointment. He wasn’t doing a very good job of it. “I’m going to miss the hell out of you, babe.”

I don’t know why, but the way that Jungkook said those words knocked the breath out of me. His voice was so soft and pure, every syllable being etched into my mind. I played the words over and over again in my head like a broken record, a soft smile leaking into my features.

“I’m going to really miss you, too, Kook.”

…

Yoongi didn’t seem surprised anymore when it came to Jungkook and I, so when we walked up to him with smiles on our faces, he didn’t seem phased.

“We’re done with our first round of theaters,” I informed, “So please stop asking me what theaters are clean over the ‘talkie. It’s getting kinda old.”

Yoongi grabbed the walkie talkie and held it up to his mouth, pressing the button to speak, “Sorry, you said that 7 is clean, right?”

I sent him a sarcastic smile and was reaching for the walkie talkie I had hooked to my waistband. I felt it being snatched from my hip as I raised my eyebrows, eyes trailing up to an amused Jungkook.

“I think she said that 7 isn’t clean. Don’t send anyone back until she gives the all clear.”

I swiped the walkie talkie from Jungkook as I glared at him, “Stop that before I send the both of you in there to vacuum the floors.”

At the mention of the dreaded vacuuming job, the both of them were quick to shut up. I looked in between the two of them for a few silent seconds before winking, a devious smile on my face.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” I spoke into the walkie talkie as I turned around and started walking away, “I’m going on my break. Later losers.”

I heard Jungkook’s jogging footsteps behind me as I glanced over at his form appearing next to me, “Not without me, you’re not!”

“I’m really disappointed in Jungkook.”

I snapped my neck in the direction of the general manager, Seokjin. He had been mumbling to himself for a few seconds as I stood in the back room, waiting for Jungkook to get back from the bathroom.

“Why?”

Seokjin raised his eyebrows and looked at me, pursing his lips for a few seconds. It was like he was trying to figure out what to say to me, “Well courteous employees give a two weeks notice when they’re leaving their job.”

My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I realized that Jungkook still hadn’t told me when he was leaving. I had been so caught up in trying to make up with him that I forgot that I didn’t actually know when he and Taehyung are moving out.

“Well when’s his last day?” I asked as Seokjin’s confusion continued to increase. I could only assume that he thought I should already know this information. He knew we were close. Of course, he didn’t know that we’re dating. I was afraid to disclose that information in fear that he would quit scheduling us together.

“He asked for it to be this Saturday.”

This Saturday… I could feel my stomach dropping as I finally got the confirmation that I needed. Jungkook’s leaving in four days, and he’s been holding out on letting me know that. He’s obviously not very good at making smart decisions.

“Oh,” I nodded, turning around and trying to hide my very upset and depressed expression from him, “Thanks for letting me know. Jungkook refused to tell me when he’s leaving.”

I didn’t give Seokjin a chance to respond to my remark, rushing out from the back room. I wanted to talk to Yoongi. He could help me cheer up. It’s okay. It’s fine that he’s leaving in four days. That’s plenty of time for us to spend together before he leaves…

As I walked up to Yoongi who was closing down the podium for the night, I could feel the evident frown on my face.

“Oh great,” Yoongi sighed and turned to me with an almost fed up expression. It only took him a couple seconds for his annoyance to soften into pity.

I moved closer to him before daringly wrapping my arms around Yoongi’s form. His body tensed against mine as I got a good whiff of his shampoo that I remembered smelling the time he had suddenly kissed me.

“You okay, Ari?”

I shook my head into his clothes as his arms slowly and almost reluctantly wrapped around me.

“Jungkook’s leaving me in four days and I’m not ready to let him go…”

I heard a sigh from Yoongi’s mouth as he tried to softly push me away from him. I looked up at him with my depressed eyes as he froze and swallowed. The look in my eyes cracked him as he bit his lip and pulled my body back into his.

“You’ll see him again, Ari. You two will be okay.”

I nodded in agreement because Jungkook and I were going to be fine. Jungkook’s going to shove Jennie away from him with all his might, and I’m going to patiently wait for Jungkook to finish up college so that he can move back here with me.

I just needed to think about our future together and stop thinking about all the depressing sides of the story. This is only temporary.

“Ari,” Yoongi spoke as I just hummed in response, “I think Jungkook is more suited to comfort you over this. Plus, he’s kinda sending me a murderous glare.”

I felt a smile break out on my face despite the situation I was in. Pulling away from Yoongi, it wasn’t long before I spotted Jungkook across the lobby watching the two of us.

I walked away without saying goodbye to Yoongi, but he didn’t seem too care. With Jungkook and I walking toward the other, it was only a few seconds before we stood face to face. I wanted to bring up his sudden leave, but it wasn’t exactly the most appropriate place to talk about it.

Instead of saying anything to him, I grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the back room.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, moving to grab my hand with his, intertwining our fingers together. I just nodded tightly, squeezing his hand. I needed to memorize this feeling before I’m not able to feel it anymore.

“I’ve never been better.”

…

The car ride was mostly silent, but it wasn’t an awkward silent like the ride from before work. Our fingers were interlocked, resting on the console of the car. The music was low and calming as I stared at Jungkook shamelessly. He glanced at me every once in a while, but he didn’t look enough to endanger us and cause a crash.

I had been fighting with myself internally over the new information that Seokjin had told me. I wanted to grill him for information, but I was a little scared to disturb the peace. We’d just made up, and I had little to no desire to spark any conflicting conversations.

But if I don’t say something, it’ll be all I’m thinking about until he leaves.

“So…” I swallowed my nerves and decided to go for it, “...When are you and Tae leaving for sure? Have you decided?”

Jungkook didn’t seem to be uncomfortable with the question which was very relieving on my part. I watched him as his eyes stayed forward even as we slowed down at a red light. He opened his mouth to answer me, but closed it before any words came out.

I let him take his time, respecting the fact that this seemed hard for him to say. It wasn’t an easy subject to swallow.

“We haven’t decided when we’re leaving,” he confessed as I felt slight confusion set in. It didn’t seem like he was lying to me, but knowing that he set a sudden leave date for work had me skeptical. I wanted to directly ask him about it, but I decided to play dumb again.

“What about work? What have you told them about leaving?” I felt Jungkook’s hand tighten in mine at my question. I want him to tell me the truth, and if he lies to me, I might lose my mind.

“Seokjin thinks I’m leaving for the dorms on Sunday, so my last day at the theater is this Saturday. I requested that we work together that night, but he hasn’t sent the schedule out yet to reassure that we’ll work together,” Jungkook confessed as I just nodded, pretending as if all the information that he was giving me was new.

“But you’re not leaving for the dorms on Sunday, are you?”

The car was silent again as I took a deep breath awaiting Jungkook’s response. My nerves were shot and my body was growing more and more tired the longer the silence lasted. I watched his face carefully, but he was very good about keeping a blank expression. I couldn’t read him this way, and it was slightly annoying.

“...I don’t know…”

I felt my heart drop at his confession as I felt a frown form on my face. He didn’t know? We’re four days out from Sunday and he didn’t know yet?

“What’s Taehyung doing? Cause aren’t he and Hana in our same situation? He hasn’t liked talking to me about her as of late.” Jungkook glanced at me as his hand squeezed mine. We were almost home, and I wanted to finish this conversation before going inside.

“He’s not sure what he’s doing. He’s the one kinda pushing for leaving on Sunday. If… If I had it my way, I won’t leave until next Saturday.”

We were pulling into the parking lot as he said that, and I could feel my heart swell. He wants to stay till next Saturday? I bit my lip and felt a small smile appearing on my face.

“I can tell you right now that I would love for you to be here another week with or without Tae. You know what it’ll mean if it’s just you and me…”

Jungkook put the car in park and took a deep breath before looking at me. His face was tinted red a little as I smiled and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I think I’m gonna stay till next Saturday…” he almost whispered the words as he watched my lips hungirly. “I don’t want to leave you just yet.”

“And I don’t want you to leave just yet,” I responded before Jungkook leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine. Our hands that had been holding each other moved apart to caress each other’s skin. I brushed my thumb against his arm as I felt his touch melt all my worries away.

“You know,” I smiled and leaned my forehead against his, “I’m looking forward to next summer already.”

Jungkook smiled and brushed his nose against mine, “Agreed.”

Taehyung was in the kitchen when Jungkook and I got home. I was about to rush in and throw a bunch of questions his way about when he was going to leave, but I froze when I saw Hana in the kitchen with him. My mouth that I had opened was now shut closed to avoid saying something weird in front of her.

Taehyung and Hana were very close, but I don’t think Taehyung ever actually asked her to be his girlfriend. She was over every once in a while, so her presence wasn’t a complete shock.

I just felt my voice being lost deep in my brain as I couldn’t help but notice that Hana wasn’t just over, she was wearing pajamas. And they weren’t hers, they were Taehyung’s.

I felt my face heat up as our eyes locked, and her face mirrored mine. Taehyung didn’t seem phased. He made it seem like it was every day that I came home to find him and Hana hanging out in the kitchen after doing who knows what in the apartment.

“Tae,” my voice came out high and squeaky as he just glanced my way for a second or two. It wasn’t long before his eyes were back on the tea he was making. “A minute in my room please?”

He raised an eyebrow while still looking at his tea, “Why your room? Do you have something you need to hide from Jungkook?”

I wanted to facepalm at his comment as I noticed Hana’s face was flaming. Was he dumb, or am I just looking too far into this? Maybe she has a different reason for being here in Taehyung’s pajamas.

“Just come here,” I slightly snapped as Taehyung found my reaction amusing.

“Okay,” he laughed before looking to Hana to make sure she was okay. She just nodded, her face still flaming with embarrassment. It wasn’t long before Taehyung and I stepped into my room, and when I turned to shut the door, I noticed Jungkook sending me a pout. He knows I’m going to tell him about this conversation later, so I don’t understand why he had to look at me like that…

“Do you want to explain something to me?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows raised at my question before he opened his mouth to speak, “What do I need to explain?”

I groaned in annoyance as a smile broke out on Taehyung’s face. He knew what he was doing… “Tae. This isn’t funny.”

“Okay, okay,” he giggled, calming himself down long enough to speak, “I invited Hana over for some dinner since you and Kook were at work. I told her that Kook and I were planning to leave on Sunday. She seemed really disappointed over it, but she continued on smiling, saying she was happy for me. Something just… clicked. One thing lead to another, and we…”

“That’s all you have to say,” I stopped him as Taehyung smiled and bit his lip, “I don’t want to hear any details. I just wanna know if this was a one time thing or if you’re actually going to be official.”

Taehyung smiled and sat on the edge of my bed, “We haven’t talked about it, actually. She told me that she thinks she’s in love with me, and I… I think I feel the same about her.”

“She told you she loves you?” my eyes widened as I rushed over to stand in front of Taehyung, “And you didn’t say it back?!”

“Whoa, Ari,” Taehyung grabbed onto the sides of my arms, “I didn’t want to say it until I was for sure. After all, we’d have to do the whole long distance thing starting out. At least you and Kook spent most of the summer together.”

I took a deep breath and nodded, calming myself down. Taehyung made a good point with that. I never saw him as the long distance type since he loves skinship, but I could see him seriously consider it while sitting right in front of me.

“Why’d you wait so long? You could have asked her out at the beginning of the summer and she would have said yes…” I trailed off as I saw a blush forming on Taehyung’s face. He’d dated before, most of the girls being around for at least a few months at a time before they ultimately broke up. It wasn’t like he’d never dated before now like it was for me.

I felt my face heat up as I thought back to Jungkook and I’s early days. He had been such a douchebag to me, yet I fell so hard for him in the end. If I hadn’t accepted him at the beginning of the summer, I wouldn’t be as happy as I am now. Sure, we still fight like we did the past few days, but we were able to move past it so that we can spend the last of our days together savoring everything we have together.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung sighed in response, “I guess it’s because I feel different about her. I didn’t want to screw up what we had, but in hindsight, I’m mad at myself for not just taking a chance.”

I sat down next to Taehyung and wrapped my arm around his shoulders, “It’s not too late, Tae. Long distance relationships may suck, but if she’s really important to you, there’s no reason that you shouldn’t give it a shot.”

As if on cue, the door to my room slowly opened for Taehyung and I to see Jungkook stepping inside. I felt a small smile appear on my face at his sudden appearance. I figured he wouldn’t be able to stay away for more than a few minutes. He’s too nosy.

“Hey,” he said almost awkwardly as I just laughed and gestured for him to come in.

“Don’t you think that long distance relationships are worth a shot, Kook?” I asked him as he raised his eyebrows. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jungkook knew more about Taehyung and Hana’s relationship than I did, but in this moment, he seemed almost clueless to the root of the question.

“If this is a trick question,” he mumbled while looking at me with panicked eyes. I just stood up and shook my head, standing in front of him.

“Taehyung’s doubtful about having a long distance relationship with Hana,” I informed as Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung, “I want just trying to tell him that it’s not that bad in the grand scheme of things.”

Jungkook took a deep breath and looked back over to me. I continued to smile up at him before he grabbed my hand and pulled me against him. I felt my eyes widened and my face heated up at his sudden action, especially since Taehyung was in the room and watching us.

“If it means that I will one day get to spend every day seeing you again, it’s more than worth it.”

My heart jumped at his words as I smiled softly into his shirt. He smelled like his cologne that I love so much, and I’m going to miss smelling it… I might have to buy some just to spray every once in a while so that I could pretend that he’s still here…

“Thanks guys,” Taehyung spoke with no sarcasm underlying his words. I looked over Jungkook’s shoulder at my brother who was now fleeing the room. “If you two could stay here while I talk to Hana, I would really appreciate it.”

I gave him a thumbs up as Taehyung opened the door and walked out, closing it behind him almost violently. I jumped slightly at the noise as Jungkook let a soft laugh out his nose.

“I’m going to miss you,” Jungkook spoke as he pulled away from me so that he could look at me. “Don’t be surprised if I’m driving down here every chance that I get.”

I moved one of my hands to run through his hair as he leaned into my touch immediately, “That wouldn’t be fair for you. How about we alternate who drives to the other’s place?”

“But I live in the dorms on campus,” Jungkook was quick to inform as I bit my lip in disappointment. It was silent for a few seconds before Jungkook spoke up, uncertainty in his voice.

“M-my older sister lives near the campus, though. I’m sure she’d let you stay with her.”

My face heated up at Jungkook’s offer. Jungkook knew my family because of how often he was over at my house back in high school, but I didn’t know any of his. Of course, neither of our families knew about us being a couple... And I barely remembered that Jungkook has an older sister. Well, if my memory serves me correctly, she’s a half sister.

“I-I’ll think about it,” I looked down nervously as Jungkook shook his head and grabbed my chin with his soft hand. I was forced to look back at him as he just smiled.

“It’s just a suggestion. I’ll tell her about you before asking if you could stay with her,” Jungkook leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my lips, “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to meet you, especially when she sees how much you’ve changed me.”

I swallowed and nodded, leaning up to place another kiss to his lips. This time he leaned further into me, careful to not knock me over with too much force. His hand that was still wrapped around me now run up and down my back to sooth me.

I pulled away for only a couple seconds to look into Jungkook’s eyes. I was going to miss looking into these eyes every day…

“You better say good things about me,” I teased as Jungkook let a slight laugh out before our lips connected again. Without warning, Jungkook hooked his arms to the back of my thighs and picked me up, holding my body completely against his while holding me up in the air. Our kiss hardly broke contact as he just stood in place, his grip on me tightening to make sure that I didn’t slip out of his hold. I could feel his rapid heartbeat against my chest as his lips hovered over mine.

“Same goes for you.”

I slightly giggled, “My family knows you already.”

Jungkook didn’t crack a smile, “Then make sure you remind them of how great I am.”

My eyes rolled as I buried my hands in his hair, holding his mouth to hover over mine, “Then remind me of how great you are, babe.”

I felt Jungkook’s skin shiver against me as his something seemed to snap within him. His eyes slightly narrowed as I just smirked at him. He moved his face away from mine as he pressed his mouth to my ear, whispering into it.

“Gladly.”

A/N: OKAY! This update is finally finished!!! I’m so happy to finally get this posted because I hated how long I kept you all waiting for this! Now you can go back to playing BTS World ;) (Also this games chapter difficulty curves really piss me off but guess who’s still playing anyway? Don’t even get me started on the Another Story missions from Chapter 2... -_-)

⇨ Masterlist ⇦

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thewritewolf · 4 years

Text

Eating Habits Chapter 9: Warmth

The incoming chill of late fall might be making Paris cold, but the love of friends and family keeps Adrien and Marinette warm.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3.

The letters in front of Marinette swam as she tried to focus on them, her laptop screen getting blurry intermittently as she blinked away the gnawing tiredness at the edges of her mind. Between her exhaustion and the lingering after effects of her cold from last week, she was having an awful time studying. Maybe she should have tried getting back onto a regular sleep schedule, but there was too much to do after being bed ridden for a few days.

Thankfully, there was the power of energy drinks to save her. The caffeine was probably the only reason she was even still awake right now. Not that being conscious was a huge help if she couldn’t process what she was reading. After a few more minutes of unsuccessfully staring at her screen, she sighed and leaned forward, rubbing her forehead.

Once she wasn’t hyper focused on her work, her attention drifted to a conversation from a couple boys at another table. They weren’t very loud since they were all in the campus library, but she could still hear them pretty clearly. Without meaning to, she listened in.

“...Crazy, right?”

“Man, you’re super lucky. That would’ve been just the thing to make calculus less dull.”

“What? Haven’t you had a class where that Agreste kid just waltz in with a boxed lunch?”

Marinette froze. They couldn’t be talking about…?

“He’s been in so many frickin’ classes but of course he doesn’t show up to any of mine.”

“Bummer, dude. It’s pretty hilarious, and kinda cute.”

“Well, he was a model. Or is he still one? That was pretty ambiguous-”

“No! I mean he brings the lunches for his girlfriend.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. Feel bad for his girlfriend though. Must be a little embarrassing, ya know?”

Meanwhile, Marinette buried her scarlet face in her laptop, being careful to keep it between her and the two boys while they kept talking. Maybe it would be worth eating proper meals just to keep Adrien from these over the top antics.

Despite her embarrassment, Marinette’s stomach growled treacherously at the thought of his boxed lunches. She wondered where he was right now...

------------------

“Geez, dude, can’t even go easy on me for a minute, huh?” Nino threw his control down in faux anger. “Have I even one a single match yet?”

“Hm…” Adrien tapped his chin as he pretended to give it some thought. “Well, you did beat up my character when I went to the bathroom. Does that count?” Adrien ducked out of the way of a playful punch aimed at his arm. “Ooo, too slow, turtle boy.”

“God, you’re such a smug dick,” Nino said with a grin. “Can’t believe I ever thought you were an innocent homeschooled boy.” He leaned back, settling his controller on his lap. “How’d you even get so rockin’ at this game?’ His eyes narrowed and he pointed a figure into Adrien’s face. “And you’d better not say ‘natural talent’ or I’ll send M that clip of you drunkenly crying to that one Inuyasha scene.”

“We’re all friends here, shelly, no need to pull out the big guns.” Smirking, Adrien held his hands up in surrender and shrugged. “Well, you know how Marinette is into the Mecha Strike series. Ever since we started dating, every time a new title would come out, I’d get it for her. Then we’d play it a ton. Early on, it was after dates, but after I moved in, we’d stay up late and fight into the early morning.”

“Sounds like you were having a ton of fun,” Nino said with a small smile. “You ever actually win any of those matches?”

“Hell no. Why do you think I like playing against you so much? I got years of pent-up frustration to take out.” They shared a laugh. Adrien stared wistfully into space. “But yeah. It was like a sleepover every night with the person I cared the most about.”

“Harsh, dude.”

“Hey, you’re a close second! And that’s saying something since she’s literally the love of my life and light of my heart.”

“...Yeah, I can see how you two and your over-the-top ideas of love mesh together.” Nino snapped his fingers. “Speaking of crazy acts of love! Weren’t you making tons of trips to M’s university? What happened with that?”

To his surprise, Adrien blushed and he rubbed the back of his neck. “About that… Turns out, doing it once is cute. Two or three times is adorable, but getting annoying. But apparently two meals a day for three weeks - minus her sick break - is crossing a line.”

“Bummer. So she chewed you out?”

“If by ‘she’ you mean ‘all of Marinette’s professors’ then yes.” Adrien sighed dramatically. “Now I’ve been banned from interrupting all her classes, at least for the semester.”

Nino laughed at a pouting Adrien. “Uncool of them, but I get it. Can’t have some stray cat runnin’ around, getting everyone all riled up.”

“Anyway… at least she got a few weeks worth of regular meals out of it. I just wish it could have gone on for a little longer.”

“It is what it is, big cat. You did what you could and that’s what’s important.” He pulled out his cellphone and started composing a text.

“Who are you talking to?” Adrien craned his neck over, shamelessly reading over Nino’s shoulder.

Nino leaned away from his prying eyes. “It ain’t for nosy cats, that’s for sure. If you gotta know, its for my babe. She’ll think you getting banned is hilarious, and I gotta be the one that tells her.”

“Oh sure, laugh at my pain.”

“That’s the plan, dude.”

Adrien shook his head, but there was a glimmer of mirth in his eyes. He stood up and walked to the kitchen, leaving Nino to send his message in peace.

-------------------

A few days later, the apartment was quiet once again. Nobody had come over to visit, which was more the norm for his life. On some level, the stillness bothered him, like there was something missing. Or maybe it was just because it was harder to distract himself if there wasn’t any noise or energy in the house.

Either way, today Adrien didn’t mind as much since the solitude would make this a little easier. He didn’t want word of his plan to leak out before he was ready or else Marinette might catch wind of it and clam up. Which wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Marinette herself.

Adrien hung up the phone and took a seat at his kitchen table. Normally at this hour it would be covered in fresh ingredients for whatever he was planning on making that day. But where chopped vegetables usually sat was instead advertisements and a few bank statements. The latter was probably unnecessary - he knew without looking that’d he’d have enough for what he was planning. But it was reassuring to see, at least.

Knowing Marinette, it was good to have as many loose ends tied up as possible, and leave nothing to chance. He loved her to pieces, but she could work herself into an anxious lather if he let her.

“Are you sure this will work out?” Adrien worried at his lip as he sightlessly looked over the papers.

“Listen, kid,” Plagg said as he gnawed at a wedge of cheese. “You want to help her, right? And she isn’t budging despite everything you’ve done so far, yeah?”

“Yes…”

“Then trust me. I’ve known more than a few Ladybugs in my day and most of them are way too stubborn for their own good. And we both know Pigtails hasn’t bucked that tradition in the slightest.”

“I know, but… it’s a big step. Shouldn’t we talk it out as a couple?”

“Maybe. And I’ll grant that Pigtails is a great planner.” Plagg gulped down the last hunk of his cheese, letting out a satisfied sigh once it hit his stomach. He shook his head and looked back at Adrien. “But she’s also her own worst enemy. If it isn’t urgent, she’ll just plan and plan and plan forever without actually doing anything.”

Adrien smirked, remembering the times Marinette had shared - after some help from a bottle of wine - some of her more… creative plans to confess her love to him. At least, until he beat her to it. Maybe Plagg had a point.

“We can always plan together later,” Adrien said with a nod. “I just need to make sure she doesn’t reject it out of hand.”

“That’s the spirit, kid. Now, onto the important matters - where’s my second dinner?”

-----------------

Tonight was their anniversary, a chilly December day, and Adrien wanted to make sure everything was perfect. He’d gotten permission to leave the bakery early. Probably way earlier than he’d needed to, but Tom and Sabine had insisted that he take the whole afternoon off. Especially Tom, Adrien remembered with a smile, who could barely hold back the tears as he waved Adrien off.

A quick stop at the market for fresh ingredients and Adrien was home.

As much as he had wanted to go out to a fancy restaurant or do something special with her, he knew that the best way to spoil her now - after the semester she’d been having - would be a nice relaxing night at his apartment, eating a home cooked meal and cuddling in front of the television.

And by all the kwami was she going to get the best meal and the most snuggly cuddles he could possibly make. She deserved nothing less.

He became a man possessed, putting all those cooking classes to good use as he crafted the greatest lasagna he could make. While that was cooking in the oven, he began gathering all the softest blankets and pillows he could find and stacking them on his couch. Half the fun of a pillow fort was making it with someone else, but he knew she’d rather be able to collapse into it as soon as she got there.

It was just as he placed the finishing touches on the fort that he heard a knock at the door before it swung open.

When his eyes met hers, a big grin spread across his face as his heart raced. She wasn’t even a step inside before he’d rushed across the room and swept her up in a hug, holding her off the ground with his arms just below her waist.

She laughed as she pressed her hands against his shoulders for support. “At least let me put my stuff down first, you ridiculous man!”

He simply grinned up at her, eyes sparkling with happiness as he slowly let her down just enough to put them face level. He kissed the corner of her mouth and whispered:

“Happy anniversary, bugaboo.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #Nino Lahiffe #Plagg #ml fanfiction #my writing #Eating Habits #The Lucky One series

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years

Text

Innocent Intentions

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Tao x Reader

Summary: There was one thing you couldn’t stand in all your years at college: playboys. And the campus was riddled with them. So when Tao - a player with a particularly well-known reputation - inserts himself into your life, you come up with a plan to get rid of him, whether he makes your heart race or not. But the more he’s the around, the more you just might find there’s a hidden layer underneath all the rumors, including a secret you never could have guessed….

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

Had you ever been this sick in your life?

You were pretty sure that the answer was an astounding no. Sweat beaded on your forehead although you were shivering and couldn’t seem to get warm no matter how many blankets you piled on. At the same time, all you could stand to wear was an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of comfortable shorts. Anything else just felt like too much weight on your body.

Your stomach seemed to be on a four hour rotation, letting itself fill up with bile before deciding to empty it all out. The worst part was that after you’d finished throwing up, your body suddenly realized you hadn’t given it any sustenance since yesterday’s dinner. Your stomach growled at you and you growled back at it in a pathetic attempt to show some dominance. You knew if you actually tried to eat something, you’d just be seeing it again soon. Besides, you didn’t have the stamina to walk to the kitchen and stand there while trying to decide what would do the least amount of damage.

For the good part of the morning, you simply lied on the couch, unable to go to sleep but lacking the energy to do anything else. At one point, you did remember to call Mrs. Choi and tell her that is was best for you not to come in today. The last thing the shelter needed was for you to spread this bug around and have all those poor kids running to their shared bathrooms to throw up. Taking care of a couple sick kids was hard enough when the yearly cold made its way around. A whole classroom’s worth would just be chaos. Mrs. Choi was more than understanding and you promised to take an extra shift next week to make it up.

Sometime around noon, you were lying on the couch, watching an old rom com on the TV. It was the same old classic trope: playboy finds the only girl not attracted to his games and falls for her in pursuit of winning her over for the sake of his pride. You snorted to yourself. “Yeah, right.” Like that would ever happen in real life. Jerks were Jerks, frogs were frogs. End of story.

Then you shot up from your lying position. Shit! You were supposed to have another tutoring session with Tao today. A smile crept on your lips and a somewhat evil laugh escaped your throat. Looks like you were able to dodge him after all.

Lying back down on the couch, you settled in even deeper into the blankets, enjoying the silver lining. Then the guilt set in. You should probably at least Jae know that you were sick so Tao wasn’t just sitting there waiting for you. Even if that would be entertaining to imagine.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jae,” you croaked out. Your throat was sore from all the acid that had been passing through it. Maybe you should grab a glass of water after this. Ugh. That meant moving.

“Whoa, you sound terrible.”

Way to point out the obvious. “Yeah, I’ve got the flu or something. So, tell Tao we’ll have to reschedule.”

“Sure!” There was a little more happiness in Jae’s voice than you really thought was appropriate for this conversation. “Feel better, (y/n). And let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure thing.” You hung up before he offered to bring you soup or something else equally obnoxious. Being babied whether you were sick or not was not an action you took graciously. You were a grownup who could take care of themselves.

A little while later, just as you finally beginning to drift off for a nap, there was a knock on the front door. Groaning, you buried yourself deeper into your blankets, hoping the intruder would just go away. But they didn’t.

Louder and louder they banged, determined to be answered. With a roar of your own and newly fueled by annoyance, you threw the protective cover off of yourself and marched up to the door, swinging it open. “What!”

“Well, hello there.”

Your eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Tao smirked. “I came for my tutoring session.”

“I’m sick, you idiot. Jae was supposed to tell you.”

“Oh, he did,” Tao nodded. “But you seem to be fine to me.”

“Are you serious?” you croaked out. You were sweating more than a runner just crossing the marathon finishing line. You were sure that your face was a few shades lighter than normal and you sounded like a fifty year smoker. “I’m pretty sure anyone could take a look at me and know that I’m dying.”

The smirk faded from Tao’s face and his eyebrows knitted together. “Are you running a fever? Is it just a cold or could it be something worse?”

“Why do you ev-”

Just then that all-too familiar churning feeling began to bubble in your stomach. In a flash, you turned on your heels and sprinted for the first floor bathroom, not caring in the slightest that you’d left the front door open for Tao to walk right on in. You barely made it in time to empty out your stomach into the toilet. A coughing fit followed, making the burn in your throat even worse.

“Hey, hey, hey it’s okay,” Tao hushed gently as he crouched down beside you. A heavy hand rubbed up and down your back and you hated how nice that felt.

“Go away,” you grumbled as you wiped away the tears that were stinging your eyes.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” Tao declared defiantly. He stood back, staring down at you with a look that dared you to argue. “I’ll go get you a glass of water. Don’t move.” He was gone from the bathroom before you could open your mouth to protest.

After sitting there in silence for a minute or so just listening to the open and close of cabinet doors and finally the clinking of glass and the sound of running water, Tao came back with a tall cup of water.

“I seriously could have done that myself,” you snapped.

“And yet, I see no glass anywhere in sight.”

Damn it.

Before you could even think of a good comeback, round two started. The sound of the bile hitting the water mixed with your own gagging once nothing else was coming up was just making it worse. This wasn’t a state you wanted to be seen in by anyone, but somehow with Tao here, it was a hundred times worse. You just wanted him to go away and leave you alone. You preferred to stay here in misery without an audience.

“I think that’s the universe telling you to stop arguing with me,” Tao chuckled. Crouching down once again, he held the water out for you. “Just swish the first gulp around and spit it out. Then take a sip to swallow.”

You swiped the glass from his hand, not caring if some spilled on the linoleum floor. “I know what to do.” But when you took that first swig, you could only swish it around your mouth for a few seconds before spitting it out into the toilet. “Ugh. Why is it so warm?”

Tao rolled his eyes. “It’s room temperature. And it’s better for your stomach than ice water. Now, take a few sips. It’ll help sooth your throat.” He placed his fingers on the bottom half the glass, pushing it up to your lips before tilting it back.

Once you’d taken three small gulps, you lowered the glass and wiped your lips clean. Neither of you spoke or even moved. This side of Tao was weirding you out. There was absolutely no hint of his usual flirtation in any of his actions. His eyes reflected pure, genuine concern for your health. Why would he be so concerned for you? He didn’t know you and you doubted the two of you bonded that quickly over a few hours of homework. And you knew nothing about him beyond what Wyatt and Kendall had told you. The two of you weren’t even really friends-

“Wait a second,” you narrowed your eyes at him, all thoughts of gratitude gone. “How the hell did you know where I lived?”

A small dose of the smug attitude was back. “Jace in the front office owed me a favor. It was pretty easy for him to look up your home address.”

You gaped at him. No matter that the idea had once crossed your own mind to track down the boy across from you after he was late for Wednesday’s session. But the difference was that you never did. And you were planning on looking for his class schedule, not his home address. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

Tao shrugged. “Go ahead and report me.”

“I will.”

“Okay.”

You tried to remain bold, but eventually you just deflated. It wasn’t worth the fight. Tao searched around the bathroom aimlessly with his eyes.

“So, you live with your parents?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Yeah,” you replied defensively. “It’s easier to save money than living in the dorms. You got a problem with that?”

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly confused at your attitude. “No. I live with my family, too. I was just making conversation. You don’t have to be so hostile towards me.”

“You came to my house and are now acting all concerned,” you pointed out. “Sorry if that kind of reads straight out of the playboy’s hand book.”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to judge someone based on what you hear?”

Well, damn. He had you there.

But it didn’t help that his personality came off the same as the forerunning rumors in that initial meeting. Right now, though, you were definitely getting another side to the playboy and it was messing with your head. Or maybe it was the illness making you susceptible to whatever angle he was playing now.

But he seemed so genuine in his worry for you and it was making you doubt your own assumption. His closeness right now was creating a fog in your mind. Were you starting to see him more clearly or were you just seeing another character he was putting on?

“Come on,” Tao whispered. “You should lie down.” His arms started sliding behind your back and under your knees.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You put your hands on his chest, stopping him while trying to ignore the warmth radiating from him under his plain white t-shirt. “What are you doing?”

Tao looked stunned. “I was going to take you to the couch.”

You frowned at him. “I can walk still.”

He threw his hands up and backed off. “Sorry.”

With what little strength you had, you pushed yourself off the floor. Your knees wobbled and you became light headed from the sudden elevation, swaying back and forth before catching the rim the of the counter.

“Still not going to let me carry you?” Tao growled.

You threw him a look. “I’m fine.”

Rolling his eyes, he wrapped an arm around your waist and supported most of your weight as you shuffled towards the living room. He let you sit down on the couch by yourself before heading towards the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” you called out after him.

“You need to eat something!” he yelled back.

You jetted out your jaw, irritated. “I can’t keep anything down!” A little quieter, you added, “ Like you weren’t here to see that fact.”

“I did see it! That’s why I’m making you broth!” Tao shouted.

Whirling around on the couch, you stared towards the kitchen with your jaw hanging open. How was he able to hear that? And he was making you broth? At this point, you wanted him to leave so you could stop being so confused. When you sat back down in your seat, you found yourself… smiling?

No. No, no, no. You didn’t like being taken care of like this. You really didn’t like that Tao was the one making you like it. What the hell was wrong with you? Just kick him out already. You were sure if you yelled enough, he’d leave, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

You plastered on a frown and crossed your arms to try and make yourself sour and mad at this whole thing. Fake it until you make it, right?

With a large bowl of steaming chicken broth in his hand, Tao came back to the living room, nudging your leg with his foot for you to move over. You complied, putting a sigh and great reluctance behind it. As carefully as he could, Tao put the bowl down on the coffee table before adjusting the blankets and placing one of them around your shoulders. Crossing his legs so he could face you as he sat down, he picked the bowl and held the full spoon out for you to drink.

Narrowing your eyes, you questioned, “Why are you doing this?”

Tao sighed and lowered the broth to his lap. “Can’t I just be nice?”

“We’re not best friends,” you argued. “I wouldn’t even say that we’re friends. And yet, you’re here trying to feed me. I think any logical person would be questioning why.”

“I like you.”

Your immediate reaction was to go straight into a coughing fit.

Tao nodded. “Not the reaction I was hoping for.”

When you were finally able to breathe right again, you blinked at him. “I’m sorry. Rewind for a second. You what now?”

That confident smirk was making a comeback on his lips as he leaned forward. However, this time, it was softer as he kept eye contact with you. “I like you, (y/n). That’s why I’m doing this.”

“Get out.”

Apparently, he wasn’t expecting that answer as leaned back, blinking. “What?”

“I am not a toy for you to play with,” you spat. “I don’t like playboys, so find someone else to mess with.” The way his face twist up, he almost seemed hurt by what you were saying. That didn’t stop you from marching on, though. “I’m not going to listen to anything that’s not genuine, so just stop while you’re ahead.”

“I’m being serious,” he whined. “I’m not playing a game or just trying to see how far I can get. Let me prove it to you. Can I get at least one chance?”

You opened your mouth just to shut it again. The words leaving his mouth sounded sincere, but you weren’t entirely certain. He was so confusing that you couldn’t get a grip on which version of him was real.

Fine. He was saying that he actually liked you, then you’d let him try. But if there was one thing you knew about playboys, it was this: none of them could commit. As soon as things got serious, they ran. So, you’d show him seriousness, you’d show him commitment. And then you’d sit back and watch him run for the hills, proving you right once again.

“Okay,” you agreed. “Fine. Whatever.”

Tao scoffed, looking off to the side as he shook his head. “And here I thought we’d gotten past judging people.”

You gasped. “I do not-”

Tao took the opportunity to shove the soup filled spoon in your mouth. And it was good, making you momentarily forget about the argument you had lined up for him. It wasn’t just plain chicken broth in that bowl. There was something else in it that gave it an extra flavor.

“What did you put in there?” you asked in awe.

“You’ll just have to eat more and see if you can find out,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, but opened your mouth for more. It was completely out of character for you to allow someone else to feed you, bit if Tao was going to be extreme, then so were you. This was going to be a two player game all the way.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for now,” Tao declared after a few more spoonfuls. “If you can keep that down, then I’ll warm it back up for you.”

Your only answer was a yawn as you stretched. You were exhausted and in desperate need for sleep while your body fought off the virus. For the first time all day, you felt like you could actually take a nap. Leaning back into the couch after shifting in his seat, Tao wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

“Isn’t this too much?” you mumbled. There was no fight in your body, though, and your voice didn’t give much of an argument either.

“Get some rest,” he whispered.

This was wrong. This was one hundred percent wrong, but your eyes were already closed and your breathing was regulating as your mind gave in to the rest. Tao’s chest shouldn’t be this comfortable. You shouldn’t be feeling so content with his warmth around you. And yet, you easily drifted off, forgetting all the complications and just accepting the current situation. You’d deal with whatever consequences came your way later.

Tao took full advantage of the situation, staring down at you in awe. You looked so content curled up in his side, exactly where you belonged.

He couldn’t believe his luck in convincing you that he truly did have feelings for you. And they were growing each time he saw you. How could someone so defiant and argumentative be so cute? If having you give in to him and let him take care of you took a fight every time, he’d gladly fight with you every day. How could he have ever hated the very idea of this?

When Tao had first headed this way, he doubted that you were even going to be home. He really thought you were just dodging him. Then you opened the door looking like death and his protective instincts took over. But there you went again, doubting his intentions. Who knew he’d ever regret the way he lived his life up until now?

He was going to have to work twice as hard because of that just to prove to you that the two of you were meant to be, that you were his mate and that everything he was feeling towards you was true. You still looked at him with a seemingly impenetrable wall of distrust. It was going to take time and patience to remove each brick. While Tao had plenty of the former, he was still learning the meaning of the latter.

An itching feeling began to tingle in the tips of his fingers. At this angle, he could only see a portion of your face since most of it was buried in his chest (a fact that was making the wolf in his chest purr in absolute ecstasy). Your skin looked so soft from this closeness. Did it feel like the velvet it was impersonating? Tao had never wanted to run his fingers across a cheek so much in his life. Whenever he did it to the other girls, it was out of strategy. It drove every single one of them crazy. This was the first time the urge came with no ulterior motive.

Full of bravery, Tao lifted his free hand that wasn’t keeping you secure to his side and reached out. Just before his fingertips could brush up against your cheek, however, he heard car tires pulling into the driveway. Conflict arose as he wanted to stay, but right now was not the best way to meet your parents or explain this current predicament or why you were fast asleep on him.

As carefully as possible, he unglued you from him - earning a whine from both you and his wolf - and tucked you in comfortably on the couch before sneaking out the back door. He waited on the side of the house for your mother go inside before sprinting to his car that he’d parked a few houses down the street.

His heart was pounding in his chest as an exhilarating feeling pumped through his veins. The adrenaline rush that resulted from sneaking out of your house without being caught couldn’t be explained, but he kind of wanted to do it again. And you’d told him to prove just how much he cared for you, so you could bet he’d be doing a lot more sneaking around here in the near future.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #tao x reader #huang zitao #z.tao #tao #exo series #exo supernatural au #Innocent Intentions #untamed wolf universe

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mechadress · 4 years

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Saw a literary challenge to write about one of your average days in quarantine. They picked Tuesday May 12th. Since all of my days keep blending together, I thought it would help me set a benchmark for how I handled quarantine. So here it is-

May 12th 2020,

My alarm goes off at 7am. I roll over to turn it off and promptly go back to sleep. This was a normal practice even before the world shut down. I don't have set hours at work, but I prefer to start around 8am. Since my work computer is only across the apartment, the motivation to wake up before I absolutely have to is extremely low.

8am rolls around and I can't bring myself to leave the bed yet. It all seems so pointless as no one seems to care what hours I keep and I don't have any early morning meetings. I scroll through Facebook and Tumblr on my phone, I check my email more times than I really need to, and pet whichever cat is closest, usually Sierra. I find a post from a page that I follow that talks about Victorian parlor games and I share it to the Steampunk group I administer. There hasn't been much content in the group for awhile. I wonder if it's because steampunk isn't as popular as it once was or if no one has anything to say. It gets a few likes and one 'Care' emoji. I think it's because it indicates that people miss hanging out together.

Around 8:15 I need to use the toilet, which is enough to get me out of bed and sign into my work computer. CY yells out from his work station at the living room table to remind me to buy the camper table and a spray bottle he wanted for grilling. I order them from Amazon and feel guilty about getting nonessential items in the middle of a pandemic. I spend the first few hours of work scrolling through FB or Tumblr and knitting. While I knit I watch an hour and half long youtube video from ContraPoints about different types of second-hand embarrassment or 'cringe'. I identify a lot with what she says.

I am knitting a pair of socks simply because I have the yarn and I've never done it before. I tested out the gauge to make sure I had the right sized needles and I do. They are long dpns that were given to me by CY's mother once she realized I enjoyed knitting. Apparently she used to knit as well, but it would hurt her hands so she gave up on it. I had tried to use the dpns as intended, even looking up a video and practicing a few times, but I kept dropping stitches and getting annoyed with them. I eventually decided to order a circular needle from Amazon to use instead. I felt very guilty about this since there's all sorts of post-people and delivery people out there who are at risk moving all these boxes around, and here I'm ordering a stupid pair of needles that are a duplicate size to ones I own, but I just don't want to use. The circular needles are extremely nice and easy to work with and it is a pleasure to knit the socks. I still use the dpns as a stitch holder while I knit the heel. Today I'm connecting the insole and knitting along the foot. It's easy and enjoyable work especially after already completing the first sock.

I eat a prepackaged ube cake while I drink my tea and appreciate the nice pairing of flavors.

I feel bad about not getting more of my actual work done. However, I can't bring myself to concentrate on anything related to work. I keep moving my mouse around every 10 or so minutes so it looks like I'm active.

An old D&D friend of mine named Sam posts on FB about how he is proud of his company for continuing to let people work from home despite Ohio loosening some of the Stay at Home restrictions. I reply "We were told to expect to work from home until at least August. I'm grateful since it's one less thing to think about." Sam and I go back a forth a bit more, expressing gratitude and an interest in meeting up again once its safe. It's the first I've interacted with him in about 5 years and it makes me glad to hear from him.

I start lunch early because I don't have anything better to do. For lunch I make myself and CY a sandwich. We have some really good Italian bread we got from the grocery store that we can make into a decent replica of a Philadelphia style hoagie. I already chopped up the veggies so I can just take them out of the fridge and start layering them on. CY likes his sandwich with mayo and turkey. I don't like handling either of those things, but it's easy enough. I make his first then make a veggie version for myself. We use the new hoagie oil which isn't as bad as I had originally feared, but it isn't as good as the name brand one we had before. Pity they were out of it at the store when we went.

My 2019 tax refund from Ohio lands into my investment account. I plan to use it to invest in assorted stocks I feel will bounce back once the economy recovers.

After lunch I watch a few more youtube videos while I knit. One is a career review of the one-hit wonder band 'Living in a Box' and another is a recording of 'the world's worst singer' Florence Foster Jenkins. I had found an article that talked about people who had a medical condition which made them unable to percieve how poorly they performed a skill. In her case, she was a renowned as a very poor singer who believed she was very good and people would come to watch her ironically. I try to watch a congressional hearing where they discuss the health crisis with Dr. Fauci, but it's too depressing so I stop.

My anxiety related to work continues to grow. I figure that I'm not able to bring myself to do any investigation on my own, but I'm still able to ask people questions. I reach out through Skype to a colleague who I believe had worked with this business group before. I am surprised by how helpful she is and how quickly she is to respond. We get on a call and she shows me some reporting she did that is similar and directs me towards a table she thinks would have the values I'm looking for. She recommends another colleague to talk to and I schedule a meeting with him for the next day since he was busying for the rest of today. I feel instantly better. My anxiety about my work plummets and I find the energy and motivation to start investigating another task I've been given. I quickly find 1) the task was way easier than I initially estimated and 2) the data I want isn't available where I thought it would be. I even find out a new way to pull code out of Tableau and I excitedly share my discovery with another colleague. Around this time it's getting close to 4pm, my usual time to stop working and just become available for questions, should anyone need to reach out to me. I feel better about myself and allow myself to take more pleasure in my activities.

I start to prepare for the online D&D game I host each week, Tuesdays at 7:30pm. One of my favorite things about quarantine is that it's given me the time and ability to play again. I've missed having a regular D&D game badly. We had a very good game the previous week and I'm excited to make new material for this new game. I decide to include a villain who is a Banksia Man, one of the anatognists from the Australian fairy-tale Snugglepot and Cuddlepie. CY had helped me over the weekend come up with a cool backstory for him. I take notes and save some pictures so I can display them to my players through screen share.

A group of our friends are doing a Plank Challenge while we try to stay in shape while in quarantine. Colette set up a FB group with a list of exercises to do for 13 days. Each day, you do your assigned exercise then you post to the group to indicate you completed your day's tasks. CY and I made a point to work out for a bit each day after work and were already doing a fair amount of planks so the challenge as it was written was too easy for us. We tend to double the amount of time for each exercise or we double up the reps. My tasks for today are 30 seconds each of planks, rocking planks, hip dips, and up downs. I do all the exercises straight through twice with a short break in between sets then post to FB in the group.

After doing planks, CY and I go out to a nearby park to walk for a bit. We go for about 2.5 miles. It's a nice day, nearly 60 degrees. I am happy to see wild flowers starting to sprout up and the leaves coming back to the trees. Most people in the park are polite and keep their distance. It's rare to see people wearing masks while they are walking or running, so it almost feels normal.

We make it back with enough time for me to start getting my notes ready for game. CY offers to make me food and asks what I'd like to eat. We had just gone to Trader Joe's the weekend before and gotten a truly ridiculous amount of frozen food. He insists I pick something from the freezer to eat. In the end we decide he'll cut up the jackfruit crab cakes and make them into 'seafood tacos'. He even makes some sriracha ranch to go with it. The crab cake is surprisingly greasy, but it's very tasty and filling. Not sure I'd get it again though.

I go into the gaming group call and we quickly realize that only Gene and Aaron are going to be able to join game. We don't think it will be enough to continue the campaign I prepared for so I offer to do a one-shot just for them. I show them a cute rpg I found awhile ago called 'Fuck! It's Dracula' and we give it a shot. We have fun but I feel a bit unprepared since I have to ab lib most of the plot and come up with secret plans on the fly so they can be betrayed by their NPCs. The game is much shorter than I initially anticipated and we finish up around 9:30pm, much earlier than normal. I don't feel like Aaron and Gene enjoyed this game as much as they would have enjoyed the larger campaign I made, but at least we got to play together for a bit. I appreciate the social contact at the very least.

We dismiss ourselves from game and I join CY on the couch. He is watching some cooking tutorial videos, trying to teach himself how to smoke brisket properly. I go back and forth between different apps on my phone, not really paying attention to the TV. I try to read for a bit, but we eventually settle down to sleep before I get very far. I feel good about how the day went and I'm proud of myself for getting work done on the sock and researching my projects. I feel better about my life than I did when I first woke up this morning.

#journal writing #quarantine #may 2020

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connywrites · 5 years

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of flesh and blood 14

start - part [13]

Was it all just in my head? I feel your hands around my neck 'Cause you took what you thought was yours Now I'll take mine Don't pretend you're innocent An eye for an eye

While his sleep gradually became regular and he'd learned to follow a strict schedule while maintaining a timeframe for personal hygiene and a few minor slots for space to himself, Gavin still felt surprised to wake up and see cold, distant silver rings staring him down.

They held infinite knowledge, and this individual model had a deep understanding of himself that made him sick to his stomach, as 900 could pull up anything he might want to keep secret and hold it to his face on a whim. Wondering exactly how it knew so much about him, alongside the memories of his interactions in the DPD, the detective part of his brain stirred as he pieced together an assumption: the tablet news articles he'd skimmed over were probably right, assuming Cyberlife must have taken the department's security camera recordings and uploaded them to the RK900. One of Connor's biggest flaws, as Gavin and his co-workers never shied from talking about, was the inconsistent "memory" loss from the amnesia between deaths. A different Connor didn't remember it's past chassis' demise or seemingly anything before it, and any other pieces of information that might have been lost from the internal damage; meanwhile it was blatantly clear the RK900 remembered what it and its previous model experienced, and much more from before it was made at all, making him wonder if it held the remaining memories of the old RK800s as well. In his mind, it was the only way to make sense of how it could indicate his emotions and preferences down to a point he didn't acknowledge in himself; the base of what was so terrifying to him as the androids knew him too personally and were capable of spreading that information to what might as well be a global scale on a whim, by how he felt. It probably knew the same amount or more about the others that worked at the department, but had no inclination to pay attention to such a thing while he was the one singled out.

Running away had given him all the more time to become absorbed in his own paranoia, glancing back down every alleyway turn as he'd ran for hours, feeling the stretch of his physical endurance as his lungs burned and his muscles felt red-hot. He'd ran, climbed, jumped, dug and swam as far as his body could take him for any sense of unfamiliarity, wanting nothing more than to escape this living hell he’d been stuck in. No matter his attempts, there was no satisfaction as he knew he’d never entirely escape, proven by the fact he woke up in his own bedroom all over again - dressed down to his boxers despite the fact he’d left fully clothed. He could already imagine the scornful tone the 900 probably used when it talked to itself, as it often did, likely saying something about how he’d ruined perfectly good, new clothes with mud stains, sweat, or whatever else it could think of. Lost in thought, he didn’t turn to look at the android until the familiar, pale hand waved in front of his face, a clear demand for his attention. His eyes followed the movement of its hand, then trailed to its eyes, blinking a few times as he tried to shake off the sleep still fogging his mind.

"You have scars dating back to childhood. To infantry. What tragedies have you suffered?" Gavin nearly choked on his drink, scoffed, and then laughed a fake, dry chuckle that lasted all of four seconds before he straightened out again.

"I don't really want to go down that road, if you don't mind," he muttered, his gaze only halfway focused on RK900 as he otherwise looked straight ahead. The second half of his sentence was touching dangerous territory, he knew, but forming sentences right after he woke up was still difficult.

“I asked you a question, and it wasn’t for a response of personal opinion.” The demand only reached halfway through his mind as his thoughts drifted off, feeling the swooping dizziness of exhaustion trying to tug him back into unconsciousness. Rapidly snapping fingers caught his attention anew, tired eyes glancing up and over to the android again, seeing that it was visibly ‘growing impatient’ with a glare that signaled an unfortunate demise in his favor if he didn’t respond fast.

“It’s a broad question.” Acknowledging the truth in his words, it nodded, eyelids flickering with a millisecond of understanding.

“The worst thing you remember.”

Ah. All it wanted was his agony; yet again, he chastised himself with the awareness that he should have known better.

“Why do you wanna know that?”

“Consider it another simple curiosity.”

“Worst is a real hard pick, buddy. I guess the first thing that comes to mind was being shoved back against the hot stove, while the burner was still on fire. That weird ring of a scar on my shoulder, next to your second zero? Yeah, that was that.” While he tried to remain stoic in his speech, Gavin couldn’t help the way his voice grew low and quiet whenever he talked about this – which was, ultimately, never. It hurt too much, and it made him feel embarrassed, weak. 900 wanted to feed off of that misery, he knew, but he wouldn’t let it get away with it more than he could help.

“That is a particular burn scar.” Gavin turned his head, squinting at the android as he made another attempt at piecing together exactly how the machine worked, and what it knew, alongside how it knew what it did. Sometimes it talked to him like it had known him since high school, yet others he’s reminded they’d only been working together for a few weeks. Maybe a month now, if he added the two days before the first weekend. They’d only ‘grown closer’ since, and the way the RK900 hadn’t left his sight since day one was more than irksome, given the circumstance.

Gavin considered the idea this could be sort of a game to the android’s mind, as it seemed to respond to some things in such a way, and with this being his personal history, he was almost certain it would find some sort of entertainment in the exchange.

“What do you wanna know all that for, anyway? Er, don’t hit me, please – I mean it.” Lifting his hands with his palms in an immediate motion of surrender, he felt his heartbeat pump blood at a quicker and heavier rate once he’d caught his own words. Eyes on the RK900, he felt relieved to see it didn’t look too bothered.

“You asked this question already, but I suppose stating it as a mere interest of mine is a bit of a dead end for you. I want to know why you aren’t so physically fit in your age for how hard you work your body, and why you’re prone to muscle straining. I’ve learned it’s because you’re always tense, so something like a heavy gun recoil when you’re holding the rifle too tight nearly dislocates your shoulder. With your constant body tension, that encouraged me wonder why you clench up all the time in the first place, and with that added to the many scars across your epidermis, I assumed a history of physical violence would make one keep his guard up at any and all times possible the way you do.”

Gavin hated being accessed like he was a hospital test subject, but all he did was lower his arms to his sides and return to his regulated posture.

“What are some of the worst things you’ve done to someone else?” Heavy discomfort pressed down on Gavin’s chest, increasing his rapid breathing while an ugly sensation of guilt and well-aged self-disgust stirred him with nausea. No human had known to ask him about such a thing, and if they did, they weren’t brave enough to bring it up to his face.

“Being a crime scene detective is a morbid job to pick, but it was easier for you to accept that your life was already full of trauma and violence, correct? It’s not an uncommon pattern, but in you, it’s fascinating.” Gavin didn’t dare look at the android.

“At least I can justify shooting someone if I have a badge to back me up.” His voice was thick as an uncomfortable lump stuck in his throat and pulled his voice box tight. The urge to cry was already warbling his speech. 900 raised its eyebrows in mock surprise with a tone of disbelief in its voice.

“That implies you’ve shot people before you were on the police force. That would have been a felony and put you in prison,” it said, eyebrows scrunching while it processed the aspect in its artificial mind, “unless you weren’t caught.” In a moment like this, Gavin would usually feel cocky, shining a mocking grin in the face of whoever he’d consider an enemy, but he’d learned better than that by now. Listening to the android pick him apart and ask the most personal questions about his history was an overwhelming discomfort, and one he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape. Sometimes it was easier to go along with it and power through the engagement, but by the end it usually lead to him feeling a flood of emotions he hadn’t touched in years or decades, generally all it once in overabundance, throwing him into a mental breakdown from the psychologically and physically invasive aftermath.

“Yeah. I dunno, someone hurt my family and we just grew up doing whatever it took to make it right.” At least, that’s what his dad said, and as far as he knew, his own ancestors.

“The way you say that with ease means it doesn’t measure up to the more vicious actions you’ve carried out, in your mind. You must find comfort in seeing the darkness of others like you. Though, I’m sure you never would have imagined yourself being a victim.”

“That make you a suspect?” Gavin knew his phrase was wittingly sharp, but he slid under the excuse of being unable to help it. RK900 smirked.

“Only those with evidence towards guilt would a suspect make. No one assumes anything from me, so no. You’re on your own.” Discomfort stirred in his chest again, leaving him to feel unsteady on his feet. The android acknowledged the way he swayed, lethargy and gravity trying to pull him down.

“You haven’t slept so well, I see. We can pick up this discussion later.” Confused, then agitated, then complacent, Gavin went through the mental gymnastics of understanding and reluctantly accepting the situation. No matter how annoying the 900 was, sleep sounded great.

“Okay.”

“Try again.” A twitch of irritation pulled up his shoulder as he was unable to help the flinching every time he was told to speak the same words he’d grown to loathe:

“Yes, sir.”

“You lied to me. Don’t think I couldn’t tell.” Gavin wished he could do more than freeze and stand still every time the damn machine opened its mouth.

“You don’t care about your family, and you definitely wouldn’t risk your life for them. You shot that person for a reason you probably know was selfish.”

“Thanks for letting me sleep,” Gavin murmured, rubbing his eye as he tried to wake up a little more.

“What happened? Did you feel justified in your actions?”

“Yeah, if the guy deserving to be shot is what you see as justice,” he muttered, shuffling to pour another cup of coffee.

“I asked for your opinion.” Yawning, Gavin shook his head as he tried to understand where the android was going with this, only to find yet another dead end.

“In my opinion, he’s dead fucking meat and deserved to get eaten by the maggots. Are we done here? I’ve got work today—” there was a sharp prong in his side where the taser usually went, but this time it was but the sharp end of tonged barbecue fork, painful enough to make a point without doing any real damage to Gavin or his clothes. Flinching, he sucked in a breath and scooted away from the item.

“Er. Right,” he murmured with a sigh of defeat.

“Sorry. Yeah, I feel like I was right. He’s not hurting anyone else anymore, now is he?”

RK900 narrowed its eyes, staring at him for a few long seconds as something within its emotional coding decided it didn’t particularly feel comfortable around someone like this. It was something like fear, at a lower level, but still complicated enough it didn’t understand it, searching for a dictionary definition to replicate and apply to the sensation.

It took a few seconds, but Gavin caught on, turning his head to the side as he was suddenly brave enough to step forward, inspecting the expression on the android’s face. One of the most human ones of all, he was sure of it; uncertainty.

“What? Are you scared of what I’m capable of?” While the giveaway of stress was gone from its facial expression, it shifted into a combative stance without any prompt telling it to do so.

“I would worry for the sake of the other human lives you’ve interfered with, but that would be useless as I’ve now fixed the problem.” Gavin didn’t feel so brave anymore.

“You look like you’re scared I’ll hurt you again, Nines.” RK900 paused, genuinely processing the statement and cycling it through its mind with a yellow, blinking LED and a few seconds to idle.

“I don’t know why only now my emotional replicative processors are acknowledging your potential of being dangerous towards me,” it said in a voice that held modest confusion. Gavin studied its posture while it shuffled through its own coding, pulse flooding his ears as he wanted to repeat the night all over again in an act of vengeance, but felt much too terrified to do more than move from his position and try to brace himself for the worst.

“I thought only deviants were scared of dying,” Gavin spoke with a sharp tongue. This time, the android was the one that didn’t move, shifting its expression to show its confusion as it caught Gavin’s gaze straight on.

“You’re always asking me questions; can I have a turn?” Its eyes studied him, but even if it could read every physical statistic of his body, it wouldn’t find an answer for what it was looking for. Immediately recognizing it as an irrational instruction, the piece of code was deleted, leaving it to readjust its posture and stand up straight again.

“Sure,” it obliged, partially in challenge. Gavin went to fold his arms over his chest before feeling the tightness of his work shirt shift over his skin, a swift reminder to limit his posture and cuing him to return his arms to his sides. In a moment of realization, he turned to grab his coffee cup that was now turning cool, glancing at the watch on his wrist without thinking twice as he clocked the time, feeling the anxiety ease away from him as he ensured he wasn’t late.

It was harder to put his thoughts into words than he anticipated, leaving him to shift his weight and lean back against the counter in thought with another sip of coffee. He could learn anything in the existence of human knowledge from this thing, and while what he’d ask would never be ultimately important, he knew he had to watch his words when he tried to talk with it.

“What’s your goal? Everything has to relate to something for you, right? That’s how it works up there?” He gestured an index finger towards his right temple, an obvious signal, although mocking, of what he was talking about.

“Anyway, the hell—er. What are you trying to learn now? Doing all this? To me? I don’t get it.” The admission was harder than he’d assumed it would be, leaving his body shaking with the realization he’d offered raw emotional vulnerability. Curling his hands into fists, he pretended to shove away the anxiety.

RK900 seemed to sincerely consider the question, its expression softening as it turned its head to register the look on Gavin’s face. It’s library of pre-programmed facial expressions seemed like a farce compared to watching a human like him in action.

“Your instructions were embedded into my coding and I followed them.” There wasn’t a reason for it to keep hurting him after the first night, though.

“After that, I suppose it was of my own accord. Something about it is…” it paused, quickly searching its database for a synonym that it found suitable for the context of their discussion.

“Gratifying.” Gavin raised his eyebrows with the familiar knee-jerk reaction of fear making him scoot away from the android a bit more, feeling the shift of new, clean bandages on his back; for the most part, the itching and aching faded into the background of his conscience, but it was always more apparent whenever the 900 made a verbal point of hurting him for its own pleasure.

“Politically speaking, androids may obtain rights, but we have yet to suffer from wrongs. You can’t put me in a fair trial, you can’t throw me in jail, and you can’t have me destroyed. There’s no way to get rid of me, and your point makes me curious as to why this is the case as well.” After it dawned on him the android wasn’t aware of why it was doing what it was at all, he set down his coffee cup in a moment of nausea and turned away to head towards the door, breaking his well-trained character in an anxious moment of forgetfulness.

“Can we talk about that on the way to work?” With nothing cuing it to get rough with its hands, it opted to follow through for now; getting work done was still its main priority, no matter what else took up its time on the sidelines. It considered Gavin a personal side project, something that wasn’t necessarily beneficial to the Cyberlife team or the DPD, but a show of human psychosis that taught it more about the species’ functionality as a whole every day.

Gavin grabbed his jacket and unlocked the door, bustling through as he glowered at the falling snow, pulling the hood up and momentarily admiring the faux fur that lined the back of it – another one of 900’s precise purchases, of course – as well as the fact he was actually warm in it compared to the old worn-down leather coat and pair of sweaters he’d worn holes through over the years. Slipping into the passenger seat without further comment, Gavin adjusted the seat on his side and leaned back with a sigh as his stomach grumbled in a harsh reminder he’d skipped breakfast.

“What did you wish to discuss?” Gavin cast it a look of annoyance, but shook his head, glowering out the window and sliding back in his seat.

“Nevermind. Anyway, I’m putting in a request to get you off my cases as my partner, so don’t be surprised if you get fired.” The engine of the car had started humming, but 900 hesitated on the prompt that would begin its designated route as it internally put together exactly what Gavin had just said.

“And you didn’t notify me?”

“Well, what you said was right, you don’t really have a place in society. Sucks not having rights, huh?” Feeling smug, he had all of a few seconds to smirk before he felt the grip of its large, crushing hand around his neck, and all certainty and ego was quick to drain from him as the color disappeared from his face.

“I think you’ll realize that I have a right to end your life just as you did mine.” Confused, Gavin furrowed his brows, but he no longer felt any challenge left in him as he sat up in his seat, eyes locked on the android’s. He wanted to think the android wouldn’t kill him, that he didn’t believe it, but that would be false, and they both knew it. Whatever the upgrade did to this android, it was a constant threat in his favor, and he was too quick to forget just how real the threat was. It was as surreal as it was terrifying to think one of the dreadful machines had his life in its grip, ready to crush him to pieces as soon as it had the opportunity. He revisited the fact it branded him with deep, permanent lacerations for the satisfaction of seeing it alone, even if its own model turned out to be temporary – it would still haunt Gavin for the rest of his life.

Whatever he’d done to it the night of his overdose must have ingrained something awful within it, and he couldn’t decide if this was his own fault or not.

“I suggest you close your mouth before I shove your head to the gravel while the car is still moving.” Without another comment, 900 let go of Gavin and the car pulled from its position in park and started driving itself towards the department.

#wrow.. look at them go #also took this as full advantage to plug my ofab playlist lmfao #detroit: become human #dbh: gavin reed #dbh: rk900

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tasharii · 5 years

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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

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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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