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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years

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Black Ice (one-shot)

Synopsis: Black ice is considered one of the most dangerous winter weather phenomenon. It appears after it’s rained or snow has melted and then the rapidly cooling air freezes it, leaving it as a shiny black mirror on the ground. A deadly shiny black mirror.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: swearing, mentions of hospitals and injuries

Word count: 8852

“God, Harry, it’s just one night!” Y/N exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. “One fucking night I wanna go out with my friends and have some fun. Is that really too much to ask?”

“I haven’t seen you in two months!” he snapped back. “So, please fucking forgive me that I wanna spend a night in with my girlfriend and have her say ‘no’ one time, and make me a priority. Is it so hard to reschedule?”

“Yes, Harry it is!” Y/N stood her ground. “Adam and I have been talking about this for three weeks before we could set a date and meet up. He fucking flew out here! To London! And it’s not my fault you haven’t been home in two months, so don’t put that on me.”

“No,” he shook his head pointing a finger at her. “Don’t pull that shit on me. You knew about my job, you know how it can be, how much I have to travel.”

“I get that, and I’d get your anger if I was fucking off with my friends on our anniversary without any notice or some shit, but I’m not! I made these plans ages ago. I told you about them! How could I have known you’d decide to ‘surprise’ me a week early?”

But the thing for Harry was – he did think there was an anniversary to celebrate. It wasn’t an official one, and he hadn’t told Y/N how much the date meant, but that day was the day they’d met a year prior.

***

He was in the middle of filming ‘Darling Don’t Worry’. This time they'd flown out of California to shoot a scene in the middle of the woods, in the cold of November, which as exciting as it was to have his acting career flourish, Harry wasn't too happy about freezing his ass off in the middle of nowhere.

Y/N, however, lived right next to those woods, her family house having been there for generations, while the location scouts of the movie had chosen the location because the aesthetic could double as the location of the woods behind the mansion.

Y/N’d been out on her daily run (well, daily complaining because Y/N, with all her being, hated running, and thought it was a sign you were a masochist. But her best friend Adam loved running and hated going alone, so he bribed her with the promise of pizza afterwards), when they’d run into pitched white tents, filming equipment and barriers encasing a part of the path they were on.

Adam’s eyebrows furrowed as he slowed his pace, and Y/N thanked god for that because she felt like she was about to pass out.

“What’s going on here?”

“Dunno,” Y/N huffed. “But we should probably leave.”

But instead, Adam grabbed her by the bicep, dragging her forward to the set. “Nope. Come on.”

“Adam!” she hissed. “What the fuck are you – “

“Hi!” He flashed a woman standing by the railing a smile. “Could you-uh-tell us what’s going on? Why’s the path blocked?”

“A movie’s being filmed. Sorry for the disturbance.”

“Mhm, and when do you think you’ll be leaving?”

That she hadn’t expected, given how typically when people saw a movie set, they’d be more than intrigued in getting into a shot or finding out about who were the stars, not when they’d be going away.

“Oh, uh,” she stammered. “I’m not too sure. Depends if the snow starts falling and how much we manage to shoot. Sorry. But uh, would you be so kind and find a path around?”

Y/N jumped in, flashing her a kind smile. “Yes, thank you. So sorry to have disturb –“

“You do realise this is a public place?” Adam raised an eyebrow. “We have a right to be here.”

“Adam, shut up,” Y/N groaned. “We can run around them, it’s not a big deal.”

“But this is our route!”

“Adam for fuck’s sake! It’s the woods, you don’t own them!”

“Exactly!” he said. “And neither do they! They have no rights to infringe on our ability to get to the sea.”

That’s when Harry had noticed her, and to this day Y/N had no clue as to why he’d fallen for her. He was conversing with Florence about the upcoming scene when his ears caught the very end of the conversation, green eyes snapping to where two people in running tracksuits stood.

One of them was a tall burly man, muscles practically ripping apart his clothes at the seams, the other was a shorter woman, hands-on-hips, hair kept away by a headband which also covered her ears, and the most done expression on her face as she glared at her companion.

They were talking with a nervous assistant; Harry could see by her stature and how her head kept snapping to the side in hopes of finding someone above her to deal with the two strangers.

“Adam, I swear to god, I’ll punch you." Harry heard the woman exclaim. "Leave the girl alone! We can run around.”

“But I –“

“Adam!”

“Fine,” he grumbled as he threw the assistant and apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“ ‘S okay. Have my preferred cycling route as well, so yeah… Sorry.”

Harry watched as the woman next to the person, Adam, shook her head and gestured to where the barriers curved around, starting up on a slow jog, and when they passed where he was standing by the trailers, he could hear them still arguing.

“Oh my god,” Harry heard her whisper while looking at the ground. “I’m friends with a fucking Karen.”

“I am NOT a – you’re Harry Fucking Styles!” Adam shouted so hard, it startled Y/N, and when she looked over, it was like a deer in headlights before relaxing and both of them slowed their pace.

“Sorry,” she gave him an awkward glance. “He’s a fan, but we’ll be going and stop bothering you...”

“No, no,” Harry shook his head, putting his hands in his coat’s pockets and smiling. “ ‘S alright, you’re no bother. I’m always happy to talk to a fan.”

“Yes, well, don’t encourage him. Soon enough, you’ll be besties, and Adam here’ll be turning your life into absolute chaos.”

He scoffed looking down at his friend. “I’d like to think I’m taking you out of your boring routine, Y/N, and giving it some spice.”

“Anyway,” she gritted out. “It was lovely to meet you, but uh, we should probably be on our way. You have to be somewhere.”

Y/N’s eyes glanced over Harry’s shoulder, where a nervous AD stood, bouncing on her feet, a weary smile on her face as she caught the singer’s eyes and motioned with her head he was needed back on set.

Harry nodded and wanted to turn back to tell the two to come by whenever they wanted (well mainly Y/N), but when he turned around, the two were already quite a few feet away. Just as he was about to leave, he heard Y/N shout, “Congratulations on the three Grammy nominations, by the way. ‘Fine Line’ was amazing.”

“And that’s a compliment!” Adam hollered jogging backwards. “She only listens to shit from the early 2000s.”

“Adam, shut up!”

With that, Harry was left to watch the two disappear behind the trees, a feeling he was quite familiar with settling in his chest.

It was three days later, when he saw Y/N approaching the set barriers, hands in her pockets, as she rolled her neck. Their eyes met, and even, from the distance, he could see her smile split apart her face, but when she just waved without the intention of coming any closer to the lot, Harry rushed to the side calling out to her. “Hey!”

“Hey!” Y/N responded chuckling and ducking her head down. “You alright?”

“ ‘M alive. How ‘bout you? You doin’ fine?’”

“The bar’s so low?”

“I guess. Won’t be able to get you to nurse me back to health though, which is why I’m in the cold again.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at Harry. “If you wanted to see me, there's no need to lose limbs or bits of yourself.”

Harry hadn’t expected her to be so upfront, but he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t like it. Made it easier for him to understand if his advances were welcome or if he should back off. “So uh, no Adam today?”

“No, he has a late shift at work. Which means I’m spared from the running.”

“Not a fan?” he looked at her with a quirked brow, seemingly saying ‘you’re sure dressed like you are’.

“Do I look like someone who likes stabbing pain in her side and having her heart ripped out of her chest?

“You’re just not breathing properly.”

Y/N sighed. “If one of you gives me any more advice about how to properly run when I don’t even want to run, I swear I’ll stab you.”

“Okay!” he threw his hands up in surrender, laughing. “No more talk about running if I wanna keep my head on my shoulders. Where are you uh going? You don’t have to answer, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N squealed on the inside, but bit her lip to keep the grin away. She’d been dying to talk to Harry since they’d briefly met but had no real reason. Not that she had one now, but she’d had a horrible day at work and needed to clear her head, and what was better than the forest air (also she could scream there without anyone really caring). “You’re not, so don’t worry. I’m uh I’m going to the sea.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. “There’s sea nearby?”

“You’re like a fifteen-minute walk away from it,” she chuckled, stuffing her hands in her coat’s pockets. “Should really be more aware of your surroundings.”

“We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Yeah, you’re kind of right. But it’s places like these where you can find the best spots.”

“Will you show me then?”

She looked at him with an unreadable expression, and he could only hope his nervousness wasn’t as apparent, because Harry was more than convinced his erratically beating heart could be heard miles away. But then she nodded, giving him a wide grin, making one of his own bloom on his face.

“You sure you won’t freeze on your way there?” she said in a sarcastic tone eyeing him up and down, and Harry shoved her a bit.

He donned one of the standard down-jackets issued for the movie with winter boots, but given the costume underneath, he was chilled to the bone. “It’s bloody cold, and my toes are freezing off. How are you still standing?”

“Insulated shoes and thermal clothes. Kinda boiling actually.”

“I should steal ‘em.” He smiled at her. “Probably have frostbite by now.”

“Wow, you people from the South UK really are weak.”

Harry’s gasp made her smile as wide as a Cheshire cat. “How dare you!” He dramatically placed a hand on his chest, Y/N’s laughter erupting through the air. It cut through the yells and shouts from the filming crew, and made a warmth spread in his chest. “How do you know about the South versus North? You don’t sound like you’re from the UK.”

“Studied there for three years; had loads of flatmates from all around, let alone course mates.” Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “And to say that I thrived on the chaos was when you said North was better than the South would be an understatement.”

“Well, I guess I know where your loyalties lie.”

“Did you expect me to immediately swoon over you?” Y/N batted her eyelashes at him. “Oh, Mr Harry Styles. Your voice in ‘Kiwi’ was so good it fucked me to cloud nine. Will you please do that to me with your dick instead? Which you should take as a compliment again, considering kiwi is the only thing I’m allergic to.”

“Wait,” he looked at her, eyebrows up to the middle of his forehead. “So you have heard my stuff?”

“Well, I don’t live completely under a rock. I did say 'Fine Line' was amazing.”

“But you don’t really like it?”

Y/N shook her head. “ ‘S not that I don’t like yours or other pop stuff, ‘s just that I have a preference, and I guess it’s, as Adam said, ‘early 2000s shit’.”

A sly smile appeared on Harry’s face. “But could that include by any chance 'One Direction'?”

“Afraid not,” Y/N sighed giving him a pout. “When you came onto the scene, my heart was already taken by a boyband. And I can be a lot of things, but I most definitely a loyal bitch.”

“One band at a time kind of gal?”

“Exactly.” She beamed. God Harry had never wanted to kiss a person that bad.

“Duly noted, but I will need to know who they are, and how many graves do I have to dig? You know, for research purposes.”

“Going method now?”

“What’dya mean?”

Y/N shrugged sniffling a bit from the frosty weather. “Looked up a little bit about the movie. Need to know what kind of people might be around in the area. Psychological thriller. Wife. Rich husband. A dark secret. My guess – someone’s dead and buried. Also, the huge pit we walked past was kind of a give-away.”

He paused for a second before nodding. “Fair enough.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two as Y/N motioned with her head to where they needed to turn and made their way onto a new path when she spoke. “ ‘S not that I wasn’t a fan,” Y/N shrugged glancing at Harry from the side. “The songs were really catchy, but I guess I got tired of them? Like they were on the radio so much, it was a relief I didn’t have to hear the five of you singing about how I don’t know I’m beautiful.”

Harry threw his head back in a laugh. “Don’t worry. Sometimes we’d get sick of it ourselves. But umm, ‘Fine Line’… You said you liked it… Do ya’ have a favourite song?”

Y/N cringed. “Is it cliché if I say ‘Golden’? Because it’s ‘Golden’. I’m a sucker for a slow and then a ‘bam!’ kind of an opening.”

Harry shook his head. Now he was the one biting back a grin. “ ‘S not cliché. Was one of my favourites to write, so I’m glad you appreciate it.”

“Also, it makes me feel sunny? If that makes sense? Like – like when I listen to it, I feel warm and safe and just happy...”

He’d be lying if he said his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest at her words. Warm. Safe. Sunny. “Well,” Harry cleared his throat to keep the words ‘One day I’ll marry you’ at bay. Fuck, he'd only known her for like twenty minutes! “I’m glad you like it more than my previous stuff.”

“You just love putting me in uncomfortable situations, don’t you?”

He smiled, nudging her shoulder with his, and was just about gearing up to take a breath and ask Y/N out (before he could ask to marry her), when quick steps from behind him drew their attention.

Dressed in a typical 50s housewife dress with a black coat on top, Florence Pugh came to stand beside them, and Harry swore he saw mischief twinkle in her eyes as she raked them over both people and then settled on Harry’s companion.

“Hi!” she said giving Y/N a bright smile, and a wink to Harry, which passed the other girl’s head, given how she was absolutely fangirling right now. “I’m Florence.”

“I – yeah – I – you – I love you,” Y/N finally breathed out. “Fuck, I just, you know, 'Midsommar' was a fever dream, but I absolutely loved it, and I can’t wait for 'Black Widow' to come out. Oh my god, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“Please don’t.” She laughed grabbing onto Y/N’s shoulder. “Feels like I already know you, but I’ve been dying to meet you actually. Created quite the commotion yesterday.”

You know how they say men can think of absolutely nothing, like have a completely blank page in their head? Yeah, Y/N was having that exact moment.

Florence tutted crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Harry with mock disappointment. “But Harry here just kept talking about you, without any intention of inviting you to the trailers, so I had to take things into my own hands.”

“You’ve been wanting to meet me?” Y/N breathed out, hands going into her hair, looking at Harry. “Oh my god, what is happening? Am I hallucinating?”

“No, you’re not,” Harry grumbled glaring at Florence. “Unfortunately. But we were on our way to the sea, so I’ll see you back on se-“

“Hello there,” Chris Pine’s smooth voice interrupted them, as he extended a hand for Y/N to shake as he jogged up to the trio. “I’m Chris.”

“Wow, your eyes are even bluer in real life.” Her own Y/E/C ones widened. “Did I just say that out loud?”

“You did,” Chris chuckled, “but I most certainly take it as a compliment. You said you were going to the sea?”

“Uh, yeah,” Y/N breathed out still gazing into Pine’s eyes. “Wanna join?”

Harry wanted to scream, but he couldn’t really. As much he wanted to tell both Florence and Chris to go away, he didn't. Seeing Y/N’s eyes light up as the two other actors conversed with her, laughed and joked around, made his heart expand.

It was insane to him, that a woman he’d seen twice in his life could have such a huge impact. It was like she’d been his missing part. Well, no. Harry didn’t like that notion – that the ‘right’ person would complete someone. People were complete on their own, but it was true to him that there was someone out there that’d make each and every moment special, someone who would help the other become better, but also hold them accountable when needed.

They wandered around the seashore, which like Y/N had said, was a fifteen-minute walk, for about half an hour before turning back to the woods.

By that point, she’d somewhat calmed down, and could actually comprehend what Chris and Florence were saying to her, and it was rather enjoyable to ask all the questions about Hollywood and the industry most people wouldn’t say on the record.

At around four PM when all of them got back to set and Olivia came to tell them they were wrapping up for the day, Florence, and Chris split from Y/N, telling her to come by whenever she wanted, while Harry said he’d walk her to the end of the trail.

“You know I’ll be fine. I grew up here, know these paths like the back of my hand.”

“ ‘S alright,” he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sure they won’t mind much if I come back ten minutes later.”

“You know, you’re not how I thought you’d be.”

“What’dya mean?”

“I – I don’t even really know… just not how I imagined you.”

Harry didn’t know what to really do with that information, but the look on Y/N’s face most definitely didn’t seem like she meant it in a bad way. In fact, her shy smile and fleeting glances told him otherwise. At least he hoped he read her features right.

They said goodbye with soft ‘see you laters' and he watched her throw one last glance at him over her shoulder before he himself retreated and ventured to the trailers to start de-shedding the character of Jack for the night.

Harry plopped down in his seat with a groan, fishing out his phone from the pocket while the hair and make-up team did their work, taking the products off his face before applying moisturiser to the stressed skin.

Florence poked him in the cheek, and he swatted away at her hand, looking up from Instagram (or his attempts to find Y/N with just knowing her first name). “What’s wrong?” she asked, poking his pouting face again.

“She literally fangirled about everyone but me.” He huffed sliding down even further in his seat.

Florence raised an eyebrow. “Jealous, Styles?”

“No,” he scoffed crossing his arms. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because literally both mornings that we've got here, you’ve been fidgety, keeping a watch of the path, and didn't calm down until Y/N appeared just now. So I’d say you’re absolutely smitten with the girl and are jealous because she’s more of a fan of us than you.”

“I know she likes me.” His eyebrows furrowed. “I think. She hasn’t told me to fuck off.”

“She’s a stranger you met in the middle of the woods. You should hope she likes you. But not too much. Otherwise, it could so easily become a scene out of a horror movie.”

Chris bit his lip looking at Olivia, who’d come in the trailer after having seen the group come back with an almost heartbroken gaze – it was clear as a summer’s day Harry was struck by the girl, but they had to face the music. “Harry,” he started. “You – you do realise we end filming here in two weeks, right? And she’s a local.”

“And?” his eyebrows furrowed at Chris’ words.

“You’ll be leaving in two weeks for another three months of filming, while she stays here. I don’t – I don’t want to see you hurt, but you have to realise that most likely nothing will happen.”

“And what makes you say that? Maybe she could come with.”

“Y/N is her own person with her own life, job and friends, which, as it seems is all set here.”

“Besides you don't really even know her,” Olivia said as well. “It's been two days."

“Sometimes a day is enough.”

A silence settled over them, as Harry tapped his phone against his nails.

“You guys, come on!” Florence came to his defence. “He likes her. Why not give it a shot?”

He'd flashed her a thankful smile and mouthed a 'thank you' to which she just gave him an encouraging nod. She was on his side. She believed he could do it. And he did. Using Florence's faith in him as a catalyst, a day later when Y/N had gone on her run with Adam, Harry had excused himself and joined the two.

Adam was thrilled to the bone, but he was also competitive, so after ten minutes of trying to persuade the woman to run faster so he could beat his previous time, he took off on his own, with a promise of meeting up by the shore. That’s when Harry grabbed Y/N by her bicep and stalled them both, confusion written all over her features.

“I uh,” he started. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

“I – “ he stuttered taking in a deep breath. “I – uh – and you have zero obligations to respond, but uh – I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me sometime?”

That made Y/N do a double-take. “You want to go out? On a date? With me?”

“Ye – yeah.” It was uncertain how the word came out, but it felt so good to say it. “Yes, I really do.”

“Sorry.” She shook her head looking at the ground with furrowed brows. “Sorry’s just, kinda hard to believe it.”

“ ‘Nd why’s that?”

“Well because the first time we met, I looked like a sweaty mess, the second, I could barely function around your friends and co-workers, and now, well now I look like a sweaty mess again.”

“So?”

“I just –” Y/N laughed but waved him off. “Never mind.”

Fear instantly took hold of his core at her statement, so he rushed to salvage what could be salvaged. “No, I mean if you don’t want, you - you don’t have to say ‘yes’. I’m not gonna be upset or any –“

“Harry!” This time Y/N placed her hand on his shoulder to stop his ramblings. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“You – you would?”

“Yes.” Her smile blinded him like the golden rays of sun which broke through the overcast sky. “I’d like to very much so.”

But it was Y/N’s tearful huff, a storm cloud compared to the warm light from his memories, which brought him out of the fond thoughts and into the icy right now.

“Because unless it revolves around Harry Styles, it doesn’t matter, right?” she let out a pained laugh. “Because unless he’s there to have all the spotlight on him, it’s not important. Unless it’s not something he wants to take part in, it immediately needs to be cancelled or rescheduled because god forbid someone made plans without him.”

He grunted in disagreement. “You know that’s not what I meant!”

“No,” she snapped, snatching her purse and coat. “I get it. Very clearly. I’ll show myself out.”

“Don’t be so dramatic!”

She scoffed, glaring at him. “Call me when you get your head out of your ass.”

The door slammed shut, and Harry sat down onto the sofa to scream into a pillow.

***

Y/N’s sight was blurry as she drove down the street. A light snow had started to fall over London, so she was twice as careful, knowing Londoners had zero clue how to function when snow hit, and no one had winter tires.

“Fuck,” she choked out, wiping away at her cheeks.

She’d had fights with Harry before, it wasn’t like they were perfect. From the outside they looked like nothing could ever be wrong, but they were human. They had flaws and tempers and ideas and beliefs, and sometimes they clashed, but it’d never been as bad as it was that night.

She loved Harry, Y/N truly did. She’d even had dreams of the two of them in some far-off cottage in the Italian mountains living a domestic life, but she also just wanted one night to herself. To let loose and think about her own needs and wants, while Harry was away doing the same. It wasn’t selfish, not in her mind.

It’d been her who’d uprooted her whole life to be closer to Harry, not the other way around. She was always the one cancelling and making new plans with her family or friends just so she could spend a spare second with Harry. She was there for his sleepless nights and there for his knock-out concerts. Why couldn't he let her have this one thing?

She was sitting by the wheel at a red light taking in deep breaths to calm herself down.

The light turned green, and her hand was slightly shaking as she changed gears.

Y/N released the clutch and pressed down on the gas.

Two lights came rushing from the side.

She gasped.

A sharp pain went through her side.

And then it was all black.

***

Anne was going to rip Harry a new one, as she rang him for the fifteenth time, but he still didn't pick up. After the accident and the nurses being unable to contact Harry, they obviously called Y/N’s parents which were next on the emergency contact's list, but given how they lived outside of the UK and the next flight was only in four days, they immediately reached out to Anne, begging for her to go be with their daughter while they got there.

“And please tell Harry to fly over as well!” Y/N’s mum had cried. “I – I know he has work, but please.”

Anne had been shocked to hear Y/M/N ask that, having assumed he was already there, but she wasn’t going to let them get to Harry before she set him straight herself.

In the beginning, she’d been kind of sceptical, but after spending an evening together where Y/N, her and Gemma all did wine baking, and it had ended up in a disaster in the kitchen with the three of them crying from laughter while Harry stood at the entrance completely baffled and just so done with them, Anne knew Y/N only had good intentions with her son.

Anne’s love for her only grew from that point on, when she also realised just how much Y/N’s love language was giving. It wasn’t the kind of ‘hey, look, I bought you some fancy thing, now love me’, it was ‘hey, I saw how much you wanted this, I noticed how much it’d mean to you, and I love how happy it makes you. And if it reminds you of me, that’s just a bonus’, and Anne couldn’t help but become as protective of Y/N as her own kids.

But at that moment, as finally, after her twenty-seventh attempt, Harry picked up with a gruff ‘ ‘ello?’, Anne was about to burst with rage.

“You get to the hospital right now!” she hissed into the phone.

“What are you talking about?” There was a tremble in his voice.

The thing was, for two days since Y/N had stormed out, Harry’d been feeling sick. He thought it was due to the stress from the fight and from the pressure his label was putting on him, but now he understood it wasn’t that. It was his instinct telling him something bad had happened, and at Anne’s words, the bad feeling that’d settled in his stomach made his blood run cold. “Mum, what’s wrong?”

“Y/N was in a car accident, and you didn’t bother to pick up your phone.”

“I –” He stammered unable to process her words. “What? Mum? No…”

“You’re her emergency contact,” Anne spoke. “The hospital tried to call you a billion times, and you didn’t pick up.”

And that’s when he remembered all of those calls from unknown numbers. He thought they’d been some crazed fans who’d gotten his personal number, so he’d just blocked them. “Mum, no.” Harry choked out. “I didn’t mean to – we fought – mum…”

“She’s at St. Helen’s. Please get here.”

He immediately ended the call, and in the span of twenty minutes was at the hospital, which Anne was sure to scold him for because there was no way in hell anyone who didn’t speed would be able to get to St. Helen’s in less than forty minutes. The second she saw her son burst through the door, tear tracks down his face, all the anger and disappointment vanished.

“Where is she? Is she alive? Y/N!” he yelled across the hallway. “Where is she? Mum! Where’s Y/N?”

“Gem.” She patted her daughter’s knee as both of them stood up from where they’d been sitting at the chairs outside the recovery room assigned to Y/N. “Get a nurse, please.”

Gemma didn’t need an explanation or reasoning seeing Harry’s wild eyes, erratic breathing and shaky hands.

“Mum!” He practically sprinted after seeing the woman, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Calm down, Harry,” she shushed him, pulling him in for a hug and feeling his whole body tremble. “Calm down, it’s alright. Gem’ll get you some help, but you need to breathe.”

“I – I’m not the one who needs help!” Harry pretty much screamed. “I need to know if my girlfriend is alive.”

Anne spoke in a calm voice as to not agitate him even more, and her heart broke at the sight of her son so utterly broken. “Harry, you’re about to have a panic attack, and you’re no use to Y/N in that kind of state.”

“So.” He took in a chocked back breath. “So she’s alive?” He didn’t know what he’d do if the answer was anything else but a resounding ‘yes’. There was no version in his brain of where his life could possibly lead but down if he had to go on without Y/N.

“Yes,” Anne nodded, smoothing his hair away from his face, and watching as he took in a deep breath of relief. “She was just wheeled in for her second surgery. Should be out in about four hours. ”

All over again his insides froze. “Second? Mum, tell me the truth – how bad is it?”

“Harry, this is routine,” Gemma put a reassuring hand on his shoulder having returned with a nurse behind her, the man keeping a close eye on Harry and his behaviour. “They did as much as they could the first time, but their priority was on the worst injuries. This one is just to set things properly.”

“Set everything right like – “

“Like bones and stuff…” Gemma shuddered, trailing off. “Y/N broke her hip, dislocated her kneecap, her ankle was shattered and she fractured her collarbone. They took her in so that the bones could be properly placed together and there’s a lesser chance of complications not only while healing but later on in life. But can you please sit down? So they can help you as well?”

“I – alright,” he conceded, taking a place on one of the stiff plastic benches, as the nurse came to him, took his pulse, gave him an inhalator just in case and some herbal tablets to help him relax a bit.

“You said they focused on the worst injuries.” Harry looked at his mother. “What were those?”

Anne sighed, leaning to sit back on the chair next to him and ran a hand through his hair. “A piece of debris punctured one of her kidneys. The bleeding was pretty intense, but they say it was salvageable, so she’ll still have both of them. Gem donated some blood.”

“Thank you,” Harry whispered, looking over at his sister who wiped a stray tear away from his cheek.

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to thank me for. Y/N is family. If she’d lost the kidney, I’d give her mine in a second.”

“The worst they’re worried about is the head injuries,” Anne said. “Luckily, she got away without anything major, but she definitely has a concussion and minor whiplash to her neck, so they want to keep an eye out for any side effects that could arise. They have another surgery scheduled for her in a week if recovery goes as planned. To take the stitches that won’t dissolve out and put in the ones that will.”

Harry sagged against his mother’s side, her palms soothingly running up and down his back. “She’s gonna be alright, love,” Anne muttered in his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. “She’s strong. She’ll be okay.”

It was comforting for both of them – for Anne to have her youngest in her arms, to know he was safe and sound, and for Harry to be held by his mother, the person who always knew how to comfort him when times were rough, and at that moment, they were the roughest they’d ever been.

“You’ve got some nerve to be here.” Adam’s seething voice pulled Harry away from his mother’s embrace and watched as he rounded the corner with a coffee cup. He was quite sure he was keeping his temper well in check from how hard he was gripping the Styrofoam cup. “Fucking ignore her for two days while she’s laying in the hospital, and appear when it’s convenient for you? Is she some fucking toy for you to use when you want?”

Anne’s tone was consoling and pleading. “He didn’t know.”

“The hell he didn’t, he just didn’t want to know! They called you!” Adam pointed at the nurse’s desk. “And you let them go to voicemail. And then, better yet, you fucking blocked the number.”

“I didn’t know it was the hospital,” he weakly defended himself.

“Because you didn’t bother to find out.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that. And not that he really could think of anything when the surgery ward’s doors swung open and they watched as a nurse wheeled Y/N’s gurney back inside the room, while another wheeled her saline bag along with.

It was a terrifying sight to see. Her face was basically nothing but a swollen piece of flesh, bruises and scratches littering her cheeks, a neck brace to keep her head from moving while one leg was wrapped in a full-on cast, the other in one up until her knee and her left arm was in a sling.

He’d had nightmares about her before. Most of the times it was about Y/N leaving him because she could no longer do it, could no longer commit to the hectic lifestyle that came with Harry, and as he screamed, banging on the invisible window that separated them, she just walked away, his sobs carried by the wind in the other direction.

“You should go inside,” Anne whispered motioning with her head to where the nurses checked the monitors and how stable Y/N was. “I know you had a fight, but she’ll want you to be there when she wakes up.”

“How,” Harry gulped back the lump that’d risen in his throat. “How do you know? How do you know she doesn’t want me to just disappear? I wasn’t there when she needed me, I was – “

Anne put her hand on his cheek. “Because when she woke up yesterday morning for the first time, you were the first person she asked for. You. She wants you there. And it’s the least you can do for her.”

He nodded, then took a deep breath and entered Y/N’s room. Watching her lay in the bed, unmoving, without her usual grumpy features as she slept, made Harry sick to the stomach so much so, he thought he’d have to call back the nurse.

It was some twisted version of Sleeping Beauty, yet he knew a true loves kiss wouldn’t awaken her. Y/N just laid there, small breaths making her chest rise and fall, not even a flutter of her eyelids.

Harry had spent countless night watching her sleep, looking at how her lashes fluttered as she dreamed of something; how her forehead creased and small, incoherent noises passed her lips as she talked to someone in her mind.

Now, he was surrounded by none of that, only artificial reminders that she was still alive and fighting to get better.

With uneven steps, Harry made his way to the chair which’d been stationed next to her bed (he was convinced beyond belief that Gemma, his mum and Adam had all taken shifts to sit there, to be there for Y/N), and much like a king who knew he was unfit for the throne, Harry had to swallow a lump as he took the seat.

“I – I don’t know if you can hear me…” Harry took hold of Y/N’s palm and let out a sob of relief when he felt it was warm, not cold like he’d feared. “But I’m here for you. I’m not leaving. Not unless you want me to, so until you wake up…” there were so many words, so many apologies he wanted to say, but kept them at bay. Y/N deserved to hear them when she was conscious, so instead, he said, “I’m here, lovie. Get some rest, I’ll be here…”

With that he put his head on the side of her bed, twisting his face so he could look up at her, watch her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, and fell asleep to the sound the beeps of Y/N’s beating heart.

While he slept he dreamt again, the same terrifying dream of Y/N leaving, only this time she did look back at him, but her face was all wrong, her neck bent in a way it shouldn’t be, and eyes covered in a milky white.

“You weren’t there, Harry,” she said in a voice void of emotions. “So why should I be there for you?”

Harry was 100% sure if he’d been hooked up to a heart rate monitor while he slept, people would think he was going into cardiac arrest, but it sure would’ve shown it flatlining as his green eyes swept over his lover’s frame to check his nightmare hadn’t become a reality, only to be met with two Y/E/C sparkling orbs looking back at him, giving him the softest gaze in the universe.

“Hey,” Harry’s tone was quiet, afraid to bring even the littlest of discomfort to Y/N given her state, and he had to physically restrain himself from sweeping down to bring her in a hug.

What he saw on her face made his heart leap to his throat, as she smiled, genuinely happy to see him, lifting up her right hand, the only limb without a bandage on to cup his cheek. “Hey, love.” Her voice was scratchy like nails on a chalkboard, but to Harry, it was an absolute symphony. “Are you alright? Your eyes are puffy. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“Fuck,” Harry choked on his tears looking up at the white ceiling before back at her, complete disbelief in his blood-shot eyes. “You’re the one lying in a hospital bed, with casts and bandages all over you, scheduled for a third surgery, and you’re asking me if I’m alright?”

If Y/N could, she would’ve shrugged as if that wasn’t the most self-explanatory thing in the world. “I’ll always want to know if you’re alright. ‘S not exclusively you that can care for people, you know.”

And there she was – his sarcastic, allergic-to-kiwi-but-‘Kiwi’-loving girl that never ceased to amaze him, as she made sure everyone else was alright before herself. And that made Harry break down.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. So fucking sorry. I – god – I – there are not enough words in any language to say how fucking sorry I am. I should’ve been here, should’ve never let you leave. This is all my fault.”

Through all that, through his choked back sobs and crying, Y/N’s hand had steadily remained on his cheek, wiping away the tears from underneath one eye before switching to the other side and making the little pearls of hurt disappear with just her touch.

“Harry, are you the weatherman?”

That was not what he thought she would say. “I – what?”

“Do you control temperatures and have not told me?”

“N – no?”

“Were you the guy who ran the red light?”

“No.”

“Then how is this your fault?”

“I – “ he stammered. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I should’ve gone after you, found a way to make you stay or – or should’ve fucking stopped being so selfish and driven you to see Adam yourself.”

“Harry, had you tried to make me stay nothing would’ve changed.” Y/N sighed letting him lean into her touch, as she bit her lip, thinking over her words. “I was just so pissed, that I think anything you would’ve tried to do, would’ve only made it worse. And I’d rather be here with you than alone in my apartment crying in a tub of Hagen Dazs because of a broken heart.”

“You-you've got your priorities completely backwards.” He wasn’t laughing when he said that, but Y/N was.

“Maybe.” She raised her eyebrow. “But I don’t think so. The bones will heal, but the amount of love I have for you… I’m afraid you’ve ruined the thought of a future without you in it. We’ll talk,” Y/N swallowed hard. “We need to talk, but when I get better. Right now, I just wanna hold your hand and have you hold mine as I try not to kick the nurses trying to take my blood for tests.”

It felt inappropriate for Harry to smile, to feel happy about how Y/N hadn’t told him to go screw himself, even though he felt like he deserved it, but fuck was it impossible not to when his body felt so light, and her love chose to invade the dark corners of his mind to fill it with golden warmth.

She fell asleep not long after their small conversation, body too tired and in need of recovery, but like he’d promised, he was there for her when she awoke again, this time to a more familiar Y/N as she glared at the coffee cup in his hand, while he sipped, a ring clad palm gently pushing away strands of Y/H/C hair from her face.

“I hate that you can drink coffee.”

“Yeah, and why’s that?”

“Because I can’t.”

“I’ll happily buy you as many coffees as you like. Once you get better and are allowed to, of course.”

Y/N snorted and then winced as the action caused pain to shoot through her body. “Knowing you, it won’t be a cup of coffee or a coffee machine, but a fucking coffee chain restaurant.”

“Would it be that bad to own one?”

Her eyebrow rose at him in an incredulous look. “You know I can’t bake. Coffee shops include pastries, and I’m not the one who worked in a bakery. I can cook, I can clean, but make me make muffins from scratch, and I’ll set your house on fire.”

“You already did.” Harry laughed. “Gem and mum helped.”

“They supplied the wine, so I’m putting 60% of the blame on them.”

“You do realise that equates to 30% of the blame on each of them, and most of it is still on you?”

“Shut up,” Y/N smiled, weakly pushing against Harry’s arm, but the motion made him happy to know she was trying. “I was just in a car crash, so forgive me for not being that great at division.”

A knock at the door made Harry look up, Y/N not even attempting to turn her head to see who’d interrupted them, given how the first time she’d tried it with the neck-brace, it’d hurt so bad she’d passed out.

Her doctor was a man in his mid to late fifties with greying hair, Y/N’s medical record file slapped underneath his arm.

“How are we doing today?”

“Better than yesterday, I guess,” she responded.

“Well, you were out for most of it, so I’d say so.”

Y/N and the doctor chuckled, but Harry didn’t, as he thought of how bad, how absolutely tired a person has to be to sleep for a whole day. He’d had those days himself, and that was from being exhausted from work. He couldn't imagine what being in a bloody accident would feel like.

The doctor stepped forward a bit and extended a hand to Harry, introducing himself as Dr Tate, while Harry rose in his seat to accept it, but not wanting to move away an inch from Y/N.

“You must be the boyfriend.”

“I – uh – I can only hope I still am,” he let out a nervous giggle, which made his girlfriend slap his arm, a furrow on her face.

Dr Tate looked Harry over from head to toe, eyebrow raised at that, but all he said was, “We tried to contact you, seeing as you’re Miss Y/L/N emergency contact, but the nurses said it couldn’t go through.”

“He was filming overseas.” Y/N butted in, clearly having rehearsed what to say beforehand. “Flew over as fast as he could. I’m the luckiest person in the world.” Her tone was soft as a feather, but Harry’s stomach felt like it was filled with rocks.

“Is there anything I can help with?” he asked hoping to be given some sort of a task to do, to allow him to redeem himself some way.

“Well, actually yes. One of the injuries Ms Y/L/N sustained was a concussion,” the doctor said, “which could lead to some complications like headaches, migraines, spotty vision or amnesia.”

“Amnesia?” Harry wanted to vomit. It had crossed his mind, but having a professional say it made it all so much worse.

“Yes, and we’d need someone to be with her as much as possible, 24/7 would be desirable, to keep an eye on.”

Harry honestly hadn’t heard anything past the amnesia part, mind spinning in a circle that just screamed ‘she’ll forget all about you’.

“It’s nothing to worry about too much.” Dr Tate was quick on his feet, seeing Harry’s blank stare, and tried to diffuse any possible spiralling. “With Y/N’s cognitive abilities and having repeatedly excelled at the test without a single stutter, it’s very unlikely she’ll have those side effects.

“But it’s still a possibility, right?”

The doctor nodded, giving Harry a kind smile. “Which is why I’m informing you of it. To keep an eye out to see if anything changes so you could come in if necessary. But as I said – Y/N’s memory has proven to be intact so far. And I always say to trust the facts.”

“Harry,” Y/N placed her hand on his. “You know I won’t forget you.”

“I’ll uh, give you two a second.” The doctor exited leaving them alone, an almost sad silence over both of them.

“God I almost lost you to some idiot running a red light with no winter tires, and now you won’t remember me. And – and even with everything you’re going through, you’re still trying to protect me? Why did you lie? I – I wouldn’t have cared if you said the truth that I was an asshole.” Harry dragged both hands over his face, trying to keep the cry’s at bay as Y/N ran her hand through his hair in an attempt to calm him down.

“I’d prefer to think,” Y/N shrugged trying to tease him and make him crack a smile, “me being dead would be the worst-case scenario, not me forgetting you. And of course, I’ll protect you. Your reputation matters to me. Just because we had a fight doesn’t mean I’ll immediately run to everyone I can and say how shitty of a person you were in those specific ten minutes.”

But Harry’s lips didn’t quirk up, the tears didn’t disappear as the painful grimace on his face wasn’t replaced by the crow lines next to his eyes from smiling so much. “What if you – what if you forget you love me? What do I do then? I know I sound selfish and like the biggest fucking dick, but as pathetic as it is – I can’t go on without you. I don’t know how I could.”

Y/N’s heart broke at his words because if the roles were reversed if Harry forgot about her and fell out of love, she didn't know how she'd survive. She’d had those fears before, when he was away filming and she couldn’t follow; she’d been terrified because what they’d had was so new, he could easily move on, find someone better, someone who was familiar with his lifestyle. But any time those thoughts came to her mind, Y/N reminded herself of what she’d do. And that’s what she told Harry.

“Then you make me fall in love with you again. You’re great at that. Make me love you more with every passing moment.”

“And – and if you don’t fall in love with me again?”

Y/N shook her head. “Impossible, Harry. You made me fall in love with you after barely two hours spent together. And well, if you put your mind to it… who knows how much deeper I’ll fall.”

For the first time in two days, Harry leaned down and pressed his lips against Y/N’s. The kiss was soft and sweet, a barely-there touch, but it meant everything. It was a promise to one another to love unconditionally, to remind the other of it at every passing moment; it sealed their future to be spent together, and neither wanted it any other way.

Harry’s phone rang, eliciting a whine from Y/N as he pulled away to answer it. “It’s Florence.” He pecked her lips one more time. “I’ll just tell her to call back.”

He turned to the side for a second muttering a soft ‘hey, can you –‘ before whatever Florence told him made him pull away and extend the deivice towards Y/N.

“It’s for you.”

“For – for me? Florence is calling me?”

Had the two women become friends? Yes. But didn’t mean Y/N had an easier time not fangirling about her.

“Hi, Flo,” she breathed out, looking at Harry with wide, happy eyes. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Harry sat there watching as his love talked to someone she looked up to, and someone he cared about. He hadn’t told Florence, but her encouragement meant the world to him, as she was partially the reason he’d gotten together with Y/N. After all, she’d been the one on his side from the very beginning.

Y/N giggled like a crazy person after the call ended and she handed Harry back his phone. “Florence Pugh just called to give me well wishes.” She gasped looking at Harry. “Do you think Chris Pine will too?”

“God, I love you,” Harry laughed with her, pressing their foreheads together.

They’d be alright, they’d make sure of it. No matter if a disagreement arose, egos needed to be put in check or black ice covered the roads. They’d get through anything.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland

A/N: Listen, Linda, those pictures of Harry on set does things!!!

Also the being allergic to kiwi - that’s me. Like legit it’s the only thing I’m allergic to. I always hated how they tasted like pain, like it made my mouth sting and feel like pins and needles before going numb, and according to professionals, that’s a sign of being allergic. But I love ‘Kiwi’ the song.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. I don’t take requests, sorry :(

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fandom #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles angst #harry styles and you #harry styles and reader #harry styles and y/n #harry styles fluff #don't worry darling #one direction #one direction imagine #1d fan fiction #1d

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wandas-sunshine · 4 years

Text

Strike Three

Summary: Everybody makes mistakes. Your first mistake was telling your family that you were seeing someone when you were just as single as ever. Your second mistake was asking Pietro to fake a relationship to keep your family off your back. Well, maybe that wasn’t such a mistake.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3,826

You didn’t have the best track record with relationships, you knew that. Even if you didn’t know, your family would have made damn sure to inform you. You knew they only fussed so much because they loved you, because they wanted the best for you. But they were such a headache sometimes.

You were going bonkers now. Your mother was becoming overbearing with her insistence that you needed to hurry up and settle down, and your sister was positive that she could handle the whole thing for you. She herself was engaged, so your mom agreed that she probably knew how to steer you back down the proper path.

And maybe it was the exhaustion of hearing them try to arrange a good relationship for you, or maybe the panic of listening to your sister talk about her new coworker (who was a very impressive man, don’t you know?), but for some reason, you went and said something so painfully stupid.

“I’ve been seeing someone.”

That was nearly a month ago, and your entire family was pestering you for more information. You felt bad avoiding their calls, but you were bluffing and you had barely gotten out of that conversation alive. Your sister was bringing her fiance to Christmas, so of course that meant you were expected to bring someone as well.

Avoiding conversations about your nonexistent boyfriend was growing difficult. You’d been holding out hope that you would find someone by the time the holidays rolled around, but no luck. A real boyfriend would have been ideal, but your frantic attempts at finding someone to play the part also yielded no success.

You had of course contemplated faking a breakup, but that would only further their idea that you couldn’t handle your own love life. You had dug a hole that you just couldn’t climb out of.

So with one week to your family’s Christmas gathering, you were sitting on your best friend’s bed with your head in your hands.

“I am so royally screwed, Wanda. Stevie is going to force me to go out with some accountant or one of Adam’s firefighter friends, and my mom’s gonna make me marry him. Then what?” You wailed. She laughed, finally looking up from her phone.

“Who’s dating an accountant?” Pietro’s voice made your complaints die on your tongue. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. With him standing there having heard about your pathetic predicament, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that coursed through your veins.

“(Y/N) apparently. If they don’t find a date to Christmas with their family.” Wanda answered him. You groaned again. “They told everyone that they have a boyfriend, and now they have nobody to show.”

“I’ll do it.” He offered so nonchalantly that it took a second to process. Then you’d sat up so fast that you got dizzy.

“For real? You’ll do it?” You clasped your hands together in a silent plea, and Pietro shrugged.

“Why not. Text me the details,” He left you shouting your appreciation after him as he made his way back to his own bedroom.

A week passed by, and you had confirmed your plus one. You kept the information you shared minimal, just giving his name and saying that you hadn’t wanted to say anything until you were sure he’d be able to come. You were nervous about the whole thing, a whole list of things that could go wrong playing on an endless loop in your head as you tapped against your steering wheel.

A few moments passed before he finally came out with his suitcase in hand. Three nights at your parents home with your sister, and your friend who you’d somehow coerced into pretending to date you seemed like a nightmare. But Pietro’s presence was calming. He sat his bag in the back and settled into the passenger seat. He had the brightest smile on his face.

He buckled in and sorted out the music as you started on the drive back to your childhood home. The quiet between the two of you lasted a while before he broke it.

“So what’s our story, cupcake?” He smirked and turned the music down, looking over as you spared him a confused glance.

“Our story?”

“Yeah, you know. How we met, how we got together. The story we’re gonna tell our kids one day.” Your stomach flipped. What were you getting yourself into?

“Um, I guess we met through Wanda,” You started, keeping your eyes on the road and gripping the steering wheel tightly so you didn’t have to focus on how strange the whole conversation felt.

“And I saved you from some drunk creep at a party,” He started. “I took you to iHop-”

“And we’ve been together ever since!” You finished with a laugh. It was mostly true, everything he mentioned had happened, just not exactly like that. It made you feel a little better knowing that you weren’t lying to your family, just...rearranging the truth.

“See, baby, we’re gonna be just fine,” The sound of the pet name flustered you much more than you were willing to admit. You rolled your eyes and cleared your throat.

“Okay. But if we’re gonna make it, there’s gotta be rules.” You warned him. He motioned for you to go on. “Rule number 1; No saying I Love You. Rule Number 2; No kissing. Not under any circumstances. And Rule Number 3; No catching feelings.”

“Easy peasy,” He chuckled. He didn’t understand why you were so paranoid. There was no way he was going to let them set you up with one of their awful picks for you. No, you deserved better than that. So he’d follow your rules, and he’d save the day if it killed him.

The rest of the drive consisted of him playing music, and the two of you joking around like nothing was any different than it had been from the beginning. But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart stuttered when he’d jokingly call you by those stupid affectionate names, or the way your cheeks burned under his attention. The tension and worry lingered, thinly veiled by his stupid knock knock hokes and classic rock.

It was mid afternoon by the time you pulled into your parents driveway. You were helping Pietro unload the boatload of presents you’d brought along for your family when your older sister came racing out of the house. She squealed and bundled you up into a tight hug like you hadn’t seen each other in years.

“You brought a boy,” She noted as she stepped back, hugging herself against the cold. You bit your lip and nodded a little.

“Stevie, this is Pietro. Pietro, my big sister Stevie.” You stepped back and glanced at Pietro. He had the most dazzling smile on his lips, one that made your stomach flutter. And Stevie certainly seemed charmed enough.

“So you really do have a boyfriend. I was beginning to think he was fake,” She teased. You and Pietro shared a look and he seemed to be barely stifling his laughter. You glared, a silent warning to keep his mouth shut. “They barely told us anything about you. I can see why they were keeping you a secret, if I didn’t have Adam I’d be stealing you away.”

“Well, good thing we’re here for a couple of days. You guys can get to know everything about each other. But can we pretty please get this stuff inside before it gets nasty out here?” You begged, readjusting the armful of gifts you’d grabbed. Pietro huffed and took them easily.

“I can get them, don’t worry.” He insisted. You hesitated a little but he was already following your sister inside. So you grabbed your bag from the back and closed the car up to join them inside.

Once you walked in, you were met by the smell of baked goods wafting out the door. You kicked your shoes off and set your bag down by the stairs. Your family had already stolen your boyfriend- fake boyfriend- by the time you slipped into the kitchen.

“Your favorite kid just got home, but all you care about is the new boyfriend, huh?” You teased, sliding up to hug your dad, then your mom. Pietro sort of liked the way it sounded when you said that. Boyfriend. He knew he wasn’t really the boyfriend, but it was a nice thought.

“You didn’t tell us he was so handsome,” Your mom chided, giving your shoulders a squeeze. Your face flared hot and you glanced at Pietro.

“Don’t worry about me. Your family is great, they’re already trying to feed me.” He smirked. Truthfully he seemed oddly comfortable in the role, but you were glad he wasn’t freaking out. Of course for the sake of not having to date someone with a stick up their ass. But the fact that he was giving you his usual laid-back grin didn’t hurt.

“Why don’t you two go up to your room and get settled in. Dinner will be done soon. (Y/N), your old room is all set up for you two.” Your mom cooed, turning back to the food she was working on. You glanced towards the stairs.

“He’s sleeping in my room? With me?” You asked, glancing between faces. You were used to sharing a room with your sister on the holidays and whatever guys you brought along were usually put into her old room. You supposed that changed now that she was properly engaged.

“Well duh. Adam’s sleeping in my room when he gets here.” Stevie answered. You gave a tiny nod. Made sense. You grabbed your bags and nodded for Pietro to follow you upstairs. He gave a smile to your family and let you lead the way to your bedroom.

Once the door was shut, you groaned and leaned back against it. Once again you were asking yourself the same question. Just what had you gotten yourself into. The idea of pretending to be in love with Pietro was one thing. But now you’d be sleeping in the same probably too-small bed for three nights. That must have been crossing some sort of line. You could sleep on the floor. It was hardwood but you were pretty sure you’d survive it. Or maybe you could take turns.

“Piet, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t think they’d put us in here together.” You sighed. Pietro was too busy perusing your room to really think too much of it. There were still a few pictures decorating the back of the door of you and your family and friends. A couple band posters were left up, and there was a stack of books in the corner. “But now that Stevie and Adam are actually engaged...I’m sorry.”

“Chill, it’s no big deal.” He sat at the edge of your bed and you nodded. It was nice seeing him settle so easily into a space that used to be strictly yours. You supposed it wasn’t so bad to share it with him.

The evening passed much faster than you had expected. The worst part was dinner. Your future brother-in-law had shown up which helped to ease some of the tension. But nevertheless your family was all over Pietro. He reached over and gave your hand a squeeze as you sat down, and you knew he’d never let you down.

Throughout the meal, he complimented your mom’s cooking. He talked about his classes, and about being on the track and field team at his college. Within minutes he had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand.

The most startling part was just the way he talked about you. The way he’d just look at you for so long that it would make your throat go dry, or the way he’d beam when asked about the two of you.

“I just knew when I first saw them that no one else could compare. I love them,” He’d said. And he’d looked at you like he never wanted to look away. Your stomach did somersaults and you’d focused on the mashed potatoes you were poking at.

Strike one.

Once dinner had come to a close, you and your sister worked at clearing the table. Your mom ushered the boys towards the living room to relax while the three of you worked on cleanup. You carried an armful of dishes into the kitchen, depositing them on the counter and drawing up some dish water, but not before flashing Pietro an apologetic smile. He just winked and slipped away.

You stared into the sink, watching the suds as they foamed up. Maybe asking Pietro along was a bad idea. Your dad was becoming pretty buddy-buddy with him, and your mother seemed to adore him already. Your fake breakup was probably going to be harder for them than it was for you.

“So,” Stevie set a last stack of dishes on the counter and smirked. “Pietro is really something, huh?”

You chewed on your lip, giving your full attention to the dishes you were scrubbing clean.

“He’s sweet. And he seems pretty in love with you,” Your mom added. And just like that your heart was leaping back into your throat. Who knew Pietro Maximoff was such a good actor? And who knew you cared so much?

“Yeah, he’s pretty great isn’t he?” You smiled, a sick sort of despair clogging in your chest. “Too good to be true,”

With the three of you working together, the cleaning went by in a jiffy. Soon enough you were settling in the living room with the others. You sat on the couch beside Pietro as they all continued their discussion.

You tried not to tense up as he pulled you closer by your waist without so much as a glance. You slowly relaxed and snuggled even closer. Your head rested against his chest like it was meant to be there, and your arm found its way around him. He was warm, that was all, and he smelled nice...You were selling it, nothing more. Just selling it, even as his fingers moved to play with your hair.

“It’s getting late. You four had a long day, we should all get some rest.” Your dad decided. And with the way you were half asleep in Pietro’s arms, you couldn’t argue.

He carefully maneuvered you off of him so he could stand up. You weren’t sure when the two of you had started holding hands, but yours was clutched firmly in his, fingers intertwined as he pulled you to your feet.

“C’mon baby, you’re sleepy.” He mumbled. You nodded and said your goodnights to everyone before letting him lead you up the stairs. You slipped into your room and dug through your bag for your sleep clothes. Once you’d pulled them out you glanced up at Pietro. He chuckled and turned his back.

Once the both of you had changed, you laid yourself down, watching and waiting for Pietro to join you. The silence as he climbed into the bed was heavy, both of you deep in your thoughts and being exceptionally careful not to cross any lines or take up too much space. You were hyper aware of every breath you took, and of every miniscule brush of skin.

You did not have feelings for him. Sure he was handsome, and considerate. Not to mention how funny he was, and the way he fit in with your family better than anyone else you’d brought home. But it was cliche. He was your best friend’s brother. He was Pietro for fucks sake. Falling for him just wasn’t in the cards.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, or moving a muscle all night, but you woke up in a mess of tangled limbs. He’d slung his arm around your waist and nestled into your chest, and you had flipped your leg over his. He was warm, and you could feel his breath tickling against your neck. That alone had your heart rate flying through the roof.

You were careful not to wake him as you slipped out of bed. He shifted and you froze until you were sure he’d fallen back into his deep slumber. You took a moment, just admiring him all sweet and conked out, his hair a mess and a tiny bit of drool slipping past his lips. Gross. But adorable.

You got ready for the rest of the day and slipped downstairs to find your mom and sister back in the kitchen working on a breakfast spread. You leaned against the door. You could hear Adam and your dad chatting from the living room.

“Want a hand?” You asked. Your mom smiled at you.

“We didn’t want to bother you guys. Where’s the other lovebird?”

You rolled your eyes, but it was too late to hide your smile.

“Still sleeping. I thought I’d let him catch a little extra shut eye.” You explained, moving to help set the table while they cooked. Nobody said much after that, just talking about all of the family gossip you’d missed out on while you were away.

Meanwhile, your mind was drifting to all the ways you could make this up to Pietro. You didn’t have the opportunity to think much on it as he came down the stairs.

He was still tired, you could tell. But his hair was wet from a shower, and he’d changed into a charmingly ugly sweater that clashed with his usual vibes. It was endearing, you couldn’t deny that. He moved to stand by you, arm wrapping around your waist and his hand landing on your hip.

“Good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” You teased. He laughed quietly, but then he pouted.

“You left me.” You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder.

“You just looked so peaceful. Plus I wasn’t ready to deal with you yet.” You dodged away from him as he tried to grab at you, giggling and stealing away into the kitchen again to grab the platter of pancakes. Your mom and Stevie shared a knowing look that you disregarded.

Breakfast, much like dinner, had gone without a hitch. The two of you bantered the way you always did. He stole a bite from your plate, and you took a drink from his cup in retaliation. As he finished eating, his hand found yours. You gave him a puzzled look, and he simply slotted his fingers in between yours.

The conversation lasted until everyone was finished. Then everyone was ushered to the living room for the gift opening. You and Pietro were still hand in hand when your mom stopped you in your tracks. You were about to question why when Pietro guided you to face him by your hips. Your hands pressed against his - rather firm - chest.

“Mistletoe,” He whispered. Your eyes flicked up, then back to his.You were suddenly very warm. You had rules, and this was seriously not fair. You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Both of you were fairly willing to call that good. Stevie, however, was most certainly not.

“That’s pathetic. Give him a real one. It’s Christmas, (Y/N)!” She argued. You looked at her, then back only to find that he hadn’t looked away from you.

“Yeah, baby. It’s Christmas.” He half-teased, hoping to ease some of the building tension. You thought on it, considering shattering what was left of your rule into pieces. But before your flustered mind could come to any sort of decision, you were being kissed.

You curled your hands into the front of his sweater, and melted against his lips. They were softer than you’d expected, and the kiss was much less demanding than you had thought it would be. When you pulled away, he brushed his thumb over your jaw.

“Sorry,” He whispered. You shook your head, but you still couldn’t look him in the eye. The urge to feel his lips against yours was a little too strong, and who knew what you’d do if he kept looking at you like that. You pressed your lips together like you could forget his taste.

“Don’t be.”

Strike two.

The gift exchange was exceptionally uneventful after the mistletoe ordeal. Your mind was still wading through the fog when your mom opened the last of the gifts. You were all about to sort everything out and pack your gifts with your things when Pietro spoke.

“Oh, I almost forgot something. Stay put.” He carefully freed himself from where you’d been leaning against him and headed for the stairs. You sat patiently, sharing curious looks around the room. You hadn’t talked about presents.

He only took a moment, coming back with a small box wrapped neatly in pale blue paper. You figured that was Wanda’s doing.

“Here. I don’t know if you’ll like it but…” He passed you the gift, and you smiled at him. You stared at the little box for a long moment before you finally took off the paper. You didn’t notice all the attention shifting to the two of you as you took the lid off.

“Oh my god, Pietro,” You gasped, your hand moving to cover your mouth. Inside was a stunning silver bracelet with several little charms on it. You carefully picked it up and worried each charm between your fingertips. “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

“You didn’t need to. Look, this one is for that iHop trip, remember? And this one is for the when Wanda introduced us at the beach. And this one is for the butterfly exhibit you made me take you to. Oh, and this is for this trip, see?” He rambled. Tears pricked at your eyes and you giggled. You were in so deep, and the bracelet must have cost him a fortune.

“Put it on me?” You looked up at him and he nodded. There was a pause as he took the bracelet from you and fastened it around your wrist. You admired it with a lovesick grin.

“I’m in love with you.” He spoke firmly, and your heart skipped a beat.

“I love you too, Piet.” You slid your hand into his and he looked down at how nicely your hand fit into his. Like you were meant to be.

“I don’t want this to end,” He locked eyes with you again, praying that you really understood what he meant. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to build up the confidence to confess all over again if you didn’t. But he didn’t need to worry about that. You lifted your hand to cup his cheek.

“Then I’m yours forever, Maximoff.”

Strike three.

And there was so much to talk about, but in that moment none of it mattered. Not when the pretending was finally over, and you were having the best Christmas of your entire life.

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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Truth Or Dare- Pansy Parkinson x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Kody: Happy Lesbian Visibility Day!

Movie/Show: Harry Potter

House and Year: Slytherin / 7th year

Request: Good morning/night! Hope you’re having a lovely day and make sure to drink water ! Can you write a Pansy x Fem!reader where they’re playing truth or dare and get dared to makeout in front of the people they’re playing with

Possible Triggers / Warnings: cursing, makeout, slytherin’s being dumbasses, if you don’t like girls kissing unfollow me please,

☼-☪-☼

slytherin’s were considered the most poised and proper house since most came from wealthy pure-blood families who acted like they were born with a stick up there ass. To everyone else the house of Slytherin was also the rudest people alive.

those people have never been in your friend group clearly.

it was true, most of you came from wealth, but you also had shitty, racist, probably homophobic parents. It was the main thing that brought you together, the fact no one else knew what you had to go through just so you weren’t written out of an will or disowned.

it sounded shallow to most outsiders, but you needed the money to start your own life and finally be free to do what you want without the constant reminder from your parents about how to act, what to wear, who to hang out with, how to be a proper lady and all that bullshit. It was suffocating.

enough of the emotional shit. It was a godsend that school year’s at Hogwarts were as long as they were because it meant you had all the time in the world to hangout with your best friends. Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, and Pansy Parkinson.

Draco was the biggest hot head you knew and easily offended, but he also had a big heart under all that angst. When he attached to someone it was impossible to get rid of him. He clung onto all of you like a lifeline and even if he’s a little overbearing you loved him all the same.

Blaise was a calm collected fellow, very sarcastic and condescending sometimes. He talked so proper you couldn’t tell if he was insulting you really. Like Draco he also had a big heart, but would never ever show it unless you was with with Theo and to Theo only.

speaking of Nott. Theo was the ultimate loner avoided all of you for your first year of Hogwarts, then he met Blaise and they connected very well. You all thought it was funny when Theo would be all quiet around you and suddenly light up like a star when Blaise walked into the room.

he was like that with all of you now though

and Pansy. She was the embodiment of ‘fuck you and your mom’ kind of person. She took no ones shit and you admired her for that. She was also a giant flirt towards you and only you. Compliment your looks, body, anything really. You thought of it as a joke t first and casually flirted back.

you suppose Pansy saw that as an invitation to try something more. She’d randomly place her hand somewhere on you and trace random shapes in agonizing slow patterns. A tease at it’s finest. There were also the sides of her you found comforting.

you were always prone to panic attacks, something that developed from your parents nonetheless. She would always cradle your face and make sure you were breathing just fine or slip you chocolate frogs randomly because she knew you liked sweets.

she was your best friend, but with time your feelings changed and every little thing she did set fire through you like no other. Your heart would start beating so fast you were afraid she would hear it if she got to close. Sometimes you wished she did

unbeknownst to you Draco, Blaise, and Theo all knew both you and Pansy liked each other and were both pussyfooting around your feelings. Pansy always thought she wasn’t good enough for you and you on the other hand thought that she just didn’t like you like that at all.

the boy’s were adamant to see you two together

☼-☪-☼

every other friday night all of you would crowd into Pansy’s room to have a sleepover- well you stopped calling it that after fourth year because Blaise said it was to immature for your guy’s age. He shut up real quick after Pansy said he wasn’t invited then.

each of you had your sacred tasks bestowed upon you if you wanted to be allowed entry to the dark cave that was Pansy Parkinson’s private dorm. Draco was in charge of getting butterbeer, Theo got sweets, Blaise had to collect extra pillows and blankets for you all to sleep on.

and you and Pansy would watch idly as they ran round for said things.

“Finally, only took you three an hour” Pansy taunted as the three Slytherin boys walked through the door “Your not the one sneaking butterbeer into the dorms at two in the morning you lazy ass” Draco snapped back, holding the case of glass bottles in his hand.

Theo set the basket of sweets on Pansy’s trunk that was at the foot of her bed so he could help Blaise set up the blankets on the floor “Yeah shove off” she waves her hand before falling back onto the bed “Where’s Y/n? Is she not coming? She’s okay right?” BLaise asked, looking around the room.

Pansy had to hold back a fit of laughter “She’s in the bathroom changing. Your dad is showing by the way” she snickers. Blaise scoffs and goes back to putting down the pillows. “Why does she need to change?” Theo spoke up, taking a seat on a pillow.

a grin made its way to Pansy’s face “Spilled some water on her clothes- she spilled water on her clothes” she quickly corrects herself. Draco narrows his eyes and looks at Blaise who gives him a knowing look. “Right” Draco says, knowing full well what happened.

the bathroom door opened and Pansy sat up quickly. You walked out, running a hand through your hair as the Slytherin girl eyed you up and down, unable to hide her grin at her shorts and matching black shirt on your body. “Hey Sexy” Pansy sends you a wink.

fuck

you have learned to tone down your emotions around her, but still- “Hey” you reply simply nad go over to sit at the foot of the bed “Sorry for the wait” you say and they shake their heads “It’s fine, want some butterbeer?” Draco asked and you nod rapidly.

Draco begins to distribute the butterbeer amongst you all and that's when the chatting started. Pansy sat behind you and wrapped her arms around your waste, one hand holding her bottle of butter beer and the other wrapped tightly around you.

at one point she slid her hand up your shirt, stopping at your belly button to rub the cold metal of her ring along your skin. It made you choke on your butterbeer a bit and cough up “Are you alright?” Blaise asked and you nodded quickly, pointing to your throat “Went down the wrong pipe”

Blaise seemed to believe your answer or faked it well because he went back to talking to Theo.

☼-☪-☼

an hour later

you all had pretty much devoured most of the sweets and were out of topics to talk about though Pansy could continue to insult Draco’s hair until her dying breath. “I’m fucking bored” Pansy whined, laying her head on your shoulder. Y/n.Exe has stopped working.

“Not my damn problem” Draco retorts, popping a flavour bean into his mouth. You exhale, shaking your head. Weren’t your friends just the nicest people alive. “Good thing i didn’t fucking ask you then huh Malfoy!?” Pansy shouts. Blaise copies your previous actions and sighs.

he reached up to rub his temples “May we not yell for the sake of my head and Theo’s” he says. Pansy was about to go in one Blaise when you spoke up “Yah, your yelling in my ears Pans” Draco shot her a smirk, knowing she wouldn’t yell after that.

Pansy flips him off with a grin “Sit and spin on it” she mouths to him and he just shoots her a glare “We could play truth to dare, heard a couple Hufflepuff girls talking about it. They said it was fun” Theo cut in, looking at his hands. Blaise’s face scrunched up a bit t the idea, but he didn’t say anything.

“Yes- your mine bitch” Pansy lets out a maniacal laugh as she points at Draco who looked more weirded out then scared “I’ll play since Theo is, what about you Y/n?” Blaise questioned. You shrug your shoulders “Sure, i’m always down to try things once”

Pansy’s face lights up “Thank you babes. Now who goes first?” she asked. Blaise lifted his wand nd tapped the empty Butterbeer bottle, causing it to levitate “Pansy, spin it” he says. She shrugs and reaches over your shoulder to spin the bottle.

it took a couple seconds before it landed on the Slytherin prince himself. Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes “Fuck my life” he muttered as Pansy gave him a sickenly sweet smile “Draco, truth or dare prick” she said, keeping her wide smile. Draco looked like he was weighing his options in his mind.

“Truth”

“What house did you want to be in when you were ten?” She asked. What a weird question. Draco’s face darkened s if he had seen a boggart, before he scowled “You fucking bitch” he seethed making you snicker a bit as well as Theo. “Say it~” she says in a sing song voice.

“Fine!” he shouts and takes a deep breath, crossing his arms like an angry child “I wanted to be in Gryffindor, like Harry Potter” the room was silent for a moment as you all stared at him blankly “Loser” Pansy laughs and he throws his arms in the air.

“I hate you”

“Okay cool it Gryffindor” BLaise interjected, making all of you snicker. Draco narrowed his eyes at his mate “Your laughing now Zabini, just wait until i get you and your fucked” he threatens, but Blaise doesn’t have an reaction “Right...good luck with that”

Draco spins the bottle and you all watch as it spins around for a couple seconds until it stops on the one and only Blaise Zabini “Well shit” he says with a deadpan look. Pansy gasped and covered her mouth “I can’t believe dad just cursed in front of us” she mutters to you, making you smile.

“Truth or dare Zabini?” Draco asked, a evil smirk on his face. Sometimes you forgot you were surrounded by Slytherin’s and your friends were assholes. “Dare since i’m not a pussy unlike my fellow housemates” Blaise grins, making Draco shake his head.

“Tell Theo you love him...in front of us”

now Blaise wasn’t one for PDA and neither was Theo, probably one of the reasons they fit so well together. Draco was a dick for this one “I choose truth” he said instantly. You look at Theo who’s half smile turned into a grin. What was he planning? His face drops to a frown and he looks at Blaise.

“You don’t love me?” he asked, his lip quivering a bit. What in the? All of you looked at Theo as Blaise stared at his boyfriend in shock “What?! No of course i do!” Blaise protests, but Theo doesn’t break from his character “Then say it” he persits.

all of you were stunned into silence, even loud mouth Pansy. Blaise looked like he was going to breakdown, which was an interesting look on his face actually “I- uh- what? I-” ne sputters, not knowing how to answer. Theo looks down at his lap “It’s fine i get it” he replies.

he starts to sniffle, to make Blaise think he was crying which seemed to push - him over the edge. He grabs Theo’s face and makes him look at him “Oh my- i love you Theo. I’m in love with you. What has gotten into you?” he asked rapidly. Theo finally breaks and gives him a tired smile.

“I love you too. Who’s next?” he says, breaking away from Blaise who looked like he just went through all five stages of grief and is deciding to go through it all a second time. “Damn- that's tough” Pansy says, breaking the tension “Fuck you” Blaise snaps instantly making you all go wide eyed.

you guys needed a dad swear jar

Blaise huffs and spins the bottle, his usual smile with bad intentions coming back to his face once it lands on Pansy, who just sighs, mumbling some curses under her breath “Pans, truth or dare?” he asked. Pansy eyed him with a glare before smiling “Dare” she says.

you knew it was a bad idea

“I dare you to make out with Y/n” he said casually, causing you to choke on your butterbeer “Excuse me!?” you interject “I didn’t laugh at you!” he shrugs his shoulders “Your just collateral damage Y/n, very sorry” he says. but you knew he wasn’t.

“This is bullshit” you mutter, though the thought was making your heartbeat against your chest. Pansy shrugs nonchalantly before using her hand to tilt your head up so you were looking t the ceiling. This way she could reach you since she was sat behind you.

Pansy leans down and plants her lips onto yours, leaving you shocked. You lose your grip of your butterbeer, causing it to fall, but Theo catches it. Pansy Parkinson was kissing you, the girl you fell in love with. This wasn’t a teasing touch or flirty comment. It was the real thing.

and you loved it

you reach up to put your hand on the nape of her neck to pull her in for deeper kiss, feeling her grin against your lips. As you both got more heated the boys slowly left the room, leaving you two alone to do whatever the hell really. Good thing too, because it was only going to go further.

Pany’s free hand reaches up to wrap round your neck, not squeezing, but just gripping firmly to keep you in place. Fuck. Her tongue ran along your bottom lip and you opened your mouth slightly for her to slip her tongue in and connect it with yours.

you always forget she has tongue ring

it was nice to latch onto, hearing Pansy moan into your mouth was an added plus as well. You guessed Pansy was fed up with the current position because she pulled away and pushed you roughly back onto the bed, pulling your legs so you were closer to her.

she leaned down, hovering over you “I should probably tell you i’m in love with you before anything else happens” hse spoke, a wide smile spreading across her face “Why?” you asked. “because- answer the question Y/n, do you love me too?” she spoke, you could tell she was getting anxious.

“Of course i love you. I have for a long time” you say, matching her smile “You're telling me i could have been kissing you like this sooner?” she asked with a small pout. You reach up and loop your arms around her neck “Then let’s not waste anymore time then huh?”

Pansy grins before kissing you again.

☼-☪-☼

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☼-☪-☼

Kody: How come every Pansy fic i write so far is just really horny? Anyways, i haven’t slept yet and peace!

161 notes · View notes

ginnympotter · 3 years

Text

call it even

Chapter 2: for old times’ sake

A/N: uhhh so spoiler or whatever but this has a small amount of pretty mild smut? which i've never attempted i can't believe i'm pressing post on this thing please don't judge me lol you can also read this chapter on AO3

I’m parked between the Methodist and school.

She read the text, looked at herself in the mirror one more time, and braced herself. She took her coat off the hook and as she was zipping it up she heard her mother coming down the stairs. “Ginny, hun, are you going out?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later,” she said, grabbing the doorknob, trying to get out as quick as she could.

But before she could walk out Molly asked, “You know Harry could have come in, right?”

She looked at her mother’s smug smile and groaned. “Goodnight, Mom,” and swung the door shut behind her.

She walked quickly two blocks down, turned right and crossed the street. It was easy to spot Harry’s old truck, not just because there were only 3 other cars parked on that road, but also because it stuck out like a sore thumb, and also was a staple in so many of their memories. She knocked on the passenger side’s window and opened the car door, hopping into the seat. She looked over at Harry to say hi, and saw him smiling. “Hey, thanks for picking me up.”

“Of course,” Harry said as she shut the door. “But why did you make me park two blocks over?”

“Because I didn’t want it to be awkward, with me staying at my parents’ house, but it didn’t even matter because my mom just knew I was going to hang out with you.”

“Molly knows all.”

“Too much.” She looked over at their old high school building, and then at the field they were parked in front of, nostalgia filling her up. “Nice parking spot.”

“It’s weird working at the school we went to. Where those bleachers are,” Harry responded. She felt a tightness in her throat, feeling both excited and uneasy that he was already bringing these types of things up. “Remember how pissed Molly was when we skipped the prom?”

“Thank God she never found us under those,” Ginny heard herself respond. She and Harry looked at one another, twin smirks on their faces. The school bleachers might not be exactly the ideal, romantic place to lose your virginity, but for them it made total sense. She collected herself before her thoughts would get her carried away. “So, um, where to? Everywhere’s closed.”

“Did you eat already?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, okay, um...maybe we could just drive around for a bit? And then head back to my place for a glass of wine?”

Memories from last year flashed in her mind. She nodded and buckled herself in silently. He started the car, the engine gave a loud and disquieting noise, and then they took off. “I cannot believe this truck is still running.”

Harry lightly tapped the dashboard. “She never lets me down.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and sniggered. She looked out the window as they drove down the roads. “Believe it or not I kind of missed this place. Has it changed at all?”

“The same as it ever was,” Harry responded. “But I know you don’t like it that way.”

His eyes were on the road but she could feel what he meant without seeing his face. “I do, sometimes,” she clarified, hoping he would hear her for what she meant. “Is Dumbledore still principal?”

“Yeah, he is,” Harry told her. “And McGonagall still teaches math.”

“You were always their favorite.”

“Dumbledore’s, maybe,” he shrugged. “But McGonagall? She still goes on about my dad. They have tea together like, once a month.”

“But McGonagall let you get away with basically everything. She was just sly about it.”

“Much to Snape’s chagrin.”

“Oh God, don’t tell me he still works there?”

“Unfortunately.” Ginny blanched, and Harry laughed in appreciation. “He was so pissed when Dumbledore hired me. I just avoid him at all costs.”

“I can’t believe you willingly accepted a job where you have to see Snape every day.”

“I know. It’s worth it, though. I really love teaching,” he said. They halted at a stop sign and he used the opportunity to look at her as he said, “You helped me realize that.”

“I was a great tutee, if I do say so myself,” she smiled. “How about the coaching bit? Did the kids ever recover from their loss?”

Harry drove them around all the backroads as he talked about coaching and working at the school. Much of the anxiety she was holding inside her had slowly melted away as they eased back into their regular rapport. Her heart felt like it doubled in size as he talked about his favorite students (though at first proclaiming, “I don’t play favorites, but…”). He asked her more about life in LA and her first year being a starter.

When they arrived at Harry’s apartment, Ginny hung up her coat and watched as Harry’s eyes not so subtly raked over her body before he turned to his cabinet and took out two wine glasses. She sat in the same spot she did the last time she was on his sofa as Harry listed off various wine options. Harry updated her on all the most recent Tupelo gossip as they drank and reminisced on the different characters they grew up with. Every time he smiled she felt a piece of her heart break, she missed seeing it so much.

Harry must’ve sensed it- or perhaps he heard the crack inside her chest- as one of those times his smile dropped to a frown as he looked at her with concern. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ginny tried, taking the last sip of her wine and placing the glass down on the coffee table. She then noticed the People Magazine cover where she was in a little square on the top right for her interview with them last month.

She picked it up and held it in front of Harry, who suddenly turned red. “Er, I, um-” he stammered, and she laughed.

“Fred and George were just making fun of me for this yesterday at their party.”

“What’s to make fun of?” Harry asked, attempting to recover. “I think you did great.”

“Just a bit corny of a profile, I guess,” she responded. “Can I ask why you have it?”

Harry sighed, giving Ginny a very pointed look.

“What?”

“I have it because I was proud of you,” he replied carefully, taking another sip of his wine. “Is that a bad thing?”

And before she could register exactly what she was saying, the words “You could’ve texted me” flew out of her mouth.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “About the People profile?”

“Sure,” she said. Her brain telling her shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, but her mouth continued. “Or any other time before that. Or after I left this apartment after my brother’s wedding.”

Just as quickly as Harry’s face reddened before, it had now drained of all color. “I, er… I don’t-” he stopped himself, clearing his throat. “You could’ve texted me too, you know.”

“Well, why didn’t you?”

“Ginny,” he said softly, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to do this right now. Can’t we just...enjoy our time together while you’re here? Before you leave in a few days? I don’t want to fight.”

“Why didn’t you?” she repeated, more quietly this time.

“You know why,” he said defiantly, in an equally low voice.

“I don’t, actually.”

He groaned, putting his glass down next to hers before looking at her intensely. He looked tired, sad. “Because the only thing I wanted to text you was to ask you to stay. And I couldn’t ask that; it wouldn’t be right.”

She had an inkling that this would be his answer, but it still felt nice to hear him confirm it. “No, I suppose not.”

“And I wanted to text you so many times after, but… I was too afraid of what I’d say. And then too much time passed, and- I don’t know, I’m sorry, Gin.”

“Are you seeing anyone right now?”

Harry blinked, taken aback by the abrupt question. “No,” he said.

“Neither am I,” she told him, and then moved closer to him, so close that their legs touched. “You’re right, you couldn’t ask me to stay. But… how about I stay the night, and we could call it even?”

It took Harry a moment to register her proposal. When he did, he swallowed, his adam’s apple protruding against his throat. “Are...are you sure?”

She decided then to let go of her inhibitions, to act on impulse and burning desire, and placed herself on his lap facing him, her knees tightly against his hips, her hands meeting on the back of his neck, lightly scratching the bottom of his scalp. “I’m sure.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Right, then,” he mumbled, and then his lips were crashing against hers, and his arms moved her impossibly closer to him. She opened her mouth and his tongue swept atop hers; Harry moaned as he did it, as Ginny moved her fingers through his hair and pressed her chest against his. They kissed passionately, slow and hot, then fast and urgent, then slowly again. They fell back into their rhythm seamlessly.

When Ginny pulled away to kiss his neck, Harry’s voice was raspy. “Fuck,” he exhaled. She moved her tongue lightly along his collar bone, up the side of his neck, and to his ear as she ground herself more firmly on his growing erection. He groaned, moving his hands to Ginny’s ass and cupping it. “Fuck,” he repeated. “I missed this. I missed you.”

She was too stimulated to think too much about his words for too long, but nevertheless, they still caused her heart to lurch. And hearing Harry express himself- even just the slightest showing of vulnerability from him- always turned her on even more. She blew hot air on his ear, nibbled on the lobe, and then pulled away to take off his sweater. He smiled in a daze as she got the sweater off of him and discarded it. He didn’t waste another second before throwing off his T-shirt (his glasses momentarily getting caught in the process) and then doing the same to her, so he could have the next several seconds to unhook her lacy blue bra and let it drop to the floor. He leaned back and admired the view of her chest, then glanced up at Ginny before touching her. She gave a quick nod and he let himself feel her breasts in his hands again for the first time in almost a year, massaging them gently, then with more power. Ginny felt herself grow hotter just watching how Harry responded to her. He leaned in and took her right breast in his mouth, using his fingers to play with her left nipple in the way that always drove her mad. She allowed herself to enjoy it fully, moaning as she pleased, arching into him, pulling at his hair as he switched from one to the other.

Before long it was too much, and she grabbed his face and disconnected his mouth from her chest so she could kiss him again. She felt her lips tingle with the touch of his tongue, her skin burn as his hands moved to her back, running down slowly to her waistband, reaching under her pants to touch her bare ass, squeezing and spreading her cheeks gently. God, she loved when he did that. After she kissed him thoroughly enough, and her pants felt too wet to wear anymore, she moved to undo Harry’s belt buckle, which in turn encouraged him to unzip her jeans. She removed herself from him so they could remove what was left of their clothes. Seeing how hard he was for her, full and bare, made her weak in the knees yet simultaneously at her most powerful. She pushed Harry back down on the couch, let her knees give in to the floor, and cupped his balls. “Ginny-” Harry grunted, but before anything else could come out of his mouth she took him in her own, licking up his length, sucking gently as she bobbed her head up and down.

It was only around thirty seconds later that Harry stopped her, pulling her head off of him. “Wait, wait, stop-”

Immediately, she felt embarrassed. “Was that...ok?”

“Oh, God, Ginny, of course, it was more than ok, it was fucking amazing but...but I want to help you out first. Please.”

“Harry, it’s fine-”

“No, please,” he said earnestly. “I want to. I really want to.”

She let go of him and nodded wordlessly. He helped her up, laid her down on the couch, and kissed her gently. He then whispered, “Let me make you happy.”

“You always make me happy,” she whispered back. His features changed from eager to wistful. He kissed her again, much more firmly this time, and then worked his mouth from her neck along her body, over each breast, her stomach, the inside of her thighs, before he reached his final destination. Ginny closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh as he pressed his tongue up and down against her clit.

She didn’t have to think or speak or do anything; Harry knew exactly the way she liked it, no matter how much time in between their sexual activities passed, he never lost track of exactly what made her scream, what made her shake in ecstasy, as she did only a few minutes after he began. As she came down from her high, Harry kissed his way back up her body, until reaching her cheek, which he kissed delicately. “You feel good?” he asked hoarsely.

“Mm,” was all she could respond in the moment, panting from pleasure still.

He chuckled sweetly, kissing her cheek again, then her forehead, then her lips. Once her breathing had steadied somewhat, she heard him speak again. “What else do you want?”

“To fuck you,” she breathed out.

Harry moaned at her words as he pushed his tongue back into her mouth, the vibrations sending tingles down to her toes. “Do you want to move to the bedroom?”

“We can go to your bed for round two,” she told him, smiling widely. “But round one is happening right here, right now on this couch.”

“If you insist,” he said hoarsely, moving over her, wasting not another second. They had already lost enough time.

***

Behind her eyelids, Ginny could feel the light pouring into Harry’s bedroom. She felt a twinge of joy as she moved her arms to find Harry’s torso, but all she could find were the sheets. She opened her eyes and saw that his side of the bed was empty. Her stomach fell as she scanned the room for him. She sat up and heard a bit of clanging around in the kitchen. The bedroom door was half-open. She rose from the bed, opened the drawer where Harry kept his t-shirts, and threw his go-to blue tee over her head. She stepped out of his room and walked down the hall to find Harry, wearing only a pair of boxers and his glasses, his hair as messy as ever, pouring an omelet onto a plate with expert ease.

“Morning,” she said quietly.

He turned to look at her and grinned, looking her over. “Morning. Nice shirt.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you alone in there. I just wanted to make you breakfast.”

“That’s sweet, Harry.” She went to sit at the island and he waved his hands. “No, no, not here!”

“Excuse me?”

“Breakfast in bed ,” he clarified. “I’ll bring it in, you go relax, I just am finishing up on the home fries and then I’ll bring it right in.”

“You sure?”

He waved his spatula in the direction of his room. “Go on, now!”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him fondly before turning around and heading back down the hall. “Fine, but I’m using your bathroom first.”

“Do what you must.”

After using the toilet and brushing her teeth, she settled back into Harry’s bed and scrolled through her phone. Only a few minutes later, Harry entered with their plates, handing one to her and planting a tender kiss on her forehead. Her insides melted at the gesture. She softly thanked him, scooted over and dug in. Harry sat on his side but at the foot of the bed, his legs folded and his plate on his lap, that way he could face her. They ate in silence, exchanging occasional grins. She felt slightly distracted by his shirtless form and the way their feet touched. When she finished she handed Harry her plate. “That was delicious, thank you. Compliments to the chef.”

“My pleasure,” he told her. “I like cooking for people.”

“Perhaps if this teaching thing doesn’t work you can go to culinary school.”

“I know you’re joking, but I’d honestly consider it,” he said as he stacked their empty plates and leaned over to put them on his bedside table. He then sat beside her and grabbed her hand, interlacing their fingers. “What would you like to do today? That is, if you don’t have any other pressing plans…”

“I do have a hot date or two lined up, but I could always reschedule them for next year,” she joked.

“How kind of you,” he replied, picking up her hand and kissing it. Ginny was finding it hard to control herself with all the seemingly small, natural affection he was showing. “But really, anything in mind?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought maybe we’d sleep in half the day- just for old times’ sake?”

Harry chuckled, glancing at the clock. “It’s already 10am. You want to go back to sleep?”

“Well, maybe not right away,” she said, lacking subtlety. “Thought we could do something to tire us out first.”

“Hmm,” Harry pretended to think. “What could that be?”

She grabbed him by the neck and kissed him, and he sighed, using his free hand to cup her face. After kissing each other sweetly for a minute or two, Harry let go of her hand to grab her and pull her onto his lap. He quickly realized that other than his shirt she wasn’t wearing anything else at all, moaning as he grabbed her ass. He deepened the kiss and Ginny became wrapped up in its intensity, returning it right to him, her hands wrapped up in his hair. Although her body was in the driver’s seat, her mind and heart were racing, thinking about how much this man meant to her, how much she felt like herself when she was with him, how much he made her feel like she could do anything. She cherished every second she could steal with him, before all she’d have is memories to replay until the next time, cementing the feel and the taste of him into her brain. She didn’t want it to ever end.

But not before long, Harry seemed to slow down, and then he pulled away altogether. When Ginny leaned back in to continue the kiss, he barely reciprocated.

“Harry?” she asked, breathing heavily. “Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, I…” He looked at her and she could see the storm of emotions in his emerald eyes. He leaned his head against hers and exhaled. “I’m fine. But...can we pause this for a moment? Can we talk?”

A wave of dread washed over her as she nodded her head and removed herself from his lap. Sensing her tension, Harry grabbed her hand again, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. “What is it?” she asked reluctantly.

He inhaled deeply, his forehead creased. “When you leave later today, I… I don’t want it to be like last time.”

“Well, that’s easy then,” Ginny told him, attempting a smile. “All you have to do is text me when I land back in L.A. this time.”

“And what would that imply, exactly?” Harry questioned. “Me texting you, that is.”

“It-” but Ginny realized she didn’t really have an answer- or, at least, she couldn’t give the answer she really wanted. “It would mean that this wasn’t just some meaningless thing to you.”

Harry frowned, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Is that what you really thought? Or what you’ll think if you leave later?”

Ginny considered his question. “I suppose not.”

“Of course not,” he corrected her, speaking with conviction as he squeezed her hand. “Ginny… I still-”

“Stop,” she interrupted him. “Don’t say it.”

She wanted to hear him say it, of course she did, but she would never be able to leave if she let him continue. She felt her heart break a bit at Harry’s disappointed expression. “What do you want me to say then?” he asked, his voice quiet but his tone stabbing. “That I don’t care about you? That I don’t miss you? That I don’t think about you every time I try to date someone else? I’m sorry if that’s hard for you to hear, but I have to tell you, I can’t even fathom you thinking for even one second that anything between us could ever be meaningless to me. I’m sorry I didn’t text you. I don’t know how to do this.”

“No,” she said as she put a hand on his leg. She couldn’t take it anymore. He was right, hearing all of that was too hard for her. Knowing the feelings are mutual “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… The meaningless thing was an overreaction, alright? I know… we’ll always mean so much to each other.”

Harry sighed, closing his eyes, his thinking face on. Ginny knew that face too well, and she knew he was trying to work out in his mind how to phrase all his feelings. “I just don’t understand why we gave up two years ago. We did long distance from your senior year in high school through all of college and it was fine. I didn’t want to break up. But you were so insistent that this is what was best once you got a spot on the team and I didn’t want to feel like I had to persuade you to stay together and I just…”

Ginny’s heart dropped into her stomach. There was such an ache in his voice… it hurt her to hear. “I don’t know, Harry, I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing,” she settled on. How could she explain giving up on them to him? To herself? “College was one thing, but as working adults? It just felt like we’d never be in the same place, we’d never be able to actually spend time together… I didn’t want to hold you back. I didn’t realize you…that you would’ve… I thought we were on the same page, I’m sorry.”

“No, I should’ve fought harder for us,” he told her, eyes blazing. “It’s not too late, is it?”

Ginny exhaled as Harry squeezed her hand again. “Harry, I can’t stay here-“

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Well, I can’t ask you to wait for me. I don’t know what’s going to come with my career.”

“I don’t care how far apart we are,” he asserted. “I don’t want to be with anyone else- I’ve tried, and I’m sure you have too, but we always end up back here, don’t we? I want to be with you. We can figure the rest out as we go. It’s us, you know?”

He smirked at the end of his sentence, and all the feelings she’d been holding in for two years seemed to boil over at once. God, she missed that smile. The same smile as the one she dreamed about every day when she was only 11 and he spent every summer day over at their house with Ron. The same smile that he gave her after their first kiss, and after they skipped the prom and hid out under the bleachers, and when he came home to visit from college for the first time, and when he visited her in her dorm, and when he saw her standing in her bridesmaid dress at Ron and Hermione’s wedding, and then when he took it off of her later that night, and when they bumped into each other at the airport a few months ago, and just last night as she curled up against him in his bed and kissed him goodnight.

Tears warned to spill over, and she cursed herself for blinking one free. Harry put a hand on her face and wiped it for her with his thumb. He looked deeply into her eyes, which only caused more tears to fall. He wiped another for her, and then he kissed one away, and then he kissed her lips so gently she could barely register it.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, a hint of desperation in his voice for some type of answer.

She looked away from him, staring down at their knees. “I still don’t know, Harry. I’m confused. Everything you’re saying… I want that, I do, but it just doesn’t… seem practical. And… I mean, if we did get back together, what about everything after that? Do you want to stay in Tupelo forever?”

“Not necessarily,” he responded flatly. “I love my job now but I don’t know if I’ll still want to be here in a few years… But do we need to be making those types of decisions now?”

“Well if we don’t, then what? We get back together and three years down the line we break up because we realize we’re still not on the same page? I don’t want to waste either of our time.”

Harry let out a defeated sigh, causing Ginny to look up again. The fire in his eyes was being stomped out by disappointment. “Gin, listen… all I know is that ever since I was sixteen all I’ve wanted is to be with you, whatever it took to make that happen. That hasn’t changed, not one bit, even nine years later. I know we can make it work. If it’s not what you want… I don’t want you to be with me if you aren’t fully in it. But I want to be in your life. I don’t know what that looks like for you right now, but however it does, I’ll be there. Even if that’s only as your brother’s best friend.” He offered a sad smile as he finished.

But you’re so much more than that , she wanted to say, but felt like that’d just be proving his point, and she still felt too confused and overwhelmed. Selfishly, she leaned in and kissed him, long enough to memorize the feeling for later but quickly enough to prevent any further persuasion from the magic of his mouth. She braced herself for her own heart’s self-destruction as she opened her eyes and said, “I think I should go home, now.”

Harry’s sadness lingered for a moment, before he channeled his expertise of shutting down, his features flickering to blankness. “If...if that’s what you want. Let me drive you home, at least?”

She wanted to say no, that she’d just order an Uber, but her mouth betrayed her. “Ok.”

He let go of her hand and stood up. “I’ll, er, just throw on some clothes real quick, then run and grab yours and leave you to get dressed.”

She nodded and watched him throw on a pair of jeans, an undershirt, a jumper, and socks rather haphazardly. She listened as his feet creaked across the hallway floors, and waited with bated breath as he made his way back moments later, handing her a pile of her clothes. She muttered a “thank you” and averted his eyes as she took them.

“Take your time,” he told her gently, and made his way back out.

The moment the door clicked closed, she clenched her eyes shut and pushed out all the tears she could, so none would escape for him to see when she would have to face him again. She wiped her face and felt the warmth leave her as she got up from his bed, her haven. She threw off his shirt and put on her clothes from the night before, but folded up his t-shirt and stuffed it in her purse. It was an unspoken agreement between them that she could take as many of his t-shirts as she liked; he bought extras just for her.

She looked in the mirror, quickly threw her hair back in a low ponytail, and inhaled deeply, as if the air entering her lungs would give her courage to move forward as she opened up his bedroom door and walked towards the entrance.

Harry had his sneakers on, her shoes lined up and her coat ready for her in his hands. She slipped on her shoes and against her better judgment she allowed him to slip her jacket on for her, arm by arm. She hated the electricity that crackled through their every touch. She did not want to leave, she hated herself for leaving, even.

As if he sensed her self-deprecation, he took hold of her hand after it slipped through the sleeve. “Gin, it’ll be okay.”

She didn’t believe him, of course, it was just his typical optimism in order to protect everyone he loved, Except it made Harry look out for everyone else’s comfort at his own expense.

He grabbed his keys and led them out of his flat. They got into his car quietly. Without taking the backroads, the ride was relatively short, only taking 3 songs on the classic rock station of his ancient car radio to make it back to her home, the Burrow.

He parked right outside, which was a mistake, as her mother was out in the front with their family dog, Pig. She was wise enough to just offer a wave and a smile and resume walking with him.

Harry turned to her and asked in a low rasp, “Can I see you again? Before you fly back? Will you still be at your family’s for New Year's?”

“Yeah, I will,” she told him. “I’ll...I’ll see you there.”

Harry nodded. He clicked the unlock button for the doors. “Just...just think about what I said, alright?”

Ginny swallowed, nodding back. “I will.”

He kissed her cheek, his lips burning against her cold skin, and as he pulled away he leaned over to open her door for her. She attempted a smile in thanks, hopped out of his truck, and closed the door gently behind her.

She didn��t look back as she walked through her lawn, as she heard him call out to her mother, “See you soon, Mrs. Weasley!,” as Pig barked merrily at him and Harry laughed out, “I’ll see you soon, too, Pig!” before driving away.

She was grateful that her mother didn’t pursue her as her legs worked their hardest to get her to the door, through the entrance, and up the flight of stairs to her room, into her own bed, waiting for a sense of safety or relief that never came.

#hp #fanfic #hp fanfic #harry x ginny #harry potter #ginny weasley #hinny #au #alternate universe #modern au #harry potter x ginny weasley #harry/ginny #harry potter/ginny weasley #fanfiction #fan fiction

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Shuu [VAMPIRE ENDING]

ー The scene starts in front of Karlheinz’ castle

Yui: ( His answer...? )

Shuu: Basically you’ll quietly let yourself get killed?

Karlheinz: ...No.

I will kill you.

Shuu: !?

Yui: Shuu-san!!

( Karlheinz-san’s hand is reaching towards Shuu-san...! Don’t tell me he’ll actuallyーー! )

Shuu: Kuh...!

Yui: ...!!

*STAB*

Shuu: ...

...You never change.

Yui: ...Shuu-san...?

Karlheinz: ...Hah...

Yui: ( ...!! There’s a knife stabbed inside Karlheinz-san’s chest...! )

Karlheinz: Kuh...

*Thud*

Shuu: Like you did just now...You see right through my plans, always making sure you’re one step ahead.

Expecting me to follow in your footsteps is unreasonable. I simply had no other choice but to give up.

Karlheinz: That is exactly.... how those standing at the very top must be. It is how, you will guide your people down the right path...

Next....I must guide you.

Shuu...In what lies ahead of you, you will surely be thrown into a state of disarray.

However, that is your...destiny. One which you could never escape, from the second you were born as my son...Your dark fate. (1)

However...You have already decided you will no longer run away, no? For the sake of those you wish to protect.

Shuu: ...Yeah.

Karlheinz: ...Perfect.

You have fully awakened as Adam. I shall give you my answer as well.

Shuu...You did more than a fine job trying to reach my level. And right now, you have even surpassed me.

You, who has learnt how to love and feel, should now possess powers much greater than my own.

Go ahead, my son. Take my head...

The head of none other than the King. I am sure it will be useful to you in many ways...

Shuu: ...Ugh...

...Yui, close your eyes. You don’t have to see this.

Yui: ...No, me tooーー

Shuu: It’s fine.

In return...Whenever I will recall this moment in the future, please quietly stand by my side.

Yui: ...

...Okay.

ー Yui closes her eyes

Karlheinz: I’m leaving everyone in your care...

*CHOP*

Yui: ...!?

( What is going on...!? This overwhelming forceーー... )

( I can’t...I can’t endure it... )

ー She collapses

*Thud*

Shuu: Yui!?

ー The scene shifts to the garden

Ayato: ーー Take a look at the sky...

Kanato: Is that enormous magical energy...Father...?

Laito: ...It’s Shuu.

Subaru: He actually killed him...?

Reiji: ...!

Laito: Isn’t this for the best? To us Vampires, death is a blessing.

I’m sure he yearned for it as well.

Ayato: So he finally took his final breath? Well...He lived for long enough.

Laito: You’re being awfully optimistic, Ayato-kun. The King of Vampires just died, you know? Furthermore, the Vibora are without a leader right now as well.

Kanato: I can only imagine chaos will break loose in the Demon World. I’m sure there will be many wars as well.

Subaru: You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me...As if this place isn’t enough of a hellhole already...

Reiji: ...

Ayato: Oi, Reiji. Whatcha gonna do?

Reiji: ...Let us go meet Shuu.

There are a hundred and one things...I want to ask him, and say to him.

Laito: Let’s go pay our dear older brother a visit then.

Subaru: Cut it out, you’re makin’ me gag!

Reiji: ...Father...

*TIMESKIP*

Shuu: ーー Oi, Yui.

Yui: ...

ー Yui wakes up near the castle

Yui: ...Shuu...san...?

Shuu: ...You’ve regained consciousness, huh?

Yui: I...

Shuu: You had fainted. I assume from the magic energy.

Yui: Magic energy...?

Shuu: ...When the Old Man died, his power was let loose. You witnessed that right before your eyes.

His magic energy was the strongest of anyone in the Demon World. I guess a human simply couldn’t endure it. ...Are you okay?

Yui: Yes...

...How about you, are you alright?

Shuu: ...

...To be honest, I’m not quite sure myself yet.

Part of me regrets killing him, but at the same time, I also feel somewhat relieved.

Yui: ...Do you believe you made the wrong choice?

Shuu: I don’t know that either.

I never thought of him in terms of ‘like’ or ‘hate’ but...

Right now, I understand very well that my Father has always been an impactful figure in my life.

All in all, I might have actually viewed him as my family. For some reason, I feel as if I’ve lost a part of me...

Yui: Shuu-san...

*Meoooow*

Yui: Ehーー...?

*Meoooow*

Yui: Ririe!?

*Meoooow*

Yui: Ririe...!

Shuu: ...He was alive?

I figured he had died because we gave him that name but...I guess you weren’t that weak after all.

...Come here.

*Meoooow*

Shuu: Even when something is lost...Life goes on. That might be the true meaning of a family.

Haah...My list of things to protect just keeps on growing.

Yui: ...Will you protect us? Both me and Ririe?

Shuu: You’re still asking that now? Isn’t that what it means to be a family?

...I’ve made up my resolve. I will take responsibility. I will go head-to-head with my own destiny.

Yui: Shuu-san...

Ayato: ーー Oi, there they are!

Yui: You guys...! Is everything okay now?

Ayato: In what world? My whole body hurts like hell!

Laito: But I’m glad to see you safe as well, Bitch-chan.

Kanato: That being said...Where did that cat come from?

*Meoooow*

Yui: Ah...Ririe, you can’t! Come here.

Subaru: Ririe...?

Shuu: ...Shut it, you guys.

Where’s Reiji?

Reiji: I am present, right here.

ー Reiji walks up to him

Reiji: ...Shuu. Do you remember what I told you?

Shuu: The part about not forgiving me if I were to kill the Old Man?

Reiji: ...So you did kill Father after all.

Shuu: Yeah.

Reiji: Did he have...any final words?

Shuu: He asked me to take good care of all of you.

That isn’t what brought forth this decision but...I’ll be playing his role from here on out.

Reiji: ...!

Kanato: You’ll ascend the throne?

Ayato: A sloth like yourself? ...For real?

Reiji: Are you saying...You will become the Vampire King?

Shuu: That’s what it’ll boil down to. The late King has died.

From here on out, I will lead the Clan of Vampires as their new King.

Yui: ( Shuu-san... )

Shuu: The Demon World is in disarray ever since what happened to the Vibora. Once the news of the Vampire King’s death hits the masses, it’ll only get worse.

After losing their leader, the Vibora were swiftly conquered by the Founders and lost their clan’s pride.

I can’t let the Vampires go down that same path. I won’t allow for that to happen.

I can’t let those guys...run loose forever.

Even if my struggle is in vain, I will fight till the bitter end.

We haven’t seen the last of this yet...

Ayato: ...But can you pull that off though? Us Vampires are already running low in numbers after the recent attack.

Shuu: Of course, I don’t believe I can fix this all by myself.

I’ll obviously rely on you guys’ help as well. I won’t take no as an answer. As members of this family, you’ll follow my lead.

Laito: Good grief...Seems like we got ourselves another tyrant on our hands.

Shuu: Reiji. You’ll be my right-hand man. Lend me your strength as the second son of the Sakamaki household. Understood?

Reiji: ...

...I did not fathom a day would come on which I get to hear such a clear order from you.

Very well. For the sake of our family, and our clan, I shall do everything within my ability.

Yui: ( Reiji-san... )

Shuu: First we must retroop our people. Then we can move on to uniting them.

Reiji: You make it sound so easy.

Shuu: Of course, I don’t believe it’ll be a breeze. Therefore, first upーー Yui.

Yui: Eh? Yes?

( I wonder what he’s going to say? He’s staring right into my eyes... )

Shuu: I’ll marry her.

Yui: ...Eh?

Ayato: Hah?

Kanato: ...What are you saying?

Shuu: That’ll increase my prestige, no?

Subaru: You’re marryin’ her over that reason!? Don’t you feel bad for her!?

Shuu: Haah...Ridiculous. You really think I would go through all the trouble just for that?

I’m obviously marrying her out of love.

Yui: ...Shuu-san!?

Laito: Haah...I didn’t think I would hear those words come from Shuu’s mouth one day.

Kanato: Seems like he won’t even bother listening to Yui-san’s reply.

Shuu: Because I don’t need to. ...Right, Yui?

Yui: ...No fair...

Shuu: You’ve been stuck in this destiny with me since forever. You can no longer escape.

So you should make up your resolve as well.

Reiji: Haah...You decide such an important thing on the spot. I fear for the future...

Well, I suppose it is fine. Right now, we have something to celebrate first.

The birth of a New King, and his spouseーー

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ...I didn’t think I would one day get married in the Demon World.

Shuu: Really? I anticipated this.

I told you, didn’t I? That I was aware this moment would come one day.

You were naturally there as part of that imagination as well.

Yui: I...How should I know without you telling me?

Shuu: I’m not the type of guy who expresses himself with words. I’m pretty sure I told you that before as well?

Yui: Gosh...

*Meooow*

Yui: Ririe. Did you wake up?

*Meooow*

Yui: Fufu, come here.

On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“What? You think I look lovely in these clothes because it’s so different from my usual attire? ...Haha. Dare I say you don’t look half bad either?”

“I’ve had let alone time with you ever since this little guy came along. ...However, from here on out, you’ll always be only mine.”

Shuu: ...Don’t you think you spoil him a little bit too much?

Yui: You think so? Not as much as with you though...

Shuu: What do you mean?

Yui: I think I spoil you much more than I do Ririe.

Shuu: ...Hah, you tell me.

*Rustle*

Shuu: In that case, make it a little more obvious.

You always claim you don’t understand me but...Your behavior is confusing as well.

Yui: I-Is it...?

( I always thought I was pretty straight-forward...I wonder if that didn’t quite convey to him...? )

Shuu: Don’t look so anxious. ...It properly got through to me.

Yui: Ah...

*Meooow*

Shuu: You’ve made it more than clear that you love me ...Nn...

Yui: Nn...

Shuu: Nn...Haah...

Shuu: Haha...Now you are one of us as well.

Yui: Am I?

Shuu: Even if your body is human, you’ll marry the Vampire King, so I’m sure that will happen.

The King’s spouse is a human, huh? Well, I don’t think that’s such a bad thing?

...Yui.

Yui: Yes?

Shuu: Chaos still washes over the Demon World to this day. I can only imagine the war will get intense.

Yui: ...Yes.

Shuu: As long as you stand by my side like this, you will surely get involved with this dark fate as well.

That must be rough as a woman, and a human on top of that. I can understand why you would rather turn a blind eye to it.

Yui: ...I’m prepared.

I’ve always stuck by your side, well aware that this would happen.

Shuu: Heh...I guess I worried for nothing.

Well, not that I was going to let you go either way.

Father was right. I...lose all meaning in life when you’re not with me.

Stay with me until death. I’ll protect you till that day.

Become my new family, and live by my side.

Yui: ...Yes.

Shuu: Then kiss me.

Yui: ...Where did that come from!?

Shuu: Just words aren’t enough. Promise it with your body as well. Come on...

Yui: Nn...

*Smooch*

Shuu: Hah...I really like this way much better than just mere words.

*Meooow*

Shuu: ...Don’t interfere. She belongs to me.

Yui: Oh come on, don’t compete with a cat.

Shuu: I guess every time we welcome a new member to our family, I’ll have to reconfirm that you’re mine.

Haah...I fear for the future. Having a family really is a drag after all.

Well, I guess I can live with it if they’re directly descended from you.

Yui: ( Does he mean...? )

Shuu: From here on out, I’ll protect both you and my family with my own two hands.

To live alongside my precious family, and the woman I love...

Yui: ...Yes.

Shuu: ...We still haven’t said it, huh?

Yui: What exactly?

Shuu: The oath to become a family.

Komori Yui. I...love you.

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) Karlheinz drops this term in the general prologue as well. He says 闇の運命 or ‘yami no sadame’ which means ‘the law of the dark’. However, ‘sadame’ is written with the characters for ‘unmei’, which means ‘fate’ or ‘destiny’ instead of 定め.

Within the DL franchise, ‘the dark’ is often used as a synonym for demons/those who live in the Demon World. For example, in HDB, the boys will often call themselves ‘yami no juumin’ or ‘residents of the dark’. Personally, I believe he implies that all Demons are born with a set path in life already drawn out for them and in Shuu’s case, it was his destiny to one day become Adam, kill his Father to inherit his powers and become the next Demon King.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #shuu sakamaki #dark fate #diabolik lovers translation #dfshuuending1

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rillils · 3 years

Note

Ok, yesterday when this happened I couldn't find this post but that's exactly what I pictured this Bucky thinking, I mean that face was screaming those words in my head and since i re-found the post during my lunch break, I HAD to add that.

Seriously, this is making me laugh SO MUCH. thank you so much xD

T oh my god 🤣🤣🤣 Honey you're a gift, a treasure, a friggin GEM!! Your skills are absolutely top tier, first class stuff and omg please help me 'cause I'm literally bent in two, I've been laughing so hard 😂😂😂

seriously though, this is so damn Perfect™ and it's 100% what Bucky was thinking there xD I mean, does he know Steve like the back of his hand? sure he does. did he expect Steve 'Stubborn Ass' Rogers to go and sass God Himself?? probably, but it's still embarrassing af

look at him, that's the face of a man whose tolerance level has been pushed through the roof and STILL Steve thought he should test it some more

he's like "for god's sake Steve just shut the f*ck up already" and "this kinda backtalk is EXACTLY how Adam and Eve got their flat asses kicked out of Eden, now don't you dare embarrass ME like that" and then looking up at God like "you see?? THIS is what I have to put up with every day of my life" (cue an exhausted, exasperated God patting Bucky on the head with a sympathetic look, like "I know. I know, son. I made him")

still, Bucky can't help but love his pain-in-the-arse husband with all his heart 💖 this man who would throw hands with God, Satan and possibly even Santa just to make Bucky happy, or make sure he's safe? yeah, that one's definitely a keeper 💖💖

#otp holic #stucky #manips #at the end of the day bucky's still going home with him #probably gonna scold him some more #grumbling like 'stupid... fckin... moron. cannot believe...'#while tying his hair back and undoing steve's fly #making steve choke on his own breath #lol seriously though #THANK YOU SO MUCH T 💕💕💕💕💕#YOU BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL GENIUS #the fact that you kept sebastian's handwriting is sending me omg 🤣🤣#god bless you always honey 💖💖💖

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dionnaea · 4 years

Text

Promises

pairing: kenny ackerman x reader (platonic), slight levi x reader

warnings: angst, character death, mild swearing

wc: 4.4k

a/n: so, so sorry this took so long!! i decided to combine these two requests and change them up a little, so i hope that’s okay! i’m really proud of this piece, so i hope you all enjoy it, too. xx

side note: technically this is a sequel to my other fic Pot Meet Kettle but it’s not entirely necessary to read that first.

requests:

Your writing’s so good I’m cryin’... Also, I’d LOVE to see what you have in mind for Kenny and Reader’s background! 👀 Were they both underground? was Reader already in the Corps when they met?? did she learn how to punch creeps from Kenny?? Plus I’m very curious about what he meant by her fixing broken hearts!

could you do a part 2 to the pot meet kettle levi fic? i really loved it and i think it would be cool if you could write a part 2 based off the kenny vs levi scene in season 3? like maybe kenny sees the reader and he's like good to see you again and levi is like mf what idk im not creative :(( sorry if this isn't enough

attack on titan masterlist | general masterlist

After Rod Reiss had been taken down, the scouts were sent to search the ruined fields for survivors. It was unlikely that any were left, but Erwin was adamant that no soldier would be left behind. You respected him for that, and went on your way to do your job.

As you wandered, you ran into a returning scout, someone you didn’t know the name of but were sure had been paired with the Captain for this mission. His head was down as he walked, like there was something he had seen that he shouldn’t have, and your mind began to fill with worries for Levi. Had something happened?

Making your steps slightly heavier in the grass so that he would notice you, the man finally looked up, quickly saluting to his superior. You brushed him off, instead getting down to business.

“Where’s Captain Levi, cadet?”

The man’s eyes darted away from your own before he answered. “Taking care of something, I think.”

You raised an eyebrow in suspicion at the soldier’s weary tone. “Oh? And what is he taking care of, might I ask?” Everything about this seemed peculiar, and you weren’t having it.

“I don’t know. Something… personal.” When he finally met your gaze, he relented, sacrificing the Captain’s privacy for his own sake, too scared to see what your reaction would be if he kept playing coy. “He’s that way, by the big oak tree,” he stated, pointing in the direction he came.

You squinted, making out the shadow of the tree in the setting sun. You dismissed the cadet, and quickly made your way towards Levi, his body becoming clearer as you approached. Once you were a reasonable distance away, you called out, but were met with silence. As your worry grew, you moved faster, only stopping when you realized what was going on.

Levi was kneeling, his body covering the person in front of him. It didn’t matter, you’d recognize those spurs anywhere.

“Kenny?” The name was uttered in disbelief, and as you stepped around Levi, your eyes grew wide with fear. “Kenny!”

Immediately, you jumped into action, your scout training taking hold of your body as you knelt by your friend. Your hands hovered over his burnt and bloodied body, not knowing where to start but ignoring the possibility that it was too late. “How… How do I help you? I-I don’t know what to do.” Your eyes were tearing up, and your breathing was getting ragged as you struggled to find some solution. “Please, Kenny, tell me how to help!”

“Kitten…” His voice was rough as he spoke, his usual tones of confidence and charisma gone. You met his half-closed eyes with your wet ones, begging for him to give you some answer, some, any sort of reassurance that things would be alright.

“Please,” you pleaded. You had never sounded this pitiful in your life, but you didn’t care, and as his shaking hand grabbed your own, a sob wracked your body. “Kenny, please. Please stay.” You couldn’t help, you knew that, but you hoped for once in his life he would listen to you.

His eyes began to shut, and his voice fell to a whisper as he said, “Stay safe, kitten.” With a barely there squeeze of your hand, his body went limp, his hand dropping from your grasp.

You stared in silence, shock overtaking you for a moment. But then, all you felt was anger. “No. No! You promised!” You were yelling at this point, fist reaching out to bang on Kenny’s chest in retaliation. A strong grip on your wrist stopped you, but you weren’t done. As if he could read your mind, Levi wrapped his free arm around your waist, pulling you back from the now dead man. You were screeching obscenities at both Kenny and Levi as you struggled to break free. Soon, your screams turned into sobs, and as you fell limp into Levi’s arms, you let out one last whimper, a last cry for help. “You promised.”

Later that night, as you pulled a camisole over your head, a knock sounded on your quarters’ door. Truthfully, you had absolutely no desire to talk to anyone. You had had a long day, you had just changed into your pajamas, and you weren’t in the mood to join your fellow soldiers in celebration. Still, you pulled the door open a few inches, hoping it would be someone you could easily send away. To your surprise, Levi stood outside dressed in plain clothes and hair wet from what you presumed was a shower. Even more surprising was the newly formed bruise on his cheekbone. The reddish-purple mark stood out against his normally flawless skin, and you found yourself staring, only Levi’s sharp voice bringing you back to reality.

“You did that, you know,” he commented with a blank face.

“What?” You opened the door a bit more, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

His left eyebrow cocked up just barely. “When you went berserk earlier. Before I managed to snag both of your wrists,” he explained. He reached up a hand to brush against his cheek. “Damn, you hit hard.”

You weren’t sure, but the tone in the man’s voice made you think that maybe, just maybe, he was trying to cheer you up. Against your will, the corners of your mouth turned up the slightest bit. “Did you expect anything less?” You quipped, wondering what his answer might be.

“No.” He shrugged. “Just surprised it took you this long to punch me in the face.”

At that, you let out a laugh. It was true, the man had managed to push every single one of your buttons during his time with the Scouting Regiment. The two of you were in constant conflict, arguments over the smallest things popping up out of nowhere. At some point, Erwin had decided that Mike would be the babysitter of you two, keeping you both in line during training and even more so during squad leader meetings. You started to smile at the memory, but when you remembered that Mike, like so many of the others you loved, was dead, your expression fell.

Moving your eyes to stare down at the uneven floorboards, you spoke quietly, but sincerely, “I’m sorry.”

Levi knew you weren’t just apologizing for hitting him but for everything, and as he studied your face, he made a decision. “Do you want some tea? I keep a special brand in my room.” It was the only thing he had to offer, and both you and him knew it.

You froze as you tried to figure out the best course of action. Follow the Captain to his room or mope around alone until you cry yourself to sleep? In the end, it was an easy choice. Still, your heart stuttered in your chest while you gained your composure. You took a breath before responding, “Um, sure.”

There was a beat of silence, as if the two of you were readying yourself to take on some new, mysterious foe. And in a way, you supposed, you were. About a month after Levi had joined the scouts, there had been an… incident of sorts. It wasn’t disastrous or anything like that, but Erwin had quickly ruled that the two of you weren’t allowed to be in the same room together without someone else present. A wise decision on his part, if you were being completely honest, and something that Levi nor you argued with in the slightest. But now, years later, it seemed both of you were ready to break that rule, Levi making the first move as he turned on his heel and waited to see if you would follow.

Out of all of the scouts, you were known to be the most stealthy. Mike was usually the only one who could sense you were coming, claiming you had a distinctly pleasant smell that his nose had no problem picking up on. One time, he had even claimed that you were the best smelling person in the Survey Corps, and you couldn’t help but swell with pride. Hange had whispered to you later that evening that that was his way of flirting, but you never took her seriously. You weren’t interested in dating anyways. No one had ever really caught your eye minus one man, but you always said it was more of a fascination than a crush.

Even your ODM gear seemed to be quieter than the rest, and you once managed to spook even the Commander when you landed on the same tree branch as him without him knowing. You naturally existed silently and sneakily so when Levi picked up on the sound of your sock-clad feet shuffling behind him, the pit of concern in his stomach grew.

Reaching his quarters, he unlocked the door wordlessly, holding it open so that you could enter first. Your eyes widened as you took in the space. First of all, it was much bigger than your room. While you only had a bedroom and bathroom to yourself like the other squad leaders, Levi had a small living area with a couch, small coffee table, and even a desk. There were papers neatly stacked on top of it, and the rest of the area was just as orderly, his tea kettle sitting in the exact center of the coffee table. Only when you sat down on the couch did you see the small fireplace he had. It was just big enough to fit a tea kettle over it, and that’s what Levi proceeded to do.

You let out a low whistle, capturing the man’s attention. “Wow. When did you get so important?” You asked, motioning lazily about the room with your hand.

Levi scoffed and placed a hand casually on his hip. “Erwin gave it to me when he moved into the Commander’s quarters. Reward for the highest kill count or something like that.” His voice was so nonchalant that for a moment, you didn’t realize that he was insulting you. No, you thought, it was more of a tease than an insult.

Now it was your turn to scoff, well aware that your fellow Captain was just trying to get a reaction out of you. Levi watched as you rolled your eyes playfully, firelight glinting off of your irises. Had they always been such a pretty color?

The whistle of the kettle broke him out of his reverie, and he swiftly turned back to take it off of the heat. When he brought it back to the table, he was pleasantly surprised that you had already prepared the teacups, him only having to pour the water in and wait for it to steep. Hesitantly, he moved around the table to take a seat next to you, wondering when the two of you were ever this close. The events of the day popped into his head, and he did his best to ignore the fact that the thing he remembered the most about it was you being in his arms. Still, a question had been lingering in his mind, and he figured now was the best time to ask it.

“Y/N,” he started, and you looked over with wide eyes at the use of your first name. You honestly weren’t aware that he even knew you had a first name. “Can I ask you a question?” You knew what was coming, but you forced yourself to nod anyways, giving him silent permission to know your secrets. “How do you know Kenny Ackerman?”

It was a loaded question, and you let out a breath as you tried to figure out the best way to tell the story without getting either you or Kenny into trouble. Even the secrets of a dead man needed to be protected sometimes. Despite it all occurring years ago, the government’s threat towards you regarding the release of information hung heavily in your mind. Both you and Levi would be in danger if you revealed too much. He could swear himself to secrecy, and you would trust him, but the risk would never be worth the reward. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap, worrying your lip as you thought of how to start to explain.

“Well,” you bit the inside of your cheek, gathering your nerves before continuing, “About a year and a half before you joined the scouts, I got myself into a bit of trouble.” He raised an eyebrow in surprise as you were widely thought to be the most well behaved and well intentioned scout there was. He thought he was the only person who could get you riled up, your scoldings from the other squad leaders and the Commander always leading back to him. You sent him a small grin. “I wasn’t always the goody two shoes I am now, Levi.”

“Anyways, it became kind of a big deal in the Capital, and a lot of higher-ups were calling for my head.” You let out a light chuckle. “Imagine just turning 19 and having almost every MP looking for you. Scary stuff.”

“Wait.” Levi held up a hand to stop you before you could continue. The story had just started, but he was already having trouble believing that this was the truth. If not for the darkness that rested just behind your eyes, he would’ve called bullshit as soon as you said your first sentence. “What exactly did you do?”

You looked away from the intensity of his gaze for a moment, an internal debate raging on inside your head. With a sigh, you relented. “I… I can’t tell you everything, but let’s just say it had to do with a certain Premier and confidential papers being stolen from his office.” Levi’s eyes grew wide, and you took that as a sign to continue. “No one knows except Commander Erwin, but I spent most of my teenage years in the Underground. I was born within Wall Sina, so I had papers to be up top, but I much preferred being below gro—”

“Why?” Levi was quick to cut you off, his expression hard and tone almost offended.

“My parents owned land in Wall Sina, and when they died, they left none of it to me, so folk got the idea in their head that I was a problem child. I wasn’t wanted there, so I left.” You shrugged, and Levi’s face softened. “I admit, the Underground wasn’t easy, but I was quick on my feet and smart for my age. I survived and I survived by myself. Help wasn’t something I wanted, but when you’re suddenly being chased by the royal government, it becomes something you need. That’s how I found Kenny, and it’s why I owe him my life.”

It had been a week since you had completed your assignment, already turning in the materials to the man who had hired you and returning back to your comfortable life underground. All had seemed to go swimmingly, and your confidence had grown tenfold. The feeling of being unstoppable was addictive, and you craved the sensation of that feeling again. You let your thoughts drift to what you could accomplish next, but sudden screams quickly snapped you out of your daydream. Straightening in your chair, you peeked out of the window of the tavern you currently resided in. Fear grew in your chest at what you saw.

Standing right outside were five MP’s, fully equipped with ODM gear and holding up a wanted poster with a poorly drawn sketch of your face on it. It was clear that they were asking for your whereabouts, and you were thankful to see that every person was shaking their heads to say no, they had no idea. Even with the solidarity of your fellow Underground citizens, you knew you had to get out of there and away from the sharp swords that hung off of the men’s waists. Before you could move, though, two of the men entered the bar, their eyes sweeping over the patrons.

Right before their eyes could meet your frightened ones, your world was encased in darkness, the only light you could see coming from below you. You blinked, trying to understand what exactly just happened, but soon realized that a large hat had been placed over your head. Carefully, you lifted the brim so that you could see, and were met with the piercing silver stare of a man a good amount of years older than you. Apparently your confusion showed on your face because he quickly pushed the hat back down so that it shaded your features.

He spoke in a quiet voice, only letting you be privy to whatever information he was about to share. “I’d keep that on if I were you, kitten. Don’t want the MP’s seeing your face, now do we?” You didn’t dare speak, but quickly shook your head, showing him you were listening and following instructions. “Good,” he dragged out the vowel, and the table shook as he placed his leg onto the table. Were those cowboy boots and spurs? You were pretty sure people only wore those in stories. “Now,” he stated, “We’re just gonna have a nice, pleasant conversation. Lots of giggles, ya hear me?” You nodded, the hat moving up and down your forehead.

As the man started spewing nonsense, you did your best to play along, laughing like he said to and keeping your face covered as best you could. You could hear the MP’s getting closer to your table over the man’s rowdy voice, and the hand gripping your drink began to shake in fear. Smoothly, the man took your hand in his, making some weird comment about how soft it was. You frowned. Your hands weren’t soft at all. What was with this guy?

The realization of what his plan was smacked you in the face, and you let out light giggles in response, putting on your most fake voice as you thanked him for the compliment. The things you were saying to each other became sickly sweet, so much so that you almost laughed at one point. As the soldiers approached your table, the mysterious man leaned in close, his alcoholic breath fanning over your face. Calmly, he swept the hat off of your head and placed it so that it covered both of your faces from the men who were now only a couple of feet away.

A swift kick from under the table spurred you into action, and you let out a girlish moan followed by an exaggerated giggle. He followed suit, making a comment about how nice your lips were. If it were any other situation, you would punch this man in the face, but for right now, you’d listen to every command he gave you. From behind the hat you heard one of the MP’s mumble about ‘couples these days’ with a gagging noise coming from the other. With one last lovesick comment from the man in front of you, the MP’s retreated, leaving the tavern with muttered curses leaving their lips.

Your savior leaned back into his chair, a smirk adoring his features as he placed his hat back on his head. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, you in shock and him in some state of glee. You decided to speak first.

“Who are you?”

“The name’s Kenny.” He kicked his other leg up on the table with a thwack! as the spur hit the cracked wood. The silence grew again, but this time you were at a loss for words. Sure, his name was Kenny, but was that all he was going to say? Apparently not, but when he spoke up again, it was entirely unhelpful. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

You frowned, unamused. “Maybe for you. I should punch you for some of the things you said. Strange men shouldn’t talk to unassuming ladies like that.” Your tone was laced with a bit of sarcasm, and he guffawed.

“I don’t think fugitives from the crown can be considered ladies,” he shot back, and you huffed. His face grew serious. “I’ve been watching you for a while, kitten.”

You raised your eyebrows at the nickname. “It’s Y/N, and, uh, what?” Once again, this man completely took you by surprise.

He shrugged. “You may not know it yourself, kitten, but you’re well known down here in the Underground. A mysterious girl who arrives without a sound, stealing from the above-grounders and sharing the wealth with the rest of us? You’re practically a legend; some people don’t even believe you’re real, but those that do would protect you with their life.”

This was all news to you. Yes, those were things that you did, but people recognized you for it? You furrowed your eyebrows and blinked quickly as you tried to puzzle the situation out. “I…” You struggled for words.

Kenny held up a hand. “It’s true whether you believe it or not… But, it seems that you’ve bitten off a little more than you can chew this time, my friend. Stealing from the Premier? Tsk, tsk.” His tone was more playful than condescending, and you gave him a weary grin.

You sighed and finally relaxed back into your own chair, studying the man’s face. It showed his experience rather than his age, and you wondered just exactly who he was. Taking a chance, you pried for more information. You hated being in the dark. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Who are you?”

His smile grew at your curiosity, crooked teeth appearing under chapped lips. “Someone who can help you. If you want it, that is. It seems clear you like to work on your own.” There was a challenge laced into his words, and you wondered what the right decision was. On one hand, getting involved with someone else, someone else you knew nothing about at that, was a dangerous game. On the other, you were in trouble and you needed all the help you could get.

Taking a chance, you slowly nodded. “Okay. What do you have in mind?”

He explained his plan. The MP’s didn’t know your name, so it would be easy to get above ground using your old Wall Sina papers. After you expressed your concern and with a chuckle, he dismissed their drawing of you, stating that once you got above ground and cleaned up, you would be unrecognizable from your old self. Then, with his next words, you lost your confidence in his plan.

“You want me… to join the Survey Corps?” You shook your head in disbelief. “Uh, no way. That’s right under the government’s noses!”

He brushed you off. “Eh, not really. The government already dislikes the Corps. They’re not gonna care who’s in it; they figure you’ll all die soon enough.” At that, you gave him a very blank stare, and he just laughed, stealing a swig from your mug. “You’ll be fine. You don’t seem like the dying type.”

It was true, you had escaped the jaws of death on multiple occasions, but you weren’t in the business of actively riding towards your demise. That seemed plain idiotic to you, and you made that known. “This isn’t a joke. It’s my life on the line,” you countered.

With a swift movement, his legs were off of the table and his body was leaning in towards yours, the weight on his elbows making the table creak. His eyes turned dark, levelling your gaze. “It’s your life either way. Would you rather die by the hands of the Military Police after they’ve done God-knows-what to you? Or would you rather die on your own terms, possibly fighting for Humanity’s freedom?”

It was a good question, a fair question, and one you immediately knew the answer to. You sucked in a breath as you resigned yourself to your new fate. “So, how do we do this?”

With another grin, Kenny explained the rest of his plan. It really wasn’t a bad idea, and you were grateful for the help. But still uncertainty settled in your stomach.

The day you were to join the Corps, Kenny had told you he would meet you before you left. You hadn’t seen him in about a week, and in that time, you had completely changed yourself, moving up top, getting a haircut, and finally wearing clean, untorn clothes. It was weird and different, but a part of you enjoyed it. This was a new start, you had chosen to believe.

“Kitten!” You turned towards the easily recognizable voice with a roll of your eyes, but the playful smile that toyed with your lips gave away your true feelings. “Give me a spin!” He requested, and when you did, he let out a loud whistle. “Damn, you really look like you belong up here.”

You raised your eyebrows with a grin. “That’s the point, right?”

“Precisely, my friend, precisely.” Slinging an arm over your shoulders, he began to walk with you towards where the ferry would pick you up. His pace was slow, obviously not in a rush to say goodbye, and you felt the same. Somehow, the two of you had grown close over the past month. Even with all of the secrets you both kept from each other, there was an air of freedom when you were in the other’s presence. No lies, no false personalities, just friendship.

It was refreshing, to say the least.

For once, you both were quiet as you walked. The weight of the future hung over both of you, pressing your mouths shut. He managed to speak first, his voice cracking for the first time since you met him and giving away his true emotions.

“Stay safe, kitten.” The words were serious, and something in him couldn’t stand to let that be the last thing he said. “You’ll kick those Titans’ asses.”

Normally, you’d laugh, or at least smile, at his cheesy jokes. Instead, you stopped walking and turned until you both faced each other, looking up to meet his eyes. With a swallow, you asked something of him that you knew was unfair, was selfish, was wrong. Yet, you still asked, knowing Kenny wouldn’t hold it against you.

“Promise me you won’t die before me.”

His eyes softened in understanding, crinkles forming around their edges as he gave you the most gentle of smiles. He knew what you needed to hear, knew it would be a lie, knew you’d hate him for it. But, he said it anyway.

“I promise.”

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #kenny ackerman #kenny ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #mere writes

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charlthotte · 3 years

Text

Breaking Through the Iron Wall - Aone Takanobu x Reader

Chapter 18

Without a moment’s hesitation, Futakuchi bombarded his shoulder into the door frenziedly – his face the epitome of panic. Relentlessly. Not ever stopping to take a breath, nor recognising the fact that he was probably injuring his shoulder beyond relief. Furrowing his brow, he wiped at the sweat accumulating on his forehead from the sudden rush of adrenaline, and the fact that he would simply not give up. “Hey! Takanobu! Please, just listen to me. Stop whatever you’re doing… Right now.” Kenji commanded, heaving unsteadily, wincing at the discomfort from his shoulder. “Please… You’re my best friend.”

Right then, I witnessed something I never believed I could set my eyes upon, the stoic yet master cajoler, Futakuchi Kenji shedding a tear. His desperation to see his truest friend unharmed taking precedent over everything else.

Gathering his remaining strength, he gulped down his nervousness, his Adam’s apple bobbing in inhibition. With the force of a wrecking ball, he collided into the door, shouting out in agony he clutched his marred shoulder, his face writhing in anguish – but alas, the door had finally been opened.

Behind it was a greatly dishevelled Takanobu, in a crumpled heap on the floor, various objects from the medicine cabinet strewn about it. However, what concerned me immediately was the unscrewed bottle of bleach, clumsily set next to the trembling wreck. Darting right to Takanobu’s side – I cupped his lolling head with my unsteady hand, firmly grasping his shuddering palm with the other. He could barely keep his eyes open.

Trying to muster the calmest, unwavering voice I could, I tried to reach out to him, but all to no avail – no matter how hard I tried, there was no response. Almost as if he was drifting away to another plane of being. He didn’t even shed a single tear.

Right at that moment, the mood snapped, as did Futakuchi. Not caring that the bleach bottle was entirely unscrewed, he yanked it from the floor, his eyes seething with an emotion that I couldn’t quite place into one category. But there was one thing I could see: desperation. “Takanobu,” he spat between gritted teeth, “How much did you drink?” No response. “HOW MUCH DID YOU FUCKING DRINK, TAKANOBU? YOU NEED TO TELL ME!” Takanobu flinched, burying his head into the crook of my neck.

“Futakuchi.” I said, my tone laced with warning. “Calm down.”

“NO, (Y/N). I CAN’T CALM DOWN. IF YOU HAVENT NOTICED, MY BEST FRIEND IS DYING AND YOU’RE DOING NOTHING LIKE THE SELFISH BITCH YOU ARE! SO JUST SHUT UP AND HELP ME.”

I took a deep breath, not wanting to ascend to his level of anger, “Kenji, I-“

“Do you even care about him?” he spat, venom adorning every inch of his words.

“Of course, I do.” I glared back at him, “But, Kenji – now really isn’t the time for this.” I sighed heavily at the floor, “You should know what your priorities should be in this moment in time.”

Faintly, Takanobu whimpered into my collarbone, Futakuchi taking an instant notice to it. “You’re right.” He deadpanned, his voice still swarming with fury.

Taking my free hand, I gently cupped Takanobu’s face, lifting it so we were eye to eye. “Hey…” I nearly whispered, “How much did you drink?”

Burying his head in his shoulders, Takanobu stifled a cascade of tears. “Only a little.” He answered, his voice gruff and hoarse from the pure agony he was experiencing.

“Thank you for telling me,” I smiled, trying to distract the snivelling wreck from his sombre thoughts. “Just don’t try to vomit, okay? Or if you feel like you need to, tell me. It’ll only hurt you more and we don’t want that at all.”

“What’re you talking about? Leant against the bathroom wall, arms folded, Kenji scowled once again, “You’re hurting him more by not making him throw up.” He glowered, returning to his cynical mood.

I turned towards him, careful to not let my anger get the better of me, “Futakuchi Kenji,” I scorned. “Trust what I say, I do know what I’m talking about, after all.” Pausing to take a breath, I attempted to cool myself down against the riling heat of the cantankerous Kenji. “Please could you go and call the ambulance? We are going to need it either way.”

With a little more volume lacing his steps than usual, Futakuchi sauntered out of the room, leaving just Takanobu and myself. Once his footsteps were no longer audible, a tonne of tension rose out from Takanobu’s body, letting him finally have a moment of ‘peace’ for the first time in a while. Despondency woven into his demeanour, he clung onto my arm, sinking his face into it – desperately trying to hide his wounded expression. “Don’t listen to anything he said, okay?” I averred, partially cradling the dejected person in my arms, “I don’t know why he acted that way, but just know that that isn’t Kenji, that isn’t your best friend.”

Feebly, Takanobu nodded into my arm, sniffling slightly. “I’m sorry.” He croaked, “So, so sorry.”

Reassuring him, I softened my voice, “Don’t apologise, Takanobu. You did nothing worth an apology, so don’t worry about me leaving. I’ll always be there, do you understand?”

“I do, (Y/N). Thank you so much…” He paused, “For everything…” His last words barely perceptible, he began to drift off, and to which plane I didn’t know, and that petrified me.

A few seconds I waited with bated breath, anticipating his. Soon they came, albeit pained and wheezing – but at least they were still there, even if only by a fraying thread. Repeatedly, I caressed my hand up and down Takanobu’s back, as if to reassure myself that he was still existent – he hadn’t disappeared yet.

The faded sound of the phone ringing partially distracted me from my preoccupations, if only by a miniscule amount. As it continued to ring, Kenji began to curse in both anticipation and fear, his guise wearing thin, from vague translucency to complete transparency.

Quite the substantial amount of time passed before the phone was connected to an emergency service worker, which Futakuchi seemed to take notice of – he certainly wasn’t any world close to cloud nine. “I need an ambulance to my current location,” He paused for a second, presumably listening to the person on the other side of the line, “Of course it’s urgent, that’s why I fucking called you.” A second-long plateau, “No, I can’t calm down, just send the damn ambulance. My best friend just drank bleach, okay?!” With a bucketload of vigour, he slammed the phone down onto its holder, virulently cursing under his breath. Damning the poor operator who was only doing their job.

Letting out a fevered scream, he writhed in the turmoil of both his internal and external quandaries, not bothered if anyone within a galaxy’s radius could hear him. He had not a single clue how to present himself or even what to think – his worst nightmares made starkly apparent to myself and everyone around.

Seemingly after having calmed himself down, he trudged up the staircase, but not into the bathroom – his action acting as some sort of repentance, and for the first time in his life – reticence. The mercuriality of Kenji knew no bounds. His head in his knees, his body flush against the wall, he sank to the floor, mirroring Takanobu. A metre away, but somehow a lightyear.

The air stagnant, not a single muscle twitched until the ambulance’s siren came into earshot, they blared, startling Takanobu from his dreary state of something close to slumber.

Was, he thinking straight? I don’t know. Was he having a newfound revelation? I don’t know that, either, but what he said after he awakened made every one of my heartstrings snap like those of a tragic harp.

“(Y/N)… I don’t want to go.” His voice as shaken as a petrified child. “I’m scared.”

“I know…” I averred, careful to choose my words wisely, “But, Takanobu – you’re not going anywhere where I’m not right there by your side. Just hang on a little longer…”

With great care, I wrapped my hand around the back of his head, pulling him in closer than humanly possible until his head was close to merging with my shoulder. Running my fingers through the snowy peaks of his hair, I had to refrain from my next action. So badly, I longed to kiss him upon the forehead, to let him know that everything would turn out just fine. But I couldn’t. It wasn’t the time nor place, it seemed that never would have been the perfect time, having to curtail my feelings for his sake, for Takanobu’s sake. After all, I couldn’t risk hurting him even more.

While I sat, marinating my thoughts, the ambulance’s blaring sirens halted, finally parked outside the house, paramedics cascading through the door, unto the stairs – their stretcher hurtling up behind them.

It was all a blur. Takanobu being hurled onto the stretcher, away from my grasp – his eyes never leaving mine, a heart wrenching look of longing upon them – and that was when I finally saw how broken he truly was. Sclerae crimson from tears and turmoil, yet somehow dull and dejected, as if nearly all life had been sucked out of them, only the tiniest wisps remaining. Sockets sunken into the skull, skin being the only thing that separated him and a skeleton. And even though he stood above 190 centimetres tall, he cowered like a mouse, burying away from its predator, absolutely petrified of being eaten. No longer the stoic mountain I met on a bus a mere 20 days ago – such a short amount of time for him to become completely intertwined into my life – and I into his. Almost “a pair of star-cross’d lovers”, but I the Petrarchan, the love unrequited, never to see the light and freedom of the daytime.

Before I knew it, the stretcher aboard the ambulance, Takanobu finally on the way to achieve some sort of salvation, but not that of his sombre standard. But with it all being outside of my hands, the world felt to be crumbling to pieces, dust to crumbs, to stones, to boulders, to asteroids.

A paramedic turned to address both Kenji and I, “I’m sorry, you two but there’s only room for one of you to accompany the patient to the hospital. So, make a decision between yourselves about who’s going to go.”

Without a second thought, Futakuchi piped up, “You should go, (Y/N).” he muttered, his tone utterly monotonous.

After taking a step towards the ambulance, I halted, “You’re sure about that, Kenji?” I questioned.

Silently, he nodded, taking the spirit of his best friend upon himself, gesturing for me to get on the vehicle. Once sat, I writhed my hands together, inhibitions taking the best of me – which was when one kind paramedic, her face calm and understanding, rubbed my back, reassuring me that things could only get better from that point forward. She then poked her head out of the back side of the ambulance, somehow noticing Futakuchi’s sullen mood without even seeing his face. “Hey, kid! Come in here, you can take my seat: I don’t mind standing up for a bit!” She smiled, bringing a miniscule amount of light unto the situation.

Silently obliging, Kenji hopped upon the vehicle, taking the seat opposite me, but his face in his hands, distancing himself from everyone in the vicinity. For what reason I didn’t know, but I presumed penitence for his actions barely ten minutes before.

The benevolent paramedic held out her palm out towards me, “Hinode Megumi.” She introduced, a small beam upon her face.

Giving my palm to her, I responded, “(L/N) (Y/N).” That handshake we shared was strangely yet vaguely comforting.

She did the same for Kenji, yet he didn’t bother to lift a finger, or even his line of sight. “Futakuchi Kenji.” He sighed, making only eye contact with the floor. Seemingly having entered some kind of trance-like stupor.

“Is there anyone you need to call?” Hinode asked, eyes fastened with concern.

I nodded, immediately fumbling inside my pocket for my phone – dialling Ejiri’s number with shaky hesitation, only apprehending as something inside me told me she’d become enraged with me, having been unable to keep her nephew safe. However, not in a single circumstance would that be the reality, Ejiri seemed to be the forgiving type, hardly the choleric person.

When her voice met my ears, the instant worry in her words became apparent, “(Y/N), is everything alright, has anything happened to you?”

“I’m so sorry Ejiri, but it’s not me.”

“Okay…” She sighed; inhibition twined into her dialogue, “Can you tell me what happened, dear?”

Gulping, I sat with bated breath, unable to let those next words escape my lips, “Well… Takanobu tried to kill himself. He drank bleach…”

“I see,” Her voice cracked, petrified. “I trust that you’ve called an ambulance?”

“Mhm.” I hummed, voice beginning to waver, “We’re in one now, I’m so sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologise, dear. I’ll be waiting for you when you arrive.”

“Thank you, Ejiri” I barely whispered. Unable to say goodbye, I hung up the phone.

At the mention of her name, Takanobu seemed to stir, only slightly, just enough for me to see. He never opened his eyes, though – as if he was unable to face the world that he felt a burden to. And so, after what felt like a millennia, we finally arrived after the hospital, rather shaken up by the rickety ride. And just as she had promised, Ejiri stood at the ambulance bay, arms outstretched and running as soon as the door to the ambulance opened, but not for her nephew, no, but for me – scooping me up in a long-awaited embrace that I could have taken residence in.

Before I could take a second breath, the stretcher Takanobu lay upon was rushed into the hospital’s interior, far away from me in more than the literal sense. Sensing that unease, Ejiri hugged me tighter, citing the words, “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Without a word, Kenji loitered behind us, eyes sunken with dismay, following closely behind me as Ejiri and I waited outside the room where Takanobu was having his stomach pumped.

The noises exuding from that room were close to unbearable, squirming, sobbing, retching. I had half the mind to become the next Vincent Van Gogh. But I couldn’t show that, it wasn’t my time to be vulnerable, all I could do was wait, wait unable to blockade the tirade or abhorrent sounds oozing from the walls behind me; and to not let a crack appear in my exterior, Takanobu’s infamous stoicism having transferred unto me. I didn’t even notice Ejiri sat at my side, averring many statements, trying to release me from my tenterhooks, but they were just background radiation compared to the nuclear meltdown in the room in my posterior direction.

As that debacle carried on, Kenji was nowhere to be found, perhaps having walked away when I wasn’t paying attention, whether her was simply around the corner or loitering in another end of the hospital, I didn’t know – but what I did know was that I could probably never see him under the same rose-tinted light I was used to. The way he turned almost feral at the snap of a finger was utterly astounding; obscenities blurting out from his mouth, words so contrary to his usual snarky persona I could have sworn he had been possessed by a malevolent spirit. I wondered if I’d ever be able to see the real him again.

I do not know how much time passed before the doctors finally exited Takanobu’s hospital room, but after waiting what felt like several eternities and after being given the all-clear to be able to see him; I rushed straight towards his bedside, almost crumbling at the sight of his body trembling in fear.

My legs buckling under me, I collapsed into the chair next to where Takanobu’s head lay, facing away from me, completely passed out from exhaustion – not even stirring the tiniest bit as I smoothly brought his hand into mine, intertwining our fingers, unconsciously gripping so hard, unable to let him out of my grasp once more. Pressing the back of his hand onto my lips, tears began to prick at my eyes, but couldn’t fall. No matter how much they welled up in my eyes, as though I had lost the ability to cry, or I simply wouldn’t let myself.

Out of reflex, my voice close to breaking, I acquiesced my feelings to Takanobu’s sleeping body. “I know I probably shouldn’t, but I feel like I need to apologise to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when you needed me, Takanobu. I should have made you stay by my side… And then, none of this would have ever happened, we wouldn’t be in this situation right now – you exhausted from coming from the brink of death, and me a mess over a person I met not even a month ago. None of this feels real. To think that you could have changed my life completely in such a short amount of time. Normally, I would have thought that… Falling in love with someone so quickly was strange and shallow, but it’s the deepest feeling I’ve ever felt for anyone: my parents, my friends or even celebrities on the television.

Originally, I was bitter about the move from Hokkaido, but now, I don’t think I could ever move back. My life is here, with my family, and most importantly… You.

And I’m sorry that I’m not saying this to your face, or your conscious face at least, but I don’t want to heave all of my feelings onto you. You deserve some time to yourself, to better yourself, not worrying about me… Of course not.

There is one thing I want to say to you however, because I know I probably won’t ever have the courage to say this to you directly. Aone Takanobu, I-“

Abruptly, I was cut short at the most agonising time by the brooding figure of Futakuchi bounding through the doorway, his jacket slung over his forearm, hair unkempt and his eyes uncharacteristically red and puffy. Seemingly out of his previous disposition, he shot me an apologetic look from his strained eyes, his expression truly repentant.

Sitting down on a stool at the foot of the bed, he slouched over the sides of it, once again avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry about earlier, (Y/N), I really am. I don’t know what came over me.”

Giving him only a mirthless laugh in return, I looked down at mine and Takanobu’s entwined hands, feeling only a tiny flash of warmth radiating from his.

Kenji paused, quietly scoffing to himself at my reaction. “I’ll rephrase that, I lost control of myself, I let my fear turn into anger and I let it out on you and Takanobu, my biggest mistake yet. He definitely hates me now. My best friend, who I’ve known since I was a child – I might have lost in an instant.”

“Don’t be stupid.” I interrupted him, “You know he won’t hate you. If you’ve been friends for as long as you say you both have, he’ll knows that wasn’t the real you.”

“I guess so.” He sighed, “I want to apologise to you too, (Y/N). What I said to you was unacceptable, and once again, I’d lost control of myself and let the heat of the moment take the driving wheel – which isn’t an excuse at all. What I said was so fucking disgusting, and I promise it’s not a representation of the real me.”

“I know that you idiot.” I cajoled, trying to lift the mood away from the stagnant food looming in the room. “You don’t think I already know the real you? You’re not that hard to miss, Kenji. You don’t think I’ve seen your scheming smirk enough times for it to be burned into my retinas? You don’t think I’ve seen how happy you make Takanobu? You are his best friend Futakuchi Kenji, and I don’t think that will ever change.” And with that, I finally managed to crack a smile out of the previously vacillating man.

“Thanks, (Y/N). I needed that.” He chuckled, straightening his posture.

Neither of us spoke for a while, the silence harsh but oddly comforting. While I leant back in the hospital chair, having let go of Takanobu’s hand, resting my eyes while ruminating my thoughts. Sure – I’d forgiven Kenji, but I still hadn’t forgiven myself.

Futakuchi sat on his phone, presumably texting his parents about his location, typing away in silence, while I drifted off into the realm of slumber. And just as I was about to pass the brink of falling asleep, Kenji spoke up. “Why didn’t he come downstairs rather than going to the bathroom?” He asked. He blamed himself too.

“He probably didn’t want to bother us.” I answered groggily, rather annoyed about being disturbed.

“He wouldn’t have bothered us though! God, why didn’t he just think it through?” He questioned, his voice rising in volume.

“Quiet, Kenji – let Takanobu rest. And besides, he was going through a lot, with losing Shiro. The straw that broke the camel’s back, in my opinion. Unable to get that thought out of his mind, he couldn’t think of another way to escape it. We probably weren’t a part of that thought process.” I said, my tone closer to a whisper.

“I guess you’re right. I just want him to know that I’ll always be there for him.” He exhaled, hopelessness emanating from him.

“I know… And so do I. But I think its best to leave him for the moment.”

However, right as those words escaped my mouth, Takanobu stirred, groaning meekly and shifting around in the bed. My whole body froze in a second, my longing to be there for him took over, springing to action immediately, I hopped to his bedside, hoping to see his face with the smallest semblance of life’s vigour.

In a second, all hope was diminished as Takanobu ceased to move once again, his stirring only being an unconscious movement in the realm of torpor.

Kenji didn’t seem to take much notice of Takanobu’s small movements, but he did take a great interest, seemingly, in my reaction. He leant towards me, even though he still sat near the foot of the bed and I near the head, a quizzical expression upon his face. The expression of a great detective. “You like him, don’t you?”

I shot my head in his direction, my eyes widening slightly, then immediately turning back to Takanobu, giving him no verbal response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” And with that, he stood up, hands upon his thighs, exiting the room, leaving a great imprint in the air.

(A/N) And here’s Chapter 18… published on the one-year anniversary of this story’s birth. I want to thank everyone reading this for your immense support, no matter how long you’ve been following this story. Thank you all again, from the bottom of my heart.

#Aone #Aone Takanobu #aone x reader #aone x y/n #aone takanobu x reader #aone takanobu x y/n #aone takanobu x gn!reader #aone takanobu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #takanobu aone x reader #takanobu

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curly-bangtan · 4 years

Text

Heatwave Drabble #9: sweet night (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- must read first!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: After a series of miscommunications and immaturity that lead to a rip through both your friendship and ambiguous relationship, this last turn of events could be the deciding factor of whether or not you’ve lost each other from your lives forever.

Genre: angst, smut, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: SO much angst and feels, slight slow burner and a lot of build up, unprotected sex, hot tub, oral (m&f), food play, crying, i don’t want to give too much away eeee

Word count: 23.8k a monster i know ;-;

A/N: The end is finally here!! It’s late but trust me when I say I worked all day on this and did not do an ounce of revision today because I wanted to get this done. I’ve been writing this series, and this ending in particular, for so long and have been so nervous about getting this perfect. So please enjoy~

(quite a few ppl also couldn’t be tagged from the taglist and it’s 3am so i honestly dk how to fix it ;-;)

You used to think heartbreak was for the weak, after all you can only hurt as much as you let yourself be hurt. So... maybe you are weak. Because that ever-constricting ache in your chest has not diminished even a bit since that day you left him.

Four weeks. Not a word to each other.

It’s a hollowing feeling - someone you’ve had in your life every day for the past few years, a constant companion, suddenly completely absent in a blink of an eye. You don’t think you could put it into words even if you tried how this affected you. Life feels so foreign, your personality dulls.

The anger you felt for him dissipated quicker than you’d anticipated, but the anger at yourself only grew. No matter how you look at it now, you can only see it as being your fault.

But the decision to part ways was for the best, you have to keep reminding yourself. You shouldn’t be around each other anymore.

Whenever you see him around campus, you spin around and speed off the other way, hoping that he doesn’t see you too. Okay, you are weak, okay. But your heart twists at the sign of him, not just squeezes but twists into thorned knots. It’s the sort of pain that takes from you, makes you a different person unrecognisable to yourself.

You had moved in with Lotta. When she asked you what happened, all you had said was that you two had a massive fight and fell out. She knew better than to prod further from the telltale signs that you were close to tears from a simple question: the trembling throat, pursed lips, uncharacteristically quiet voice. And you were grateful because you knew you couldn’t afford to be asked about him without breaking.

The bed feels awfully cold in the nights of early February. And every night, you stare at his name on the screen of your phone, contemplating. One tap and you can hear his voice. One tap and your longing could be absolved. You always almost give in to this overpowering urge itching within your fingers. But you wouldn’t even know what to say to him.

Hi. How are you. I miss you like crazy and I think about you everyday but I know we should keep our distance but I’m just so sorry for everything.

You liked to think that maybe this break is just temporary, you both need space from each other because the toxicity built up so quickly that neither of you could think or breathe. But the longer time is spent away from him, the more you convince yourself that it wasn’t meant to be. It was never going to work; you knew this from the start but had been too optimistic.

And the mistakes you both made… You can’t forget them and the scars you’ve left on each other; you don’t think he’d be able to forgive you, not any time soon anyway.

You wonder if he’s doing the same, if he too is agonising over every wrong step he took to lead you two to this state, or if he’s cursing you for destroying everything. For his sake, you hope he’s moving on. Because that, for some reason, feels so much better than knowing that he’s crying over you.

The strange thing is that you had been the one to break things off. The look of lostness in his red-rimmed eyes laced with an unmissable reluctance will always be an enigma to you. Because he was furious, distraught. So why was he shocked by your ending? How was he not done with you?

That day you left, he wordlessly stood next to you as you packed your things. When you handed him his grey hoodie, the one you had gradually claimed as your own under mutual tacit agreement over your months together, it had truly felt like the end.

“Are... Are you sure? I don’t mind if you keep it.” He had said, voice raw from the arguing but also the tears he was fighting back.

You couldn’t look at him, you knew you would fall apart if you did. “I think it’s best if you take it back.” Why did he want you to keep it anyway?

Something was missing in both your voices when you spoke to each other, reflective of the heart-shaped void you had carved into the other. Everytime you think back to that moment, you want to kick yourself. You could have at least kept the hoodie - that way you could at least have a piece of him to cling onto in your lonely desperate nights.

Because now you have nothing. Nothing of his in your life, no reminder at all that he ever existed with you except the memories embedded so deeply in your heart that it hurts.

No one ever mentions him to you; you think they got the hint from Lotta not to. He’s a ghost.

Haunting you with his heartbroken eyes that shattered at the sight of Jimin. You’ll never forget that.

Sometimes, you’ll just be having dinner with her, and you’ll be crushed with this suffocating wave of missing him. It knocks the breath out of you. Because you can momentarily forget that it’s over, and mistaken Lotta as him. So when you look up and realise that it isn’t him, he’s not here, it’s as if someone is digging their nails into your scabbing wound and releasing the blood of your heartache once more.

And Lotta would look up and ask you, “What? Is the rice overcooked?” And you would want to cry because he would always overcook the rice.

And sometimes, you would just want to blurt it all out to her, right then and there. Tell her everything that had happened with you and him, because - god - keeping it inside is exhausting. But the words get trapped at your throat, unable to be enunciated. Which is just your forte, isn’t it? Not being able to say how you feel...

You are a competitive person, that has never been a secret. You are used to winning at everything you wish to win at, it is in your nature.

So losing Taehyung has been the biggest loss of your life. It had been a gamble from the start, whether it would work or not. There were so many signs pointing in the direction of yes, this is going to work, you love each other so much. Because still to this day, you believe that you are soulmates, and you were one step, three words, away from a happy ending. But then, caught up in this game you played, you hadn’t realised that he had been yours from the very start if you had only just accepted him. And that was your downfall: your failure to see his love for you in the form of his actions, rather than the words of validation you were seeking.

And thus, you had lost your lover, your best friend, your other half, completely of your own doing.

The realisation haunts you every night.

It’s Galentine’s Day. In this household, you don’t say the V word.

Lotta has booked a weekend trip to celebrate your mutual [forever alone] relationship status. Some strawberry farm in the countryside for friends to pick berries and make jam and bond over their mutual loneliness. Apparently that’s a thing nowadays.

It would have excited you before, a trip like this. The idea sounds much like a sweet attempt from her to cheer you up, (you haven’t been trying to hide how down you’ve been), so as much as you wanted to just wallow on this shitty holiday, you agreed to go with her.

And to be honest, this might be exactly what you need. A weekend away with your best friend away from the city could heal you. Best friend? Should you call her that? You’re not sure because that title has always referred to someone else previously, someone you shouldn’t be thinking about.

To your credit, you’ve been doing better. You think about him less and less each day; you stopped crying after the first week. You’ve always been a progressor with astounding growth. It’s not to say that you’re doing fine - that would be a reach - because small things such as a cup of hot chocolate would still remind you of him and the string of memories that come with it. But you think your heart is finally slowly starting to stitch itself back together.

Galentine’s weekend just so happened to fall on the weekend of Lotta’s Geophysics trip to Barcelona, as inconvenient as it is. But, rather than letting this disrupt her plans, Lotta had been adamant about going.

“My flight lands at 7am. That’s two hours before we are supposed to meet and depart from the coach station. That’s plenty of time.” She had waved away your concern when this topic of discussion came up last week.

“You never know with flight timings. We could just blow it off and have just as nice of a weekend at home watching movies.” Strawberry picking sounds great for the soul, but so does Netflix and ice cream. “We could have a Saw marathon like we’ve been wanting to.”

“Saw marathon on Valentine’s day?” Lotta scoffed at your suggestion

You blinked. “What’s wrong with that? We love scary films, it’s our thing.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’ve already paid for the trip and it’s non-refundable.”

“I’ll subsidise the cost, there’s no point forcing this trip if it won’t work with your schedule. You haven’t even let me pay you back for my half of the trip yet.” Lotta is like that with money, overly generous when completely unasked for. If you don’t mention paying her back, she would never have asked you to.

“It’s my treat to you, shut up. Just trust me, Y/N, I’ll make it to the coach on time, I always make it on time.” She shook you by the shoulders. “We’ll make our separate ways to the meeting point Saturday morning and everything else will go smoothly. There’s no reason to cancel the trip. Plus, V day is on Sunday, so do you really want to see all those shitty ass rom-com Netflix suggestions or would you rather be enjoying the great outdoors? Trust, we need a break in the countryside. It’s going to be an amazing weekend, you’ll thank me later.”

Right now, as you make a final check through your lightly-packed bag before you leave the house, you find yourself agreeing. You do need the fresh naturally strawberry-scented air to expel all these negativity from you. You want to feel yourself again, be happy and loud and excitable.

Collecting for your trip ticket that Lotta had left on your desk before she went to Barcelona, you decide right now that: yes, this will be an amazing weekend. Law of attraction and power of manifestation. Lotta’s flight will be punctual and you will make some fond memories together.

You’ll be okay.

You arrive at the meeting spot twenty minutes early because you are known to be prone to tardiness. The tour guide welcomes you keenly. He is a young, twenty-something you reckon, tall man, graced with dimples and honey skin. You think you would find him attractive in different circumstances, but you haven’t gotten to the stage of feeling attraction for anyone else yet.

“Your ticket with the barcode, miss?” His smile is charming, you guess. It’s more an observation than an enticing quality. You hand it over to him wordlessly and watch him scan the creased piece of paper. “Great, that’s perfect. And your partner?”

“Partner?” You frown, but realise what he means. This is a Galentine’s programme, of course he expects you not to be alone. “Oh, she should be coming, we came separately because she’s just getting off a flight right now.”

“Oh! That’s very sweet of her to rush back to spend this weekend with you.” The endearment in his smile heightens.

“Yeah… She’s the best.” There’s no particular reason for your awkwardness. You’ve always been a social butterfly, yet lately, you’re keeping more to yourself, avoiding unnecessary conversations because your mind is always too preoccupied.

“I am Jae, by the way, and I’ll be your guide for the weekend. I hope you have a wonderful time with us this Valentine's day. Hop on board.” Giving him a polite nod, you climb onto the empty bus, noting the swirly hearts beside the large red words ‘STRAWBERRY LOVE’ on the side of the big white vehicle. Kind of tacky, but the idea of this programme is kind of cute so you guess it’s suiting. After assessing row after row, you plop down at a window seat you deem worthy and settle your bag on the seat beside you, head leaning on the glass as you await your partner.

Dear partner, please don’t be late, you text her.

Soon, other participants of this trip start arriving, filing a crooked queue in front of the tour guide to register. You don’t pay much attention to them except to examine for Lotta’s face. The coach is set to leave at 9:00 on the dot in order to arrive at the farm at noon, it is now 8:56 and Lotta is still not here. You don’t want to lose faith in manifestation magic, but worry is settling in. If it comes down to it, you will beg Jae to wait for you. With your texts unread, you decide to phone her.

Come on… Just let this one weekend go smoothly for you.

Nervously playing with the ends of your hair, you exhale in relief when she picks up. “Oh thank god, Lotta. Where are you? The coach is leaving in like two minutes. You’ve landed right? I’m not sure if I can convince the people to wait for you that long but worse comes to worse, I could ask for the address of the farm and you can commute there yourself. ” A silence replies after your slur of panicked words. “Hello? Dude, hurry.”

“Wait, so he’s not there yet?” She asks hesitantly.

“Who? The tour guide? No, he’s here. Where are you?” Just then you hear a thunder of running footsteps. Expectantly, you look out the bus window for your friend’s arrival, only to find…

“Wait, Lotta… What the fuck did you do?” Something drops in your stomach.

“Look Y/N, don’t be mad. This is for your own good, you need this.” You can practically hear her stealthy smile through the phone.

An icy chill strikes down your spine. You simply cannot believe what you are seeing out the window. She-

“Lotta…”

“Trust me, okay? You have been so fucking depressed the past month. You need to fix this problem, please. I hate seeing you like this, so if not for yourself, then do it for me.” There’s some guilt in her tone, you’ll give her that. But you are in a state of utter disbelief, borderline shell-shocked, the groves of your brain tangled in itself.

“Lotta, where are you? Are you even fucking coming?” Absolute mortification fills your chest to the brim at your gradual realisation of her ploy.

This can’t be happening.

“I promise, this is all for your own good. Please have a great weekend. I love you. Bye!” And with that she hangs up, leaving you wide-eyed, jaw-dropped, staring out the window...

At a panting, slightly sweat-beaded Taehyung handing his crumpled ticket to Jae.

“Made it just in time, mate.” You can just about make out Jae’s words from the shape of his mouth as he greets Taehyung and proceeds to recite his ‘I’m your tour guide for the trip’ speech. Taehyung nods interestedly, reciprocating with that sheepish smile of his as he scratches the back of his bedhead.

What did your best friend do? Did she just… set you up…? As you hear his loud unmissable steps stomping up onto the coach, you know you’re doomed. It’s over for you. You might as well fling yourself off a cliff.

Looking around the bus, you realise that it of course is completely full except for the seat beside you.

The power of manifestation is fucking bullshit. You’re stuck with this bad luck for the rest of your life.

And this weekend, you’re going to die.

You see him as a blur at the start of the aisleway, a mere figure in swatches of peach and brown and black. You hear pounding, a booming pulse in your ear.

It’s Taehyung. Taehyung. Your, but also not your, Taehyung.

Each step he takes approaching the only available seat he sees, you shrink lower in yours and keep your eyes pressed shut, but for what reason you’re not entirely sure. There’s no hiding now.

Your confrontation is inevitable, a few steps away. Then he finally sees you.

“Y-Y/N?”

Your heart soars to your throat at the sound of his voice as everything around you vanishes. This can’t be real.

Slowly, you turn up to face him. When your eyes meet, it’s like someone has driven a sharp object into your chest and twisted. His face is exactly how you remember, but also not quite. His big brown eyes are wide with surprise in a pitiful expression of bewilderment. His sleep rumpled hair, grown out to almost cover his eyes, yet still very much permed in the style you loved. His lips are jutting out, slightly parted in confusion at your unexpected presence that reminds you of how it felt to kiss him.

And the look of disgust that you had expected - absent.

You want to throw your arms around him. There is always a warmth emitting from Taehyung - the kind of warmth you feel when you enter your house on a snow ridden day and the gust of heat accompanied by the smell of home simply swallows you like a wave. But there is also something different, unfamiliar almost, about him. He is rougher round the edges, hints of facial hair dotted below his nose, dressed in slacks that he only usually wore strictly as pyjamas and never to go outside in.

As your eyes fall to the rest of him, you notice his fists tighten around the straps of his backpack, the balls of his knuckles whitening.

“Taehyung-” Saying his name feels like a release. A rush of satisfaction at the way the syllables roll off your tongue so naturally, then a flood of emotion that comes with all the memories his name invokes.

Then you’re at a loss for words again. You are so utterly unprepared for this situation because you didn’t think you would meet him again so soon, not until you’ve moved on. You’re not ready to face him.

What do you say? How are you meant to act around him?

He looks equally as lost, though you read him easily. There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes, the same that you’re sure you had. But it dissolves much quicker with him, almost into relief and content as if he’s glad to see you.

You know from the slight downward angle his brows are pointing that he has definitely missed you. Perhaps in a completely different way from you missing him, but he’s missed you.

“If I could just have everybody's attention!” Jae’s voice booms from the speaker, startling every passenger. “Young man over there, please be seated.” You quickly snatch your bag into your lap to let Taehyung sit next to you. The seats aren’t the most spacious; despite pressing your side against the window as much as you can, Taehyung’s shoulder comes brushing past yours as he settles into his own seat. Your heart flutters. “As all our participants are now present, our ride will begin immediately. The duration of the ride will be three hours, but a pitstop will be made at around halfway for a quick snack or toilet break. Please ensure all seatbelts are fastened during the entirety of our journey...” He drones on.

Three hours, you bristle. Everything is happening all at once and your mind can’t catch up. You’re going to be stuck on this coach for three hours next to Taehyung. No, worse. You’re stuck with Taehyung for this whole weekend in a strawberry farm.

Glancing over, his lips are pressed into a thin line, no doubt with the same chaotic thoughts racing through his mind. There isn’t much leg room, and though his thighs are purposely clamped together to avoid touching you, you know he can’t keep them clamped this tightly for three hours without cramping. Your legs are going to touch at some point.

God, why are you even losing your mind over something so juvenile? You’ve been reduced to a pre-teen girl so easily flustered by the thought of touching thighs amidst this turn of events.

Everything is gonna be okay, you tell yourself. This is gonna be fine. You don’t have to speak to each other. Just put in your earphones and fall asleep against the window.

But you have so many questions, for Lotta, for Taehyung. Did she plan this? How did she know that he’d be here? Hell, did he know you’d be here? No, there’s no way. The shock on his face was genuine.

He stares ahead, though visibly extremely puzzled. You suppress the urge to glance over at him every second to check that it’s really him.

“Thank you everyone for joining us so promptly. As you already know, I am Jae and I will be the guide to your trip to our beautiful strawberry farm over this Valentine’s weekend.” You pause. Right, this is a Valentine’s weekend trip, you had momentarily forgotten. And you’re stuck with Taehyung here. Two days, two nights. You’re not sure if you could withstand his presence for that long. Will you ignore each other for the entirety of this trip? You would be fine with that, and in all honesty, you think you might prefer it over speaking to him because that would only sprinkle salt on your wound.

A sharp pain in your palm reminds you that you’ve been gripping onto the programme leaflet that was handed to you. You smooth out the creases of the paper and flip it open to skim through what you have to tackle ahead of you.

Day 1: Go strawberry picking with your partner at our scenic farm in the lovely spring weather while the sun is out. A heavenly spa awaits you afterwards to wind down and indulge together. For an amorous evening, go stargazing under our cloudless skies...

Alarm bells start ringing immediately, from the cursive font of the strangely-worded phrases, to the shades of reds and pinks of the background. You skim further down the page, the kernel of anxiety growing exponentially at your throat.

Day 2: Make delicious strawberry jam and learn our signature recipe for a splendid strawberry tart. When dusk falls, enjoy a romantic candlelit dinner with your partner amidst the symphonies of our string quartet.

Fuck. Wait, what the fuck.

You flip back to the front page.

Strawberry Love: The Perfect Couple’s Romantic Getaway Valentine’s Weekend

Strawberry… Love…

“What the fucking shit?” You can’t help but cry out loud. Lotta- She-

The passengers of the bus all turn to shoot you at look of concern at your outburst, Taehyung included. His eyes dart around the features of your face to search for an answer. “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong… What’s wrong…? What isn’t wrong at this point?

You feel defeated, absolutely fucking defeated that you don’t even have it in your to be shocked or angry. There is no way you can ignore him for the whole weekend when the programme of your trip - a couple’s Valentine’s trip - obligates you to spend time with him. The thought of making stupid little strawberry tarts with Taehyung… Your blood can’t even boil, you’re just fucking speechless.

Lotta, that conniving genius that is your best friend. How did she manage to pull this all off? Galentine’s trip your fucking ass. She tricked you into a romantic holiday with Taehyung, fucking hell...

But that means - she knows. The mortification hammers into your stomach. There’s no reason for her to do this other than for the purpose of getting you two to make up. Lotta fucking knew about you and Taehyung.

How? For how long? And why does she think that this will benefit you in any way? You and Taehyung are over and you were slowly (fine, excruciatingly slowly) moving on. Until now.

Letting out a huff of your frustration, you turn to look at Taehyung, properly look him in the eye for the first time. You can’t stop your chest from constricting. He regards you with that confused expression of his, eyes holding your glare but barely just, bashful from your sudden undivided attention channeled towards him. “I need to know what you’re doing here first.” It comes out harsher than you mean for it to, but it stems from your desperation to stay inert while your emotional sanity is precariously threatened right now.

“Me? I… Well, Lotta told me that she had a ticket for this weekend-trip to a strawberry farm type thing that she couldn’t go to anymore, so she asked if I wanted to go in her place because she knows that I like strawberries.” He furrows his brows. “Okay, that sounds really stupid out loud but I swear I didn’t know that you were gonna be here.” He throws his hands up, nothing but honesty flooding his chocolate eyes.

But of course, Taehyung doesn’t lie, you are sure from the times you’ve witnessed him not being able to muster up an excuse to get rid of an annoying relative on the phone. What’s more convincing of his truth is that he would not be the most difficult person to fall victim to Lotta’s scheme - drizzle in mentions of food and he is completely your pawn. You almost feel bad for this unsuspecting fool; he still has no idea.

But Lotta, that sly bitch… You are going to wrangle her when you get back.

“Taehyung… She lied to you.” You sigh, watching his features slowly contort in deeper confusion.

“Wait what? So we’re not going to a strawberry farm?” He sits up in alarm, looking around the bus as if that would grant him any insight whatsoever. You almost laugh at his naivety because as much as you want to uphold your cold exterior, something about him, his ever present innocent boyishness maybe, never fails to penetrate through to you.

“No, that’s not what I meant. She lied to me too; she told me that this would be a girl’s trip because we’re both single and bitter for Valentine’s. Get it? It was just a setup. For you and me.” As the clockwork finally turns as he processes your words, a visibly distressed grimace forms. “Look at the programme, Taehyung, it freaking says: Strawberry Love: The Perfect Couple’s Romantic Getaway Valentine’s Weekend!”

As those words resonate from your mouth and the realisation finally dawns on him, dread settles itself in the pit of your stomach, cold, dry and coarse. Saying it aloud somehow finalises it - this is actually happening, you’re going to have to spend this weekend with the one person you’d least like to be stranded with right now.

“Lotta… But why would she…?” Deep red roses effloresce across the apples of his cheeks, and you feel yourself unconsciously mirroring his reaction as your mind flashes back to the planned activities of this tour. You’ll be made to pick berries and bake pastries together. And the romantic candlelit dinner… You can’t even finish that thought. Because even now, you find your eyes roaming every inch of his face, trying to memorise his details because it’s been so long.

This isn’t healthy for your heart. You were on a path of recovery, a path of forgetting him and forgiving yourself, and now you’ve been flung back to square one.

The bus jolts. His leg lightly knocks into yours and both your attentions momentarily divert to the touch, glaring at where the thick grey material of his joggers meets the thin cotton of your trousers. A long second passes before Taehyung lifts it away from you.

“I don’t know why she’d do this. All I told her was that we had a massive falling out.” You mutter. Except you do know, you know her very well. This was no mistake, but the result of careful planning. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“So maybe she’s trying to get us to reconcile?”

As soon as those words come out, you both seem to freeze in your spots, blinking in bewilderment at the slightest mention of the elephant in the room. It might be wishful thinking but you hear a sliver of hope in his question, and you think he hears how it came out too.

Reconcile.

Could the two of you reconcile after everything you put each other through in your last few days together? The thought tears you apart emotionally. Of course you want to reconcile, of course you want to be with him. But haven’t you proven enough that what you had didn’t work? Afterall, everything you had together came crumbling down at the smallest hitch in your path. What is there to reconcile but a dysfunctional relationship?

And how could either of you forget the torment you endured? The noises of Taehyung with another woman through the thin walls, your betrayal of his heart when you mistakenly slept with Jimin.

Reconciliation doesn’t seem possible in the foreseeable future.

“N-not reconcile in that way, I mean, like, for us to make up.” Taehyung stammers, hand waving about in his nervous state. “I mean- no, not make up, but like… make… peace. Yeah, make peace. Sorry.” He winces timorously at his spectacular fumble of words. It’s surprising how nervous and timid he is acting. He should be brutish to you, savage and hostile. But he isn’t.

“Yeah, I got what you mean… Don’t worry.” You can’t stop the corners of your lips from turning up, just a fraction. “But yeah, I think she wants us to make peace.” You conveniently do not bring up how you’re certain that she knows about your history and that this holiday she booked for you and Taehyung is most definitely for the purpose of reconciliation in that way.

“Right.” His bottom lip pinched between his teeth in a manner that makes it feel as though it’s a sight you shouldn’t be looking at, Taehyung’s attention shifts down to avoid your eye. Though, there’s a clear glimmer of expectation as he asks, “So… do you want to talk it out?”

The bus bounces, violently this time, as it drives over what must be a pebble. It rattles your thoughts so physically that you have to grip onto your trousers for support.

This is the deciding moment. Now is when you can choose how you go about this which will determine the rest of your weekend together.

Do you want to talk it out?

The painful memory of the last time you had tried to “talk it out” rakes its claws down your back. All the yelling, the hurtful accusations hurled both ways, the reluctance to accept blame… It haunts you so much so that your voices still ring in your mind, echoes embedding the misery you had both felt and inflicted deep in your bones.

The three stages of your fight painted clairvoyantly in your mind.

One: The Hurting Each Other.

You fuck guys without learning their names.

Two: The Guilt-Tripping.

I didn’t sleep with her. I couldn’t even kiss her for more than a minute on her bed because it felt so wrong it made me fucking sick. I stayed on her couch and thought about you all fucking night. Happy?

Three: The Falling Apart

I… I thought it was clear how I felt…

Always replaying in a loop.

“I’m not sure what there is to talk out.” You say, hating how callous you sound but knowing that it’s a necessary evil to convey your intent. That was in the past. Taehyung is your past. Talking about it would only drag you back into that perpetual cycle and there’s not much left in you to afford that. You look out the window at the open plains of grassland to avoid the hurt you know he can’t hide on his face. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance as much as possible and not make it difficult for ourselves.”

“Okay.” You hear him reply, but only a quiet mumble. From the faint reflection of the window, you see him tighten his jaw and fit his Airpods into his ears. The monster that is your guilt and bitterness sinking its fangs into your throat.

It’s better this way.

And so the bus continues to speed off to the countryside, driving you further and further from civilization and your chance of escape from this doomed weekend with the boy you’re trying to stop loving.

You wake up to someone gently shaking your shoulders. “Miss…” You jolt upright.

The first thing that elucidates in your sleep-fogged vision is your tour guide’s kind face smiling down at you. The second, when you come to your senses, is that you are leaning against Taehyung’s frame, his shoulders much harder than you remember them to be. The boy himself is fast asleep beside you, arm loosely linked with yours because you know he has a habit of holding things in his sleep. You hastily pull away.

“We’ve arrived, Miss.” Jae says politely, that humoured glow in his pupils eliciting a bashful blush from you.

“Oh right.” You look around to find the coach empty except for the three of you. “That’s embarrassing, I’m sorry.” The last thing you remember was the angry texts you spammed Lotta with before the songs in your playlist all blurred into one.

“No worries. Forgive me, I’m still learning names.” The heat of the sun is seeping through the glass of the windowpane, licking tenderly at your skin to rouse you awake. “I’ve tried to wake your partner, but it seems...”

“I’m Y/N. And don’t worry, he’s impossible to wake up.” You pause. There is a chance for you to rectify his misconception that you and Taehyung are a couple, except it would probably require some explaining or white-lying and now is not a great time if you’re holding up the whole group. “I’ll do it.”

Despite the conversation being had right over him, Taehyung shows no sign of his slumber being disturbed. His head is tipped back, mouth hanging open with a small dribble of drool beading at the corner of his mouth. Still the same deep-sleeping idiot.

“Oi.” You nudge his ribcage, scaring Jae with your coarseness. “Wake up, Taehyung.”

Nothing but heavy breathing.

“Dude, we’re here.” You grab his face between your harsh fingers and begin shaking vigorously.

Not even a stir. You remember how you used to like to joke that Taehyung could sleep through a burglary, and just to prove your point, you woke up in the middle of the night one time and screamed at the top of your lungs. He did not even move a toe.

“Uh-” There is a hint of worry in Jae’s face; perhaps he thinks that Taehyung has a health condition.

“It’s okay, I’ve got the trick.” This time, you pinch his nose with considerable force and clamp your palm over his mouth, ignoring the smoothness of his skin under your touch and the feeling of his lips skimming your palm. You glance up to find Jae’s eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, swaying uneasily at your method to wake him. “Don’t worry, it works every time.”

But true to your word, in a few seconds, Taehyung is sputtering for breath, eyes flying open in befuddlement, scrambling to sit up. You let go of his nose and smile at your tour guide only to find him petrified.

“What?” In disarray, Taehyung wipes at the corner of his mouth and pats his hair back down from its messy temperment. His heavy body no longer slumped against yours, you feel a weight lifted off your chest, though the fact that you had fallen asleep on each other plays at your mind, lingering to taunt you.

“We’ve arrived.” Jae winces.

You stare at the patterned seats of the coach, trying not to pay attention to Taehyung’s embarrassed apology and explanation on what a deep sleeper he is. You’re not going to think about Taehyung and sleeping. Mindlessly, you trail behind the banter men off the vehicle. You’re not going to think about how good it feels to sleep beside him.

The sun greeting you when you step foot onto ground instantly refreshes your mood, banishing away those thoughts that were slipping through the cracks. There’s something so healing about the air of the countryside, fresh and unpolluted and full of the pleasant crisp scent that one would associate with green and yellow. Staring back at you is a seemingly endless field of bushes dotted with red, the sweet berry smell already perfusing into your nose.

You ignore the crunch of gravel sounding from Taehyung’s steps not far from you and proceed to join the waiting crowd, their phones out to capture the stunning scenery.

As everyone gathers, it’s difficult to concentrate on Jae’s briefing of the weekend planned ahead, starting with an introduction to the farm which you frankly do not care to learn about. You try not to glance over at Taehyung at the corner of your eye, at how his hair is still sticking out awkwardly in the back, his eyes slightly swollen from sleep. You try not to notice his hesitancy, standing a distance from you despite everyone else standing in their couples.

It’s like a buzzing in the back of your mind, a constant tug at your consciousness, not allowing you to relax as much as you want to in this serene environment. You want to stop thinking about him but you can’t.

“In February, the weather is set to be nice and warm during the day and slightly chilly in the evenings, so I do hope that you have packed sufficiently as stated in the email. Now, if you look to your left...” Jae’s monologue drones on like white noise, because all you can focus on is not focusing on Taehyung.

Lotta has not replied to your hounding messages with anything of use, no answers to your plethora of questions. Just relax. Stop making such a big deal out of it, grow up and make up with him because you clearly aren’t over him. You wanted to tell her that things are not that simple, she doesn’t know how badly you both fucked up. Yet, you know her response would only be some pretentiously worded reply full of the condescending wisdom it always contains when she’s telling you off.

You’ll admit it, as stubborn as you are, Lotta’s advice is right 9 times out of 10. She was right when she said you shouldn’t have gone with Taehyung to Mykonos within two weeks of knowing him because he could have been a killer or psychopath. She was right when she pointed out that you act like Taehyung annoys the living shit out of you but you secretly care deeply for him.

But she’s definitely not right this time, you are adamant about it. It would be a miracle if you and Taehyung could even be friends within the next six months, let alone… And if anything were to happen, setting you two up on a romantic holiday together is certainly the wrong way to go about it. It feels so inorganic, like you’re forced to spend time with each other.

Out of habit, you steal a glance at him. It’s not a surprise to find him not paying an ounce of attention to Jae either. Taehyung is staring off into the strawberry field, face angled away from you such that the sunlight is hitting his skin in all the right places to glaze a golden aura over him.

It’s strange to see such a permanent sadness in his eyes, a melancholic nostalgia. You hate yourself - you did this to him, you broke him. Does he hate you? Resent you? You think you’d rather he did.

Soon, the group of you are whisked away down a pebbly path to a rustic looking hotel beside the farm where you will all stay in. It’s not the old run-down type of rustic, but more the luxurious kind that very evidently serves an aesthetic purpose. And that’s when you begin to notice, this “farm” is not really a farm at all, but more a boujee farm-themed resort. This trip could certainly not have been cheap. As much as you are here against your will, you can’t help but feel immense gratitude to Lotta for her willingness to spend such money on you.

You are stopped at a grand lobby, the style of which resembling a small piazza of Southern Italy - warm neutral-toned Roman concrete walls with a green flourish of vines and bushes. It’s absolutely stunning, a surreal setting that you only see in movies. It’s impossible not to feel the air of romance circulating this architecture. You glance over to find him, stood an awkwardly respectful distance away from you, gaping around at the interior of the building in awe. He is a sucker for art, especially architecture. You almost wish you were friends again only to hear him gush about the beauty of this place.

When Jae begins to hand out room keys, it suddenly occurs to you, perhaps the worst aspect of your predicament this weekend - you are sharing a room with Taehyung.

You are sharing a…

Heart sinking, you look over again to see if the same thought has dawned on him. It has. His eyes are fixed on Jae in an eerily blank way, his jaw tense, a single bead of sweat trickling down the side of his forehead which you will excuse as the heat.

When Jae approaches you, Taehyung automatically joins your side in a dazed worry. Eye contact made was brief, not enough for you two to communicate whether or not you tell Jae that this was all a mistake and you would much rather be apart.

“Here you go, Y/N.” Your guide flashes you that charming grin of his as he waves your keycards before you. Instinctively, you receive it in your palm. “You guys have got the deluxe suite - wonderful choice.”

“We-” You begin, but he doesn’t seem to take notice. You’re starting to notice that he perhaps likes the sound of his own voice a bit too much.

“As I said, strawberry-picking will start at half past so that gives you a bit of time to drop off your luggage and freshen up after the long ride.” He continues. This will probably be the only chance you get to tell him that you and Taehyung aren’t a couple before it becomes too late, and you’re going to miss this opportunity because of another one of his monologues. The desperate itch in your chest grows an uncomfortable size. “Please meet here at the reception on time. And as for your luggage - oh, I see you two are lightly-packed. Low maintenance, my favourite type of people. In that case, your room is on the ground floor, if you follow that lovely couple down that corridor over there.”

And just like that, he smiles, retracts his extended arm pointing towards the direction of your room and turns to guide another couple.

“Wai-” You call after him weakly, but he has once again launched into the same speech he’d recited to you to a new audience.

And there goes your chance of rectifying this weekend.

You stand there for a good minute, mind trying to piece together how, just how, you will manage to survive this weekend. Taehyung is quiet beside you, equally as baffled at what to do.

“Should we head to our room then…” He mutters after too long a moment of unmoving stature. “I kinda want to change into some lighter clothes and we don’t have that long.”

You nod without looking at him. Because you can’t stand looking at his face right now, the face that you’ll be stuck with for these two days, the face that you love.

Silence between you now grows more familiar as you walk wordlessly to your room, the round corner of the plastic keycard digging hard into your palm. It’s painfully awkward. Your echoing steps provide the only stable rhythm against the storm between you.

Beep. The door opens at your will with a swipe of the card.

You weren’t prepared for what exactly the deluxe room entails. Its size could easily be a tiny studio apartment: a small seating area consisting of a pearly white sofa and a glass coffee table so delicately built that you would not trust yourself near; a mini-kitchen on the left side of the room accompanied by a generously stocked beverage bar; a king-sized bed in the far right wine-red in colour and excessively buried in frivolous cushions. But the belle of the ball is really the glass panelled-wall at the back of the room that you face as you enter, spanning from ceiling to floor, opening up to the patio hand-plucked out of your dreams. Rose bushes, circular beige woven garden daybed, and not to mention the hot tub.

You are completely in awe. Your mind instantly flashes to Mykonos. This luxury is the furthest from a farm experience whatsoever. It really explains how every couple on this trip looks like the child of a wealthy politician with their finely manicured hands and sickly cologne.

“Woah.” An octave deeper than usual, Taehyung expresses his wonder as he surveys the extravagance that is your room. “This… How much must this have cost?”

“I have no idea.” You whisper, still in your state of near speechlessness while your feet take you to the glass wall.

This is a place of romantic films, a place for honeymoons. Everything is in a rose-gold tint, glistening almost mockingly under the soft February sun. Why are you here? You almost hear the slabs of sandstone ask.

Behind you, you hear him huff out the marvel that he is submerged in. His backpack slides off his shoulder, swung carelessly towards the loveseat. And plop he goes, starfished onto the bed.

Then the fear returns, reclaims its usual residence in your throat. As you pry your eyes away from the opulence of the veranda to look at Taehyung, his head lifts up at the same moment. The short-lived mist that clouded over your reality finally disperses.

You blink again at his sprawled out limbs. He blinks back.

It is as if a switch has flipped, the speed at which he jumps back onto his two feet, fright jarring his mouth agape. “I’llsleeponthesofa.” The slur of his words are unintelligible to your ears, but his display of alarm is almost comical, threatening a smile from the corners of your lips at the hysteria of your situation despite the same alarm you are experiencing.

“What?”

“I’ll sleep on the sofa.” His voice is firmer the second time he says it, tilting his chin up as if to reassure you of his confidence.

“It’s okay, I’ll sleep on the sofa.” You sigh because you know how much Taehyung is bursting to sleep in a king-sized bed. It was his first time in Mykonos, and you had not heard the end of how it was the best sleep he’s had in his lifetime. So imagine him now.

He bristles, a genuine look of offence fleets. “Of course not, I can’t allow that.”

“Why not?” Your tone with him is foreign, lacking the playfulness it once had - just an aloof callousness.

“‘Coz! I’m not gonna let you take the couch while I sleep on this massive bed.” He gestures at the couch for emphasis, letting his arm dangle afterwards. He is less different with you than you are with him, you note.

“You just answered my question with the very statement I was questioning you on.” You cross your arms and lean against the glass, allowing the warmth to bask through your shirt.

Taehyung frowns and mirrors your action, the muscle of his bicep flexing more than usual from the agitation in his motion. “‘Coz you’re a light sleeper. Just stop being stubborn and take the bed.”

You’re not quite sure why, of all things, ‘you’re a light sleeper’ is what moves you. The consideration he still holds for you inhibits any protest you wish to sound.

He cares about you, he clearly still does. Just like how you would willingly give up the bed for him.

God, you don’t want to fucking be here. You wish it didn’t have to be so painful, every single little interaction between you just reminding you again and again of how much you loved and hurt each other.

Taehyung takes your silence as compliance and begins to unpack, ruffling through his bag for a change of cooler clothes with his shoulders tense in discomfort. You know what the mature person in you should say: we can just share the bed. But you can’t think of a single reason why that would be a good idea.

With this Valentine’s trip completely planned for you two, it feels like the universe presenting you with an undeniable temptation. Everything around you is telling you to just get back with him, to give in to your inhibitions and fall back into him. You’ve got the champagne in the cooler, hot tub in the patio, rose petalled bed all laid out in front of you at your disposal. An inner voice chanting make up, make up, make up. Because what’s stopping you?

What’s stopping you is that look on his face when he saw Jimin fixing the back of his shoe beside you as you were walking him out. What’s stopping you is the sound of another girl moaning his name right down the hall from you.

So maybe some could see it as strength for resisting the yearning, for being able to put up a front and speak to him so indifferently. But you see it as weakness, because you still cannot move on.

Despite the sun blazing down your back, the cool gust of spring weather eases what otherwise would have been scorching heat. Never would you anticipate that you would be spending this weekend sifting through strawberry bushes to find large red ripe summer fruit, yet here you are. You don’t even think it’s strawberry season.

You’ve never been a country girl, but the dirt feels strangely comforting under your nails. Well, comforting is perhaps not the best word to describe your state of mind right now. As much tranquility as this farm is bringing you, with Taehyung always no more than two metres away from you, you don’t think you could ever relax.

In black sports shorts, plucking his own berries on the other side of the same very row of bushes, sweat trickling along the veins of his neck… Of course your attention is scattered.

Not to mention, you keep catching his shifting eyes. You thought you ought to say something, but what exactly? The awkwardness is prominent as it is.

A heavy exhale. You find a particularly large berry, leaves curling upwards to indicate its ripeness as the strawberry expert (yes, strawberry expert) had taught you. Pluck. And off it goes into your basket.

This is definitely therapeutic. You imagine every strawberry to be your feelings for Taehyung. This one over here shall symbolise his musky scent that you fall asleep to. Pluck. This one, his stupidly attractive perm, so long that even you would tell him to trim it because it’s covering his eyes. Pluck. His eyes… Especially when he’s confused as he makes that wide-eyed puppy dog face, which is very often. Pluck.

You glance up, you can’t help it.

And he’s already looking at you. Caught red-handed, literally red-handed because his hands are somehow stained with strawberry juice. Instantly he whips his head back down at his basket that is rested by his crouching knees, though there is not much in there for him to look at.

“Stop making this weirder than it already is.” He almost jumps when you speak, clearly not expecting any sort of interaction from your end.

Slowly, he glances back up at you, dark wavy fringe swaying from the slow tilt of his head. “I- Sorry, I wasn’t- Um, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

There’s something quite breathtaking about Taehyung under the sun, the way the rays reflect off his honey-tan skin to give an effulgent finish like a marble statue of some Ancient Roman God worshipped by priests and maidens. The coat of sweat gathered at his cupid’s bow could possibly be your undoing.

You love him, despite all the strawberries symbolic of his traits that you were picking.

And you hate yourself for that. You don’t want to feel like this anymore. You’re so sick of this heavily-hearted feeling of being dragged down by your emotions all the fucking time. You want to be able to look at him and feel nothing, look at him and not be intruded by the echoes of that night.

It makes you sick, the thought of him inside someone else. Physically sick to the core.

“Well, you are. So stop looking at me.” You state coldly. You just want to forget everything and let go of him, but his presence is not letting you do so. If being a bitch is what it takes, you’ll gladly be a bitch

“No, you have dirt on your face.”

Embarrassment slams into you like a wave, wielding you to shut your eyes and take a deep breath of humiliation. It’s instant karma for being a bitch. “Oh.” You say, carelessly wiping all over your cheeks with the back of your wrist, more with the intention of hiding the rush of blood to your face than to actually clean. You keep your eyes trained on a tiny pale berry in the bush, hoping that he’ll look away from you.

But he doesn’t. “You’re smearing it.” You look up to find his lips drawn in a tight line in attempt to hide his amusement. Everything is just working out wonderfully for you, isn’t it? Yet before your mind can process it, he rises from his crouch and leans over the short bushes.

When his thumb meets your cheek, it almost sears you. As his eyes are focused on the dirt on your face he’s brushing away, yours are locked on his gaze - gentle, warm, familiar. The collar of his shirt droops low, exposing his chiseled collar bones, protruding so enticingly as if for the sole purpose to catch your attention and remind you that it was one of your favourite places to bury your nose in.

Taehyung’s touch is heartbreakingly gentle; the rest of his fingers come under the side of your jaw for support, though only fleetingly. The whole exchange is brief, the dirt brushed away as swiftly as your relationship had crumpled.

You feel it in your nose first, that overwhelming wave of sadness, and then behind your eyes. You want to cry. You want to cry as he pulls away, as he realises that he has unconsciously acted out of familiarity, as a shyness reaches his eyes when he meets your glare.

It was only a mindless sweep of his thumb on your face, yet its impact is explosive under your skin, reminiscent of a time when such a touch had different implications, elicited a different response.

You quickly blink it away - the tears, but not the heartache. That wretched feeling in your throat does not permit you to thank him, so you just stare at each other, the world around you a mere blur of blues and greens. You watch his chest rise as he sucks in for air, wondering if the same memories are now visiting, no, haunting, him.

You can’t do this because you’re not strong enough. For you whole act of indifference in front of him, your constant resisting against the urge to fall back into him, you’re still not strong enough.

But to your surprise, or perhaps even gratitude, he’s the one who picks up his basket and paces away without another word. You watch the back of his calves, the slosh of his overgrown hair, as he walks away.

You stare out the glass door at the patio. It’s dark, you can scarcely see a thing with the lights outside switched off. It acts as a perfect canvas for your imagination, for scenes of your past together to materialise before you.

It’s not been a full day yet, and you already feel so drained. This is impossible. You want to call Lotta to pick you up, but upon deeper consideration, you don’t think you have the heart to. This must have cost her a considerable amount of money to book. She had the full intention that this will bring you and Taehyung back together, yet it is doing everything but. You don’t want to imagine her disappointment when you return in streams of tears.

After the session of strawberry-picking, your baskets were handed over for your fruits to be washed and prepared for your baking class tomorrow. Following that is your free time, when you are left to your own devices, at liberty to roam around the farm, dine at their organic restaurant by the hotel. Taehyung had taken Jae’s recommendation of visiting the spa; you opted to stroll (sulk) about, as far away from him as possible.

It’s unhealthy, this continuous bombardment of thoughts of him. Your month’s worth of progress has reduced to ashes.

Maybe you don’t even actually have feelings for him anymore. It could purely be a deception of the closeness you’ve developed for each other that you mistaken for love. You had spent almost every single day of the past two and a half years together, under the same roof, sharing a bed towards the last few months. It’s the safety and intimacy that your brain associates him with that forbids you from moving on.

Maybe you’re actually over him romantically. But the wanting, the missing him as your best friend still lingers.

The door to your room opens abruptly. Hair damp, Taehyung strolls inside in a white bathrobe and slippers, his clothes bunched up under his arm. Tiny beads of moisture dot the sparse view of his chest you have.

“Oh, you’re here.” He says, his step faltering at your clearly unanticipated presence. Or perhaps the sight of you, staring out into the dark, completely alone in this room is just awfully strange. “I thought you’d be eating at this time.” Eyes dropping to the ground as the door shuts behind him, his movements are clearly timid and weary, an rare expression on Taehyung.

“Not that hungry.” You mutter. “How was…” You ask out of habit, but immediately catch yourself. Quick eye contact before you both look away like docile animals. It’s too late for you to take back the question now anyway. “How was the spa?” And to make it appear that you don’t really care and was just asking out of courtesy, you turn back around to face out to the patio.

Completely unnecessary and petty move, whatever.

Except you see his reflection on the glass from the illuminated room all too well. Visibly easing that you’ve looked away, he plops his clothes down at the end of the bed and trails into the bathroom to fetch a towel for his hair. “Was really nice, they give good massages. You should give it a go at some point.”

“Okay.” He gives his head a good shake before drying with the towel. It feels creepy that he doesn’t know you are watching his reflection, so your eyes drop to your feet. You wonder if his masseuse was female. Not that it matters at all.

“What time are we meant to meet them for stargazing again?” He is speaking a lot - well, relatively. It saddens you that his usual tone of endearment when he would speak to you is now missing. It’s like speaking to a stranger, but worse, a stranger who takes a stab at your heart after every word.

“At 9, so that’s in…” You raise your wrist to find your watch absent from where it usually sits on your wrist. Right, you had removed it before strawberry-picking so it doesn’t get dirty and left it on the coffee table. Just as you turn around to retrieve it, you are met with Taehyung slipping his robe off. Your eyes widen.

The fluffy material glides down his shoulders like he’s made of gold, revealing the sculpture of his upper body that you scarcely recognise because he never used to be this toned. You thank any higher power there is that he is wearing his boxers, but they do nothing to conceal the faintest V at his hips and the bulk of his thighs. He isn’t bursting with muscle, but body definitely more well-defined than you remember.

“Have you been working out?” It just slips out. You wish, as the heat floods to dizzy your mind, that you had the capability of holding your tongue for once in your life.

Taehyung hesitates, Adam’s apple bobbing at his jugular. That shy awkwardness returns when your eyes meet. “Yeah. I mean a little, here and there…” Self-consciously, he brings his arm across his chest to rub at his bicep, but the gesture only flexes the muscle he has gained.

Your knees feel slightly weak. It’s the lack of dinner, you tell yourself. It’s not just your knees that feel weak though, your heart is thumping haphazardly into arrhythmia.

“But you hate exercise.” The stability in your voice surprises you.

“Yeah I did, but Seojoon said it’d help me take my mind off… things.” Lip between his teeth, Taehyung searches around for a top. Sheepishness in the form of a soft pink tint on his round cheeks turns you soft.

‘Things’, meaning you.

When you realise you’ve been staring, you immediately look down, fingers fiddling with each other like you’re some virgin freshly exposed to the spectacle of the male body. You’re anything but yourself, and so is he. Taehyung exercising? You almost scoff.

“You don’t have to… You’ve seen me naked, you know.” Taehyung mumbles, finally locating the sweatshirt he intends to wear. When you hear him pull it over himself, you sag in relief, the immense weight that his starkness strangely bestowed on you finally alleviated.

“Yeah, but it’s different now.” Now that we’re not together anymore. Not that we were ever together.

You know he feels it too, the sting of those words. The hurt in his eyes fill you with a sort of bitter self-resentment that you cannot wrap your head around. Stop looking at me like that. Stop making me feel like a bitch. Just stop hurting me.

“Yeah, it is.” But for some reason, it stings even more when he says it. His agreement should be a triumph, yet it feels more like the acknowledgement of the broken bridges between you.

When it comes from your mouth, it’s you convincing yourself more than anything. When it comes from his, it sounds like the truth.

Of the many things that are slowly killing Taehyung this weekend, the painfully awkward silence is among the most unbearable. It’s the loud kind of silence that he hates where there is clearly so much to say to each other yet none of it is coming out. There’s a vast ocean between you, roaring waves engulfing any sort of message he wishes to communicate.

This has to be one of the strangest experiences of his life - being set up by your friend on a couple’s trip to a resort disguised as a strawberry farm for Valentine’s day with you - and he has experienced a lot of weird shit in his life.

To be honest, he hasn’t been doing so great the past few weeks.

All the anger and bitterness had taken two days to melt away into miserable wretchedness. Two days, that’s all it took for him to not be angry with you anymore because there was one person he was angrier at - himself.

Because Taehyung was quick to realise that losing you is miles, miles, worse than what you had done to him. It was a sudden sort of realisation, the kind that hits you in the middle of doing something. What had he done?

The way he yelled at you, the things he said. His chest always sinks at the rememberance.

You didn’t know it was Jimin, you truly didn’t. But he exploded on you nonetheless, impermeable to your explanation. That wasn’t him. That raging bellowing man wasn’t him. If only he had just calmed down and talked it through with you, maybe he wouldn’t have been sleeping alone in your bed that your scent still clung on to.

And when he thinks about how you had heard him with that girl from the club, the bar, wherever his inebriated state took him that he doesn’t even remember…

Taehyung regrets everything.

How you got to this point was so extremely stupid. He should have just confessed to you, simple and easy, no complications needed. You are a commitment-phobe, he always knew he’d have to be the one to say it first. So why didn’t he? What the fuck was holding him back?

All he had to say was to not go on that date with Junho. That’s all you wanted. Why why why didn’t he just say how he felt?

Taehyung never knew himself to be a crier before this. He had shed a tear or two when he found out about Ryujin’s cheating and his friends’ betrayal; that was a stab in the back that left him gutted from the inside. Yet still, he got by, he survived because he found you. And he had naively thought, I managed to bear through this so nothing can really be worse than this now can it?

It can, and it did.

Once it starts, it won’t stop. The tears. A great tempest swallowing him whole and dragging him under until all he could hear was his own pounding heart. It is always before bed, when he would have the time to himself to truly think and reflect. But sometimes it comes during the day as well. He will be doing something as mundane as washing his hair in the shower, and he would suddenly break down because you had left him your shampoo that you would always get annoyed at him for using.

The house just feels empty. The absence of your voice, your warmth, your lips pressed on his neck every morning before his eyes even fully opened. Gone.

Yet, every corner is etched with the memories you share, your ghost lingering by the sofa that you adore whenever he’s watching TV, or curled up beside him every night in bed. It’s impossible to forget you.

Even as Seojoon moved in to fill your vacated room and help with the rent, the place was cold. It will never be the same because nothing could ever replace you. Everything he had and cherished - swept away just like that by none other than his own mistakes.

Yes, you had hurt him a lot. At the time, that pain felt insurmountable, like the worst thing you could ever do to him. But ultimately, upon the endless nights of thinking, he has realised that what hurt him the most was not you, but losing you. Not Jimin, not Junho, but how what could have been between you two fell apart so quickly by the poor choices you both made.

“Now if you look up to your left, you might be able to see one of our February constellations, the Pictor.” Jae announces, voice full of an enthusiasm that Taehyung could only envy as he guides the tour group towards the centre of a large plain field behind the hotel where you will all be stargazing. It is a lovely, breezy, cloudless night. You are several paces ahead of Taehyung, keenly reading the constellation manual leaflet lit up by your phone; he knows just how much of an astronomy geek you are. “It consists of four stars, as shown on your Star Guide, that are actually very dim and usually not easily spotted. The name Pictor means the Painter’s easel.”

Taehyung stops. Despite the darkness, he sees your shoulders tense too.

The easel you had gifted him on his birthday sits in his closet, stowed away from being a constant reminder of how much you loved him and how much he should have held on. It just sits there, collecting dust, untouched since the day you left.

The halt in Jae’s walking indicates your arrival to the intended location. “Here we are. Let’s settle down, love birds. I’ll set up this gorgeous telescope for anyone who wants to explore the sky in greater focus which I highly recommend.”

Spreading across the field, the group unrolls the picnic blankets you’ve all been given, dropping down to rest atop the covered grass.

No time is wasted from everyone else to snuggle up to their boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives. The atmosphere is sickly, even for Taehyung. The couples around him have done little to hide their affection for each other since the beginning of the trip. It is a romantic vacation after all, but is it really so necessary to display your love so publicly?

You stand static and poker-faced on the other side of the mat, clear signs of reluctance to participate plastered all over you.

Taehyung has never stargazed before, let alone in this context. The stiffness in your movement as you sink down onto your knees and lie down in discomfort makes him wince. He realises now that neither of you have a choice but to put away any ill feelings and lay beside each other.

As he gets down next to you, his head nearly tumbles out his chest at the sudden proximity that he has grown so unused to. In the dark, your scent washes up to him like a timid tide lapping at the shore, hair swaying off your shoulders as you get onto your back. The size of the mat does not permit him elsewhere other than immediately beside you, no more than five inches from touching shoulders. Five inches from touching.

Truthbetold, Taehyung feels himself going insane. It started from the moment he saw you on the bus, your wide eyes, parted lips, so pretty despite the look of terror you wore. He didn’t think he would have the chance to see you any time soon. He hadn’t truly comprehended the magnitude at which he missed you until he saw you again.

And he has been spiralling since. Every gesture making his senses scream in agony, the desire to just talk to you mangling at him. He misses you like crazy. Not necessarily in that way, but just your presence, your funny comments, your feign annoyance when he annoys you. He misses the companionship.

You are both on your back now, the blanket feeling either slightly damp or too cold for comfort. The star-speckled sky hanging above you both is endless, a panoramic painting from east to west. You stare at the sky like it’s your lover, so Taehyung does the same. Astronomy doesn’t interest him as much as the meaning and purpose behind the act of stargazing. The people he’s with and the memories he makes.

Wordless, you stare at the sky, ignorant to his presence. The soft hum of everyone else’s whispers accentuates that frustrating silence between you. Taehyung is so fucking tired of the silence because he’s bursting with things to say to you, to ask you.

“Are we just not going to speak?”

His question startles you for you almost, almost, turn to look at him. The slight angling of your head before you catch yourself does not go unmissed by him.

“What do you want to speak about?” Taehyung hates the coldness in your voice. The unfeeling sounds so real. Why are you being this way? Do you seriously want nothing to do with him? That possibility scares him above all else.

Someone giggles a few yards from you two. On this large grassland, the couples are dispersed in their own little bubble of sweet affection, but not enough for his ears to not pick up these little sounds that send courses of envy through his vessel.

“What do you think?” The four weeks you spent apart were four weeks of lamenting over all the things he should have said, and all that he shouldn’t. And Taehyung’s is done with regretting unspoken words. He just wants to get everything out in the open, out of his system, so he can move on.

“I mean-”

“Look, Y/N. This is stupid, the whole ignoring each other thing. Don’t you just want to say your piece and get that weight off your chest?” In the distance, crickets chirp faintly. The discomfort shuddering in the five-inch area between your shoulders is screaming volumes. Taehyung doesn’t turn away from the sky for the fear of the expression he would see you wear.

He expects a note of irritation in your voice, for you to start arguing with him which he truthfully doesn’t mind because that is at least progress. But instead he gets a quiet defeat. “I don’t want to reopen wounds that are already ripping open, Taehyung.”

It wrenches his soul, truly. He doesn’t recognise you when you speak anymore, both with the things you say, and the way you say it. “Talking will help it heal.” Because that’s both your final goals here - to heal, to be cured of the ailment that is heartbreak.

“How exactly is it going to change anything?”

“I don’t know. We’ve had time to calm down and think and I think we should have some closure so we end on a good note.”

It’s funny now, how Taehyung is the one pleading to speak to you when he should be the one who’s angry at you because you were the one to commit the last and biggest fault. He doesn’t see it like that though, that’s all in the past. To be friends with you again, that’s all he wishes for, he doesn’t care about anything else at this point.

“So this is about amicability to you? You want to end on good terms.” Neither of you still dare to look at the other, eyes locked on the stars but somewhere distant.

“Well, yeah. Do you not?” He asks. He hadn’t expected you to be this uneasy, he thought you would have liked the idea of peace amongst you. “Everything towards the end happened so quickly, wouldn’t you like some closure?

“I would rather take my time and heal in my own way. To be honest, I don’t have anything to say to you about that topic except that I’m sorry, but I’m sure you’re sick of hearing that. It’s pointless.”

You’re coping with this differently, Taehyung understands. But it doesn’t take much effort to be pleasant towards each other, to smile and greet each other like normal people instead of scrambling away from every eye contact. How do you suppose you’d be able to move on like that?

“So not even friends right now?” He tries one last time. A soft breeze washes over you, wafting your scent towards him.

“No, I don’t want to be friends right now.”

Your bluntness stings. Taehyung finally gives in and turns to face you. Your striking profile greets him, your eyes still stubbornly glued to the sky. Your unwillingness to budge or compromise even a little bit is frustrating.

“We were best friends for the past two and a half years. More than best friends, we were literally two peas in a pod; we lived together, ate together, studied together, slept together. And now we don’t even talk. You’re okay with losing that? You’re telling me that I’m the only one who misses it more than anything else?” His angry whisper sounds ridiculous as he tries to keep his volume down, conscious of the setting he’s in.

But then he sees you blink, hard. Then blink again. Your pursed lip trembles. Another two consecutive blinks. When you look at him, your eyes are so glassy that they reflect the entirety of the galaxy above. “How am I supposed to be your friend right now when I can’t even look at you without feeling this great pang of sadness every time?” Taehyung immediately wishes he hadn’t pushed you.

“I… just would rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you at all.” His voice softens to a tone more apologetic. He is the reason for the tears you’re holding back right now and he despises it.

“I would rather not have you in my life at all while I slowly get over you than have you as just a friend because my heart can’t take this constant torture. I just want to be over you but I can’t do that if I have to pretend to be okay around you. And I just don’t get it Taehyung. How are you so willing to be friends again? After what I did, how could you look at me and not hate me?”

Taehyung frowns at you because he doesn’t see how you can’t understand it’s not about that anymore. It’s not about the blame, the who did what to who. He doesn’t care anymore but the fact that you do is alarming. You still can’t let it go.

“Okay, so is this about you not forgiving yourself?” He prods, and watches the brief flash of confusion on your face.

“I-” You’re quick to dispute but stop. Because it’s the truth.

A long silence ensures. You stare at the collar of his sweatshirt, zoned out. Taehyung knows you’re in deep contemplation, you know his points have strong grounds. There is no reason for hostility or callousness between you because it would only hurt each other more.

“Look,” He takes a deep breath. “I just think that it’s unhealthy for you to act like this. You’re burying and burying what you’re feeling without actually facing it. Trying to be friends is a good first step in accepting that we’re not together anymore; being cold to each other isn’t. Think about it.”

Another long pause. He watches you blink, watches your chest rise and fall at every breath.

“I understand your point, I know my coping mechanism isn’t healthy but it’s all that I know right now. We’re different, we’re hurting differently and healing differently. I’m sorry for acting out on you when it’s myself who I want to punish. But I seriously don’t have the strength to be your friend right now, I wish I did but I really don’t. Just give me time.” The fact that you’re not arguing with him says a lot; you have both matured from this experience. It’s sad that this is what it took for you to do so.

“Okay. I respect that.” Taehyung says. “I’m sorry for pushing this onto you, it’s selfish of me, sorry. I just… I don’t know, I guess I’m pathetic. You were my best friend and I want to salvage it as much as I can. I just miss you, that’s all.”

You don’t say anything, but Taehyung is okay with that. Because he knows you miss him too, you miss the friendship, the having each other to lean on.

The difference between you and him is that you can’t compartmentalise your lingering feelings for him and put that aside right now, whereas he can. You need to rid those feelings before you can be his friend, and he’s okay with that.

He stares at Pictor, it’s four weak stars that dim beside much brighter constellations yet somehow call to him. And he almost smiles.

You stare at your own reflection in the mirror.

That conversation with Taehyung resonates with you more than you’d care to let on. You let every single word he said sink in, your inner turmoil contemplating the points he made. Because he definitely has a point.

What resonates with you most is the word closure.

He’s right, everything between you ended so quickly that there was no time to process and accept it until it was already over. Maybe that’s why you’re finding it so hard to let go. If you were to be friends again, you could at least normalise his presence and gradually move past this.

Twisting the faucet on, you splash some water on your face to clear this dilemma from your head. And after wiping yourself dry, you exit the bathroom into your room with a great sigh.

Taehyung is wearing the grey hoodie - that’s the first thing you notice. As in the grey hoodie you would always claim as your own because of how soft its material is. The grey hoodie that you regret giving back to him. The grey hoodie that he would always wear when you guys gamed at midnight and it would always end with you on his lap, his locks tangled in your fingers while his mouth explored yours.

You take it back, fuck being friends, you’re back to square one.

He glances up in the dark, eyes surveying your silhouette from head to toe as he places a pillow on one end of the couch. Ever since that conversation, there’s the most subtle difference in his permanent expression - his lips look inclined to smile, his eyes hold an understanding for you that makes you feel vulnerable.

And, god, it makes you want to try. He deserves it, to have his best friend back in his life even if that best friend is you, the person he trusted the most in the world only to turn around and impale him in the chest with those stupid decisions of yours.

The omnipresence of your awkwardness hasn’t faltered though. “Taehyung, I said I would take the couch.” You protest, though you’re starting to see that it’s futile. You may be the more stubborn one between the pair, but there are certain things that Taehyung would never back down from.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, Y/N.” The corner of his lip turns up properly now, like he’s silently snickering at a joke he thought of. “That’s just - not gonna happen.”

“What’s so funny?” Switching the bathroom lights off behind you, you ask. You hadn’t packed well for this trip, you are only in a flimsy camisole and a pair of sweats, the cold air coaxes goosebumps on your skin. His gaze follows you as you draw the curtains shut over the glass wall, leaving only a strip of moonlight streaming in.

“Nothing.” Taehyung places both hands on the top of his head, an action that causes his hoodie to slightly ride up his torso. You fix your eyes on the floor as you approach him and the sofa. “It’s just funny how you think I’d ever let you sleep on the couch while I sleep on the bed.”

There is a dead end down this path you’re going, neither of you would let the other win. So you simply ignore him and situate yourself on the couch, stretching your legs to span it wholly. “Good night.” Fixing the pillow he had placed, you shut your eyes.

“What, no.” You can hear the smile wipe off his face, almost making you chuckle out loud. “Y/N, get up.” Hastily he hovers over you. But when you show no sign of acknowledgement, he shuffles away. A moment later, you feel a great gust of air, then the softest silkiest duvet landing over you.

Your eyes fly open. And there Taehyung stands with his arms crossed smugly. “If you take the couch, you also take the covers.”

“No! You’ll be cold.”

“You’ll be cold. You’re not wearing enough.”

You give up. “Oh, for god’s sake, Taehyung. Fine. Let’s both sleep on the bed, okay?” His entire expression dilates. He doesn’t even blink as you get off the couch and cross your arms back at him. “Problem solved.”

Taking his wrist in one hand, dragging the plush duvet in the other, you walk to the bed and sit him down. No noise of protest emits from him, so you go back to retrieve the pillow from the couch in a huff.

“Are you sure?” His voice is suddenly timid, unsure. And he’s right to be so, because you’re quaking on the inside as well at the prospect of sleeping beside him.

It’s not going to be good for your heart, you know that definitely. But like he said, you need to face this. If you touch a paper cut enough times, it stops hurting. “It’s just sleeping, it’s no big deal.” You lie. “You want to be friends right? Well let’s start with this. Let’s stop being stupid and childish.” You can’t look him in the eye as you rearrange the bedding back to its original state before Taehyung messed it up.

His reply merely a quiet yeah… before you both hesitantly crawl under the covers and tuck in. Heat flushes to your face as you do so because the action feels so familiar, yet everything about it is different.

Absolute silence. Backs facing each other. An arm's length or two between you but it feels like more. You don’t even shut your eyes because why pretend that you’ll fall asleep?

Your own palpitation is so vigorous that it’s audible. The thoughts whizzing around in your head are unstoppable, a persistent prodding at your skull. His scent is strong, that sweet honey musk that used to seduce you to sleep now the very thing that’s keeping you up.

It must be, what, ten? twenty minutes? of just laying there as you ponder your future with Taehyung, if you want a future at all. He’s right, you miss his friendship above all else. As much as you love Lotta, there is an intangible quality missing between you, that extra spark that existed between Taehyung which boosted your dynamic up to an incomparable level. You understood each other without having to speak, care about each other more than yourselves - that love was almost familial. Losing that has been too much.

Then you hear Taehyung shift onto his back. “Y/N?” Your heart skips a beat.

“Yeah?” You answer after a pause, mind racing through all the possibilities of what he could say. You hate this permanent uncertainty of what he’s thinking.

Silence follows for a short while, the endless possibility of what he’s going to say flooding your mind. Then, “You know how I can’t sleep without holding something?”

You stop breathing.

Because you see very clearly where this is going, and it’s down a road that you don’t know if you can withstand.

He can’t sleep without holding you. Holding you.

You take a deep breath and clamp down on your lip, grateful that your back is facing him so he can’t see the pathetic weakness on your face. Can you do this?

Can you do this without wanting to cry? Can you do this without succumbing to your momentary desire to just turn around and kiss him because you won’t be able to think straight with his arms around you? You’re really not sure.

“Yes…?”

“Can I…” Something rustles the covers, perhaps his arm, or maybe he’s inching closer. In the pitch black night, every movement feels amplified, more impactful. “You know…”

“Can you what?” You’re not being difficult, you’re giving him the chance to take back on this request. To just say nevermind and turn back around. Because you’re not equipped for his touch; you don’t want it, you don’t want the pain that comes with it.

Another pause. Take the chance, please. But his deep hesitant voice sounds in the dark, “Can I hold you please?”

You shut your eyes. That feeling in your nose again, that rush. Hold it in, don’t cry, stupid emotional bitch, don’t cry. What’s there to cry about? You wonder if this torment will end, and you wonder if you could ever stop feeling this much for him.

“I swear I’m not trying anything, I genuinely can’t sleep.” His voice has a way of penetrating deep into your bones, begging you even if it’s not his intention to.

You could say no, right? Just say no.

But that isn’t facing it, that isn’t overcoming your heartbreak. If your goal of this trip is to come out of this weekend completely devoid of feelings for him, then you need to let him stop affecting you.

“Okay. Please don’t make it weird.” You whisper, not daring to move a muscle.

Taehyung sags in relief, the bed dipping with his weight. “I won’t, I promise.” The sound of him shuffling closer to you constricts your throat. You close your eyes, awaiting the warmth of his front to meet your back, counting down in your head for that dreaded moment to come. “Come closer.” He murmurs.

When his hand fits around your waist, you know it’s an act of unconscious habit rather than intent. Slowly, he drags you into the enclosure of his chest, his scent and heat enshrouding you until you are completely engulfed by him.

He exhales, the fingertips of his breath caressing your hair ever so gently.

Every fibre in your body is tensing, eyes firmly shut and toes curled inwards. His hand feels enormous on your waist, holding you the only way he has ever known how to. With a unique type of affection that is so pure and devoted, yet also with a hint of protectiveness and possession.

Taehyung lets go of your waist only to encircle his arms around you entirely, his legs curling up under yours until you’re both cocooned together.

“You okay?” The back of your neck feels tender, sensual even, from the tickling heat of his breath. You’re too keenly aware of how close your heads are positioned, of the searing sensations that his hands are causing.

No, you’re not okay. Your skin has been lit on fire. Memories that you’ve long since tried to bury are surging back at full force, slamming into you one after the other. He’s too close, he’s everywhere. There is no distance separating you right now, yet you still feel miles away from him; you can’t comprehend his intentions nor decipher his thoughts. The fit of the crook of your back into his chest is perfect, a heartbreaking kind of perfect. This feels so so familiar. This is exactly what you had yearned and dreamt for every night for the past month - to be in his arms again. So why does it hurt even more than being alone?

Instead, you nod, “Mmm, yeah.”

A compulsion is yanking at you to lean back into him.

Taehyung exhales again and rests his cheek on the back of your shoulder where he always used to perch. If you were naked right now, he would be speckling this shoulder with soft dainty petal kisses. You hate that there is still a part of you, and mind you a very significant part, that wants it.

Your hands are inches away from touching each other; just one lift of your wrist and your fingers can clasp. The urge indunates you.

It would be so easy right now to just succumb - let your hand crawl into his because you know he would hold it, turn around and start kissing up his jaw until your tongues are tangled. You think it’s purely physical, these impulses, at least that’s what you want them to be. You just miss the intimacy, that’s all. But then why does it feel like you’ve swallowed a kaleidoscope of butterflies? Except their wings are made of glass, and everytime they flutter, you feel the shards scratch along your insides. There is desire laced in the pain. You don’t know which one is worse.

What baffles you the most is how he is alright with this, how he initiated this. He said he wants to at least be your friend, but this surely feels like a breach of friendship to anyone. Holding each other in bed is not being friends. But then again, you both have always had a warped perception of what friends should be doing.

You don’t understand how it’s so different for him. How the areas where you are touching, even if separated by layers of clothes, doesn’t tear through his sanity. If he doesn’t feel the same crack in his heart, then what does he feel?

With every heavy breath he takes, you take a silent one, eyes shut and praying to be swept away by the sleep that you don’t believe will reach you. You haven’t slept well since that night. Taehyung, on the other hand, you know is instantly sound asleep. It never used to take him more than five minutes as long as you were in his clutch.

But then, maybe there is a soothing essence in his presence with his overwhelming pleasant scent and rhythmic breathing, or maybe you’ve just exhausted your body with constant overthinking, a hazy fog drifts over your consciousness. You’re so tired, physically and mentally drained... And Taehyung feels so warm and snug around you...

The last thought you have before you drift off into reverie is that you feel his fingers slide between yours, holding not firmly but with intent. And you don’t know if it was you or him who moved it so.

You wake up from the damp heat gathered in all your crevices, the thin coat of sweat mildly irritating your skin. You are facing the glass door to the patio, and though the curtains conceal much of the windows, strips of sunlight topple past the cracks and unfurl into your room.

Taehyung’s arm is around you. Still.

After these years of living together, you know everything about Taehyung like that back of your hand. You can tell whether he’s awake or not from his breathing. And he’s most definitely asleep, though only lightly.

You look down and examine your position. In the course of the night, his forearm has travelled progressively higher until it is just about cradling your breasts. One of his legs is thrown over yours, entrapping you in his embrace. In his tangle of limbs, you slowly try to twist onto your back while prying him off.

He stirs, pulls you in tighter.

Which lands your rear in the unfortunate position of right atop his crotch. His crotch that is very much awake and way too excited.

Lethargy immediately expelled, your eyes open wide.

Morning wood is a usual occurrence for Taehyung, especially after a night of merciless teasing, but randomly a lot of the times. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, nor aroused. He has mentioned before how uncomfortable it can be, a blaring hard presence, a sore tension waking him up in an unforgiving manner. Which means that he can precariously wake any second n-

“Mmmm.” Voice an octave deeper than its norm, he hums, announcing his returning consciousness.

Taehyung’s morning wood and morning voice. You are being tested right now.

Your concupiscence has been gradually building up in the last few weeks from the lack of any sexual activity save for your own fingers and toys. It’s human nature, and completely goes against your will - but you feel the old friend that goes by the name lust stirring at the pit of your stomach.

At your proximity, the tip of his member digs deep between your cheeks, prodding at your entrance incontestably. Your whole body stiffens as the slowly waking Taehyung nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck habitually, arm tensing around you. Ever so slowly, you look back to steal a glance. His wildly curly hair falls over his forehead gracefully, lashes fanned out from his closed lids. He’s too beautiful for his own good.

Your core dampens and you quickly turn back around.

Fuck, please, no. You can’t be thinking about him like that. It’s so wrong. But his erection burrowed between your ass is banishing any clarity or sense from your head.

But God, you fucking miss this.

You’re going mad from deprivation. The dry spell of the past month had been voluntary, on the basis that you knew it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism because you would only picture Taehyung over the faces of those nameless men. And because you knew no one knows you as well as he does, thus no one will succeed in satisfying you as well as him. Your sex drive was non-existent right after the break-up; sex simply didn’t cross your mind once while you were nursing your broken heart. And then it came ebbing back, though faintly and infrequently, you regained your libido and would find yourself fantasising on some lonesome nights.

But now, the situation at hand is that: you’ve allowed Taehyung to cuddle you in his sleep and you’ve consequently woken up to his undeniably hard cock poking between your legs. And he is seconds away from fully waking up as well.

So what now?

“Taehyung.” You say firmly, pushing his arm away from your breasts. It’s best if you call him out for it now rather than let it hang awkwardly in the air unsaid.

“Hmmmm..?” He rumbles sleepily. You don’t have to turn around to be able to envision his face, eyes slowly blinking open but reluctant as ever, true to his deep sleeper title.

“Taehyung.” This time you nudge back gently for emphasis. What it achieves is additional friction. Your whole lower half achse to grind back onto him, to slide over his hardened cock, to reach back and pump it in your hands.

Fuck.

You can’t.

You could, so easily, but you shouldn’t. You and Taehyung are completely over in every sense of your relationship. You can’t let this moment of weakness strip away all your efforts in moving on.

“Wha…” He mumbles, finally peeling his arm off you to stretch out. A loud yawn ensues. You take the opportunity of his loosened hold around you to twist back and pin him with a glare, hoping that your thirst is masked.

“You’re hard.”

Eyes still puffy, he stops mid-stretch at those two words. And looks down.

Did he… not notice? Or did he, in his morning hazy, momentarily get the situation confused and forget that you weren’t together?

Taehyung scrambles away from you so abruptly that he almost falls off the bed. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t- It just- I can’t control it, Y/N, you know I can’t.” His stammering is followed by his jerky movements to readjust his bulge as discreetly as one can allow in such situation. The detonation of terror on his face exacerbates your embarrassment. Because you simply don’t know what to do with yourself - with your core tingling in arousal simultaneously as your brow twitches in annoyance. When your vexed eyes meet his, you see another wave of panic crash onto him.

How did you get in this situation in the first place? If only you had just slept on the couch last night…

“Yeah, I know, stop reacting like that. Don’t make it weirder than it already is.” You berate, yanking the covers with all your strength over your shoulder and roll away from him. The distance is more for your own good. You can’t be near him right now, you can’t think about his fucking cock slipping into you.

You want to fuck. You want to fuck Taehy-

Stop that fucking thought.

“I’m sorry.” His morning voice, oh god. Burying your face into the pillow does little against the fluid pooling in your panties.

“Can you go to the toilet and… fix yourself.” When the words leave your mouth, the imagery of him fixing himself flashes before your eyes. And something pulses violently down there. Fucking fuck.

“Um, okay, sorry.” You try to not peek at him as he gets up from the bed, slightly limping as he makes his way to the toilet. But you succumb nonetheless.

His cheeks are scarlet, veins bulging on the side of his forehead, and you’re not sure if it’s from his embarrassment or the discomfort of the boner. Your eyes drop from his profile because his morning face has always been one of your weaknesses, except unfortunately for you, your eyes land on his bulge.

Another pulse down there.

You hate yourself. You feel dirty for even thinking about him like that because it’s so wrong. But then again, he’s probably thinking about you like that as well, hence the raging erection.

When the bathroom door shuts behind him, you let out a sigh. You don’t know how long you can keep hold of your sanity for like this. You’re swimming in a sea of confusing emotions: the constant melancholy you have of missing him and missing the way things were before you had fucked it up; the desperation to move on and understand that he was only a chapter of your life that is now closed; the bitter resentment that you have for yourself as a consequence of not being able to do so; and now the inescapable desire aching between your thighs because of how inherent these memories are of how he would fuck you until you cry like nobody else could.

What doesn’t help is the hint of a slow pumping rhythm from the toilet, and Taehyung’s ragged breathing.

Fuck.

You don’t want to think about how he’s jerking off on the other side of the wall right now, gripping his cock as he leans against the sink, head thrown back. But that’s exactly what you’re thinking about.

Is he thinking of you as he’s doing it? You’re not sure if you want him to, because while you wish he wouldn’t, you also hope that this lust you feel is reciprocated still, that you’re not the only one going crazy with arousal.

Your hand almost trails down to your core when his pace quickens, but his sharp inhale strikes at your inner righteousness. You stop, sit up and rush out to the patio for some fresh air.

Happy Valentine’s Sunday indeed.

The dough feels sticky in your hand despite the layers of flour you’ve doused your fingertips in. Baking has never been your forte, you simply don’t have the patience or precision for such a crafty hobby. You glance over to check on Taehyung’s progress at the other half of the counter.

He has the easy job. Of course, when it came to allocating roles between the pair of you in this baking session, the jam-making landed on him because there’s no way he would succeed in making the strawberry tart.

You can’t help but smile at the way his lips are puckered and brows drawn in concentration as he chops the berries as finely as he could. But the way the top half of his hair is pulled back into a little sprout of a ponytail… You gulp.

Neither of you have spoken a word of this morning’s awkward event; it had been a tacit agreement not to as soon as you made eye contact when he stepped out of the bathroom. It has set a lewd tone for the rest of your day. At every blank moment where your mind isn’t preoccupied, especially when you’re doing something as frivolous and kneading dough, your thoughts would wander to the memories of his warm rigid-

You stop yourself. You’re in public and he’s chopping strawberries right next to you.

You’ve noticed how, every time you’d have those sinful thoughts, your mood would lighten a little. The pang in your heart that used to always plague you would profoundly diminish. Of all things, of course sex is what eases your sadness the most, that’s just so characterisitic of you isn’t it?

“Is everything going well?” One of the baking assistants comes over to your counter for the seventh time now (yes you’re counting). She is a petite, rather pretty, pleasant looking girl. And you have not failed to notice how every time she checks up on you two, her attention is always solely on Taehyung. Here you are struggling with your asscheek of dough yet she only cares to ask how Taehyung, the strawberry chopper, fares?

“Yup.” Taehyung spares her a brief glance before dumping the diced pieces of fruit into the saucepan.

“Would you like some more flour?” You almost scoff out loud. You’re the one working with flour over here! Why is she asking him?

“No, thanks.” He doesn’t look up this time.

The assistant smiles to herself as if he’d said something particularly sweet to her. Until her eyes land on you. “Uh- What about you, ma’am?”

“All.” You land a punch on the buttery dough, death glare and all. “Good.” Another punch. Eyes not once wavering. She has the brains to scramble away.

You don’t have the right to assert this sort of possessiveness over Taehyung. But it’s the principle. This is a couple’s romantic holiday; she must be under the presumption that you and Taehyung are together, so how does she still dare to ogle over him like that?

“She’s flirting with you.” You rumble when she’s out of earshot.

Taehyung looks up at you from stirring his jam mixture, his lips still slightly pouted from his focus. “What? Who?”

“That baking assistant who came over just now.” You grit, trying to suppress this irrational vexation.

“Oh. Really?” Clueless, he scans across the room. “Was that the blonde or the brunette one?”

It’s a relief how truly oblivious he is that you don’t bother answering his question. It’s also completely unlike him. Since when did Kim Taehyung not notice when a girl takes interest in him? How fascinating must those strawberries be to capture his undivided attention like that?

“Would you like some flour?” You mimic, batting your lashes at him.

A wide grin spreads across his cheeks. To be honest, you don’t know what prompted you to display such friendliness to him all of a sudden. Perhaps what happened this morning, or even the fact that you slept on the same bed last night, breached one of the walls towering between you. It’s progress.

“You’ve got flour on your face.”

Fuck, again? You need to stop handling stuff like dirt and flour because they keep ending up on your face. “Ugh.” You huff, trying to let the embarrassment brush off. “Where?”

From the mischievous smirk that his grin morphed into, you should’ve known. Before you could suspect, Taehyung dabs one of his fingers into a small pile of flour and smears it down your cheek. “There.”

“You-!” You gasp, your own finger already caked in flour flying for a counter attack at his face.

But his reflexes are fast as he catches your wrist in lightning speed and tugs you towards him, his other hand simultaneously slathering another streak of white down the bridge of your nose. You tumble into him, foolish grin on your face as you twist your wrist out of his grip and manage to smear your floury thumb onto his chin.

Taehyung catches you before you could trip over your feet, smiling so wide for the first time this weekend that you can’t help but giggle. His grip on your waist feels warm. You’re close enough that you have to crane your neck to see him, close enough to see the individual hairs of his brows.

Yes, something has definitely shifted since last night.

The desire is a flame, devouring all your other senses until all you can focus on is his touch, his molten chocolate eyes, his tongue swiping out to wet his lips. You just want to…

Kiss him.

You admit it, you want to kiss him so fucking badly.

Ignition in his eyes, he stares at your lips too, smile slowly faltering. The hammering of your spastic heart cancels out all other noise in the room; you don’t see anything else except him. He doesn’t move, and neither do you. That lustful monster in your mind screams, Damn the consequences. Just kiss. Fuck being friends and fuck being strangers. Kiss him.

“Alright, lovebirds over there. These pastries won’t make themselves. Let’s get cracking!” Both of you jump and the sound of the head chef calling.

A bucket of ice cold water showers over you, extinguishing that prosperous flame. And reality materialises once again around you.

Not just the physical reality, but the reality of your situation as well - you can’t, you shouldn’t be acting like this around each other. There’s being friends, and then there’s this. The line is fine, it has always been.

It’s difficult to separate the weeds of these conglomerated emotions. You miss each other, want to kiss each other. You want the hurting to end, he wants to be friends. Your break up had been too messy for either of you to have a clear vision of what you need to do to overcome this.

Except maybe there is a cure-all solution to this.

You return to your ball of dough as Taehyung goes back to stirring his boiling jam. Yet your attention is now scattered, because a seed of an idea, most probably a very bad one, has been sown in your head.

It is most definitely a reckless idea, one that has the potential of going very south.

You bring it up during dinner, the supposed “romantic candlelit dinner with a string quartet” which neither of you are remotely dressed well enough for. “Taehyung, you know how you talked about closure and all that yesterday?”

Taehyung pauses, forkful of tenderloin steak stopped in midair. “Yeah..?” The hope in his voice is infused with an uncertain hesitation.

“I think we should have sex. One last time. For closure.”

The violin strikes a particularly high pitch in the background. Taehyung doesn’t move a hair for at least a good ten seconds before he blinks at you. This was definitely not what he’d anticipated from you, you can tell. But well, of course it isn’t. The idea surprised yourself.

“What? I think I heard something else, say that again?”

Oh boy. “No, you heard it right. I said I think we should sleep together for closure.” You sound unsteady to your own ears. “Release all this pent up sexual frustration we have for each other one last time and then be done with this. You said you want to be friends, right? I actually think it’s going to work for me, I’ll be able to move on afterwards, I’m almost certain.”

Frowning, Taehyung puts his fork down. “Really…? You want to have sex?”

“Yes.” You’re not even going to be shy about it at this point. You weren’t sure how this scene was going to play out but you’d envisioned it to go much smoother than this. “Do you want to?”

“I mean…” Colour of wine stains his cheeks. “Yeah… But are you sure? You were just saying last night how you can’t look at me without hurting. Do you understand why this is confusing for me?”

“I know it sounds contradictory and counterproductive, but-” You halt when you realise that there is no but. You don’t know how to verbalise the explanation that convinced you in your head. “Look at it as break up sex. It’s a common thing because it works. Like you said, we ended so quickly, in a blink of an eye. Just see this as the closing chapter of our relationship. If you don’t want to do it, just say it. I just had to throw it out there.”

Worry drips down your throat when his blank expression remains unchanged - worry that you’ve made a fatally wrong move to make things irreparably awkward now, if he so wishes not to follow through with your suggestion.

But then he nods, ponderously and maybe not entirely convinced, but you’ll take it. “I think you have a point… The thing about closure and ending this better than we did the first time round.”

“So… You’re down.”

“Down.”

So, the rest of dinner flies by with the two of you wolfing down your meal as hastily as you can. The entire time, your mind is buzzing with a strange sort of excitement for you are confident that this is necessary in accelerating your process of recovery.

You and Taehyung started with sex, so naturally, you should end with sex.

If you are eating cookies from a jar and that jar is suddenly taken away from you, you would be overcome with a surge of anger and unjust. You will always remember that awful person who took it from you. But if you are told that the jar will be taken away and the cookie in your hand is the last one you can ever have, you will cherish this last cookie and take your time eating it. It would taste different from all the other cookies you’ve had in the past - better, sweeter, because you know that it’s the last one.

Taehyung is quiet, indecipherable as you stroll back to the room. You understand his doubt, you really do. Because a night ago, if he’d have offered you the same suggestion, you would’ve thought he’s insane. But after the incident this morning, and the sparse flirtation throughout the day, there is a clear indication of unresolved sexual tension on both ends.

End this once and for all with a bang.

“Are you really up for it, Taehyung?” You check one last time, swiping the keycard at the door. “If you’re not comfortable, then we shouldn’t.”

When you look back as you push open the door, you catch his eyes, filled with purpose and trust. “No, you’re right. We need the closure.”

As the door closes behind you after you enter, it feels final - your fate is sealed, this is happening. You both stop in the middle of the room, facing each other. Shoulders tense and fists clenched. The bed has been made from this morning, a strawberry gift basket sitting on the coffee table in the corner of your eye.

Your breath feels shaky.

“So…”

His throat is trembling too.

You break into a smile at how pathetic you’ve both become around each other, and once you do, Taehyung observably loosens up. “What are we being so nervous for?”

He smiles too, and takes a step towards you. “I don’t know.”

Bittersweet. It’s the best way to describe how you feel right now. Because this is it.

“Do you want to get in the hot tub? It feels like a waste if we don’t use it before we go. It’s our last night here.” The buzzing beneath your skin grows as you ask, and a spark lights up in his eyes at your idea.

“Say no more.” He presses a kiss on your forehead. It’s utterly out of the blue and fleeting, but enough to make your heart leap, both from the bewilderment and the knowledge that this will be one of your last acts of affection.

Taehyung walks past you towards the glass door, peeling off his shirt in the meantime to reveal the new tone of muscle on his back that he’s acquired in the past month. “I’m going to get some alcohol.” You maunder.

Your fingers are shaking as you rummage through the wine cooled for the drink you best see suitable. A strawberry champagne catches your eye. How fitting.

You can’t explain how jittery you feel as you completely strip off your clothes. This is the last time with Taehyung. The profound significance, the pressure, the emotions, tide after tide hitting you.

Two glasses of champagne in your hand, you inhale sharply, and let it all out.

This is it. This is the conclusive ending you asked for.

Warm water bubbling up to his chest, you find him seated in the hot tub awaiting you. The boxers discarded by the side implies that it was a last minute decision of his to go completely naked. And when he notices your nude form strutting out to the patio to join him, he sucks in. The way his eyes rake down your body then back up to your face sends flutters to you core, but also a nostalgic pang.

Eye contact does not break for a second as you climb into the hot tub and sit yourself adjacent to him. The chilly evening breeze with the heated effervescing water provides the perfect ambient temperature. Taehyung accepts the champagne you hand him, finger brushing over yours in a way that could only be intentional. He’s savouring every touch.

“To Mykonos, to the heatwave, to us and our last time.” You toast. The lump in your throat almost doesn’t permit the words to be said.

“To Mykonos, to the heatwave, to us and our last time.” He repeats after you. Clink. And down the drink goes.

A sigh, from both of you. The champagne is bittersweet, too. And you feel that surge behind your nose again, the sting behind your eyes.

“Isn’t it funny how the universe plays out?” Taehyung says, gaze falling to your lips, then your neck, then collar. He slides closer to you. “The first time we kissed was in water, the Mediterranean Sea. And now, the last time will be in water too.”

You don’t say anything for you need a moment to collect the tears. Then you place your glass on the edge of the tub and waddle through the water until you are perched on his lap. He receives you like you’re made of glass, gentle hands coming around your bare back to pull you down onto him. You brush away his dark untamed curls from his face, appreciating the thickness of his hair between your fingers because you don’t think you’ll get to touch it again. His hands trail low to the small of your back; you feel yourself brush up against his member, already hard and poised.

You want to tell him that you love him, that you will always always love him. But you know you would break if you say it.

So you just lean down to kiss him.

People like to describe their kisses like electricity, fire, a bolt of lightning striking down their spine. But for you, it really isn’t like that at all. When your lips meet, it feels like your first sip of cocoa on the first day of winter warm but not hot enough to burn, feels as though you’re interlocking fingers in a crowd of busy bodies and his thumb brushes over yours to tell you it’s okay, I’m right here and I won’t let go.

And you both pull away at the same time, a string of saliva between your mouths.

Because you both feel it, and it’s too much.

But this is the last time, you remind yourselves. Last time.

So your lips fall back onto him, fuelled by a passion you’ve never felt before. His mouth is velvet, fitting over yours so perfectly that it hurts. His hand finds your face, wet from being submerged, and he holds you more tenderly than he would an infant. Your chest is imploding from every ragged breath you take between hot kisses and you just let it.

Arousal pulling at your strings, your hand snakes down his front, dips into the water and wraps around his cock. “Ah…” Taehyung groans into your mouth. Your touch swipes across his tip. “Fuck, baby.”

Baby.

That is your undoing.

His teeth find your breasts, taking your nipple and teasing it until you’re whimpering in need. The roughness of his tongue tingles your sensitive bud so much that your eyes roll back and your vision is black and dotted with stars. The water providing you with a newfound ease, you pump him relentlessly, sitting up so you can slide his tip over your clit and along your folds. Because neither of you can wait, you’re cutting to the chase. Anything else can wait until subsequent rounds.

Every time his head brushes past your clit, a convulsion shoots up you. Your thighs quiver around him as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your ass. And when you inch by inch sink down onto his cock, the euphoric stretch in your walls numbs all other sensation.

You have missed this so much. It’s been so long.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” Taehyung’s voice is shaky, breath hitched.

“It’s ‘coz I haven’t…”

You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand and reply, “Me neither.”

The boost of reassurance and confidence that it grants you makes you roll your hips over his. From the absence of sex the past month, your cunt has grown unaccustomed to his size. Your entire core aches, but in the best way you could ask for. The water sloshes as you gain a steady rhythm. You have to bite down onto his ear to stop the volume at which you want to cry out because you remember that you are outdoors.

Taehyung’s face burrows into your neck, panting hard, but thrusting harder. You think back to every single one of your times together, from beginning to now. Your arms encircle tighter around him as you kiss the shell of his ear.

The initial pain in your walls is beginning to trickle away, leaving in its wake the claws of pleasure running up and down your body. Taehyung’s cock performs wonders on you that no one else can - it’s just a fact that you have to accept now. Nothing will compare.

Yet you can come to terms with it. You can gladly accept that Taehyung will be the best thing you’ll ever have.

But then you feel the dampness. At first, you mistaken it as droplets of water splattering onto you so you ignore it. And amidst you bouncing onto him, you don’t notice how Taehyung’s shoulders are shuddering.

You stop.

And feel the streaks of his tears running down your neck from where his face is pressed onto.

You can’t describe the shattering in your heart when you look down to find him crying into you. You can’t speak, can’t move, can’t even cry back at him.

It leaves you in wreckages, how he’s holding you close to him still, clinging on despite your how you’ve stopped, muffled sobs cracking out of this throat.

It takes a while for you to regain your voice, but his tears are still ceaseless. “Taehyung…”

When he looks up, you’re struck with another ammunition of distraught. The redness of his eyes, the sad distortion of his beautiful features, the endless endless tears...

“Y/N, I can’t. I really can’t.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s been screaming silently.

“I-I’m sorry, you should’ve said. I’m so sorry I didn’t realise.” You’re stupefied from the horrendous sight of a completely broken Taehyung underneath you. You immediately climb off him.

“I-” He sniffs. “I love you so fucking much. I love you more than I love myself and I can only ever love you more each day.” You feel it again, the surge in your nose, the sting behind your eyes. You’re choked up, speechless, resenting yourself for putting him through this. You want to bury your head in the water and cry until you pass out.

“Y/N, I didn’t ever want to lose you because I know I would lose myself. But then I lost you. And I lost myself.” His sobs strangle you by the throat.

“Taehyung, I’m sorry. About everything I’ve done. It’s all my fault and I will always hate myself for hurting you so much.” A single tear rolls down your face, you can’t hold it in anymore. Then a second, third. At the unstoppable oceans pouring from his eyes, you feel destroyed.

“I don’t even care about that! I’m not hurt by Junho or Jimin, I don’t care. Having to wake up every day knowing that you’re not beside me has been the most painful thing I’ve had to deal with. You are my home, Y/N. I don’t want to live in a life that you’re not a part of. I just can’t live without you and I can’t stand it. I can’t- I can’t...”

“Then don’t.”

Confusion draws his browns into a frown. “What?” His face is still warped in pain. You can’t stand it anymore either.

“Then don’t live without me.”

Your teeth dig into your lip to stop your own bawling.

All this conflict back and forth has taken such a toll on you and what for? At the end of the day, one unwavering fact stands true and untested: you love each other no matte what. So why should you let mistakes of the past keep you apart?

“What?” He says again, though understanding starts to seep through.

“I love you, Taehyung. I can’t not love you. I’m not myself if I don’t. So let’s stop this bullshit. I can’t live without you and you can’t live without me. So then let’s not leave each other again.”

You stare at each other, on this cool February night, warm water gurgling up to your collars, the cloudless night sky flaunting it’s collection of stars. And you promise to stay by each other for as long as you live.

“Okay.” That’s all Taehyung can muster.

“I’m yours, Taehyung. My heart is completely yours forever.” His violent flow of tears subside into gentle trickles.

“Okay.” He stands up in the tub, and you mirror his action. Water weeps off your skin, inviting the cold to infiltrate.

Nothing more needs to be said. Your mouths find each other the way they always do, the crashing of your lips, scraping of your teeth. A new tear rolls off Taehyung’s face and onto your fused lips, but it’s different this time. They’re tears of insuppressable joy, knowing that the taste of your tongue is entirely his, the porcelain of your skin is entirely his. You’re shivering from the temperature of the night, but you don’t feel the cold.

His hands come behind your thighs and lift you up to his face level, wrapping your legs around your torso the way he did in Mykonos. With careful steps, he carries you back into the room, past the bed, that poor couch that was collateral damage to your mutual pining, and sets you down onto the bathroom countertop.

When he finally breaks away from the kiss and takes in your beauty under the bright light of the room, there is no less than absolute adoration in his eyes. Never anything less. “I love you and I’m yours.”

Taehyung wraps the only massive white towel he can find around your wet naked body, disregarding the cold attacking his own. You frown at him, hooking him between your legs so you can fling the towel over his shoulders as well.

“I love you and I’m yours.” You say back, blotting his body dry. It’s such a simple statement, yet the meaning it holds for the two of you is so heavy. They’re the very words that you have never found the strength to say to each other, until now.

“Say that again.” You melt under his smile, not a single trace of worry to be found in your brain.

“I love you. And I’m yours.”

You twist your neck back to follow his glare at reflection in the mirror of your huddled bodies under the towel. Cheeks pushed up from glee, heads leaning against each other, and just like that - all your heartache vanishes without a trace.

“Mine?” Taehyung pecks your brow, still smiling.

“Yours.” Legs clamping around him tighter, you turn to face him. “And how are you this hard again already?” His cock’s ability to stay erect is astounding, truly.

“Don’t you know? You could breathe and my cock would be hard.” Laughter erupts both your chests and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Allowing the towel to drop around you, your hand slips between your bodies to clutch onto his length. Responsiveness ripples through his toned abdomen. “I want to suck…” You nuzzle your nose to his, your breaths amalgamating.

Taehyung sighs into your mouth. “But I want to-” Your grip tightens around him as you drag out a pump, eyes wide with feign innocence. “Okay, what the fuck, that’s not fair.”

“You’ll get to do whatever you want to me after.” You trail your mouth along his jaw.

“F-Fine.”

He lets you slide off the marble counter with the skin of his neck pinched between your teeth. When he realises that you’re marking him in clouds of purple, his head falls back and gives himself up as your canvas. You understand the appeal of hickeys now. For you two, it’s an agreement, a promise, an exchange of trust. You continue down his front, teeth grazing his nipples, lower and lower, kissing along the protrusion of his pelvic bone. Until you arrive at his cock.

“Do you remember the whole ice cube thing during the heatwave?” You run your finger up his length, over his oozing slit. The heatwave feels like an eon ago, but also like just yesterday.

Stiffening, Taehyung looks down. “Yes…”

“How about I pay you back for that one?” You take his shut eyes and sparse nod as compliance because you know he’s not capable of words right now.

You dash away to collect a glass of ice from the drink cooler, but on your way find something even better. Something you’ve always wanted to try.

Taehyung is slowly touching himself when you return, mildly surprised by the second item you brought back with you. “Whipped cream? Isn’t that from the gift basket?”

“You up for it?” A smirk stretches.

“Very up and very hard.” He lets go of his member and watches you drop to your knees.

To moisten him first, you slowly lap circles around his head, applying considerable pressure and letting the tip of your tongue tease at his sensitive opening. You look up when he moans, and takes his girth into your mouth, sliding his cock further and further down your throat until he pokes the back. Then you pull up with a pop, echoing within the walls of the bathroom.

You take two ice cubes from the glass, one placed between your lips, and the other to massage over your clit. The icy sensation strikes a numbing sensation into your core when it touches your bud of nerves. The cube in your mouth, you begin to trace slowly from the base of his shaft all the way up.

A string of profanities leaves Taehyung at the temperature, and seeds a satisfaction between your legs.

The ice is melting quickly from the heat of your mouth so you waste no time to guide it down to his scrotum resting on your palm. “Fuck.” He whines, his whole length twitching.

When this cube dissolves into nothing but a puddle of your tongue, you take another, ruthlessly educing those curses from him. His tip is the most sensitive part of him, so that’s where you focus on, smearing the edges of the cube around the curve of his head. His thighs tense in euphoric spasms.

The whipped cream comes next. With a few shakes of the canister, you hold his cock pointed towards yourself and view the spiral of white untainted cream unfold onto his head.

“Ah!” Taehyung yelps.

“You good?” You glance up to check that he still has a rein on his sanity.

“It just scared me.” You chuckle and place a kiss on his shaft.

“You should be scared.”

Eyes lock on his, you watch him watch you vulgarly smear the cream all over his cock with your lips. Its sweetness oozes into your mouth and sinks into your tongue. “Mmm.” You hum at the pleasant taste. Then you start to suck, the cream providing you with a lubrication that your spit has never been able to replicate. His cock glides into your mouth with such little resistance that you gag around him.

“Oh fuck, that feels so good.” He can’t look away from you, your hollowed out cheeks and large eyes as you bob your head deeper and deeper. Ribald wet sloppy noises squeaking from your mouth. “Uh fuck.”

Taehyung’s fingers entangle in your hair, guiding your motion in and out. The cream swirls in your mouth, the taste prompting you to suck harder until your mouth adheres like a second skin to his cock. He’s soon panting, even as you come up for air and to spray more cream on him.

“Yeah, keep going. Can I come in your mouth?” His eyes are almost screwed shut, but still open to keep watching. The rise and fall of his chest, and the bulging vein down the side of his cock - he’s close.

You keep sucking, relishing in the taste of the cream, the ease at which his tip glides along your throat, your own fluid dripping from your cunt.

“Fuc- Ah!” Gripping your hair tight, he thrusts hard into you as he cums, ribbons of his own cream mixing in your mouth. Taehyung’s dick pulses violently at the shaft. You watch his jaw fall open, brows pinch together, as the liquid dribbles down your throat.

You pull his length out of you with a great gasp and swallow all the remnants. “Shit. How was that?” Out of breath, you wipe the mess around your mouth with the dropped towel.

“Give me a second to recover from that, baby.” Arms on the countertop to support him, Taehyung lets his head droop back so far that his hair touches his elbows. You wet the towel at the sink and clean his slowly limping member. “Fuck that was…”

When his eyes open again, there is a fury that you know to be afraid of. He hauls you up onto your two feet and latch onto your lips, not caring about the filthy things they’ve just done to him.

“I need to be inside you.” He grumbles. “Give me five, ten minutes and I'll be ready again.”

“Hmm.” Arms sliding around his neck, you let him walk you onto the bed, hovering over you while his hands fondle your breasts that have become lonely. The insides of your thighs are slick with your arousal - that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Scissoring your folds open with his long digits, this thumb finds your clit, bulging and throbbing with desire. The vibrations coursing into you as he starts to rub compels you to arch back. You are really just a plaything when under his touch, as malleable as dough.

“Taehyung!” And for some reason, you calling out his name flips an animalistic switch in him.

With your neck fully exposed, he ceases the opportunity to nibble all over your unmarred skin, leaving angry blotches in return of your marks on him. This thumb is working quickly, the pressure at your clit superimposing second by second.

“Wait.” He lifts his head up abruptly, though fingers still going. “Do you want to sit on my face?”

Your heart jolts in excitement at the mere mention of it. “Didn’t even have to ask.” It has always been something you’ve wanted to try but never gotten around to.

Swapping positions, Taehyung reclines onto his back while you situate your knees on either side of his face. His hands grip onto your waist, guiding your descent onto his thrill-teeming face.

An incredible shock of pleasure fires up your spine when he takes your clit between his lips and sucks. This position grants him an unobstructed access to your pussy, no awkward angle, no cramping neck. So the assail he commences is totally, and unfortunately for your lucidity, merciless. His hands grapple onto your freely hanging breasts, rolling your nipples between fingertips.

Crying aloud from the ecstatic twisting sensation, you feel your eyes water. It’s almost too much, the mind warping accumulation of tension in your cunt. “Like that, Taehyung.”

One of his hands leaves your breast only to insert his digits into your dripping slit. Your thighs are aching, close to giving way; you don’t think you can withstand this tremendous stimulation.

His tongue doesn’t stop and neither do his fingers. Breathing through his nose heavily, he continues to coil your core into loops and loops of hypertension

You’re so close, so close.

And you’re there.

The pulsing waves of your orgasm sweep you away. You don’t even hear your own moans, just the roaring of your blood in your ears. Your whole body writhes above Taehyung, but your muscles don’t permit you to move off him while so ransacked by this high.

It last long, nearing half a minute before your senses come back to you.

And finally, you sag and topple over, trusting Taehyung to catch you and roll you onto your back.

“What the fuck.” You pant, low frequency pulsations still resonating down your legs, in awe of how he never fails to tip you over the edge. And the striking difference between the male and female orgasm is that, unlike Taehyung, you immediately want more when you’re done. “Taehyung, please, I need you to fuck me.”

His reply startles you. “No.” You open your eyes and find him regarding you with such reverence that only confuses you more.

“No?”

Cupping your face in his palm as he props himself on his elbow over you, Taehyung leans down and kisses your nose. Then your mouth. “Y/N.” Your temple. “I want to.” Your ear. “Make love to you.”

He paints a constellation of wet kisses all over you.

“How does that sound, baby?”

You immediately pull him back onto your own lips, a desperate craving as you kiss him back hard. “I love you.” You really do. It’s the one thing you’re the most certain about in this world.

“Ahhh.” Readjusting over you yet still keeping the close distance between your faces, he takes his cock in his hand and pumps. “You know you do to me when you say those words?” He kisses you again, so softly that his lips feel like rose petals. As he lines his tips along your entrance, you shut your eyes and prepare for it.

“I love you.” You repeat. And he sinks in.

It feels different, so entirely different from the previous time tonight. There is not an ounce of concern, of doubt, of hesitancy. You feel safe underneath him, secure.

His tender moans unravelling into songs of vulnerability. “I love you, too.” He whispers into your ear, and you understand what he means by how much these three words have an effect because them alone are almost enough to capsize you again.

His thrust, though lacking its usual roughness, does not lack in anything else. Every time he plummets into you, his mouth finds yours. Your hands are interlocked, pinned down onto the pillow. The surprising intimacy of that act overflowing to the brim. And you swear you could see heaven right then and there.

You feel nothing but love and devotion throughout.

He makes love to you over and over again this night, Valentine’s night. And despite your usual preferences, the sensations between your legs, in your chest, in your mind, are unrivaled.

Transcendental.

When it’s all over, when you’re nothing more than sweaty skin, damp hair, and hearts full of love for each other, you spend your time taking in each other’s details. His unblemished complexion. The beauty mark under the lashes of his right eye. The perfect shape of his cupid's bow that doesn’t seem humanly possible. Everything.

“What we had didn’t work, but we’re not going to repeat those mistakes again, I won’t hurt you again, I promise.” You whisper softly as you caress his cheek. “It’s all or nothing. And you have all of me.”

The glaze over his sincere eyes hasn’t left yet, though you don’t suppose your eyes are completely dry either.

You continue, “Seeing you break down like that today was… the hardest thing for me to witness. So much worse that our stupid pointless fights, and the nights where I would cry myself to sleep. And I can’t apologise enough for causing you that much pain.”

Taehyung’s eyes trailing down bashfully, and you almost worry that he’d cry again.. “I… I can’t believe the day finally came where I cried during sex…” You let out a round of laughter at what he chooses to dwell on.

“I love you so much that it makes me sick. I’m honestly disgusted and mortified by myself.” You snicker in his hair.

“Look, what about me? I love you so much that I cried during sex. Not even just a tear either. Full on sobs. I think I’m the bigger loser here.” The fact that he can joke about the situation reassures you that he’s over it. The mood once again lightens.

“All this just because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants during a heatwave.”

He pulls you closer into his rumbling chest, laughing to himself as he toys with your earlobe between his teeth.

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, for the first time as each other’s lovers. And for the rest of the nights that come after.

A/N: Alexa, play ‘Fuck it I love you’ by Lana Del Rey.

Thank you everyone for the incredible love and support you’ve unfailingly shown Heatwave. As my first fic, I am of course so very attached to these characters and ending this series is such a bittersweet feeling. It’s been such a lovely journey to write this couple and although I don’t plan on writing anything for them in the next few months, I won’t close off that possibility completely.

Love you!

- Kristy

27/04/20

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